Hot Arabian Nights. Marguerite Kaye

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      ‘Of course you can.’ He pressed her hand. ‘We want the same thing, after all. As time passed, as I began to establish my business, to make a life for myself, I quickly realised that I would never return. That my father had actually done me a favour by exiling me.’

      ‘And allowing you to become a man of action.’

      ‘With every action my own. I had escaped. I was no longer a King-in-waiting defined by my kingdom, I was my own man defined by my own success—and in the early days, my failures too. I love my business, Julia. It is a—an integral part of me. If I remained here, as King, I would have to give it up. I won’t do that,’ Azhar continued, his tone harsh. ‘I left my father with a son who valued what I did not, a son he could have moulded into his image as he had tried to mould me. Kamal is much more malleable. But my father...’

      ‘You think that your father was blind to Kamal’s weaknesses?’

      ‘I doubt it. But I don’t understand why he didn’t take steps to remedy them.’

      ‘Perhaps, despite your conviction to the contrary, it was because your father secretly hoped you might return.’

      ‘No! I am here as a punishment, not a reward. Kamal will rule, Julia, because I will not surrender my life to wed myself to Qaryma.’

      ‘Is it really such an onerous task?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘Couldn’t you appoint agents to run your business? I’m sorry, Azhar, but if being a king is truly so awful, then frankly I don’t understand why a weak man like your brother would be so happy to take it on.’ She flinched at Azhar’s thunderous expression, but she had gone too far to stop now. ‘I know your brother only through what you have told me of him, and what you’ve told me has led me to surmise that he is selfish, that he is lazy and that self-sacrifice is anathema to him.’

      Azhar said nothing, but his eyes were flinty. He didn’t like what she was saying. She hated saying it, but she owed it to them both to continue. ‘The people of Qaryma love you, Azhar. They respect you. They want you and not your brother. I know you think that it’s undeserved.’ She paused, but still he said nothing. ‘You think that because Kamal remained by your father’s side, that he deserves it more,’ she forced herself to continue, ‘but—but you are the legal heir, you are the heir your father wanted, not Kamal. What’s more, with every sleepless night you spend trying to make this kingdom safe for your brother’s rule, you prove that you love it. How can you see this as a prison sentence, when it is so obviously what you are destined to do?’

      She felt quite sick with dread, for she knew how painful her words were to him, but beneath it all she was proud of herself for having had the gumption to speak. Azhar slowly unclenched his fists. When he whirled around, she thought he was going to leave her, but instead he strode over to the divan and sat down.

      ‘I am Sheikh al-Farid, King Azhar of Qaryma,’ he declaimed. ‘I am the source of all power, all wisdom, all happiness. I am the infallible one. I make the laws and I enact the laws. None can question me. None can harm me.’

      Her jaw dropped.

      ‘These are the words I would speak at my coronation, and his father before him. You may think those words ridiculous, mere ceremony, but it is what many people here in Qaryma believe. As King, I would wield absolute power, Julia. That is how Qaryma has always been ruled. There is no other way to rule, except not to rule.’

      He pushed off his headdress to run his fingers through his hair, then held out his hand for her to join him. ‘Such power comes at a high price. It is extremely hard work to appear infallible,’ he said wryly. ‘My life would not be mine to command, it would belong to my people. Those words, the promises I would make if I took the crown, would require me to put this kingdom and these people first, before everything else.’

      ‘As you did, I imagine, over the last ten years, while building your trading empire.’

      His smile became a grimace. ‘Exactly like that, which is part of the problem. Unlike my brother, I am incapable of doing things by half-measures. In ten years, I have never been satisfied with my achievements, have always been driven to conquer one more summit and one more. Can you imagine how I would be, when placed in charge of a kingdom?’

      ‘Selfless,’ Julia said.

      She meant it as a compliment, but Azhar shook his head grimly. ‘No, for that implies that I would not resent it, and I would.’ He took her hand, lacing his fingers between hers. ‘You ask if I could appoint agents to run the business I have grown from nothing, the business which it the only thing I have of my own. The answer is that, yes, I could, if all I cared about was the money, but I don’t.’

      ‘No,’ Julia said with a smile. ‘It is the doing that you care about, isn’t it?’

      ‘Yes. The doing,’ Azhar repeated, pressing her hand. ‘And the travel—or at least—it is not so much wanderlust, that craving has been satisfied in the last ten years, but there is a difference between knowing that I can go wherever I choose, and knowing I can go only where my kingdom requires me to go, do you see?’

      She nodded once more. She was beginning to see very clearly. Azhar’s reference to Qaryma as a gilded cage seemed now an appalling understatement. ‘You would be wedded to your kingdom.’

      ‘And expected to wed for the kingdom,’ Azhar said dryly, ‘a fitting bride taken for the sole purpose of producing an heir, whose sole purpose would be to inherit all this. And so it would go on. I won’t do it, Julia.’

      She pressed his hand to her cheek. ‘The problem is, Azhar, that you are so honourable, and so incapable of giving anything less than your all, that you would do it, if you had to. You could not be half a king, could you?’

      ‘No. Now do you understand why I cannot be one at all?’

      Julia bit her lip. ‘Yes,’ she said. It was not a lie. She understood perfectly why he would not, and why he must leave, but she could not imagine how he was going to salve his conscience afterwards.

       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.

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