Afterward, Ziad couldn't take his eyes off her as she collapsed lightly against him, sweat sheening her skin, her breath coming fast through ruby-red lips.

  Mine, he thought in wonder.

  This time, when they lay in the bed together, there was no awkwardness separating them. There was nothing nervous or tense about how they lay in bed together, Ziad on his back, Laura cradled against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

  “This is good,” Ziad found himself saying. “This is so very good. I don't know if I've ever been this relaxed.”

  “You're not a man who relaxes very often,” Laura said teasingly. “In fact, I think the only time I’ve ever seen you relax was…well, when you’re in bed.”

  “I do it sometimes,” Ziad protested, and she planted a soft kiss on his bicep.

  “Tell me, then. When does the great sheikh of Yeni relax? What does he do? Is it yoga? Is it meditation or riding?”

  Ziad hesitated. The truth was so much sillier than anything she had named. Was it something he could trust her with?

  Then he looked down at her, and one glance into her entreating eyes told him he could deny her nothing.

  “I Love Lucy,” he said with a sigh.

  “Who's—oh, wait, the old TV show? With Lucille Ball?”

  “That's the one,” he said, throwing his arm over his eyes. She pulled it away so she could look at him. To his surprise, he found no amusement in her eyes, only a profound curiosity.

  “I've watched a few episodes when it was on late at night and I couldn't sleep,” she said. “I thought it was funny. What do you see in it?”

  Ziad hesitated. For some reason, this felt like as big a step as sleeping with her, the idea of revealing this small and rather silly thing about himself. He thought he wouldn't do it, and then he heard himself talking.

  “It's a comfort to me. It's silly. Lucy gets into the strangest situations, hilarity ensues, and then by the end, everything is picked up and safe again. Real life has real problems, and it feels as if more often than not, I am the one who has to solve them.”

  “And on I Love Lucy, there's no need for you to solve anything,” Laura guessed. “There's no need for you to step in and make sure that everything gets fixed. You can just enjoy yourself for twenty minutes and watch problems get fixed or laughed away.”

  Ziad sighed. Put like that, it was rather more revealing than he cared to imagine.

  “Yes. Silly, isn't it?”

  To his surprise, she leaned in and gave him a tight hug, a great deal of strength in her slender frame.

  “Laura?”

  “I don't think it's silly at all,” she said. “I think a certain amount of escapism can be really good, especially for someone who usually handles a lot of stress. I am glad you have something uncomplicated in your life.”

  I am glad I have you in my life.

  “Perhaps sometime you might like to watch it with me,” he offered, and when a small, shy smile spread over her face, he thought she might have understood what he really meant by it.

  “I think I would like that a lot,” she said quietly.

  11

  “Laura, Laura, when is Daddy going to get here?” whined Jamila, and Laura glanced at her phone.

  “Just another little while, hon. Don't worry, he'll be here.”

  “I want him to see my dress,” Jamila said, pirouetting in a swirl of cream. She was beautiful in the pale silk dress, and Laura smiled.

  “He will, honey, I promise. He's probably on his way now.”

  Her phone rang, and she answered it without looking, assuming it was Ziad.

  “I hope you're on your way because you are missing a very cute little girl in a very cute dress,” she said teasingly.

  “What? I don't know anything—Laura? Damn it, did I dial the wrong number again?”

  “Oh! Dad! No, no, it's fine. Wait, isn't it two in the morning over there? What's going on?”

  She went from amusement to panic in a matter of seconds. It felt as if the entire world had gone cold, and she had to bite her lip to keep from demanding more.

  “Oh, Laura, this is why I like your mother to handle these things. Short story, everyone's fine right now.”

  “And long story?”

  A long and troubled sigh.

  “Andrea. She was feeling a little poorly this evening. We all thought she was tired but then when she got up from the couch to go to bed, she fainted. We woke her up, but it was a little hard and—well. We ended up at the ER for a few hours.”

  “Oh, Dad…”

  “Look, I didn't want to call you at all, but your mother and Emily dug in and said that you needed to know.”

  “Yes, Dad! I always need to know this stuff. Andrea's my sister. What if there's something I can—Can I talk to Mom? What's going on right now?”

  “Well, you can't talk to your mom because she's getting Andrea ready to go home. They're letting us go home. We just wanted you to stay informed— Oh, hey, here's Emily, talk to Emily.”

  “Hi, big sister. Calm down. Everything's fine.”

  “You are at a hospital—everything is most definitely not fine,” Laura argued, but at hearing her sister's calm and cheerful voice, she relaxed a little. Emily had a good head on her shoulders, and if she was this calm, then there was likely nothing to worry about.

  They spoke for a short while, and when Laura ended the call, she was calmer. It sounded like a false alarm, but who knew given all the medications that they had Andrea on and—

  “Oh, Jamila!”

  “Look, Laura,” said Jamila gleefully.

  She was looking, and she sighed. Somehow, while she was on the call, Jamila had managed to undress herself and her brother, turning their clothes inside out and putting them back on.

  Really, it's an impressive amount of dexterity for such a little girl, she said, reaching down to redress them.

  She was almost done when Ziad arrived, dressed to kill in a charcoal suit. He was handsome enough to take her breath away, but his dark brows knit together when he saw that Laura was just turning Hasan's tiny jacket right side out.

  “Hi—” Laura began, but Ziad cut her off with a sharp gesture of his hand.

  “I thought you said they were ready,” he said. “Today is Jamila's first major public appearance. This is the first view most of the country will have of their next queen. I told you—”

  “Daddy, I'm ready,” Jamila chirped, and Ziad gave her a dubious look. Her dress was back on, but it needed to be brushed out, and Laura stepped forward to do so, handing Hasan to Ziad.

  “She is,” Laura said with assurance and a growing frustration. “We're all going to be fine.”

  “I hope so,” said Ziad.

  The children's museum where Jamila's first official action would be performed was only a few miles from the palace, but it felt as if everything was conspiring against them. The driver seemed unable to work the GPS in the face of the heavy traffic, and somehow Hasan managed to spill his juice all over Ziad's trousers and then down his own front. Jamila, on the other hand, couldn't stop giggling, filling the air with piercing shrieks of laughter, and Laura would have been able to deal with all of that if Ziad hadn't been growling like a bear. It seemed like he was growing tenser by the moment, and finally, Laura had enough.

  “Call the palace,” she said. “Have them rush out another suit. If you send a motorcycle messenger, he'll be able to cut through the traffic and probably beat us there.”

  “Look at him,” Ziad said accusingly, pointing at Hasan. “He's going to be on a half-dozen different television networks tonight. Not to mention the internet.”

  She looked and sighed. Hasan was avidly picking his nose, which sent Jamila into even louder gales of laughter, but she inclined her chin towards Ziad's phone.

  “Just call. This will be fine.”

  She was relieved when Ziad did as she asked, and then she swiftly changed Hasan out of his clothing, putting him into the spares that she had tucked into the diaper bag. When it came to children, one could never be too sure. Then she handed him a soft toy, a darling little stuffed bunny, and he lost all interest in his nose in favor of cuddling it.

  “Jamila,” she said, setting a firm hand on the little girl's shoulder. “I'm happy to see you happy, but it's princess time now. Remember how we practiced?”

  “Oh!”

  Jamila immediately shut her mouth and sat straight up, her hands in her lap and her brown eyes focused on Laura

  “Very good!” Laura said happily. “I'm so glad you remember!”

  She thought Ziad was relaxing a little bit, which was a relief. Adult moods were contagious to kids, and if she was honest, she didn't care for his tension either. She knew that he was worried about how everything was going, but surely he remembered that they were children? They were too young to be expected to behave every moment of every day, especially to his exacting standards.

  They arrived at the museum through the private rear entrance, and the messenger had Ziad's fresh suit. He stalked to the bathroom to change, coming back just as the museum coordinator did, all smiles and eager for things to get going.

  Laura stood next to Ziad with Hasan on her hip and Jamila's hand in hers. Jamila was every inch what Ziad could want, and Laura couldn't resist stealing a glance at Ziad himself.

  Is he happy with her? Is he still angry?

  “And now, to cut the ribbon on our new wing, here is Princess Jamila Khalid!”

  As they had said he would, the director handed Jamila a heavy pair of gold scissors and directed her towards the violet ribbon blocking the museum’s entrance.

  At first Jamila walked up to the ribbon with perfect grace and poise, but then she paused, the scissors in her hand, her small frown on her face.

  Beside her, Laura felt Ziad tense, and then Jamila lifted her face to the museum director.

  “Please, it is too pretty to cut,” she said, her bell-like tone clear in the quiet room. “Can't I keep it? I want to take it home.”

  The crowd burst into laughter, flashbulbs going off in all directions as the director laughed the loudest, assuring her that of course she could keep it. He had it rolled up, and after handing it to her with a flourish, he welcomed the press and the people into the new museum wing.

  Ziad was quiet as the press moved to him, and Laura was too busy with Hasan and Jamila to hear most of it. Ziad was acting the perfect sheikh, but after having gotten to know him, she could tell that there was something wrong.

  There was no time to talk to Ziad at the event, however, where everyone wanted the sheikh's attention and a chance for a photo with the charming new princess. More than once, Laura wanted to point at Jamila, to show Ziad how very well she was doing, but she never found the right opportunity.

  Well, we'll likely be talking this event over soon anyway. She put her nerves about doing so out of mind.

  “Well,” Laura said, after the kids were finally tucked in. “That went well, don't you think?”

  “How can you—”

  Ziad shook his head. He took several deep breaths and nodded at her.

  “We should discuss this in our own quarters,” he said, and turned around without waiting for an answer.

  By the time they had made the short walk to their own suite, she was gently steaming herself, and she did not take it well when he spun on her, thrusting his phone in front of her.

  “Twelve thousand people,” he said. “Four thousand people have already shared the video of her refusing to cut the ribbon. She's trending, and she is all anyone is talking about. No one is talking about the museum, which our presence was meant to promote. Unacceptable. This behavior might be cute in a seven-year-old, but what happens when she's fourteen?”

  “Then she will behave like a fourteen-year-old,” Laura shot back. “This is her behaving like a normal seven-year-old. She hasn't stolen any attention, and as a matter of fact, the director looked delighted. Did you see how many pictures he took with her? She probably did them a favor.”

  Ziad fell back slightly, giving her a dark look, but Laura pushed forward.

  “Speaking as the expert you hired and then married? Today was a great success. Jamila was her charming self, we got through a major press event as a family, and then we spent the whole day at the museum without a single meltdown, food spill, or drama. That's a win by any standard.”

  Ziad's mouth compressed into a thin, straight line, and he looked as if he were searching for words.

  “That's fine for normal children,” he said, “but just as I am not a normal man, my children aren't normal children. Jamila is a princess. She is going to be held to a higher standard, and the ones holding her to it won't care for her nearly as much as I do.”

  What do they matter? Laura wanted to know. Aren't you the sheikh?

  She could tell that he would not be swayed, so instead she merely nodded.

  “We'll go over protocols with Jamila again before the next event,” she said. “And we can talk about today's event, emphasizing all the good she did, and suggest improvements for the future.”

  Ziad looked dubious about that, and just when she thought that this might turn into an actual fight, he nodded.

  “I'm very tired,” he said. “I am going to bed.”

  There was a moment when she could have accepted the implicit invitation something in her knew was there. It wasn't as if she’d had a particularly easy day herself, and right now, resting in Ziad's arms sounded amazing, even if he was being a demanding jerk. But she shook her head.

  “Me too,” she said decisively, going back to her own room. They had decided to sleep apart to avoid temptation, but she had been wondering for a little while why they bothered. Now, though, she needed some time on her own.

  Laura found that she couldn't sleep, even after her warm shower.

  She couldn't get Ziad's frustrated words out of her head, that Jamila needed to be held to a higher standard. Did he realize that meant her own standards weren't good enough? Was she in over her head?

  I'm just nervous, she told herself. Honestly, he probably is too. We'll probably all calm down when the adoption is finalized.

  She hoped so, anyway.

  12

  Ziad's office at the palace had been his father's before him, and it had been the setting to more historical moments in Yeni history than he could count. Right now, however, he couldn't remember one more important than what was happening this very moment.

  Ziad signed the papers with a flourish, his dark and decisive handwriting a contrast to Jamila's careful blocky script and Laura's own quietly graceful signature. He looked down at the papers for a moment, and then slid them back to the judge.

  “Congratulations, Your Majesties,” the judge said with a smile. “Your adoption is final.”

  In Laura's arms, Hasan clapped with glee, and Jamila's hand in his wrung his heart. The first person he looked at, however, was Laura, who he was startled to find was already looking at him, an exhilarated smile on her face.

  It came to him in that moment that the only thing he wanted was to kiss her, damn whoever was looking or what was appropriate. He might have done it if his assistant hadn't knocked on the door, telling them that the press was present and the announcement needed to be made soon.

  Then there was a flurry of getting ready, a quick bite to eat, a formal tunic, and going over the main talking points. The press at this event was going to be even more avid for news than the last. At this press conference, Ziad was going to reveal his successor to his people.

  There had been a great deal of speculation in that department, and Ziad knew that it was the source of some anxiety as well. Some people thought he was going to name Jamila his heir, given the event a few weeks before, but others thought that he might formally announce that she and Hasan would not be part of his lineage, that he would be fathering a biological child for the purpose. Still others suggested that he might name Imran and then Imran's child, depending on what he felt about fatherhood.

  He also thought he saw in Jamila a kind of restlessness as well, a kind of uneasiness that a formal declaration would soothe. She called him Daddy, she knew that he cared for her, but perhaps the reality of this announcement would soothe that last little bit of worry from her mind.

  The crowd was assembling in the courtyard, and as he walked down to make the final arrangements with the palace press secretary, he was startled by Laura popping out of the nursery.

  He couldn't stop the way his heart softened when he saw her these days. They were still maintaining a distance for the sake of Jamila and Hasan, but no one had told his heart that. To see Laura, especially dressed in a beautiful turquoise caftan and a pair of embroidered black trousers, made him smile, but then he frowned.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked, his voice coming out harsher than he wanted it to. “Jamila has to—”

  “It's fine, it's fine,” she said soothingly. “It's only that we're having a little case of nerves. I heard your step in the hall, and I thought a hug from Daddy might go a long way towards reassuring her.”

  Ziad nodded, and then quirked an eyebrow at Laura.

  “You know my step in the hall?'

  She blushed and declined to answer. When he was through the door, Jamila raced to him. He knelt just in time to catch her as she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.

  “Daddy!' she said, and for a moment, he only held her.

  Just when he was wondering if today was too much for her, if he had made some kind of terrible mistake, she pulled back, a brilliant smile on her face.

  “Thank you,” she said, and he took a moment to admire her, perfectly turned out in a lovely white dress, her spine straight and her eyes sparkling.