Faidh had bought her a new gown in a deep purple for the occasion, and she flicked it into place as soon as they were out of the helicopter. A cobbled path led from the helipad to a garden entrance of Sheikh Haatim’s palace, where two uniformed guards opened the doors for them.

  Mina took a deep breath as Faidh led her through the halls. He had obviously been here many times and knew the way to the ballroom where the main gathering was being held.

  One of the guards announced them.

  One by one, heads turned in their direction.

  Faidh was used to this. Used to his presence being the center of attention almost everywhere he went. This time, Mina didn’t think the curiosity was all for him.

  He didn’t seem to notice. Faidh strode into the room, a hand on the small of her back, and launched into the introductions. There were too many names for Mina’s nerves. She’d sworn to herself that she’d learn the names of the sheikhs and their wives on the way over, but she hadn’t. She’d spent the whole helicopter ride fretting.

  “My fiancée,” Faidh said, over and over. “Mina Parks.”

  Every time he spoke, there were more whispers in the room. They traveled from person to person, and Mina could see the rumors about her growing right before her eyes. It started well before the introductions were finished and was still going when Faidh steered her toward a group of women.

  “I’m leaving you in these ladies’ capable hands,” he said, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and went to be with his friends.

  It was the most uncomfortable moment of her life. Mina summoned all her manners, all her politeness, and tried to involve herself in the conversation—or at least appear involved, for Faidh’s sake.

  The conversation didn’t want her.

  The sheikhs’ wives didn’t speak to her. Not really. They just talked over her head in an incomprehensible jumble of terms and allusions that meant nothing to her. Mina had no idea what they were talking about. She’d never focused so hard on a conversation and still found it so difficult to follow. It was like stepping into a story that had started many, many chapters before without knowing what had happened.

  But nothing was worse than when she met Sheikh Haatim.

  He was too loud. Took up too much space in the room. And he was, above all, the son of the man who had coerced her father into becoming a spy and then abandoned him. Mina had never known the former sheikh. She could imagine him now. As haughty and arrogant as his son. Haatim hardly seemed to have any respect for the people around him. Another familiar trait.

  The problem was that she couldn’t escape him. His eyes bored into her as if he could see into her soul, and worse, as if he could see who her father was.

  “You’re a pretty thing,” he mused. “I haven’t seen you with the sheikh before. Are you sure you’re engaged?”

  It was a joke, and Mina laughed. The sound fell flat. “Of course we are.”

  “You don’t have to be.” Haatim lowered his voice, but not by much. “There are other, better sheikhs to choose from. With better palaces.”

  What was she supposed to say to this? “I’m very happy with Faidh. He has a—a good soul.”

  Haatim smirked. “He loves fast cars and screwing around. I don’t know how he’s managed to stay the sheikh for this long. If you want a real man, send me a message. I’ll come rescue you from that ruin of a palace.” And then, as if he’d said nothing offensive at all, Haatim leaned in, brushed a kiss to her cheek, and left.

  Mina turned away, trying to hide her face as she wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand. What had he been thinking, saying those things to her? Her stomach still felt frozen at his joke about them not being engaged. He didn’t know anything about them. Haatim had no way of knowing that the engagement wasn’t real.

  She went looking for Faidh, skirting the group of women who had abandoned her to Haatim’s clutches without so much as a warning.

  Then again, Faidh hadn’t warned her either.

  Faidh was in the corner of the ballroom at a standing table with two other men. Two other men who—whoa. They were handsome, shockingly so, like Faidh. All three men had dark hair, though only Faidh’s was curly. One of those men had green eyes that reminded her of spring, and one had dark eyes that danced with intelligence. All three were tall and muscular, looking mouthwatering in dark tuxedos that looked more expensive than her entire wardrobe combined.

  Mina went to Faidh’s side. He smiled at her approach, his face lighting up, but then he seemed to remember that things were rocky between them. He tempered the smile. “Mina. My fiancée,” he said to his friends. “This is Amare and Camil, my closest friends.” He’d mentioned them before, during a few of the meals they’d shared. Friends that were more like brothers. Mina tried to force a genuine smile onto her face. The muscles hardly responded.

  “I think we should leave early,” she said.

  “Oh, no,” Faidh answered lightly. “I don’t leave these gatherings early. If you need a break, there are rooms nearby that are quieter.”

  “I’m not—” She did her best to look calm, but every moment in this room with Sheikh Haatim made her skin crawl. It was too much to come to Larasan and this meeting, and—why hadn’t he warned her? Why hadn’t they come up with a plan for this? “I’m not comfortable.”

  “It will be all right,” Faidh said. “Take a few minutes in one of the quiet rooms.”

  Mina opened her mouth to argue. She wasn’t going to some secluded room by herself. Not with Haatim saying those things to her. What if he looked for her there? What if he found her? No. She gave Faidh a tight smile. “Okay. It was lovely to meet you,” she said to his friends. “Excuse me.”

  They were still saying their goodbyes when she turned on her heel and slipped away.

  Faidh watched Mina’s retreat, her purple gown swirling around her in an enticing fall of fabric, and his chest clenched with guilt. He hated these dinners. Hated the small talk beforehand, and the discussion during the meal, and the inevitable squabbles that happened afterward. If it wouldn’t be unforgivably rude not to come, he would skip every single one.

  His friends rounded on him as soon as Mina was out of sight. “I’m not impressed,” Amare said. “This is your latest stunt to shirk responsibility, and now you’ve involved that poor woman? When will enough be enough?”

  Camil frowned. “Are you sure it’s not too far? I wouldn’t want to be in your position, Faidh. I wouldn’t want to be in hers.”

  These men were like his brothers. He trusted them with everything. With his secrets. With his life. But they didn’t understand. Amare hadn’t been a sheikh for as long as Faidh, but he was already much more accomplished. He didn’t see how Faidh wasn’t cut out for this. As for Camil, he couldn’t wait for his father to retire so he could have his shot at the sheikhdom.

  “Lucky for you,” Faidh said, “you’re not in my position.”

  Amare shot him a look and changed the subject. Faidh let the conversation flow past him. He should have followed her. He should have asked her why she wasn’t comfortable. Just because they weren’t going to sleep together didn’t mean he could ignore her feelings.

  Mina entered the ballroom a few minutes later.

  “Excuse me,” he told his friends and made his way to Mina’s side.

  Her sad, wilted expression made him want to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. Faidh couldn’t do that in a room full of sheikhs.

  Music started up, and a few couples made their way to the dance floor, the rest of the room reshuffling to give them space. Mina’s dark eyes stayed on his.

  “Hi, Faidh,” she said. The sadness extended to her voice.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  He saw in her eyes that she didn’t want to, that it was the last thing she wanted, but Mina nodded. She put her hand in his as a soon as he reached for her. It felt so good to make contact. So right. Faidh twirled her toward him, catching her expertly, and spun them out onto the dance floor.

  Mina’s eyebrows went up in delighted shock. The color came back to her cheeks. He twirled her again. This time, when she came back to him, she wore a small smile.

  Faidh couldn’t resist it. He pulled her close to his body, and they danced.

  She was graceful. Delicate. Light on her feet, though she obviously didn’t know all the steps. It didn’t matter. Faidh did. He’d had lessons growing up in anticipation of becoming the sheikh.

  Holding her this way made him want to confide in her. Faidh always wanted to confide in her, even when he knew he shouldn’t. Even when he knew it would only expose him to her in a way that couldn’t be undone when their engagement ended. He wanted to tell her that he hated these dinners, too. That he hated being at Haatim’s palace, because the man was always at his worst when the gatherings were hosted in Larasan.

  The words stuck in his throat.

  Little by little, Mina relaxed in his arms. He took her around the dance floor, keeping her safe from the other couples, and she stayed close to him. For now, at least, her shoulders let down and she seemed at peace, if not happy.

  He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to laugh. He wanted her eyes to light up and her to lean in so he could breathe in her sweetness and hear everything she murmured to him.

  “I know it’s hard,” he said. That was all he could manage.

  Mina sighed. “I’ll be okay,” she said.

  It was almost enough.

  11

  Faidh and Mina made sure they were seen together after the regional dinner. Trips to the market. A visit to a museum. A walk in a park near the palace.

  The council didn’t buy it. He walked into the next council meeting to find a buzz already in the air. Faidh took his seat and gave them an expansive wave.

  “Out with it,” he said.

  One of the members cleared his throat. “We’d like to talk with you about some eligible Nouzarian ladies, Sheikh Faidh. Your birthday is approaching, and according to the laws of Nouzar—”

  Faidh laughed. “Oh, you haven’t forgotten, have you? I’m engaged to Mina.”

  There was a heartbeat of silence afterward, and it made his own heart sink.

  “Yes, of course,” said the council member. “Of course you are.”

  “I am,” he insisted. “Does someone on my council need additional reassurance?”

  Another member shook his head. “No, Sheikh Faidh. We don’t.” He stopped himself before he said anything else, but Faidh saw the truth in the man’s eyes. They didn’t believe him. Or they’d come to like Mina. Either way, it was a bit of a disaster. If they didn’t believe him, someone on the council would call him out sooner or later. And if they’d come to approve of Mina, they’d insist on moving up the wedding. They’d want everything settled as soon as possible, and he would not be able to get out of the sheikhdom.

  “Let’s move on,” he said, his mind already flying elsewhere. They would need another date. A public one. A romantic one. He needed to remind everyone in Nouzar, his council included, that he was very, very taken.

  A picnic and a hot-air balloon ride in the desert. Yes. That was it. He’d put on a show for the council, but he’d also make up to Mina for how uncomfortable she’d been at the dinner and how poorly he’d managed it.

  He went down to the kitchens that afternoon and found her stretching more phyllo dough. “Hello, fiancée.”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes, but she put on a smile for him. “Hi, Faidh. How was the council meeting?”

  He hated this distance between them, but it was for the best. “I thought another date would do everyone good. An outdoor date. No other sheikhs in attendance.”

  The corners of her mouth curved down. She wanted to tell him no. Mina lifted the sleeve of her chef’s uniform to brush a streak of flour off her forehead. She didn’t answer.

  “You’ll enjoy yourself. I promise.”

  She let out a breath and met his eyes, and Faidh very nearly kissed her then. There was too much hope there. Too much desire. As much as he felt, though he’d do his best to hide it until the bitter end.

  “Let me check with Alma,” Mina said. “I don’t want to let her down. When are you thinking we’ll go?”

  “Right now.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “I’ve been baking all day.”

  “Good,” he said. “Go ask Alma.”

  She wrapped the dough and put it away, then disappeared down the hall to check with Alma in her rooms. Her arthritis had flared again. Faidh waited in the kitchens, his heart beating fast. He didn’t want to imagine the disappointment he’d feel if Mina couldn’t go with him. He didn’t want to admit it.

  Mina came back several minutes later, the sweet scent of her light on the air. “Okay,” she said. “I can go. Just give me a few minutes to change, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  Faidh waited in the lobby of the palace for her, though he wanted very much to wait in her room. No, scratch that—he wanted to wait in the shower with her. Step under the water with her. Wash her hair. Run his hands over her body.

  But he wouldn’t fantasize about that.

  Mina appeared in a sundress fifteen minutes later, her hair still damp, looking as beautiful as he’d ever seen her. She held a small box in her hands.

  “You look beautiful,” he told her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  They shared a quiet ride out to the oasis where the balloon would pick them up. It was nestled next to an airfield, and as they approached the palm trees, Mina’s eyes went wide. She’d never been in a hot-air balloon, either, then. The thought made him oddly happy. He got to be the one to give Mina this experience.

  The balloon was already inflated, ready to take off as soon as they were finished eating. The red-and-blue pattern was vivid against the sky—as vivid as the green of the trees at the oasis.

  He helped her out of the car and gestured at the tent. “A meal for the two of us before we go. A late lunch, or an early dinner.”

  “Perfect. I’m hungry.”

  She sat with him under the tent, and they made their way through a light, crisp salad with a lemon dressing and lamb sandwiches in fresh pita bread. When they were nearly finished, Mina put the box on the table. “Dessert,” she said. “No coconuts.”

  He opened the box to find it filled with ghraybeh, a small shortbread cookie with—

  “Pistachios on top,” he said.

  “Yes.” Mina bit her lip. “I hope you like them.”

  It broke his heart a little, that she wanted him to like these when he’d pushed her away. Faidh took a bite of the first cookie and groaned. It was perfectly crisp on the outside and melted in his mouth as soon as it hit his tongue. “Delicious,” he proclaimed. “You have one.”

  Mina took a bite, her face carefully neutral, and then she sighed. “These are really good. That’s a relief. I was hoping to run the recipe by Alma for the palace, and now I can.”

  “She’ll approve. I’ll make sure she does.”

  “I think a little variety in the desserts could help.” It was still mainly quiet between them, but at least she was chatting with him now. “There are a lot of desserts served in the palace throughout the day and it’s nice to give people a surprise now and then. I want them to look forward to dessert.”

  “Who doesn’t?” joked Faidh.

  He almost got a laugh out of her.

  “Are you ready for our ride?”

  Mina nodded, folding the top on the box, her eyes lighting up.

  “It’s bigger than I thought,” Mina murmured. “Hello,” she said to the pilot.

  Faidh shook the man’s hand and listened while he took them through the safety features and procedures.

  They lifted into the air.

  It was nothing like taking off in a helicopter or a plane. One minute, Faidh was looking out at the desert horizon with Mina at his side. The next, he looked down, and the desert was far below and dropping away on a gentle wind.

  “Would you like the tour?” the pilot asked.

  “No, thank you,” Faidh said.

  “Of course, Sheikh Faidh.”

  The operator faded into the background then, becoming like a gondolier in Venice. There, but silent and on duty.

  “I helped rebuild an F1 engine this week,” Faidh said to Mina, leaning against the outside of the basket. She shifted closer to him so that their hips were touching. “Do the heights scare you?”

  “No.” Her hand went to her throat. “I get a little nervous when I think about it, but I’m not scared.”

  “You’re not scared to be alone in a basket with the sheikh?”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “We’re not alone,” she murmured, below the sound of the wind. “Did you have fun rebuilding your engine?”

  “I used my hands quite a bit.”

  She flushed deeply at that. “I used my hands quite a bit today, too.”

  “What would you ever do without me?”

  “Oh, anything,” Mina said. “There are so many cakes to bake. More than one man could ever help with.”

  He pretended to be shocked. “More than a sheikh could help with?”

  Mina’s eyes went wide and she let out a delighted cry at something below them. It was difficult for him to tear his eyes away from her face. A broad grin. Bright eyes. Happy. She looked happy. But he did look.

  Below them, a herd of wild camels sprinted across the desert dunes.

  “Look at that,” she whispered.

  He’d missed her smile so much that it felt like a magnet between them, pulling him in. Faidh couldn’t resist the feeling. Couldn’t resist the pull. He put a hand on the small of her back and when she leaned in another few inches, he put his arms around her and drew her in.

  Kissed her.

  Her lips parted with a little gasp, and then she relaxed against him. Faidh tasted her with the tip of his tongue, dipping into her mouth. He wanted to kiss her for hours, for days, but there was the hot-air balloon pilot.

  Mina pressed her face close, clinging to the kiss for as long as she could before she broke away, her fingertips going to her lips.