Captive For The Sheikh's Pleasure. Carol Marinelli

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       CHAPTER TWO

      CROWN PRINCE SHEIKH ILYAS OF ZAYRINIA had been born to be king.

      And that was all.

      His parents had had no real desire to be parents, neither had they taken delight in their baby.

      They’d delivered for their country the necessary heir and then moved on to produce the spare.

      Ilyas had barely seen them, unless for official duties, and had been raised in a distant area of the stunning, sprawling palace. He’d been fed and groomed by royal nannies and immersed in the teachings by elders.

      It had been a busy little life and one utterly devoid of affection.

      When Ilyas was four, Prince Hazin of Zayrinia had been born, thus pushing the uncle his father loathed down to third in the line of succession. Only when, two months later, Ilyas had stood on the royal balcony beside his parents had he come to realise that the tiny infant his mother held in her arms was, in fact, his brother. He’d kept craning his head to have a peek but had been sternly told to look ahead.

      â€˜Can I see him?’ Ilyas had asked his mother, the queen, as they’d moved from the balcony and back into the palace.

      But his mother had shaken her head. ‘Hazin has to go to the nursery,’ she’d informed Ilyas as she’d handed over her baby to the wet nurse for feeding. ‘And you have your afternoon lessons to attend, although King Ahmed wishes to speak with you first.’

      Ilyas had known, from the use of his father’s title, that it would not be a fatherly chat.

      It never was.

      He’d been led to his father, who had been speaking with Mahmoud, his vizier.

      â€˜Well done, Your Highness,’ Mahmoud had said, for it had been a very large crowd that had gathered outside the palace to greet the new prince. The king, though, had been less than impressed with Ilyas’s behaviour out on the balcony.

      â€˜Don’t fidget so much in future,’ his father had told him.

      â€˜I just wanted to see what my brother looks like.’

      â€˜He’s just a baby.’ The king had shrugged. ‘Now, remember, in future always look ahead no matter what else goes on around you.’

      For the most part, the brothers had been segregated. Ilyas had been considered too far ahead in his studies to be held back. Hazin, who was nothing more than a substitute, had eventually been schooled overseas in England.

      It was Ilyas who had been born to be king.

      For his first two decades he had absorbed the teachings and wisdom from his elders and everyone had assumed that Ilyas agreed with them, for he performed all his duties well.

      His parents believed that the strict discipline of his upbringing had worked well, but this was not filial obedience. What they failed to understand was that it was Ilyas himself who was disciplined—he had chosen to abide by their rules.

      For now.

      When Ilyas had turned twenty-two, tragedy had struck the palace. His father and adviser had decided that a royal wedding would raise the spirits of the country and that it was time for Ilyas to marry. They had called a meeting to inform him of their decision.