the seat as Maha brushed and curled it.
“Take a look. Do you think we need the stylist?”
Laila met Maha’s eyes in the mirror. “Not today. I’m only going to a pottery lesson.”
Maha nodded. “Things will be so different for Prince Yaseen’s wedding.” Laila caught the note of excitement in her voice. “It’s a truly grand affair the palace is planning.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Oh, so much joy these days, so much joy. Everyone is abuzz about the arrival of two royal babies in the next year. It’s going to be such a change. Raihan needs this.” Her voice lifted as she spoke, and Laila wished her own heart would lift along with it.
She was excited about the baby, of course. But Zayid was hardly over the moon. He saw it as one more item to check off his list, like attending a state dinner. Produce an heir—check.
Even so, she missed him.
Maha had to know it, but Laila hadn’t said a word about the emptiness in her heart since she’d moved back to the guest room. Despite everything that made her annoyed with Zayid, she wanted him next to her. Better to argue with him in person than pine for him alone.
But arguing with him in person wasn’t on the table anymore. She’d taken herself neatly out of that situation.
“All ready.” Maha patted her shoulder. “Enjoy the lesson. Send for me if you need me.”
Laila did enjoy the lesson, in a half-hearted way. She came back to the guest suite to freshen up before her solitary dinner, feeling weighed down and sad. But as soon as she closed the door behind her, someone knocked.
She opened it without thinking. “Maha, it’s like you’re watching me when I—oh.” Zayid stood in the hall, looking at her as if he was about to burst. As if he’d been waiting all his life to talk to her. The expression startled Laila. “Hi. I wasn’t expecting you.” She made room for him to pass by. “Come in.” Her heart leaped into her throat, pounding hard, as if he was a hunter in the desert, she was prey, and he’d finally caught up to her. He stepped inside, filling the room with his presence. She wanted more of his faint sandalwood scent but didn’t dare step closer.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Zayid said. “About adding something to your schedule.”
She blinked at him. “You can just have Maha put it on my calendar, whatever it is.”
He lifted his chin. “I’m having an official dinner next week. The palace is hosting King Fahd again.” Fahd—the king she’d bonded with, just a little, over the artist Al-Khahat. “Originally it was a one-on-one meeting, but I’ve turned it into a slightly larger affair. More of a state dinner, but on a smaller scale.” He hesitated. “I’d like to have you there with me.”
Laila couldn’t push away the thrill of pleasure. He wasn’t summoning her via some guard or Maha—he was actually here, requesting her presence. She had to clear her throat before she spoke. “I’m...pleased you came in person, rather than sending someone else.”
“I hoped it would please you.”
She took a deep breath. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, too.”
“Tell me.”
“I want to reveal my identity at the arts center. I want to work with the children as myself, not as some...some alter ego. Nobody in Raihan can possibly have a problem with the royal family engaging with the public this way, and I want them to know me. And on top of all that, it would bring more attention to the center. I want that place to have everything it needs, even after I—you know, after I’m not in the family anymore.”
Laila held her breath and waited, Zayid’s dark eyes burning into hers. Oh, she wanted to touch him. She wanted to fold herself into his arms and let her head fall against his chest. But this was too formal a conversation, like a meeting between diplomats, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“I’ll grant you that,” Zayid said after what seemed like an eternity. “Tell them who you are.”
She searched for a joke, for any hint of their old intimacy. By this point in many of their past conversations he’d have his hands all over her. But now, Zayid put his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I’ll see you at the dinner?” He leaned toward her but didn’t take a step forward.
“Yes,” she said. And then Zayid was gone