Sixteen hours later Kahlil reappeared. He’d only just returned to the crumbling fortress. Bryn could still hear the rotary whir of the helicopter blades.
“It’s Ben,” Kahlil said sharply, without preamble. His complexion looked ashen, deep purple shadows beneath his bloodshot eyes. “He’s gone.”
Ben. Gone. Impossible. But that’s what Kahlil had said.
Through a narrow window Bryn saw clouds of red-gold spiral, desert sand swirling furiously. Her mind was like that, swirling, dizzying. “What do you mean gone? Gone where?”
“We don’t know.”
You don’t know? An irrational voice screamed inside her head. You’re the sheikh. The king. You must know. She wrapped her arms across her chest, lifted her chin, fighting for calm. “Did he run away?”
“No.”
“Then what? Are you telling me someone kidnapped Ben?”
“Yes.”
She staggered backward, eyes widening. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue like lead. Disbelief surged through her veins. “Who?” Her voice came out a whisper, airless, powerless, a flutter of sound.
“Amin.”
She took another half step backward and Kahlil’s shoulders shifted, an uneasy gesture that revealed more than his words could. “I have every resource working on this, Bryn. We will find them. That’s a promise.”
She felt as though she’d plunged into an icy river and her body was shutting down, legs numb, muscles numb, heart freezing.
This was her fault.
She hadn’t protected Ben, hadn’t confided her fears in Kahlil. She’d felt strong, impervious to Amin. She’d even challenged him, taunted him that he couldn’t hurt her, that he wasn’t powerful enough. My God. What had she done?
Helplessly she crunched her fingers to her palms, folded her arms against her breasts, fighting to stay warm. She felt cold, desperately cold, and desperately afraid. “What do you know right now? What are your leads?”
“Ben was taken last night after the ceremony. The maid was drawing his bath, had her back turned while filling the tub. When she went to fetch Ben, he was gone.”
Gone. The word conjured terror. Puff, gone. Puff, lost. Puff, her heart broken.
She pressed the tip of her tongue to the roof of her mouth but her mind went blank. What could she say? Nothing. Nothing. Finally, after long, impenetrable seconds, she stuttered, “How do you know Amin took him? How do you know he didn’t wander off? That he didn’t get out through an open door?”
“We have evidence.”
“What evidence?” She refused to be thwarted. This wasn’t a lost set of car keys, for God’s sake, but their child!
“Amin left a note.” Deep grooves formed on either side of Kahlil’s mouth. “It was cryptic. Didn’t really make sense. We just need to be patient and let my men continue their investigation.”
If he’d hoped to calm her, he’d failed. His words only incited greater alarm. Her stomach heaved. “Tell me, Kahlil. I want to know. I need to know.”
“The note was short. And as I’ve said, cryptic. Amin wrote that he was taking what was his. That’s all he said.”
Relief washed over her. “So we don’t know that Amin has Ben. We have two missing people. We don’t know they’re together.”
“But we do.” Kahlil’s lips compressed, the lines near his mouth almost white. “We have it on videotape, Amin bundling Ben up and carrying him from the nursery.”
“No! Not like that, he didn’t do that, tell me, Kahlil—”
Kahlil caught Bryn in his arms and drew her close, cradling her against her chest. “Shh, laeela, we’ll find them. We’ll have our son home soon. I swear.”
The helicopter returned them to Tiva, landing in the gated palace courtyard. The whirring blades blew the palms, creating a swish of green against the white plaster walls.
A scarlet-throat hummingbird buzzed past their heads, flitting to one of the pots of coral-red hibiscus flanking the door. Bryn paused for a split second to watch the emerald-green bird dive into the petals. That is how she’d been with Kahlil, the hummingbird unable to resist the nectar.
And look what her desire, her intense love, had done to them. Secrets, lies, a kidnapped baby.
It was almost too much to bear.
Kahlil gently touched her spine, prompting Bryn through the enormous door. He walked her to her suite of rooms, stopping outside the harem entrance. With a kiss on her upturned lips, he promised, “I’ll send word as soon as I hear something.”
He felt warm and solid, and she found comfort in his proximity. It was easier facing the future with Kahlil at her side. “I don’t want to be alone,” she pleaded, fingers grappling, tangling in his robe. “Let me stay with you.”
“This is a high-level security matter. I’ll be meeting with my advisors. It’s better if you stay here.”
“It’s not better for me. I’m scared.”
“Bryn, trust me.” He plucked her hands from his robe, gave her an encouraging smile, although the deep lines fanning from his eyes told another story. “I promise I’ll let you know as developments occur. Now try to rest. You need it.”
Lalia ordered a small dinner tray that Bryn didn’t touch. She didn’t want food. She wanted Ben home.
Minutes turned to hours. The wait grew intolerable. Two hours. Three. Her back ached, her head hurt. Her eyes felt like small rough pebbles, too dry from so little sleep.
Four hours passed. Bryn began to shake, the after shocks of adrenaline. Too little sleep. Too much anxiety. She felt as if she were turned inside out and about to break.
“You must sleep, my lady,” Lalia soothed, drawing down the cool sheets, dimming the bedside lamp. “Lie down. Rest.”
But Bryn couldn’t sleep, and she spent the night sitting against the wall of her bedroom, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon.
Amin was evil, the worst kind of evil, but not even he would actually hurt Ben, would he?
She tried to imagine where Amin had taken Ben, wondering if it was very dark, and if Ben was frightened. But her mind shied away from a morbid scenario. She had to remain positive, had to believe that Ben was fine and that Amin would be kind.
Comforted somewhat, Bryn watched the moon shift in the sky, arcing slowly through the night, the stars growing whiter, brighter, only to dim again, until at last the purple faded to violet and then to lavender.
The morning sun rose and Bryn still sat, her back against the wall, her arms encircling her knees.
The maid reappeared, shrouded in filmy veils. She, too, looked tired, as though she hadn’t slept. “Breakfast, Princess,” she said, delivering a tray with sweet breads, fresh fruit and hot mint tea.
“I can’t eat. Not until Ben’s home.”
“The sheikh will bring him home. The sheikh is all-powerful.”
All-powerful. If only it were true! Bryn
sipped her tea but didn’t touch the food, staring at the sliced mango on the tray, the fruit’s vivid flesh ripe and juicy. She wondered what Ben would have for breakfast. She prayed Amin would give him breakfast. If Ben were even still alive… No! You can’t think like that. Of course he’s alive. Amin is cruel and selfish, but he wouldn’t hurt a child.
Tears filled her eyes and she bit her knuckles, determined not to cry, not to give in to useless emotion. Tears wouldn’t help Ben.
A rustle of fabric, Lalia in the doorway. Her features were drawn. “My lady, Sheikh al-Assad is waiting in the main reception room. Please, I dress you quickly.’
Bryn fidgeted as Lalia dressed her in a simple apricot chiffon gown. “You must be brave, Princess,” Lalia urged, combing Bryn’s hair smooth and tying it with an apricot ribbon.
“I am very brave,” Bryn answered grimly. She wanted nothing so much as to be with Kahlil and to discover his news. She could only pray that he’d located Ben.
Rifaat waited for her at the entrance to the women’s quarters. “Good morning, Princess al-Assad.”
Bryn had grown so accustomed to his silence that his greeting startled her. “Good morning, Rifaat.”
“You look very tired. Are you not sleeping?”
How could she? How could anyone sleep when a three-year-old was missing? “Has his highness heard anything?”
“That I do not know.”
Her eyebrows arched, impatience, frustration balling into one. “Why must we play these games, Rifaat? You know everything that happens in this place. You’re Kahlil’s secret ears. You’re privy to all the servants’ gossip. You often know things before Kahlil!”
Rifaat almost smiled, but the expression in his deep brown eyes was infinitely sad. “A blessing, and a curse, my lady. Sometimes it is better not to know.” And with another slight bow he led the way through the gleaming marble hall, past the center pavilion and down another breezeway.
Bryn immediately spotted Kahlil at the far end of the reception room. He stood at an open window overlooking the private patio. Soft gold light washed the windowsill, the sky still the fairy-tale pink of early morning.