she mostly answered him in Arabic, with short dips into English when words failed her.
She wanted to explore her heritage, hence enjoying the scarves, and that’s what she’d do more of when the project was really going and it wouldn’t slow progress.
He felt a twinge of guilt. Time off was important, and no one knew that better than a doctor just finishing residency. “I know most people work about one-third of the day, and I’m asking more of you. You should really take some time to move around. There’s probably a gym somewhere in the building—I have no idea. But if not, I can have a machine of your choosing sent up. Sitting is the new cancer.”
“Do you just have equipment lying about?” The question went from Arabic to English then back again, but she had a solid enough foundation to leave him confident she’d get better the more she practiced.
“There’s a well-stocked gym at the palace. I can send over whatever you like, then take it back after you’re finished with it.”
“Elliptical?” English.
He nodded. “Done. And after we get going—after there is a plan in place for the initial building—I’ll make sure you get some time off to explore. Perhaps Dubai?”
“Why not here?”
“No reason. Though if you get hurt in Dubai, there are better medical facilities available. Did Zahir have you bring antibiotics with you?”
“No, but he said if I got sick to call him first.”
“Call me first.”
“Are the healers so bad? It seems like you would have a...low...” Again she paused. Her Arabic wasn’t bad, but she’d gotten to the point it wouldn’t improve if she didn’t force it to with conversation. “Low...number of people...alive...if they did not offer some good?”
“Population.” Dakan filled in the word she’d been unable to find. “The healers do some good, but the problem is they often don’t realize their limits. My mother’s healer realized...” He stopped himself before he really got going. The Queen wouldn’t thank him for spreading her business around, but it had somehow started to come out. “They don’t do well with infections, for instance. And anything that requires surgery.”
He couldn’t explain about his mother’s medical condition, or the terrible birth he knew she’d suffered with his younger brother all those years ago, that was all too personal to lay out. Not only for the sake of his mother’s privacy but because he hadn’t yet forgiven his father for putting her into that position.
The question in her eyes made him want to tell her. He and Zahir had spoken briefly, but as much as he loved his brother Dakan was all too aware that they weren’t equals. Always aware of it. Which was a good part of why he wanted to be anywhere but home right now.
“Is she all right now? Your mother?”
The question made him focus and Dakan nodded. “Two months ago she had to go to England to have surgery she should’ve had ages ago, but couldn’t because of the way things are here. After years of quiet illness...”
Absolute sympathy shone in those lovely green eyes. “Is she still there?”
“No. She and my father went away on holiday together. Somewhere. I have no idea where. She’s much better now than she had been before. For years. One thing I can say for her healer, he eventually realized the need for surgery, but he’s exceptionally progressive compared to other healers. And my father...”
He didn’t even really know what to say about that. He probably, in fact, shouldn’t say anything about his father, but if anyone would understand family drama it would be this woman, who had spoken so openly about her past. Even now, he saw only concern in her eyes and unasked questions. He wanted to explain.
He switched back to English, not only to aid her understanding but also to make it less likely the housekeeper or any of the guards would understand if they happened to overhear. “The reason I said no healers before is because I don’t want them getting in the way. If I give them too much room now that the King has apparently decided he’ll give a new hospital a chance, I can see the system being easily corrupted and the doctors pushed into a secondary role once I’m gone and it’s all running—which would probably make me put my fist through something.” Or borrow weapons from the hall of armaments and do something else violent. “Forgive me. I’m...”
“Passionate about this. I understand. You should be. Though I don’t really understand what healers do. Is it homeopathic remedies?”
“The healers and attars work together, diagnosing and brewing tonics and other treatments. But their decoctions have actual measurable amounts of different ingredients—herbs, minerals, food, oils, spices. Most with medicinal qualities. They also try to treat the whole body, not just the particular injured part. Homeopaths focus on distillations of different kinds, taking ingredients down to one part in millions, and largely rely on placebo effect to treat their patients.”
“No love for the homeopathic medicine, I see.” Her flirting smile returned, and somehow the situation seemed a little less dark suddenly.
“No.”
“But treating the whole body sounds like a good thing.”
“It’s not a bad thing. It’s just about them knowing their limits.”
She considered his words for a long moment and then tilted her head at him. “So, you want to guard against the King undoing your hard work, but you don’t know how they will respond to your decision to change their plans?”
“If Zahir wants healers, he can come back here and handle the hospital project himself.”
And, Lord, did he hope Zahir came to the same decision.
Zahir’s plan wasn’t exactly wrong—it would still be great for their people—but he wasn’t only doing things this way to make his brother come home and free Dakan to return to England. Even if that was also a fine reason to do whatever he wanted. Not that he usually needed a reason to do what he wanted.
What he really wanted right now was to make Nira Hathaway smile at him again, something he could do just fine on his own.
“Before you start thinking I’m not up to the task of building this hospital,” Dakan said, affecting his most serious frown as he spoke, “I’ll have you know I built the biggest Lego playhouse you’ve never seen when I was growing up. I was a Lego master. Everything I built had perfect right angles and I didn’t even try. I didn’t even have to use a...a...” The frown cracked when he couldn’t think of the right word and used one from her professional vocabulary. “A protractor?”
Though he could see the spark of amusement-tinged exasperation in her eyes—he was, after all, going to make her work on something that might very well be overruled when the King returned and found what he’d been getting up to—she played along. “I don’t know, that sounds like a challenge. Do you still have that playhouse? And just for future reference, the word you were looking for is a set square. You use a set square to make things square.”
“A set square? Really?”
She nodded.
“Okay, noted for any future Lego house stories. But, no, I don’t still have it,” Dakan said, returning to his serious expression. “It got blown up.”
Her amusement disappeared just as fast as it had arrived. “Someone bombed your Lego house?”
He held her wide, startled gaze for several long, somber heartbeats, and then let himself smile. “You fell for that so easily, Nira. Not all Middle Eastern countries are riddled with war and violence.”
A mutinous wrinkle formed on the bridge of her nose, and she turned her gaze to every item on the table.
The woman was going to throw something at him! Food? Something breakable?
She reached for the bread.