The Sheikh's Claim (Desert Nights 2)

“You mean because as my mother’s former colleague, Zahyah was one of your mother’s servants, too?”

He stiffened at the mention of his mother. The knowledge of her conspiracy to depose his father, King Atef, and remove his half brothers from succession to the throne of Zohayd was a skewer constantly turning inside him.

But Lujayn knew nothing of the conspiracy. No one but he and his siblings and father did. They’d been keeping it a secret at all costs until they resolved it. And resolution would come only when they discovered where his mother had hidden the Pride of Zohayd jewels. It was a backward and infuriating situation, one dictated by legend and now enforced by law—possession of the jewels conferred the right to rule Zohayd. Instead of calling for whoever had stolen them to be punished, Zohayd’s people would decree that his father and his heirs, who had “lost” them, were unworthy of the throne. The belief that the jewels “sought” to be possessed by whoever deserved to rule the kingdom was unshakable.

But even when threatened with life imprisonment, his mother wouldn’t confess to their location. All she’d told him and Haidar was that she would continue to destroy their father and brothers from her prison, that when the throne became Haidar’s, with him as his crown prince, they would thank her.

He shook away the gnawing of ongoing frustration, leveling his gaze at the current cause of it. “I mean that Zahyah, as an Azmaharian who spent years in the royal palace of Zohayd—”

“As a virtual slave to your mother—as was mine.”

The knot in his gut grew tighter as yet another of his mother’s crimes sank its shame into him.

Ever since the exposure of Sondoss’s conspiracy, they’d been realizing the full extent of her transgressions. Slave might be an exaggeration, but from recent findings, it had become evident she’d mistreated her servants. Lujayn’s mother, as her “lady-in-waiting,” seemed to have borne the brunt of her ruthless caprice. But Badreyah had left his mother’s service as soon as Lujayn had left him. Seemed she could afford to when Lujayn had married Patrick McDermott.

That was probably one reason Lujayn had married him. Not that it made him any less bitter about it. She should have told him if she’d known Badreyah had been suffering at his mother’s hands. He should have been the one she’d gone to for help.

He answered her cold fury with his own. “Whatever views Zahyah holds of my mother, she evidently still considers me her prince. She welcomed me in accordingly.”

“Don’t tell me you think people really buy this Prince of Two Kingdoms crap.”

Her sneer had blood surging to his head. As half-Azmaharian half-Zohaydan princes, he and Haidar had been dubbed that. He couldn’t speak for Haidar, but he’d always felt like a prince of neither kingdom. In Zohayd he was cut off from succession for being of impure stock. In Azmahar…well, he could count the reasons that no one there should consider him their prince.

The grandiose slogan that had been plastered over them from birth had always felt—as she’d pithily put it—like crap.

But then their mother decided to make it a reality. She was out to mangle and reform the region in order to do so.

He exhaled. “Whatever I am or am not, Zahyah welcomed me, and so did your guards before her. I’ve been welcomed here enough times that they didn’t think twice of continuing the practice.”

“You conned them using a defunct relationship with Patrick—”

“Who’s no longer with us, thanks to you.” He cut her off, the bile of pent-up anger welling again. “But you didn’t prepare for developments as I thought you would. You didn’t make allowance for my reappearance, didn’t revoke my standing invitation.”

“Like I would a vampire’s, huh? Though one would be preferable to you since you’re a soul sucker. And you’re harder to banish. But I’ll rectify that oversight right now.”

He caught her arm as she strode past, felt awareness fork in his body. He gritted his teeth against the response, kept his breathing shallow so her scent—that of jasmine-scented twilights and pleasure-drenched nights—didn’t trigger full-blown arousal.

“Don’t bother. This delightful visit won’t be repeated.”

She jerked her arm free of his loose grasp. “It won’t even start. You have some nerve coming here, after what you’ve done.”

She was referring to his business clashes with Patrick, which had resulted in major losses to them both. More damage she’d caused.

He misunderstood her on purpose. “I’m not the one who dumped you and married one of your best friends, only to turn her against you.”

“You give Patrick too little credit if you think I influenced his decision to cut all business ties with you.”

“You’d influence the devil himself. And we both know Patrick had too much angel in him. He was the perfect prey for the black widow you turned out to be.”

Her eyes swept him from head to toe in disdain. “Listen, Jalal, cut the cloak-and-dagger melodrama. If you traveled across the world just to accuse me of overdosing my husband, you accomplished that with your opening statement. Don’t be redundant as well as unfeeling and overbearing. You can now go back to your sand-infested, backward region to wallow in your unearned power.”

Heat splashed in his chest. Not because her views insulted him, but because she had them at all. Disappointment only intensified his reaction to her, sent blood roaring to his loins.

His lips twisted with grim humor. “You were always a spitfire, yet you never spoke this brazenly to me.”

“You just never bothered to listen. Not that that was a privilege you reserved for me. Your Exalted Highness didn’t consider anyone worth listening to. But you’re partially right. I was once guilty of embellishing my attitude and opinion of you. I’m not the person I was anymore.”

“You’re exactly the person you always were. But now that you’re an heiress to an empire worth billions, you believe you have the luxury of showing me your true face and the clout to take me on.”

Her eyes grew ridiculing. “That’s not why I don’t have to suppress my abhorrence of you and all you stand for anymore. But since I’m not inclined to explain my reasons, thanks for coming.”

Thanks?

“I’ve been seething for two years that I didn’t let it all out when I last saw you. Thanks for giving me the chance to get it off my chest. Now, since you’ve done what you’ve come to do, and indulged your evidently long-repressed desire to call me names—”