Princess's Nine-Month Secret

Before him, the palace grounds sprawled in sun-dappled splendour. Beyond the windows, the muted buzzing of an expectant crowd rolled over the horizon. Excited citizens and eager tourists who’d flown in especially for this occasion were anticipating a fairy-tale royal wedding of their King to his chosen Queen. The whole kingdom had been gripped in wedding fever for months.

Only to have his heathen bastard of a half-brother claim in writing that he’d seduced and stolen his betrothed!

In another life, perhaps, that tiny sliver of emotion piercing through his fury could’ve been called relief from yet another responsibility. But Zufar gave it absolutely no room whatsoever, because he now faced a monumental problem. Aside from the humiliation of announcing that he was no longer in possession of his fiancée, this arrangement had held great economic advantages for Khalia.

He needed to find Amira. Confirm for himself that his half-brother’s claim was the truth.

But how could he, when he had no idea where he’d gone? The dossier he’d collated on Adir when he’d first made his unforgettable appearance at his mother’s funeral had revealed he had no fixed abode, or, if he did, he’d kept it very well hidden.

Even if Zufar knew his whereabouts, he had no time to go chasing after him. He acknowledged with a bitter laugh how well timed Adir’s revenge had been. His half-brother knew that doing this now would cause the most humiliation. The most uproar.

Zufar wasn’t about to hand him that victory. Not in this lifetime.

He whirled to face the young chambermaid. ‘When did they leave?’

Her throat worked again. But this time she wasn’t silent for very long. ‘I brought her tea, and left her alone for just ten minutes.’ Her voice was wracked with nerves and anguish. She began to wring her hands again. ‘I had gone to get the royal jewellery when I heard the commotion.’

‘So you saw them leave together?’

Her head moved in a shaky nod. ‘Yes.’

‘And you’re sure he didn’t harm her?’ Zufar demanded.

‘She—she didn’t appear in distress, Your Highness. She seemed...willing.’

The tightness in his chest eased a tiny fraction. ‘How did they leave?’

She pointed to the very window where he stood.

Zufar’s jaw clenched tight. They were on the second floor, with nothing outside the windows but climbing vines. Granted, they were over a century old and sturdy enough to hold a horse, but had his barbarian brother really whisked his betrothed out of a second-floor window?

‘Did anyone else see them?’

‘Only Her Highness, the Princess, but they were almost on the ground when she came in.’

Zufar frowned. Why hadn’t Galila informed him?

Had she tried to stop them and been unsuccessful? Most likely Galila was keeping well out of Zufar’s way because she knew how he would take the news.

‘How soon after did you raise the alarm?’

Guilt flickered across her face and her lower lip trembled once more.

‘Seconds? Minutes?’ he snapped.

She paled. ‘I—I’m sorry... I thought... I thought it was a prank.’

‘It wasn’t. And your failure to raise the alarm in time may have aided his getaway.’ Zufar was sure of it.

She shrank further into the wall. He whirled away, tension threatening to break his spine.

The scandal just waiting to be triggered by such a revelation struck him stone cold. But under no circumstances was he going to let that happen.

He shoved the piece of paper into his pocket and closed his mind to the burning gross insult against his kingdom and his crown. He would deal with his half-brother later. For now he needed an interim solution to this situation. One that did not involve calling off his wedding.

A quick glance around the room showed the suspended state of preparation.

The gown that should’ve been adorning his bride-to-be by was draped over a mannequin, the heeled slippers peeking out beneath its hem.