The Widow and the Sheikh by Marguerite Kaye

Author:Marguerite Kaye
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2016-03-27T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Action, Azhar resolved, action was what was required to demonstrate to Julia that he was right and she was quite wrong. Yes, three weeks was ambitious, but where there was a will, anything could be achieved, and he had a will of iron. Curse Julia and her doubts and her endless questions.

He stopped his furious pacing and gazed out of the window. He was not thinking straight. Her assertion that his conscience would not allow him to stay away from Qaryma was of course nonsense, but there was no harm in admitting, just to himself, that he did care for the kingdom where he had been born and raised. He did care for the people too. He wished for them only the king they deserved, a king who wanted to reign, and who was fit to reign. Not a king who saw his kingdom as a millstone around his neck. Not a king who had abandoned them ten years ago. And who would leave again in three weeks’ time, for ever.

He pushed open the window that led on to his private terrace, taking his coffee with him. As far as Kamal was concerned though, he should be viewing the points Julia raised in a positive light. Shortcomings which could be addressed, not fatal flaws which could not.

Actions. Azhar knew exactly what actions he would take. Summoning a servant, he rattled off a series of commands. The fresh perspective which he’d asked Julia to provide was already paying dividends.

* * *

Having spent the morning writing up her notes, one of her least favourite and most neglected tasks, Julia had eaten some fruit for lunch and fallen asleep on the couch in her sitting room. When Aisha shook her gently awake she was confused, the beginnings of a headache niggling behind her eyes from the sun streaming through the curtains she had left open. It took her a good five minutes to understand that Azhar required her presence in a room whose name she couldn’t translate but which was located in the Second Court.

At Aisha’s insistence, she changed her crumpled clothing for a matching tunic and pantaloons in navy blue, a sky-blue scarf fastened over her face as she made her way through the palace. By the time she arrived at the Second Court, hurrying after the huge sentry, Julia was beginning to wonder if Azhar had decided he’d had enough of the honesty he’d demanded from her, and was having her expelled from Qaryma.

The huge door slammed shut behind her and the scene before her convinced Julia that she was right. Though the chamber was much smaller than the Divan, and in a way more ornate, the air was oppressive with authority. The walls were panelled and painted, the ceiling vaulted and tiled, the floor marble. In the centre, the throne was more like a low chair with clawed feet covered in gold leaf. And on the throne sat Azhar in a white-silk tunic and cloak. His headdress was also white, though the headband which kept it in place seemed to be made of golden rope.

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