That way, this scenario won’t be repeated.” Maha softened the words with the hint of a smile.
Laila couldn’t force her face into an expression resembling happiness. Really? Zayid was going to spend every waking minute in meeting after meeting, but she couldn’t visit her grandfather with her own security detail? How was that even close to fair? She made a conscious effort to relax her face. It wasn’t Maha’s fault that Zayid wasn’t thinking this through. Or maybe he had thought it through and had concluded that he needed to track her every move.
Laila exhaled all her irritation into the room. “Thanks for letting me know. Next time I want to leave the palace, I’ll...send a note?”
“A note would be fine, yes, or I can coordinate with the crown prince’s office for you.” Maha stood up, face brightening. “Now that I’ve passed along that message, I have another for you. There is a surprise awaiting your return.”
“What is it?” Laila followed Maha to her feet, heart jittery in her chest. There had been too many surprises in the last few weeks, but Maha looked so happy about this one that Laila’s optimism almost won out against her irritation.
Almost.
But she hadn’t agreed to be monitored for the entirety of their...agreement. That hadn’t been part of it. The plan was to get married, move into Zayid’s apartments, and then...coexist. How was it coexisting if he had the final say on everything she did? Yes, things were different when it came to being royalty—they had to have security. But he could’ve mentioned his own personal need to control her every movement before they’d signed on the dotted line. It wasn’t like Laila came from a royal family. Her grandfather had been a diplomat, so perhaps he’d been closer to the royal family than most people in Raihan, but she hadn’t been here since she was eight. Her thoughts went around and around in her mind until she forced herself to open her mouth and ask a question—any question. “What kind of surprise?”
“It’s a surprise.” They went out into a hallway lined with carpet of the deepest blue, shot through with a subtle gold pattern. In all her time at the palace—which, granted, wasn’t much—Laila had never seen so much as a speck of dirt on the carpet. Cream-colored walls soared high above them, decorated with pieces from famous artists. Laila had seen a Van Gogh and was sure there were more.
They turned to the right, moving down a long corridor. A private gym was down at this end, fitted out with exercise equipment she recognized from a luxury catalogue she’d seen on the plane ride over, all of it pristine. It also had a private pool. “Is it in the gym?”
“It’s not in the gym,” Maha said. “It’s here.” They stopped in front of a set of doors. “Go ahead.”
“Okay…” Laila turned the gilt handles and opened the doors. Her heart stopped, then raced, then settled into a happy rhythm. Her whole body relaxed at the sight in front of her. “Maha, you didn’t tell me there was a studio in the palace.”
And it was a studio indeed. There were two steps down into an airy, open space, with massive windows on the opposite wall—the same kinds of windows that were in the gym, from what she could remember of her tour. Light poured in on everything Laila could have dreamed of having in a pottery studio of her own. A top-of-the-line electric pottery wheel. A long table with a hefty wooden top. Shelves lined with glazes. A separate shelf for tools, and hooks on the walls for others. An arrangement of empty shelves, painted white, waited for her pieces. And more, and more, and more. And this was only half the room. The other half boasted another low workspace, this one with an entirely different set of tools and a classic foot-powered wheel.
Laila took two slow steps in. A low wall separated what looked like a brand-new kiln from the rest of the space.
“Prince Zayid had this room commissioned for you as a wedding gift. The construction was very involved—the room had to be added on to the palace. Most of the work was completed while you were on your honeymoon.” Maha said behind her. “As you can see, it’s been separated into two eras.”
“Modern and traditional,” Laila whispered.
“Yes, Your Highness.” Laila could hear the smile in Maha’s voice without turning around. “The crown prince wanted you to be able to access