“I know what you are thinking,” he said. “I'm thinking it too.”

  She didn't respond, and a moment later, he padded closer to sit on the couch beside her. She noticed that he was keeping some space between them, and that made her heart ache.

  Tell me this isn't a mistake. Tell me that we're making the right choice.

  When Ziad was silent, she sat up straight and turned to him.

  “This may be the most important decision I ever make,” she said, keeping her voice as level as she could. “I have to know I'm doing the right thing. Please. Tell me why you’re doing this. Give me something.”

  Ziad hesitated, and Laura wondered if he was going to speak at all. Finally, he sighed.

  “This time last year, I was in control. I knew my duties, and I did them well. I had my family. I had my work. I did not worry about much. Then a tragedy occurred, and I had two children, Hasan and Jamila. When I heard that their parents had died, and that as their godfather, I would be looking after them, I thought it would be simple. I would provide for them, see them to adulthood, fulfill my duty to my friends.”

  “Kids are seldom so simple,” Laura said wryly, and she was rewarded with a slight grin.

  “No. I saw them, and…well. My heart told me that I had to do better, be better, than what I once intended. They were so lost, so frightened, and I was the only one they had in the world. More than anything else, I needed them to be secure, to feel as if they had ground to stand on. I needed it more than anything. I still do.”

  A lump rose in Laura's throat, and she almost reached out to touch Ziad. He continued.

  “My childhood was not the most peaceful. To put it bluntly, my parents married for love, and that wore out. It flickered and died a hard death, and that has affected all their children. It made things harder for Imran when he met the woman of his dreams, and I have no doubt it has made things harder on Fahim as well. However, I know that will not be the case with us.”

  He smiled at her.

  “We will work well together. We know what we're doing and why we are doing it. That will be best, for us, for Hasan and Jamila. For everyone.”

  Laura had thought she would never have anything in common with Ziad, but now she could see that they were not so different. He cared about his family with the same ferocity and strength that she cared about hers. Just like she needed Andrea to have the treatment she needed for her leukemia, just like she needed Jake to have the help he needed, Ziad wanted the best for Hasan and Jamila.

  She opened her mouth to respond, but the words that came out startled her.

  “Why me?”

  He tilted his head slightly, and she bit her lip for a moment before going on.

  “I know that sounds awful, but I really want to know. Why me? There are so many people you might have chosen, so many people who would give up what I did and more to be your wife and the mother of your children. So. Why me?”

  It would have been well within Ziad's rights to tell her that the arrangement was purely business, that it was nothing more than a man who needed to find a caretaker for his children and meet the conditions of an old law. Instead, he was quiet for a short moment, and then he looked at her again. The beauty of his dark eyes was enough to take her breath away.

  “There were a number of reasons I chose you, but chief among them was what you were not willing to give up.”

  “I don't think I understand.”

  He smiled, reaching out a slow and graceful hand to brush lightly across her cheek. The touch was barely there, light and soft and lovely.

  “During the interview, we spoke about your family and what you wanted for them, I saw that you would never give them up. Not while you had breath or will in your body. They are your family, and you would fight for them no matter what.”

  “Well, of course. They're my family.”

  “You might be surprised at how few people share that. But I could see right away you understand what a family is, and that you would fight for one. I hope that you would come and make Hasan and Jamila and I into a family.”

  He looked into her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat.

  “I want you to fight for my children as hard as you fight for your family.”

  I can work with that, she thought, and as they sat in the quiet of the observatory, she knew that she was going to marry this man.

  4

  Ziad had been to a few royal weddings. He had attended the weddings of other royals in the Middle East and in Europe, and he thought he had a handle on things.

  Of course, it turns out that there is a difference between being a guest at a wedding, even being a member of the wedding party, and being the one getting married yourself.

  He had been up since dawn, the center of a hurricane of photographers, dressers, journalists, and assistants all pulling him one way or another. Maryam, his mother, moved with the force of a storm herself, herding the chaos in the direction she preferred it to travel, and Imran and Fahim were never very far, grinning and stepping in when it looked as if everyone wanted him to be in three places at once.

  “Makes me glad for my wedding,” Imran said with a grin, and Ziad gave him a dour look.

  “Just wait until things slow down for your vow renewal ceremony. I hear Mother wants to book an island for you.”

  “Here, leave Imran alone, you're not properly dressed yet.”

  Fahim approached with a small black box, and Ziad stood still to let his brother pin his medals to his chest. They were not just the standard honors that young men received upon completing their mandatory military service. He was proud that these had come from flying rescue missions during the floods in Greece.

  “Very good-looking,” Imran teased. “Laura won't be able to hear the music over the sound of your clanking.”

  Ziad examined himself in the mirror. He was dressed in his military uniform. Later would come the formal tunic and trousers that were the traditional garb for Yeni men getting married. Later still would come the tuxedo.

  I'm getting married today, he thought, and the weight of the decision sat heavy on his shoulders.

  Then he thought of Laura, and the weight simply vanished. He took a deep breath and then another.

  I hope she is all right. If this is going to be a trial for me, it must be doubly so for her.

  Thinking of Laura reminded him that he was making the right choice, and he nodded crisply to his brothers before they made their way down to the front of the palace for the first event of the very, very long day.

  His first glimpse of Laura was on the steps of the palace, dressed in a simple glittering sheath dress to complement his own uniform. She was resplendent in sapphire blue, the ring he had given her sparkling on her hand. She kept her eyes down as she approached him, but then when he reached to take her hand, she looked up at him, and he was momentarily stunned by sparkling dark eyes.

  She's not afraid, he thought in wonder. Why, she is brave.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, and a slight smile quirked her full lips.

  “Yes. Let's get this started.”

  Then he was handing her into the sleek black car that was decked with flowers for their wedding procession, and everything flew past in a strange blur. The first part of the day involved a public declaration in the city, followed by an open carriage ride back to the palace where the formal ceremony would be held. The public portion went off without a hitch. Ziad watched as Laura greeted the people, said the traditional words about declaring her intent to marry Ziad, and dealt with the press, who were eager to get a glimpse of their new queen.

  As they rode back to the palace, however, Ziad felt a sense of growing unease take root in him. He didn't know why he was so uneasy. Laura was giving a fine performance, and he should be pleased she was bearing up so well under pressure.

  Then he realized that that was the problem. It was a performance, and perhaps that wasn't what he wanted for a wedding.

  It is too late to back out now, he told himself. This is still the right decision.

  He waved to his people, and when he could, he sneaked glances at his bride, wondering what was going on under her serene facade.

  The ceremony itself was to be held in the grand ballroom, the largest space in the palace, and Ziad felt the weight of his position, his responsibility, five hundred years of his ancestors, and all of his own expectations drop on his head.

  The ballroom was packed with friends, family, leaders from all over the world, allies, and press. The lights installed to make sure that the cameras caught absolutely everything were bright and hot, and for a moment, the only thing that could calm Ziad at all was turning to Laura, who also looked a little overwhelmed.

  His first instinct was to take her hand. He wanted that connection with her they had shared in the observatory. He wanted to reassure her and to allow himself to be reassured in doing so. He wanted to know that he was not making what might be the biggest mistake in his life.

  It took a titanic effort of will not to reach for her. Everyone was watching, and after a moment, he straightened, offered her his arm, and together they made their way to the center of the ballroom, where their marriage contract was to be signed, and where they would recite their vows.

  While plenty of younger Yeni people had opted to write their own vows over the years, Ziad had opted to make the ceremony more traditional. They would honor each other, support one another, and fight for one another no matter what came, and as Laura recited the ancient words, Ziad's heart contracted, something at once heavy and bright.

  Then it was his turn, and for a moment, he was lost. He wasn't sure he could bring himself to speak, and then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jamila, dressed in a vivid fuchsia gown and clinging to Maryam's hand.

  Suddenly, he remembered why he was doing this. He spoke the vows. It was done, and he could ignore the fluttering sensation in his chest that came of promising to honor Laura and to fight for her and to support her for the rest of their lives together.

  5

  It was past midnight, the festivities had moved on without them, and alone in her bedroom of their shared suite, Laura didn't know what to do with her hands.

  If she were entirely honest, she had no idea what to do with the rest of her either, and she took a steadying breath. Ziad had been called away to attend to some matter of state that simply could not wait, and he had suggested that she return to their suite. She wasn't quite sure that it was an order, but her heart had beaten faster, and she had to sort out whether she liked that or not.

  Abruptly, she decided that she couldn't stand the long caftan she was wearing. It was gorgeous, embroidered with curling motifs from Yeni art, but it was heavy and fitted to her so well that it seemed more like a piece of armor than anything else. She shucked it off, glancing at the bedroom door as she did so.

  What would happen if he came in right now?

  Blushing hard, she rushed to the drawers where her own clothes had been moved, and she slid on the first thing she could find. The tailors and stylists had been working overtime to get her a wardrobe worthy of a queen, and the ivory silk nightgown she pulled over her head fit her well. She paused to admire the quality of the silk, soft and sleek and probably worth as much as her entire wardrobe from home, but then two things happened at once.

  First, she heard Ziad's hand on the doorknob, and second, she realized that the slip barely came down to her thighs. It left a shocking expanse of leg bare, and she saw with horror that it dipped down low between her breasts as well.

  I can't let him see me like this! Laura's mind shrieked even as there was another part of her that suggested that she might not mind.

  “Just a minute!” she called out, reaching for the drawers again frantically, and she pulled out the first thing that she touched, shoving them on in a panic. A moment later, Ziad came through the door, devastatingly handsome in his traditional tunic and well-fitted trousers, and he paused in the doorway. He carried something—clothing?—under his arm.

  “You know, I don't know what to call what's happening there, but it's a good look for you,” he said, and Laura looked down with a soft moan.

  They had brought what she considered her real clothes to the new suite as well, and she had somehow managed to pair her sumptuous silk nightie with a ratty pair of plaid pajama pants.

  “Oh no,” she said, covering her face with her hands, and then she gasped when Ziad crossed the floor soundlessly and kindly pulled her hands down.

  “I meant what I said,” he said with a slight smile. “It's very you. Very becoming.”

  “You're kind to say so.”

  “It's the truth,” he said, stepping back. “You may do with that what you will.”

  There it was again. Ziad could be so kind sometimes, and then he would step back and all that warmth disappeared. She wondered if he was like that with everyone or just with her.

  She watched as he pulled the tunic matter-of-factly over his head along with the light undershirt below it, hanging them both neatly on the hooks on the bathroom door. She let her eyes linger on his bare back too long, and she had to look away blushing when he pulled on the loose T-shirt he’d brought with him.

  “It would be a mistake,” Ziad said, removing his trousers and sliding on a pair of pajama pants of his own, “to do anything that might destroy our rapport tonight. We have gotten to know each other better over the last little while. I would not like to see that endangered.”

  “You mean we shouldn't—” She couldn't make herself say it. It felt too intimate, which probably proved his point.

  “Right,” he said, turning back to her. “It would be…shall we say, overhasty and rushed. We barely know each other.”

  Laura nodded, pushing the tiny voice that insisted on being disappointed down deeper. What in the world? She barely knew him! This was by far the better course of action. She should be grateful.

  “So what do you propose we do?” she asked, and he stretched, going to sit on what she already thought of as his side of the bed.

  “I say we get to know each other. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “So somehow, the man never realized that you were the same girl he had tried to swindle at the gas station?” Ziad asked in disbelief, and Laura shook her head.

  “Nope, gave me the same story. Told me with a totally straight face his wife was pregnant in New York, and he needed to get there immediately. And that's the story of the last time I got cheated. Shame on me for being a trusting sap.”

  Ziad shook his head even as he badly hid a smile.

  “No, no, you were being kind. The fault is on the man for taking fifty dollars from a sixteen-year-old working two jobs.”

  “An overly trusting sixteen-year-old,” Laura said with a sigh. “My turn.” She didn't know what had prompted her to try to play Truth or Dare with the head of the nation, but somehow it was working out. He had learned that the funnier parts of her life were mostly about the weird jobs she had worked to get her degree, and she had learned that Ziad had spent more time cleaning up after his brothers than anyone should.

  “Yes, your turn,” Ziad said. “Go ahead.”

  She meant to ask him about something light, his first pet or a TV show he loved, but somehow it got crossed in her head.

  “Who was your first love?” she asked, and when he frowned, she flailed.

  Oh no, that's the opposite of trying to be easier with each other, no, no—

  “I mean,” she said casting around, “what's your biggest regret?”

  Okay, Laura, pack it in and go to bed. That was actually not any better…

  To her surprise, Ziad let out a deep breath, leaning back against the pillows they’d propped up against the bed’s elaborate—hand-carved and inlaid with tiny glittering tiles—headboard. There was something oddly loose about him now, as if they had crossed some kind of bridge together.

  “I suppose my biggest regret came when I was, oh, maybe thirteen,” he said thoughtfully, and Laura blinked.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I was, ha, a sort of serious student. I was serious enough that the headmaster of my school, a boarding school in Zurich, twisted my arm and made me the stage manager of my school play.”

  He glanced at her, and to Laura's surprise, he grinned a little.

  “Another thing we have in common, right? We were both in school plays.”

  Laura was startled that Ziad remembered such a small detail she’d mentioned once, but then he was speaking again.

  “I'm afraid that I did not take the responsibility as seriously as I should have. I was overly serious, but I suppose the headmaster didn't realize that it was only about things that I cared about. I let the other students take on my responsibilities, and when I was on set at all, I was usually on my phone or trying to study.

  “On opening night, a badly built set toppled. Just went over and took some scaffolding with it. It would have been just a hilarious story to tell if there hadn’t been a student standing directly underneath it at the time.”

  “Oh no!” Laura said, picturing too easily a kid caught under the heavy set. In her world, it would have meant bills that could bankrupt a family, but even in Ziad's world, it was still terrible on its own.

  “He had a concussion, and he needed surgery on his shoulder. It was a terrifying time, waiting and not knowing if he would be all right or not. It was—”

  Ziad shook his head, and she could tell from the way his mouth went hard that it was much worse than terrifying.

  “He was fine in the end, but his parents were important, and they demanded an explanation and for blame to be placed. I tried to speak up, but it fell on a scholarship student instead, someone who had worked far harder on the set than I ever had. I learned later that my father had stepped in and protected me from expulsion. There was no one to step in for the other student, and he was forced to leave immediately.”

  “But…it couldn't have been all your fault,” Laura protested. “Surely there were other students, and more importantly, there should have been a faculty adviser overseeing all of this and keeping you safe. You were just kids. The adults should have known better than to let you have sole responsibility for the sets.”