The vizier held up his wine. “To the future of the kingdom.”
“To the future,” Omar said. He didn’t notice the three pairs of eyes watching him avidly. As he lifted the goblet to his mouth, his mind was already on Beth. He could hardly wait to tell her he loved her. As soon as he’d finished this toast, he’d fly to Houston and offer his heart at her feet—
Smiling to himself, he pressed the goblet to his lips, and tilted his head back to drink.
“No!” a woman screamed, and the goblet was knocked out of his hand.
To his shock, Beth stood before him, her eyes wide with what seemed like panic. She wasn’t in Houston as he’d pictured her, but right in front of him now. And he’d never seen anything more beautiful, more wonderful, in his whole life.
“Did you drink anything?” she begged. “Did you?”
Suddenly, there were guards all around them in the garden. The vizier looked at them wildly, pointing at Beth. “Seize this woman!”
But the guards didn’t move. They were looking at Beth for their orders, Omar realized.
“What are you doing here?” he breathed.
“Your drink was poisoned.” Beth pointed at Khalid, Laila and Hassan al-Abayyi. “They were going to murder you and take the throne.”
“She’s lying!” Khalid cried.
“Murder me?” Omar said slowly, as the words penetrated the fog of his joy. He looked at Hassan, whose face was red with rage.
“Don’t,” Khalid said warningly.
But the older man was past all advice. He turned on Omar in fury. “You’re ruining this country. All your talk of prosperity and equality for the common people. They need to be ruled with an iron hand, as in your grandfather’s time!” He pointed at his daughter and the vizier. “Laila and Khalid know this. They should rule, not you!”
Omar staggered back in shock. He looked at Laila.
“I didn’t know for sure they were planning to kill you,” she said weakly. “I just wanted to be queen.”
Looking at the vizier, Omar choked out, “And you. We’ve been friends since we were boys.”
Khalid looked back at him with undisguised hatred. “We were. Until the day you murdered Ferida.”
Omar gasped. “You were the man she loved?”
“And you took her from me,” Khalid said tightly. “Just by right of being king. Ever since, I’ve dreamed of my revenge. I wanted your crown. When you married that shop girl, I thought I’d have to kill you on your honeymoon and seize the throne. Now I’ll have to be satisfied,” he said in a low growl, “with killing your woman!”
Khalid sprang murderously toward Beth, a knife in his hand.
Ripping his own ceremonial dagger from his belt, Omar blocked his blade at the last moment. They struggled, then Omar threw him forcibly to the ground.
“Take them,” he said to the captain of the guard, who nodded grimly. A short scuffle ended with the three plotters being dragged away screaming, all of them blaming each other.
“What will happen to them?” Beth said brokenly, watching as they were taken forcibly out of the royal garden.
“I don’t know or care.” Pulling her into his arms, Omar fervently kissed her forehead, her cheeks. Emotion ripped through him, as he felt how he’d nearly lost her. Just remembering how Khalid’s knife had gleamed wickedly in the light made his body shake. Holding her tight, he whispered, “You came back to me.”
“Rayah called me in Houston. She’d heard the vizier plotting but no one could reach you. I couldn’t let them hurt you. I...” As she looked up at him, her voice choked, and she turned away.
He gripped her hand, not releasing her. “What?”
“I came to tell you something, but...” Beth lifted her gaze miserably to his. “I can’t. You married her. She’s your wife.”
Omar slowly shook his head. “I couldn’t marry her.” Lifting her limp hand, he pressed it against his heart and said tenderly, “How could I, when I want only you?”
Her eyes grew wide. “But you were in the middle of the wedding toast—”