“Surely you’re not offering yourself as collateral,” Hamid managed. “You’re about to be charged with several crimes, ranging in severity from misdemeanor to treason. You’re useless to me.”

  “Not me.” Yusuf looked him straight in the eye. “My eldest daughter. Talitha!” he shouted. “Talitha, come here.”

  A woman appeared from behind the temporary wall, honey-blonde and lithe, with dark eyes narrowed at her father’s shouting. “Papa, what is it?” She took in Hamid and Amir, standing there with Mahir, and shock crossed her expression. “Your—Your Royal Highness.”

  She bobbed a curtsy and when her eyes met Hamid’s, a shock went through him. It opened up a deep hunger in him, one that he was not accustomed to feeling. Hamid didn’t get hungry for people. He wanted to be a good king, a steadfast leader, which meant that everything he did was in service of the country and tradition. But this? This gnawing ache inside of him? It made him want nothing more than to cross the room, take her in his arms, and kiss her.

  Hard.

  Yusuf was saying something about buying a month’s grace to pay his debts. “Talitha,” he said. “Pay attention.”

  Her gaze swung away from Hamid, and he felt like the sun had gone behind a thick cloud. He took in a quick breath. Get those lungs moving.

  Yusuf put a hand on Talitha’s shoulder. “Your role is to help the family business, is it not? This is how I need you to help the business now.” There was a note of panic in his voice, and Hamid realized all at once the depth of the man’s desperation. “You’re being offered as collateral for the debts we owe to the crown. You’ll be Sheikh Hamid’s property for a month.”

  Talitha’s mouth dropped open and her hand flew up to cover it. Anger burst into open flame at the pit of his gut. This was wrong. Wrong. Ancient laws didn’t mean that Yusuf could offer his daughter in place of money. What was he thinking? The law was the law, of course, and Hamid had made it his life’s work to follow those laws. To enforce those laws.

  Ah. Ah. A flash of understanding. Yusuf was bluffing him.

  A second wave of anger came hard and fast. Even pretending to give up his own daughter was a low move. Yusuf was no doubt hoping that Hamid would back down. Forgive his debt.

  “Amir.” Hamid waved him forward. “Take Talitha into custody.”

  Amir, bless him, didn’t hesitate. He strode around the workbench toward Talitha. Her father didn’t move to step in front of her. He stood frozen, his mouth hanging open, cheeks a violent red.

  “I—” Yusuf struggled for words. “I didn’t—Your Highness.”

  “Wait, Amir.” His head of security stopped, an arm’s length away from Talitha. A strange jealousy burned through Hamid’s core. He wanted to be the one standing so close to her. Forget tradition. No—no. He could not forget tradition. Tradition made him who he was. “Take her home.”

  “What?” gasped Talitha.

  “Take her to her home, Amir. Help her collect her necessities. Then bring her to the palace where she will be welcomed as an invited, honored guest. Not property.” Hamid let his words hang in the air between them. “She is not property.”

  Then he turned on his heel and went, leaving Yusuf silent and stricken. Hamid waited for the fallout—for Talitha to refuse, to protest. But he’d seen the way she looked at him. Had she felt that shock, too?

  Hamid stopped at the door, waiting for his security man. Mahir rushed up next to him. And then Amir came out from the back, Talitha by his side. Hamid swore he saw a flicker of a smile on her face, there and then gone in the blink of an eye.

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  (The Blooming Desert Series Book One)

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