Tamed: The Barbarian King

He kissed her hand in gratitude. “You are too good,” he whispered.

She stared at the patterns of sunlight on the floor. Good? She was far from good. Picking up the ring, she handed it to him.

“What will you do?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. “Go back to New York. Run my business. Help my sister however she needs me.”

“And the king?”

She shook her head. “His duty lies elsewhere.”

“Are you sure?”

Trembling, she rose to her feet. “He must marry a woman who can give him children.”

“Sometimes, Jasmine,” Umar said, looking at her quietly, “you must put aside the person everyone wants you to be—to become the person you were born to be.”

She stared at him.

For years, Jasmine had lived alone in New York, working to build her investment portfolio. She’d focused on the past and the future, but never the present.

Now the past was done. The future was unknowable. But she was only twenty-nine years old. There could be a life for her back in New York, if she chose to create one. She could make her sterile Park Avenue apartment a comfortable home. She could start with a fresh clean slate.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Jasmine?” he asked. “Perhaps explain to your father?”

She gave a deep, shaky laugh. “That’s an idea,” she said wryly, then shook her head. “There is one thing. You have that private plane….”

“Done.”

She pulled the white veil off her head, dropping it to the floor in a shimmering cascade of translucent light.

“I cannot allow Kareef to sacrifice himself for me. But there is one thing I can do.” She glanced out the round window, thinking of the ranch house, far across the unseen desert. She straightened. “I can watch him become a king. And before I leave Qusay, I can take back a lie. I can tell him…” She took a deep breath. “I can tell him the truth.”

Kareef looked around the royal bedchamber in the bright sunlight.

His coronation day.

His enormous bedroom was richly appointed, lavishly decorated and big enough for the ten servants that usually insisted on waiting on him. This morning, he’d thrown them all out. He would dress for his coronation—alone.

Slowly, he picked up the ceremonial sword with emeralds on the scabbard and wrapped the belt around his white robes. So much had changed in the last week. And yet nothing had changed.

He was king.

He was alone.

And he felt nothing.

He had dim memories of flying back from the desert last night after the Qais Cup. He was fairly sure he’d spent the evening making small talk with foreign dignitaries. But he could not recall any conversation or whom he’d spoken with. When he tried to think of last night all he could recall was the image of Jasmine’s pale expression, the way she’d flinched when he’d punched the hole in the wall.

You took away my chance to ever have a child.

Punching the wall, he’d been trying to rid himself of the pain. In a way, it had worked. His hand still felt numb. Just like the rest of him.

He’d offered Jasmine everything. His name. His throne. His love. And she’d still refused him.

You’re a fool. I pity you with all my heart.

The servants waiting outside his bedchamber door followed him in a line as he went down to the breakfast room for his final meal before the formal coronation.

Final meal, he thought dully. The condemned man ate a hearty breakfast.

He’d loved her. He loved her still. But he could not have her.

“Ah, sire!” the vizier said brightly as he entered the room. “Good morning! A fine joyful day, sunny and perfect for the first official day of your reign. Now that you are free of…er…entanglements, perhaps after the coronation, I might have your permission to begin the process of seeking a royal bride?”

Kareef looked up at him wearily at the word entanglements. Akmal Al’Sayr gave a single discreet grimace. The man had somehow discovered already that Jasmine had thrown him over, and he was so damn happy about it. It made Kareef grind his teeth.

“Fine,” he bit out. If Jasmine could move on, then so could he. He’d lived without love before. He could do it again.

Duty was all he had left. Cold, endless duty.

“Perfect, sire! I have several lovely princesses to choose from.”

“Choose whomever you like,” Kareef said heavily.

“I know the perfect bride. She’s already here to attend the coronation. I will speak with her family immediately, and if they agree, we will begin negotiations later this afternoon.” He paused. “Unless you’d care to meet the girl first?”