Rose found herself grinning despite how roughly this conversation had started out.

  “Yes,” she said. “Two weeks. In two weeks, I think that Hasan and Jamila would be ready for their first audience. Something small and simple, but yes.”

  Fahim nodded, a bright, sharp light in his eyes.

  “It'll distract the press from Darius, show them that you’re thriving and happy without him, and it will be good to have the children in front of the camera. Ziad and Laura were talking about getting them used to the publicity of being royals. If you are all right with it, Rose, I'll talk with them and get it all set up.”

  “Thank you,” Rose said. The two little words seemed far too little for what Fahim was doing for her, but it was all she could think of to say.

  Fahim smiled faintly.

  “Setting up this kind of thing really is my job. I like doing it.”

  “No, not for that. For asking me if it was all right. For believing me when I told you about what Darius is really like. Times like this, I think I really may be worth listening to.”

  The words were out before she could call them back, and Rose cringed at how she sounded. To her surprise, however, Fahim only tilted his head, giving her a serious look.

  “You're always worth listening to. I love listening to you.”

  He coughed awkwardly, as if he had said too much, but then he continued.

  “I was actually thinking we could have breakfast together on Sunday. You could…update me on Jamila and Hasan's progress.”

  “Because you're so interested in early childhood musical education?” she asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and Fahim grinned.

  “Incredibly so.”

  “Well, then, in the name of early childhood musical education, I accept,” she said and laughed.

  9

  It could be worse.

  That was what Fahim told himself three weeks after his fateful conversation with Rose in the library. Things could always be worse.

  At least on paper, everything looked great. The tempest that Darius had tried to whip up was fading away in light of the press releases the palace had put into the world. Rose wasn't a troubled rock star looking to play mind games with her ex; she was instead a professional, taking some time away from the limelight to pursue another type of career. He had been careful to point out how Rose had earned her degree while working on the road, and the press had swarmed the female empowerment angle. It helped that the press releases were put out regularly for all important members of the palace staff, making Rose a member of an elite group that was entitled to the palace's protections.

  It was going well, but the speculation over Rose and Fahim himself—well, that was another matter. The questions still swirled around on a day-to-day basis. Were they dating? Were they exclusive? Were the Khalid brothers all interested in romancing the help? Was Rose starting to show?

  They hadn't really had a personal conversation since that day at the library, but they saw each other as the date of the children's performance drew nearer. Once or twice, he had caught her watching him, turning away with a blush when she realized that she had been seen. He knew he flattered himself by thinking that she was walking a little taller, a little more confidently, since their talk, but she looked calmer at least.

  He would take what he could get.

  Outside, the TV crew milled about impatiently, but they calmed the moment Fahim shot them a quelling look. They were used to how protective he was of his family during media appearances, and if they thought the Khalids were taking too long, then they were welcome to leave.

  The door cracked open, and Rose, her hair pulled back in a severe bun, just a little bit of makeup accentuating her eyes, peeked out. Her gaze lingered on the TV crew, but she only nodded at Fahim.

  “All right, they can come in,” she said, and before he could thank her, she dodged back inside.

  “All right, you heard Ms. Adams,” he said, leading the press in. The gold sun room was, comparatively speaking, an intimate space for the palace, lined with bay windows and brilliant sunlight and typically used for small banquets, state dinners, and of course, for private performances.

  Fahim took his place by the camera crew, watching as Rose spoke softly to Jamila, seated in the place of honor with her guitar, and Hasan, who had a wide array of noisemakers in front of him. Hasan was as bubbly as could be, and Jamila sat properly and with a slight smile on her face as Ziad and the rest of the family seated nearby looked on with approval.

  Maryam and Laura sat on either side of Ziad, and Imran settled his arm protectively around Sarah while she held their baby girl in her arms. Fortunately, Lalah was resting comfortably, because Fahim wasn't sure that they would hear any music at all if his newest niece got her lungs going in an infuriated cry.

  We're all here for Hasan and Jamila, Fahim thought with satisfaction. And though she might not know it, we're here for Rose as well.

  When the head journalist signaled that they were ready to start, Fahim nodded, and Rose came forward.

  “Good morning, everyone,” she said, just as they had rehearsed. “On behalf of the Khalid family, I would like to thank you all for joining us today. Music has always been an essential part of Yeni culture, and beyond that, it is also an essential part of world culture. While Princess Jamila and Prince Hasan are still a little young to be taking up the oud, they are the living descendants of Yeni musicians going back hundreds if not thousands of years.”

  In her simple blouse and dark skirt, speaking so earnestly to the camera, Rose looked nothing like the spoiled rock star the press had tried to turn her into. Instead, she looked like what she was—a dedicated and passionate professional who was eager to share what her students had learned.

  At the end of the short talk she had prepared on Jamila and Hasan's lesson, Rose smiled suddenly and mischievously at the camera. Her abrupt switch brought out the Rose that Fahim had begun to know, and her beauty took his breath away even as she spoke again.

  “Hold your applause until the end, and please remember, the musicians are always trying their best.”

  She took the stool in front of Jamila and Hasan, and with a small wooden baton, she tapped out a simple rhythm on the music stand in front of her.

  After a few beats, Jamila grinned as brightly as the sun and took up the rhythm, plucking clear and lovely notes on her guitar. It was slow and deliberate, obviously the performance of a child, but there was work in it, and it was lovely in its simplicity. Rose had chosen well, and Fahim relaxed, settling in to become part of the audience.

  Jamila plucked her way through the simple melody, and then with her own clear and present authority, she turned to Hasan while she kept playing.

  “Hasan, now you,” she said, and Hasan needed no other encouragement.

  His chubby toddler's hands reached for the wooden blocks, banging them together with enthusiasm. Fahim winced in anticipation of the clash, but to his surprise, there was a rhythm there, Hasan banging away with purpose and Jamila somehow following him.

  “All right, you two,” Rose said. “Follow the leader, okay? Now Jamila!”

  Jamila strummed more loudly, the song simpler now but the rhythm more complex. To Fahim's surprise, Hasan picked up the beat as swiftly as Jamila laid it down, moderating his rhythm to his sister's.

  “All right, now Hasan!”

  Despite Rose's early admonition, the audience and even some of the film crew broke into applause. Lalah awoke in Sarah's arms, and instead of howling, she seemed delighted by all the fun. Her small arms waved in the air, and glancing the baby’s way, Rose laughed.

  “Now Lalah!”

  Both Hasan and Jamila changed to follow Lalah's motion, and when Rose brought the song to a close just a few moments later, the crowd was clapping along, grinning as if they were at a real concert. The children were thrilled, and Rose…well.

  She's beautiful. This is what she's always wanted to do. No wonder she worked so hard to get that degree…

  There were more songs, Jamila playing something more traditionally Yeni, Rose and Hasan showing off some more rhythm instruments, but sooner than Fahim would have believed, it was over and the press were packing up to leave. When they were gone, Ziad stood up, gesturing to his family.

  “Another round of applause for our little performers,” he said, and everyone, even Lalah, complied, cheering as Jamila took bow after bow and Hasan laughed in delight.

  “And of course, our personal thanks to Rose,” Ziad continued. “I'm honestly surprised. I knew that you wouldn't embarrass us, but I never thought that would be so entertaining or that the children would learn so quickly.”

  “Oh, I can't take the credit for that,” Rose said, though Fahim found himself wishing she would. “They’re very dedicated.”

  “Oh no,” Maryam said firmly. “You must take credit. That was quite the show. You are already trending, and without that awful man's influence.”

  Fahim scowled, wishing his mother hadn't brought up Darius, and Rose's smile dimmed.

  “Well, I hope that this has been good for the children—”

  “Such a shame, my dear,” Maryam continued. “Weren't you the songwriter as well as the lead guitarist for your band? It doesn't seem right, him taking all the glory and hounding after you as well.”

  Fahim loved his mother, but she could say just the wrong thing at the wrong time.

  “Mother,” he said, stepping up. “We don’t—”

  “I was the lead songwriter,” Rose said, and though there was a touch of red in her cheeks that hadn’t been there before, her voice didn’t shake at all. “As a matter of fact, I’m working on writing a new song just for Jamila, something more challenging that really suits her interests. I think it’s going to be great, and she’ll like it a great deal.”

  “Oh! You must tell me about it.”

  The conversation sailed easily into less charged matters, and though there was a part of him that was still protective of Rose, still worried about someone doing her harm, he was beyond pleased to see that she was holding her own.

  As Rose and his mother talked about Jamila’s new song, he discreetly checked his phone and grinned.

  The children were trending, and for the moment at least, Darius Bright was old news.

  Seeing Rose in the midst of his family had changed something in him. As he watched her with his mother, he realized there was no longer any way to lie to himself. No matter what might be ideal, no matter what might be most convenient or what might be the safest, Rose was no mere employee. She was more than just a clever woman going through a difficult time and more than just his niece and nephew’s excellent teacher.

  Rose was just more, and because he knew that, he asked her for a walk after Ziad and Laura had come to collect the children for a celebratory lunch. Fahim’s heart swelled when she turned to him without hesitation, nodding and smiling.

  “I’d love that,” she said. “How about the garden?”

  “Actually, I had another idea. Private, but out of the palace.”

  They ended up by the family’s private beach, a lonely but lovely stretch of sand and dunes with an old lighthouse at the far end.

  “The land we own stretches all the way to the tree line,” Fahim said as they walked along the shore, the waves lapping up towards their feet. “No chance of paparazzi. No fighting with tourists.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Rose said, turning to look at the sea. “Your country is all so beautiful.”

  “It could be yours too,” Fahim said, not sure what he was offering but only knowing that he wanted to offer it.

  Rose turned back to him, but then her eyes went wide, her lips falling open. At first he thought she was terrified, and then she grabbed his hand.

  “Quick, here.”

  To Fahim's surprise, she took his hand and rested it on her belly. Her blouse was loose to the point where it floated around her. She appeared still fairly flat, but with his hand nestled against her abdomen, he could feel the bump clearly. There was a moment where he simply marveled at being so close to Rose, and then he felt it, a short, sharp kick.

  “Oh,” Fahim said softly, and in his chest, his heart beat faster as Rose laughed.

  “Felt like the little one was trying to kick me right into the sea.”

  “So strong,” Fahim offered, and it was a pale expression of how the little kick inside her had affected him, the surge of protective feelings, the strange longing.

  “They'll need to be. It's tough out here,” Rose said, but there was an ease to her Fahim wasn't sure he had ever seen before. She was calm and self-assured, without the shadow of her wretched ex over her.

  “I'm sure you'll protect them,” Fahim said, letting his hand drop away.

  “I will,” she said, and then she tilted her head to one side. “Have you ever thought about parenthood? I never did before this happened. Well, not seriously, not since… I never let myself think about it much, anyway.”

  “I haven't really thought about it either,” Fahim admitted. “I adore my nieces and nephew of course, but it's different when they're your own, I think. Have you thought about a name yet?”

  Rose's shoulders hitched up a little, and then she took a deep breath.

  “No. I really should start thinking about it, shouldn't I? My grandmother named me. It's something like an old family tradition, but it's not like I can ask my mother for the favor.”

  “I know you haven't really been in touch with your family since you got here,” Fahim said hesitantly, and Rose let out a short, sad laugh. In it, Fahim could hear the vast rift between where Rose had been and where she was now and how often she thought about it.

  “I had a good childhood,” she said finally. “It was good, it was peaceful. It gave me strength for what would come after, and I would love to give my baby the same. I hope I can give him or her the same.”

  “If there's anything I know about you, it's that ever since you found out about your pregnancy, you have been doing what you needed to do for your child,” Fahim said firmly.

  “Yeah?” She sounded tough just then, but Fahim wondered if there was a hint of longing in her voice, something hopeful that desperately wanted to be reassured.

  “Yes. You got out of a bad situation. You found a safe place to live and work that would support you. You're even getting some experience tutoring Jamila and Hasan. You're going to have experience with children by the time your own comes along. You have got this.”

  They stood side by side, watching the waves rise and fall. They breathed with the water and the world, and finally, Rose nodded without speaking.

  Without breaking their silence, Fahim took Rose's hand, squeezing it in his. He hoped she could understand what it meant, what he felt for her, how he never wanted to frighten her or make her feel compelled.

  After a long moment, she squeezed back, and he knew she understood.

  10

  That night, Rose found her way to the observatory. She could find it easily after Laura had shown her the way, and she rode the delicate gold birdcage of an elevator all the way to the top.

  The top of the tower was capped with an enormous glass dome, the room itself done out in a traditional Yeni style, with rugs on the floor and fabric softening the round walls. There was a gorgeous bed-like couch at the center of the room that Rose was a little afraid to touch lest she somehow ruin it, and against all the traditional grandeur, a modern telescope mounted by the wall.

  It was a beautiful room, and this late, with all of the palace residents asleep besides her, Rose was grateful for it. The round walls and dim lights soothed her mind, which had been worn thin by her thoughts and worries since this afternoon.

  Sort of nice to have something new to worry about. For the first time in a while, I'm not worried about how the children’s performance is going to go, and I'm not worried about Darius either.

  Instead, she couldn't stop thinking about Fahim.

  She stared up at the cold night sky far above the palace. She couldn't stop thinking about Fahim.

  If it had been just one thing, just one feature that had caught her eye and refused to let it go, she might have been able to deal with it. If it were only his eyes or his hands or his lean build that caught her, she would have been all right.

  It wasn't any one thing. It was the whole man, from his good looks to his kindness to his love of music to his care. She was falling for him. As for him…

  Ziad made pronouncements, and Imran was as clear as a babbling stream, but Fahim was harder to read by far. At least, he was for her, and she flexed her hand, remembering how warm his had been. They had shared one brilliant kiss, and then they had never spoken about it. He had held her hand today, and she had felt such warmth, such sweetness.

  What had he felt?

  Just as Rose was telling herself to stop being silly, she heard a step on the stairs behind her. Someone had climbed all the way up from the ground, and just as she turned, ready to apologize for trespassing even when she knew she hadn't, Fahim himself appeared in the doorway.

  “No one comes up here,” she blurted out without thinking, and Fahim tilted a quizzical eyebrow at her.

  “That's what I thought,” he said. “I was in the garden, and I saw the light on. Thought I would come and see who else couldn't sleep.”

  “You can't sleep?” she asked, and he shrugged.

  “Usually I can. I just felt restless tonight, I guess. What are you thinking of up here?”

  You.

  The truth was so clear that for a moment, she was afraid she had actually said it, let the truth out like the proverbial cat out of the bag. But Fahim only looked at her expectantly, and she realized that mercifully, she had at least managed to keep that to herself.

  “Um, the telescope,” she managed. “I was just wondering if it works.”