sank back into bed.
Maha and Laila sat in the living area of Zayid’s suite, Laila on the long sofa, her feet tucked up underneath her. She’d been thinking of Zayid. And Zayid’s bedroom. And how novel it seemed, sleeping in his bed. Almost like she’d won a prize.
“Your Highness, you have a faraway look in your eyes,” said Maha.
Laila snapped back into the meeting they were having. “I got lost in my thoughts.” She felt her cheeks heat at the twinkle in Maha’s eyes. “Please, go on. What’s the date again?”
Maha flipped to the next page in the folio that held Laila’s schedule and named the date. “Your next formal appearance with Sheikh Zayid is next Tuesday. It’s—”
“Pardon me,” said Laila. “Wait. I had something planned. For…next week? I had something important planned in Majadin.” She jumped up from the couch and moved quickly to the guest suite. The neighboring country had a museum so old it was rarely open to the public. Tickets had to be reserved months in advance, and she’d gotten one. Her heart pounded with nerves. What was the date? She had the sick feeling that it had already passed, and then she’d have missed it, and then...
She rifled through her purse until she found her passport folder with all her tickets and itineraries folded inside. Laila tossed the papers out onto the bed and sorted through them, until—there it was. The ticket, still pristine and shiny. She turned it over with shaking hands. Next Wednesday. “Yes!” She thrust a fist into the air.
Maha sat blinking on the armchair when she came back, her eyes wide. “What is it, Your Highness?”
“Please, Maha, call me Laila.” The other woman laughed. “I almost forgot a trip I’d planned.” She showed Maha the ticket to the museum, then sat back down on the sofa, plans racing through her mind. “I’ll need to figure out how to arrange my schedule.”
“I’m not so sure about this trip, Your High—Laila.” Maha grimaced. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can throw off protocol so easily.”
“Try your best.” Laila grinned. She hadn’t missed her chance to visit the museum. “What makes you unsure about the visit? It’s not scheduled for the same day as something very important, is it?”
“I wouldn’t feel right to say. There are some engagements, but—” Maha said vaguely. “This might not be the best time to add things to the schedule.”
Laila stared across at Maha. “I will go,” she said. “It’s only a matter of the transportation.” What was this about?
“My only recommendation is that you discuss it with the crown prince.”
“I’ll do that now.” Laila stood up. “Was there anything else you wanted to go over this morning?”
Maha pressed her lips together. “Nothing that can’t wait until later. Go.” She waved Laila off. “I’ll be waiting when you return, as always.”
Laila wracked her brain for a good reason to put off the visit on the way to Zayid’s office. It wasn’t like it was a controversial monument. It was a museum, for goodness’ sake.
This time, when she went through the foyer outside Zayid’s office, nobody stopped her. Makin bowed his head low.
“No visitors at the moment, Your Highness,” he said, and stepped forward to open the door for her. Laila marched into the office to find Zayid at his desk, the pen in his hand poised over a sheet of paper. He looked at her with amusement in his eyes and one eyebrow arched.
“Is something the matter?”
“Yes,” she said, struggling to keep her tone even. “There is. I’ve been discussing some plans with Maha, and she seems to think that I shouldn’t visit the Majadin National Museum next week.” She waved the itinerary. “I’ve had it planned for months. I’m so relieved I didn’t miss it.”
“That’s because you shouldn’t. Mustn’t.” Zayid leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. The matter-of-fact dismissal in his tone made her stomach twist, a flash of pain and irritation. “It’s out of the question.”
“It’s a museum. What could possibly be so bad about visiting a museum?” She let out a short laugh. “You can’t expect me to spend our entire marriage inside the palace walls, can you?”
Zayid considered this, his own gaze sparking and locked on hers. “Under normal circumstances, my wife would be graciously welcomed and given a private tour of the museum. But these are not normal circumstances.”
Her gut went cold. “What do you mean?”
“The sultan’s daughter was a candidate to be my bride.”
Laila’s gut unknotted.