‘They got bored. And so they wanted to amuse themselves. They decided to take me on as a pet project of sorts. To see how long it would take to turn a pampered son of the Sheikh into something else…something more malleable.’
A slow trickling of horror started to snake through Jamilah. She went very still.
‘Every day they would come…and take me out of the gaol they’d made out of our old dungeon. At first I bragged to Nadim. I told him that it was because they favoured me. He’d always been the strong one, the one everyone looked up to, and now I was the one being singled out. I couldn’t understand my mother and father’s terror, and if they spoke up too much they were beaten. For the first few days they let me be the cocky little spoilt boy I was—precocious and undoubtedly annoying. We played games…football. They fed me well, made sure I had enough to drink.’
Salman’s mouth thinned, his jaw clenched.
‘And then it started. The breaking down. The food and drinks were denied me. They started beating me with fists and feet, belts and whips, for the smallest thing. I was bewildered at first. I’d thought they’d been my friends and suddenly they weren’t. When I was brought back to the gaol in the evenings I wasn’t so cocky. I was confused. How could I explain to Nadim what was going on? I couldn’t understand it myself. And yet I couldn’t ask for his help. I was too proud, even then. But he suspected what they were doing, and he begged them to take him instead. They ignored him and took me. And they told me that if I didn’t go with them every day they would kill Nadim and my parents.’
Jamilah already had a lump in her throat. She wanted to ask Salman to stop, but knew she couldn’t. If there was ever to be any hope of closure between them then she had to endure this.
Salman shook his head as if to dislodge a memory. ‘The days morphed into one long day… There’s a lot I don’t remember, but eventually the beatings stopped. By then I was no longer confident, cocky or spoilt. They’d broken me. I had become their tea boy—their servant. They made me polish their boots, make them their lunch.’ He took a deep breath. ‘But then they got bored again, and decided to train me to be just like them—ruthless soldiers. So they gave me a gun and took me down to the stables for some target practice.’
‘Salman…’ Jamilah let out a low, horrified breath, shaking her head in denial of what was to come.
He smiled grimly. ‘After it was over—when we were free—the thing that upset my father the most was the fact that they’d shot all the horses. Except they hadn’t…it was me. I was forced to use the horses as target practice, and I got very good very quickly once they told me I had only one shot per horse. If I didn’t succeed first time they would let the horse die in agony.’
Jamilah closed her eyes. That was why he knew how to use a gun. And that was why he never went near horses or the stables. She opened her eyes. She felt as if a cold wind was blowing over her soul. She was numb, and knew it was the protection of shock. ‘Abdul defended you one day at the stables…I couldn’t understand why…’
A muscle clenched in his jaw. ‘That first day Abdul tried to stop them, and they offered me a choice. Either start killing the horses or kill him. It wasn’t a choice. Worse than anything, though, was that they made me into one of them. I had to start thinking like them just to survive. I had to become wily. The day the Bedouin came and rescued us they found me up on the roof of the castle with a gun. I’d somehow got away from the rebels and was going to try and shoot them…’ His mouth twisted. ‘I was wild, feral… I was about to kill another human being because they had desensitised me so much that I believed it not only possible but acceptable.’
She felt sick. ‘How can you even bear to go to Al-Omar after that?’
Salman shook his head. ‘Sultan Sadiq is not his father. He and Nadim made a peace agreement years ago. And he personally oversaw the arrest and imprisonment of all the rebel elements of his father’s army.’
Without even thinking about what she was doing Jamilah kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot over to where Salman sat. She knelt at his feet, took one of his hands in hers, and looked up at him, an unbelievable ache in her chest. ‘I had no idea that such terror was visited upon you. Why does no one know this?’ She felt the tension in his frame.
‘Because I blamed myself for a long time. I believed that I’d been responsible on some level—that I’d invited their attention. How could I tell my father what I’d done? He’d never forgive me…or at least that was what I thought. I had nightmares for years of being pursued by a herd of wild avenging horses until I was so exhausted that I would fall and they would trample me to death.’
Jamilah shook her head, gripping his hand. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
Salman quirked a weary smile. ‘It’s one thing to know that on an intellectual level, and another entirely to believe it with all your being.’
Abruptly he stood up, forcing her to stand, too. He took his hand from hers and tipped his head back, his features suddenly stern. ‘So now you know. I hope the lurid tale was worth the wait…’
Jamilah shook her head. ‘Salman, don’t…’
Salman was reacting to how exposed and naked he felt in that moment—alternately drawn to and wanting to escape from Jamilah’s huge eyes, which swirled with emotions he couldn’t bear to acknowledge. ‘Salman, don’t what? I told you I was twisted and dark inside, and now you know why. Nothing else has changed, Jamilah. I still want you.’ His mouth thinned. ‘But I won’t be surprised if you find your desire suddenly diminished. Not many people relish a battle-scarred lover. Perhaps I should take your advice and go and slake my lust elsewhere.’
The stoic pride on his face, mixed with a vulnerability she’d never seen before, made her want to weep. Jamilah fought not to contradict him vociferously. How could he think that? She remained silent, stunned by his awful revelations. She was reeling, in shock and numb all over, but she finally managed to get out, ‘What you’ve told me hasn’t disgusted me at all…you were a victim, and shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.’
Jamilah sensed Salman’s volatility, sensed his anger that he’d revealed what he had. She knew it must have cost him, and he wouldn’t welcome the fact that she’d all but bludgeoned him into it. She had to walk away now or he might see how badly she wanted to step up to him, pull his head down and comfort him. She tore her gaze from his and turned and walked away.
At the door she stopped, but didn’t turn back. All she said was, ‘I’m glad you told me, Salman.’ And she left.
For long moments after Jamilah had left the room Salman just stood there, in shock at how easily he’d let his darkness spill out, and at Jamilah’s sweetly accepting response. He’d seen pity, yes, but it hadn’t made him feel as constricted as he might have imagined. He’d always dreaded the reaction he might get. That was why he found it so easy to listen to others tell their tales.
There was an intense battle raging within him: to take Jamilah and slake his lust, drown himself in the sanctuary that he suspected with grim certainty only she could give him, or to push her away so far and so fast that she would be protected from him. Again.
And yet just now she hadn’t run from him in horrified terror at the images that had haunted him all his life. He’d seen the compassion in her eyes and had recoiled from it, even as he’d wanted to bury his head in her breast and beg her to never let him go. He who’d never sought comfort from anyone! Even in the darkest moments, when he’d felt he was going mad with all the nightmares and memories.
The parameters of their relationship had just shifted, and Salman wasn’t su
re where they stopped and started any more. All he knew was that he wanted her—now more than ever. Even while he felt that need he acknowledged that after tonight she would have to come to him, but the question was, would she?
Jamilah lay in bed, wide awake, her stomach roiling at the thought of what Salman had gone through. Her head was whirling with all the information. So much made sense now: that terrible darkness that was like a cloak around him, his frosty relationship with Nadim and Merkazad, his fear of horses… And yet he also seemed to be even more of an enigma. She now knew his inner demons, but she’d never felt further from knowing him.
Jamilah turned over onto her side and looked out onto the empty square that housed the iconic hotel. Moonlight lit up the monument in the middle, throwing it into stark relief. Despite everything Salman had told her, what was at the forefront of her mind was the fact that he’d lied about their bond being non-existent. That he’d said it purely to drive her away. And it had worked—admirably.