Crowned At The Desert King's Command. Jackie Ashenden

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СКАЧАТЬ her. Tall and broad as a mountain. He’d had a sword at his hip and his gaze had been merciless, brutal...

      A shudder moved down her spine.

      He must have rescued her after she’d fainted—though this wasn’t exactly what she’d call a rescue. He might have saved her life, but he’d delivered her to a cell.

      Slowly she let out a breath, trying to calm her racing heartbeat, and pushed herself up.

      This had to be an Ashkaraz jail cell. And that man had to have been one of the feared border guards. And—oh, heavens—did they have her father here too? Had they both joined the ranks of people who’d crossed into Ashkaraz, a closed country?

       And you know what happens to those people. They’re never heard from again.

      Charlotte moistened her suddenly dry mouth, trying to get a grip on her flailing emotions. No, she mustn’t panic. Plenty of people had been heard from again—otherwise how would anyone know that the country was a tyranny run by a terrible dictator? That its people lived in poverty and ignorance and were terrorised?

      Anyway, that line of thought wasn’t helping. What she should be concentrating on was what she should do now.

      Pushing aside thoughts of dictators and terror, she swung her legs over the side of the horrible bed and stood up. A wave of dizziness hit her, along with some nausea, but the feeling passed after a couple of moments of stillness. Her face stung, but since there was no mirror she couldn’t see what the problem was. Sunburn, probably.

      Slowly she moved over to the door and tried to open it, but it remained shut. Locked, obviously. Frowning, she took another look around the room. Up high near the ceiling was a small window, bright sunlight shining through it.

      Maybe she could have a look and see what was out there? Get a feel for where she was? Certainly that was better than sitting around feeling afraid.

      Charlotte stood there for a moment, biting her lip and thinking, then she shoved the bed underneath the window and climbed on top of it. Her fingers just scraped the ledge, not giving her nearly enough leverage to pull herself up. Annoyed, she took another look around before her gaze settled on the bucket in the corner.

      Ah, that might work.

      Jumping down off the bed, she went over to the bucket, picked it up and took it back to the bed. She upended it, set it down on the mattress, then climbed back onto the bed and onto the bucket. Given more height, she was able to pull herself up enough to look out of the window.

      The glass was dusty and cracked, but she could see through it. However, the view was nothing but the stone wall of another building. She frowned again, trying to peer around to see if she could see anything, but couldn’t.

      Perhaps she could break the glass?

      Yes, she could do that, and then...

      A sudden thought gripped her. Carefully, she examined the window again. She was a small woman, which had proved useful on many occasions, such as in hiding from her parents when the shouting had got too bad, and maybe it could be useful now?

       Or maybe you should just sit and wait to see what happens?

      She could—but this wasn’t just about her, was it? She had her father to consider. He might be in another jail cell somewhere or he could even be dead. Dead and she would never know.

       You really will be alone then.

      Cold crept through her, despite the sun outside.

      No, she couldn’t sit there, helpless and not knowing. She had to do something.

      Decisive now, she stripped off the white shirt she was wearing—her scarf seemed to have disappeared somewhere along the line—and wrapped it around her hand. Then she hammered with her fist on the glass. After a couple of strikes against the crack already running through it, the pane shattered beautifully.

      Pleased with herself, she made sure that there were no sharp shards there, waiting to cut her, and then before she could think better of it she wriggled through the window.

      A large man wouldn’t have made it. Even a medium-sized man would have had difficulty.

      But a small woman? Easy.

      She fell rather ignominiously to the ground, winding herself, and had to lie there for a couple of moments to get her breath back. The sun was incredibly hot, the air like a furnace. Definitely she was somewhere in Ashkaraz, that was for sure.

      But then she was conscious of a sound. A familiar sound. Traffic. Cars and trucks on a road...horns sounding. People talking...the first few bars of a very popular pop song currently hitting the charts rising.

      Puzzled, she pushed herself to her feet and found herself standing in a narrow alley between two tall stone buildings. At the mouth of the alley there appeared to be a street, with people walking past.

      Despite her fear and uncertainty, an unexpected thrill of excitement caught at her.

      She was in a closed country. A country no foreigner had seen for over twenty years. No one except her.

      As her father’s assistant she’d become interested in archaeology and history, but it had always been society and people that had fascinated her the most. Ashkaraz was reportedly a throwback to medieval times, a society where time had stood still.

       And you might be the first person to see the truth of it.

      Nothing was going to stop her from seeing that truth, and she eagerly started towards the mouth of the alleyway.

      Nothing could have prepared her for the shock of seeing an Ashkaraz street.

      Part of her had been expecting horses and carts, a medieval fantasy of a middle eastern city, with ancient souks and camels and snake charmers. But that was not what she saw.

      Bright, shiny and very new cars moved in the street, beneath tall, architecturally designed buildings made of glass and steel. People bustled along on the footpaths, some robed, some in the kind of clothes she would have seen on the streets in London. In amongst the glass and steel were historic buildings, beautifully preserved, and shops and cafés lined the streets. People were sitting at tables outside, talking, laughing, working, looking at their smartphones.

      There was an energy to the place, which was clearly a bustling, successful, prosperous city.

      Definitely not the poverty-stricken nation with a beaten-down populace crushed under the thumb of a dictator that the rest of the world thought it to be.

      What on earth was going on?

      Amazed, Charlotte stepped out onto the footpath, joining the stream of people walking along it, oblivious to the glances she was receiving.

      There was a beautiful park up ahead, with a fountain and lush gardens, lots of benches to sit on and a playground for children. Already there seemed to be a number of kids there, screaming and laughing while their indulgent parents looked on.

      This was...incredible. Amazing. How was this even possible? Was this the truth that Ashkaraz had been hiding all along?

      She СКАЧАТЬ