“Me too.” Willow raised herself on one elbow, then fell back in the grass. “But I’m going to need a minute.”

  “Take as many as you like.” Hadi lay watching the clouds, half-dazed and dreamy. Willow watched him, memorizing his quiet smile, the way his brow furrowed when the sun peeked through the clouds. A strange feeling took hold of her, almost possessive—this moment was hers, this unguarded side of him. She tucked it away in her heart. Whatever came of their flirtation, she’d always have this, a moment just theirs. A memory to treasure.

  Willow fell back on her bed to the chiming of the moon bell. She felt tired, but good tired. She’d run, swung, and played all day. They’d even taken a boat out on the lake, sharing rowing duties with the kids, who did their best but mostly just splashed around. She’d feel that in the morning, in her shoulders and down her back, but for now, she just felt...happy.

  Her phone buzzed beside her, and she reached out to mute it. Then she noticed the caller, and she picked up instead.

  “Miss Maqbool?”

  “Miss Mandrake.” The headmistress cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t be calling so late, but frankly, I didn’t think I’d have to.” She made a frustrated sound. “Given the circumstances, I thought you’d reach out yourself.”

  “The circumstances?” Willow sat up abruptly, her good spirits draining away. “I thought we were giving things time.”

  “It’s been nearly two weeks with no sign of improvement.” Miss Maqbool exhaled sharply. “The tabloids have been relentless, as you well know. We’ve got more parents complaining, and tonight’s headlines won’t help.”

  Willow reached for her laptop and woke it up with a tap. She typed her name into Google and gaped at the results. Last time she’d searched herself, some New Age shop had topped the list—Mandrake, Willow, and Sage. Today, she was everywhere, her name, her face. Her hands clasped in Hadi’s as he spun her in circles, her face turned up, joyful, to take in the clouds. Zak was sitting up, clapping, with Lale at his side.

  “How did they even...?”

  The words died on her lips as she spotted the caption. Sheikh Hadi Toma and the Bride of the Planets. The ancient prophecy comes to life, bringing romance to Mehara.

  “Romance?”

  “Excuse me?” Miss Maqbool clucked her tongue. “Listen, you’re a wonderful teacher. The kids love you, the faculty loves you, and your results speak for themselves. If it were up to me, I’d keep you on forever.”

  Willow couldn’t breathe. “But?”

  “But you’re the Bride of the Planets. You’re an overnight celebrity, and our parents pay for privacy. Come the end of the school year, I can’t renew your contract.”

  “But my visa...” Willow shut her eyes tight to stop the room spinning. “I can’t stay in the country unless I’m employed.”

  “And that’s why I’m giving you notice, as much time as possible to make other arrangements.” A phone rang, faint with distance, and Miss Maqbool sighed. “That’s for me. I’ll have to go. But come see me Monday. We’ll talk damage control.”

  “Wait. I—”

  Willow’s phone beeped. Miss Maqbool had hung up. Willow wanted to scream, but she got up instead and went out to the garden. The evening was warm, the sky full of stars. Mars was up, shining bright, and she flipped it the bird.

  “Bride of the Planets—yeah. Don’t get any ideas.”

  “You saw it too?” Hadi emerged from the shadows with a shake of his head. “I was coming to warn you. Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know. I think so.” Willow tipped her head back. “Is this normal out here? Planets playing matchmaker?”

  “Yes and no.” Hadi took her arm and steered her away from the palace. “Young couples get readings before they begin courting. But they go to the stars. The stars don’t come to them.” He led her through the rose garden to a sheltered gazebo draped in trailing vines. “Still, at least out in public, it’s best to play along. Smile and nod, and in time—”

  “The stars just took my job.”

  “They did what?” Hadi’s grip tightened on her arm. “Come here. Let’s sit down. You were fired?”

  “Not exactly.” Willow sank down on a stone bench and let out a harsh breath. “My contract’s up in July, and it won’t be renewed. That means when my visa’s up...”

  “Because of the press?” Hadi moved behind her, and his hands settled on her shoulders. “I got you into this. I’ll help set things right.”

  Willow tilted her head back and inhaled the scent of wisteria. The vines hung like curtains, purple and fragrant. They shut out the stars, and the palace, and the world. Willow closed her eyes and imagined it all falling away, imagined her universe narrowing to just this hidden place. Just Hadi’s quiet presence and the comforting weight of his hands.

  “I couldn’t impose,” she said. “It’s not your fault either.”

  “Still, you’re stressed, tense.” Hadi’s hands began to move, kneading Willow’s tight shoulders. She moaned without meaning to and covered her mouth.

  “Sorry. That’s...you’re good at that.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Relax.” Hadi brushed her hair to one side. His voice was low and soothing, his hands warm on her skin. Willow leaned into his touch.

  “Right there, my neck...”

  “Here?” Hadi found the cramp and pressed down on it, circled his thumb till the muscle went loose. “Breathe with me,” he said. “Lean back and breathe.”

  Willow did as he said, leaning her head back against his stomach and breathed with his rhythm. His hands were on her arms now, caressing more than kneading. His touch was firm but not rough, his presence solid at her back.

  “Your heart’s racing,” he said.

  Willow slid her hand over his and took hold of his wrist. She found his pulse without trouble, a fast, urgent beat. “So’s yours.”

  “Yes, well...” He cupped her chin softly, ran his thumb down her throat. It caught on her necklace, just short of her breast. Willow made a strangled sound, half sigh, half plea. She was burning all over, a bright, hungry heat. She wanted—she needed—

  “Tell me what to do.” Hadi’s command came out hoarse, a sandpaper growl. Willow reached for his hand and guided it lower.

  “Here?” He pinched her through her bodice, a sharp tweak to her nipple. Willow gasped and arched backward, close to the edge. Hadi was hard—she could feel him, the pulse of his cock. She could hear him breathing, and he pinched her again.

  “Don’t do that. I—” She bit her lip, embarrassed.

  He thumbed where he’d pinched her, lighting sparks in her belly. “You what?”

  “It’s been a while,” she confessed. “Touch me like that again, and I might...I might—”

  “Come?” Hadi teased her, tracing the curve of her breast with light, playful fingers. “Do it, then. Let me hear you.”

  Willow shuddered. Pressed her legs together. She was close, so damn close. Hadi circled in front of her and sank to his knees. He undid the top button of her dress, then the one below that. The cool night air kissed her bare skin. Hadi looked up at her, his eyes black with desire.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, and then he came to her, his lips hot on her neck, his breath tickling her ear. Willow gasped at his touch, at the force of her want. She’d never craved anyone the way she did Hadi. She needed him, all of him, his hands, his mouth, his heart.

  “Please...” She raked her fingers through his hair and guided him lower. He trailed a line of kisses down her throat, along her collarbone. His teeth grazed her nipple through the lace of her bra, and she just managed to contain a cry.

  Hadi chuckled, low and sultry, and his tongue flicked her skin. His free hand slid up her leg, under her skirt, and she felt herself melt as his thumb found her clit. His touch was a whisper, a graze through her panties, but she still came undone with a soft, helpless sigh. She slumped forward, and he caught her, and he held her through her orgasm, through the pulsing wash of pleasure.

  “Lovely,” Hadi said. He gathered her close to him, half-curled in his lap. “You’re so...”

  “Hm?” Willow nestled against him, drifting in the afterglow. She felt safe in his arms, protected from the world and the unfriendly stars.

  Hadi was petting her, slow, rhythmic strokes up and down her back. “I could marry you,” he said. “That would solve your visa problem.”

  Willow huffed laughter. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Had he really just suggested...?

  “It wouldn’t be the worst idea.” Hadi’s voice rumbled in his chest. The sensation was distracting, ticklish but sexy. “With the prophecy fulfilled, the press would move on. You could stay in the country, in the palace, you and Zak—”

  “Or you could just hire me. I could be your court painter. I was going to be an artist, before...” Willow shifted off his lap, the smile fading from her lips. “It’s just, marriage means something. At least, it does to me. My parents’ marriage was...not arranged, but their church was conservative. They did things a certain way—you grew up, you got married, you had kids. Love didn’t come into it so much as...you just did it.” She rose a little shakily and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t marry for convenience or because it looks good. I have to be in love. You get that, right?”

  “My marriage was arranged,” Hadi said. “I wasn’t in love, but it did get me Lale.” He got up as well, and he took Willow’s hand. “I want a family for her. What do you want for Zak?”

  Willow looked away, at the lights of the palace twinkling through the wisteria. “I never thought I’d have children,” she said. “I can’t have my own, so Zak’s been… Of course I want a family. I want Zak to have everything. I want to build him a family brim full of love, but Hadi, we’ve just met.”

  “I know. I know.” Hadi squeezed Willow’s hand. “You needn’t decide right now. But I am Zak’s father. If you found you could love me, wouldn’t you have it all? You’d have Zak, you’d have Lale—and you’d have me.”

  “And you’d have me.” Willow smiled, faint and sad. “I flipped off your stars tonight. Is that what you want?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” Hadi pulled a face. “But you lay in the grass with me, fed the swans, chased the kids. You’ve made my life fun again. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

  “You can’t build a marriage on ‘why not?’” Willow dropped his hand and turned back toward the palace. “But I’m not saying no. I’m saying I need to think. I need time, a reason.”

  “Of course,” said Hadi. “It’s true we’ve just met. But I felt something today, and I know you did too. That wasn’t public pressure or your visa issues or convenience. That was us, you and me. Take away all the rest, and would you want a second date?”

  Willow nodded. “I would.”

  “Then let’s end this one with a kiss.” Hadi took her in his arms, and he kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss that made her tingle all over. He kissed her as if she were all that mattered, kissed her till her head swam and her blood rushed in her ears. He left her there breathless, and if he’d asked her again right then, she might almost have said yes.

  8

  Zak dropped his comb and raked his fingers through his hair. “It looks fine just like this. Why do I have to comb it?”

  “Because if you don’t, birds come and build nests in your hair.” Willow flapped her hands at him. Zak ducked down, giggling.

  “Can I wear my new shoes?”

  “You sure can.” Willow bent down and retrieved them from under his bed. “Now, one more time, what are your cousins’ names?”

  “Saleem, Faisal, Ibrahim, and, uh...” He tugged his comb through his curls. “Madiha.”

  “And which one is the birthday boy?”

  “Faisal.” Zak grinned. “And before you ask, I know. I kiss him on the cheek, say I’m honored to meet him, and then we go play.”

  “That’s right.” Willow turned Zak to face her and wiped a smudge off his chin. “Just remember, this is Faisal’s day. If there are games, you let him win some. Don’t sing the mean happy birthday song, and when he opens his presents—”

  “Don’t play with his new toys till he’s had a chance.”

  “Good boy.” Willow leaned down and kissed him. “I’m so proud of you.” Her voice caught, and Zak looked up.

  “Mom?”

  “It’s okay.” Willow blinked back tears. “You’ve been working so hard on your tea ceremony, your dancing. You’ve come so far, so fast. You’ll wow them, I know you will.”

  “Always do.” Zak wriggled away, a pint-sized ball of energy. He slipped on his new shoes and admired himself in the mirror. Willow checked her own reflection over his shoulder, straightened her cute pink pantsuit, and tweaked the drape of her silver-starred scarf across her brow. This was it, dressy casual, like the invite had said. She’d checked and double-checked Malik’s etiquette guide. But were her shoes too plain? And her earrings—

  “There’s a petting zoo, right?” Zak made a face. “What if I step in doo-doo?”

  “Doo-don’t.” Willow chuckled. “But if you do, you’ll be outside. It’s not the end of the world.” She took Zak by the hand and led him out to the car. The chauffeur held the door for them, but Zak paused and looked back.

  “Where’re Dad and Lale? Aren’t they coming with us?”

  “They’ll meet us there,” said Willow. “They went ahead to, uh...” To explain us to the family. “To help set up the party.”

  “I hope there’s llamas,” said Zak. “I like them. They’re funny.” He climbed into the car, and Willow reminded herself to breathe. Zak knew his stuff, how to greet his uncles, how to compliment his aunts. How to sit without fidgeting through Faisal’s birthday blessing. But he was still just a kid, and to him, this day was just a party. To Hadi, it was more than that. It was Zak’s first royal function. His first chance to prove himself, to show he belonged.

  Willow’s phone did three quick chirps as they got underway. She jumped, then relaxed as she saw it was Hadi.

  They can’t wait to meet you.

  Faisal loves New York. He’s been bragging nonstop about his new Yankee cousin.

  You’ll be a hit. Promise. Don’t worry about a thing.

  Willow tried not to, but Zak was squirming already, bouncing in his seat. He pressed his face to the window as they turned up a shady drive.

  “Is that their house? I think it’s bigger than the palace.”

  “It’s certainly impressive.” Willow felt dizzy, dwarfed by the manor. It wasn’t bigger than the palace, but it buzzed like a beehive, full of noise and activity. The front doors stood open on a bustling great hall, waiters weaving adroitly between loose knots of guests. Music and the hum of conversation drifted across the courtyard. From somewhere out back rose the high shrieks of children.

  “Look! It’s Aunt Karima.” Zak ran up to greet her, and Willow’s stomach turned over. Karima was resplendent in a fine sap-green caftan, a gold-trimmed scarf flowing over her shoulders. Caasi was with her, robed in yellow and teal. She took in Willow’s pantsuit and made a low, choking sound.

  “I thought—” Willow’s mouth had gone dry. She felt the stares boring into her, drawn like a beacon to her dumb hot-pink pantsuit. No one was in pants or in pink or in Western clothing. All around her were blues and greens, soft silks and damasks. The fashions of Ad Diwasul, not—

  “Zak!” Lale skipped down the steps and grabbed Zak by the hand. She was flushed with excitement, her lips red from the fruit punch set out for the kids. “You have to come. There’s a carousel and ponies and ten kinds of cake. And Faisal got a model plane, and he says we can fly it.”

  “Really?” Zak peered through the house, into the yard. “Mom? Which one’s Faisal? There’s so many kids.”

  “Uh...” Willow swallowed thickly. “I think, maybe—”

  “That’s Faisal,” Lale said. “On the bench by himself. Want to go say hi?”

  “Can I?” Zak bounced on the balls of his feet. Willow forced a smile.

  “Of course you may. Go play.”

  Zak bounded off, Lale close behind. Willow followed, self-conscious. She wanted to cry. She’d hoped to make friends here, to fit in, have fun. These moms were her circle now, or she’d thought they could be. She’d see them at parties, at school events, with their kids. But no one was greeting her or waving her over. She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but every group she passed by seemed to close up against her, heads bent, backs turned to box her out. She had to find Hadi or Fisa. A friendly face.

  Behind her, someone giggled. Willow flinched and blinked hard. Zak had found Faisal, at least, and kissed him in greeting. Faisal dug in his pocket and tossed Zak a wrapped sweet. Lale snatched it, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. All three kids burst out laughing, and even Willow had to smile.

  “Friends already. I knew it.” Fisa came up beside her, all smiles. “Faisal’s a good boy. He’ll help Zak settle in.”

  “Speaking of settling in...” Caasi plucked at Willow’s sleeve. “This is a child’s party, but it’s still a royal event. You did see the invite, right? Dressy casual, not—”

  “Caasi.” Fisa nudged her hard, but Caasi kept going.

  “What? She looks ridiculous. Someone had to tell her.” She turned to Willow. “Is Hadi not coaching you? Or Malik, at least?”

  “I did check the etiquette guide.” Willow felt hot all over. She was sweating, guts churning. She looked down at her feet. “It said a pantsuit was fine, but—”

  “For business events. This is family.” Caasi gestured across the lawn, at the kids with their nannies, the parents watching from the shade. “We’re traditional. You knew that. You couldn’t possibly have thought—”

  “Her scarf is quite beautiful,” said Karima. “And look, it’s a star motif, as traditional as it gets.”

  “It is a lovely choice.” Hadi emerged from the sunroom, resplendent in a richly embroidered tunic and matching loose pants. He touched Willow’s scarf where it spilled over her shoulder. “I’d hoped you might wear that.”