was already today—he could turn up at the royal palace to hand back the amulet. Which thought kept Tahira wide awake for the remainder of the night.
* * *
At breakfast, having almost persuaded herself that she was completely overreacting, when the almost unheard-of summons came, she thought she might faint for the first time in her life. Standing trance-like as her maid dressed her in the elaborate attire required for a formal interview with the Crown Prince, Tahira felt as if she were watching herself from a distance.
Too late, too late, too late, echoed around and around in her head as she followed the guard from the harem through the corridor leading to a waiting area designed to intimidate the visitor with its porphyry pillars and elaborate ceiling decorated with green and gold.
Too late! No matter that the summons made no sense, for even if he had become aware of her true identity, why would Christopher betray her and thus himself? Panic made a mockery of logic. The waiting room opened on to the Tower of Justice, a euphemism for the famed armoury with its formidable display of shields, spears, scimitars and daggers, all purely ceremonial in these more civilised times, but many with a bloody history.
Arriving at the entrance to the Chamber of the Royal Imperial Council, Tahira could scarcely breathe. As the doors were flung open, her name announced and she stepped forward, at first she thought she had simply overlooked him, but a second, more measured glance around the room revealed no trace of Christopher.
Only her brother seated in splendid isolation at the far end. Tahira dropped to her knees and prostrated herself before him, for once thankful not to have to stand. Ironically, for once, Ghutrif did not wish her deference to be prolonged.
‘Rise, Sister. You may proceed and give thanks.’
Familiar emotions began to take over as her panic subsided, not least of which was guilt, as she struggled to reconcile her simmering resentment with the knowledge that her marriage would make everyone happy, including her beloved sisters. Everyone but herself, that is.
The Chamber of the Royal Imperial Council was one of the longest rooms in the palace, and the most sparsely furnished. Save for the rich rugs beneath her feet and the lavish curtains which draped the huge row of stained-glass windows, there was only the throne, gilded and scrolled, on which Ghutrif imperiously sat, observing Tahira from under his hooded lids. As ever, she was struck by the family resemblance. Though his features were undoubtedly masculine, they were also unmistakably brother and sister. If Christopher ever did meet Ghutrif would the similarity strike him too? Perhaps she should confess tonight. But if she did...
‘I am waiting, Sister.’
‘Your Highness.’ She dropped on to bended knee and took the extended hand, kissing the air a fraction above his skin. ‘I must thank you profusely for arranging this most—most worthy match.’
‘Worthy?’
Worth a great deal to you, I have no doubt, Tahira thought rebelliously. Fixing her smile, she inclined her head. ‘Worthy of our Royal House of Nessarah, I mean.’
‘Then it is to be hoped that you make a better fist of representing our Royal House this time around.’
Tahira bit her lip, determined not to rise to the bait. Silence, she had learnt the hard way, was the best way to neutralise her brother’s barbs.
Silence stretched. Ghutrif’s fingers drummed on the wide arm of his throne. He crossed his legs. He uncrossed them. Tahira stared down at the rug on which she knelt, counting inside her head. She had once got as far as eighty-five. Today, Ghutrif surrendered at forty-one.
‘What have you done to yourself? You have the hands of a miner, not a princess!’
Curse the skies! ‘Scratches inflicted by my little Sayeed,’ Tahira said, with a silent apology to her cat. ‘I was teasing him, it was my own fault.’
‘That animal is vicious and feral. You know you will not be permitted to take him with you?’
‘Then I will release him into the wild,’ Tahira said through gritted teeth. At least that way, she thought, to console herself, one of us will retain their freedom.
‘The camel race to celebrate your betrothal is arranged for four days hence. The marriage will take place within the month. I am planning a lavish celebration, although naturally both events will pale into insignificance compared to the festivities planned to mark the joyous and long-awaited arrival of my son and heir.’
Ghutrif was smiling that supercilious smile that made her grit her teeth. He was dangling something between his fingers. ‘Perhaps that is why I am in such a generous mood, Sister. You may have this small token to celebrate this most worthy match I have made for you. Call it a reward for your obedience. I intend to have your wedding jewels crafted from the same material. Not so valuable as diamonds perhaps, but rarer.’
It was a bracelet, formed of polished gems set in gold. The stones were a vibrant blue, streaked most distinctively with copper. Tahira had seen a similar image on the wall of the tomb last night. She had seen the real things on Christopher’s amulet. ‘Turquoise,’ she said, reaching eagerly for the trinket.
Ghutrif snatched it away. ‘Crafted from the first samples taken from my new mine.’
‘It is very beautiful. Most distinctive.’
Ghutrif threw the bracelet into the air. Tahira snatched it, fastening it around her wrist with trembling fingers. The gems were a perfect match. ‘There is nothing like it in Arabia, nor even in Egypt, I am most reliably informed,’ her brother told her with another of his infuriating, self-satisfied smiles. ‘The mine will be most profitable.’
Which meant that the mine would be heavily guarded. ‘When will it become productive?’ Tahira asked, dry-mouthed.
‘Such a question from a woman. But I suppose you are concerned that there will be sufficient ore for your wedding jewellery.’
She cast her eyes down in what she hoped was a coy manner. ‘You know me so well.’
‘Full operations commence immediately after the camel race.’
Which meant they must make haste to close the tomb. Tonight. It could not wait any longer. ‘If you will excuse me, Brother, I am overwhelmed by your generosity,’ Tahira said. ‘And with only four days to prepare for my betrothal—there is much to do.’
‘Your new-found enthusiasm is as surprising as it is pleasing.’ Ghutrif eyed her warily. ‘Go and prepare with my blessing, but this time there must be no last-minute hitches. Have I made myself clear?’
‘Completely,’ Tahira said, turning her back disrespectfully on her brother and fleeing the chamber.
* * *
Never had a day in the harem passed so excruciatingly slowly, Tahira thought, as she headed across the desert towards the mine. It was a beautiful night, the air salty and damp, the sky shimmering, hazy, the stars appearing as if peeking through a gauze curtain. Would this be her last-ever night with Christopher? The crushing sense of impending doom was making her teary, and she was determined not to spoil it with tears, but if this really was to be goodbye—She blinked furiously.
She now had the final confirmation of Christopher’s amulet’s origin, in the form of the turquoise bracelet, but she couldn’t possibly show it to him because he’d ask her how on earth she came by such a thing, and she couldn’t possibly tell him the truth since that would mean revealing that she’d been deceiving him all along as to her identity.
Tahira cursed under her breath. All she had left was tonight. She would be much better served by concentrating her energies on not ruining it.
* * *
Christopher was waiting for her at the entrance to the tomb. He immediately enveloped her in a fierce embrace which left her breathless.
‘I was worried you might not be able to get away,’ he said, pushing her hair back from her face. ‘You look a little