THE PALACE WAS INCREDIBLE.
Maggie had told her just how amazing it was but nothing could have properly prepared Flo for its splendour. The plane came in over the sea and Flo got her first glimpse of the stunning white building, a stark contrast to the burnt orange canyon it sat atop.
And, because they were aboard the Royal jet, they would land at the Palace. It was both terrifying and exhilarating as the plane aligned with the canyon. ‘How big is this place?’ Flo asked, still unable to fathom that it had its own landing strip.
‘Huge,’ Maggie said. ‘And magnificent.’
They landed and were met by a woman named Kumu, who greeted them warmly, and they were then driven to a side entrance.
‘The grand entrance,’ Kumu explained, ‘is used only by the Royals and for official occasions.’
And Maggie wasn’t quite that yet, though the side entrance wasn’t exactly shabby! They were led into a huge marble foyer and introduced to the wedding co-ordinator, who told them where they would be sleeping.
‘Maggie, you asked to stay in the westerly wing in your previous suite and that has been accommodated. The Palace is very full, though, with wedding guests arriving so your friends are in another section.’
It would seem that the westerly wing was rather the place to be, but Flo was just so thrilled to be here she really didn’t care where she had been put.
Paul and Kelly were led off. ‘Miss Andrews, I shall take you to your suite now and—’
‘I’ll go with Flo,’ Maggie said. ‘I want to know where she is.’
They were led through long corridors and up ancient steps and finally they arrived at what would be her home for the next few nights.
It was stunning.
The beautiful suite was bigger than her entire flat and the centrepiece was a high four-poster bed that was draped with heavy gold silk.
‘There is no direct hammam access from here,’ the co-ordinator regretfully explained.
‘That’s fine,’ Maggie said. ‘There’s access from my suite so we can go from there.’
‘Of course,’ the co-ordinator agreed, ‘but you cannot wander, Maggie. It is imperative that you do not see the groom, so when you are out of your suite, Kumu or I shall escort you.’ Maggie was handed a schedule and when the co-ordinator had gone she and Flo went through it.
Basically, it was two days of utter bliss.
There was to be a lot of hammam time and a cleansing diet of fruit, then an hour from now the dressmaker would come to Maggie’s suite to make adjustments.
‘Dressmakers,’ Flo corrected as she read through it. ‘Oh, it’s like a luxury retreat.’
‘With a wedding at the end of it,’ Maggie said, and Flo could hear the nervousness in her voice.
‘It’s going to be wonderful.’
‘I know it is.’ Maggie nodded. ‘I just hate it that I can’t see Ilyas until then. It feels like him coming to the flat was all a bit of a dream.’
‘Well, it clearly wasn’t,’ Flo said, and she opened the huge French window. They stepped out onto the balcony to breathe the fragrant evening air.
‘You have to come to my suite and see the sunset,’ Maggie said. ‘You’ve got planes for a view.’
‘I like planes,’ Flo said.
She actually did.
As Maggie went off for her fitting it was incredible to watch the private jets come in over the desert and see the helicopters land.
Dignitaries descended the steps of private jets in richly coloured robes. Some were taken by car while others walked across a small ornate bridge. It took an evening of sipping fragrant tea and eating slivers of fruit for Flo to work out that the more esteemed guests crossed the bridge rather than being met by a car.
Maggie clearly wasn’t royal yet!
In the two days prior to the wedding, the bride-to-be and her guests were pampered and spoiled. There was a huge hammam beneath the Palace and because Paul and Kelly were married they were taken to the couples’ area. Due to her impending status, Maggie had her own private section and Flo was allowed along for company.
‘Think of it as one of our spa days,’ Maggie had said the first time they had gone down there.
More often than not they gave each other a spa day for birthday presents. This meant that twice a year they got a wonderful girly day.
They weren’t like this, though.
Their spa days had been taken in a swish hotel and had always felt decadent as they lay wrapped in fluffy towels with face packs on, followed by a dip in a gorgeous pool.
Here, though, they were underground and they walked through tunnels decorated in mosaics. It really was another world. There were natural steam rooms and waterfalls and maids who took care of everything.
Maggie’s long red curls were oiled in preparation for the big day and Flo’s blonde hair received several treatments. Her skin was pummelled with salt, and by the time it came to Maggie’s wedding day, all that was left to do was relax and prepare for the service, which was just a few hours away.
Maggie was nervous and Flo didn’t blame her a bit. She hadn’t seen Ilyas since he had proposed to her! Apparently his family was being difficult as Ilyas enforced the new order. Hazin was still a no-show, though his jet was apparently in Dubai. Yes, there was a lot for Maggie to be tense about. Not just the service—afterwards she would go out onto the balcony and the people would get their first glimpse of the obviously pregnant bride.
‘It’s going to be wonderful, Maggie,’ Flo said as they lay being massaged, but despite her brave words even Flo could not let go of her tension.
Not just about the no-show of Hazin.
Today her best friend would be married and become a princess and the future Queen.
Flo looked over and, given she was so pregnant, Maggie lay on her back. Her eyes were closed as one maid massaged her scalp. Two others worked quietly on her feet.
No, it was not a regular spa day.
Flo was scared of change and did not want this valued friendship to slip away, yet she did not see how it could possibly stay the same.
She said nothing, though, for today was about the wedding, and Maggie was already nervous enough.
‘What happens now?’ Flo asked as they were led, wrapped in hammam towels, back through the tunnels to Maggie’s suite.
‘I guess hair and make-up,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll ask Kumu to have your clothes and things brought over to my suite.’
But it was not to be, for they found out that Flo could not be with Maggie in the final preparations.
‘Only family can be present,’ Kumu, who took care of details, explained.
‘But Maggie doesn’t have any family,’ Flo said. ‘I’m her closest friend. We’re like sisters.’
‘There can be no exceptions,’ Kumu responded, and then turned to the bride-to-be. ‘I am sorry, Maggie.’
‘Surely...’ Flo started, and was about to put on her assertive midwife voice, but she knew it might be best not to use it today so she changed her tone and turned to her friend. ‘Maggie?’ she checked. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Maggie said, but Flo could see that her teeth were chattering. ‘You go and get ready.’
‘In a bit,’ Flo started, but it was clear she was no longer welcome.
‘I’ll see you at the service.’ Maggie tried to be brave. ‘Wish me luck.’
‘You don’t need luck,’ Flo said. ‘You’re going to do beautifully. I just know it.’
Flo was not best pleased as she made her way to her suite, but there was nothing she could do.
The next time she saw Maggie it would be at the ceremony.
After that, Maggie and Ilyas and other Royals would appear on the Palace balcony and then there was to be a formal meal before the couple went to the desert.
She doubted there would be even a moment to speak properly with her friend.
And tomorrow Flo flew home to London.
Things were changing and there was nothing she could do, except get herself ready for the wedding.
Her hair had never been silkier and Flo decided she would leave it down, so she took out her tongs and added a few curls.
Then a few more.
Whatever oil they had used was amazing.
The treatments had done wonders for her skin and all she needed was a little blush and eyeliner and then mascara and she was done.
Flo put on a silk robe that had been left out for her and headed out onto the balcony, willing herself to be calm. Yet the sight of all the planes and helicopters was daunting. This was a huge Royal wedding and Maggie was facing it alone.
And as for Hazin...
She scanned the tails of the jets but she didn’t know what she was looking for.
Flo just wanted to see him.
Not for the sake of his brother.
It was selfish of her perhaps, but she had an aching need to see Hazin again.
She and Maggie had been shopping before they’d left for Zayrinia and Flo had found the perfect dress.
It was full length and worked with all the guidelines, but it was bright red and as sexy as hell.
And had been bought with Hazin in mind.
She put on her very red lipstick, which had been bought with both the dress and Hazin in mind!
It killed her that he wouldn’t be there to see it.
Surely he might still come, Flo thought as she headed to take her place in the gardens.
There was still no sign of Hazin, so the dress and lipstick were rather in vain.
But then she forgot about him when Maggie arrived.
She was smiling so widely and seemed utterly relaxed, so unlike the tense woman Flo had left.
It was the most beautiful ceremony, and it was clear they were deeply in love.
And there was time to speak after.
Maggie made the time for them.
‘Did they drug you?’ Flo beamed. ‘You looked so calm...’
‘Stop it.’ Maggie laughed. ‘Ilyas and I spoke before the ceremony.’
‘You saw him?’
‘No.’ Maggie shook her head. ‘We just spoke and it calmed me down a lot. I have to go out to the balcony now. Will you come up and wait for me there?’
‘Of course.’
Ilyas and Maggie led the way back to the Palace and the Royals and Flo walked behind.
She wouldn’t be going onto the balcony, of course, it was just nice to be a part of things. But then, just as they turned on the grand stairs, the entrance doors to the Palace opened and a sight for sore eyes staggered in.
Hazin.
His hair was dishevelled, and he was dressed in a crumpled suit and carrying a bottle of cognac. He clearly hadn’t shaved in days.
‘Keep walking,’ someone advised, but of course the procession halted while Ilyas took charge and went to deal with his errant younger brother.
‘Ilyas!’ The Queen called him back but he ignored her summons. ‘You...’ the Queen said, and Flo was startled as she met the Royal glare. ‘You’re a nurse—deal with Hazin.’
‘I’m a midwife, actually.’
‘It’s the same thing.’ The Queen dismissed Flo with a wave of her hand.
Flo would have loved to tap her on the shoulder and correct her, but she had actually done her general nursing too.
It had been a very long time since she had been in the emergency department and dealing with drunks, though.
It was like riding a bike once you got down to it.
Hazin was led off by the guards and on the Queen’s instructions Flo followed.
Down corridor after corridor they went and she found herself in an apartment within the Palace.
There the guards placed him on the bed.
‘Thank you.’ Flo smiled at them and when they were gone she stood there and looked at Hazin.
He really was terribly gorgeous with his tie undone and his shirt untucked. His eyelashes were flickering and she knew he was only pretending to be asleep. She looked at the bottle of cognac in his hand.
‘I’m surprised you didn’t drop it,’ Flo said, and took it from his grip.
Yes, it was like riding a bike, for her training was ingrained and she knew he wasn’t drunk!
Drunks weren’t so pretty!
And Hazin had told her himself that he didn’t drink.
‘I know you,’ he said as he opened one eye slightly.
‘Indeed you do.’
She bent over and he frowned as her lips hovered over his.
‘Is that within your nursy duties, Florence?’
‘You’re stone cold sober, Hazin. Couldn’t you at least have taken a swig from the bottle?’
He smiled.
Busted.
‘I can’t stand the stuff.’
‘Why didn’t you just stay away if you didn’t want to come?’
Hazin didn’t answer that.
It was a good question indeed.
‘Why didn’t you want to be at your brother’s wedding?’
‘It isn’t the wedding so much...’ He closed his eyes and it was all too hard to explain. ‘Maybe it is,’ Hazin said. ‘The last wedding I was at...’
‘Was yours.’ Flo said. ‘Maggie told me.’
‘What else did she tell you?’
It was time to be honest, Flo decided, for pretending she had no idea who he was hadn’t served them well. ‘That you hope to be disinherited.’
‘I never meant that to get out,’ Hazin said, and he told her first-hand what had happened in his cabin that day. ‘I was fed up,’ he said. ‘I had tried coming home for a visit but ended up taking out the yacht. I invited a few friends and...’ He shrugged. It had been the usual debauched party. ‘I was just tired of it and I went into my cabin and Maggie was there. She’d gone to lie down. I could tell she was upset and she mentioned it was the anniversary of her mother’s death. She said how she missed having a family. I told her she was lucky, how I was sick of mine, and that I wouldn’t mind being disinherited. It was how I felt on the day. I might have no choice in the matter now.’
He was making the choice for them, Flo was sure, and she was rather sure she knew why. ‘Maggie also said that you have to give a speech for the anniversary of your wife’s death.’
‘Ah, yes.’
He sank back on the pillows.
‘When is that?’
‘December.’
‘It would be hard to do...’
‘You have no idea,’ he said, though not unkindly, more wearily. ‘Go,’ Hazin said after a little while. ‘I don’t need a nurse.’
‘Could you use a friend?’
‘I don’t need one of those either.’
‘Are you sure you want me to go?’ Flo checked, and he nodded.
Hazin liked it that she didn’t push and he watched her depart and close the door.
It felt odd, having her here.
Hazin behaved badly, but never when he was at home.
Not in this bedroom.
There had been no one since Petra in this bed.
The Palace and furnishings were intricate and ancient. Hazin could hardly have a clear-out and pop out to the furniture store, so he had asked for a new suite in the Palace.
His father had told him to toughen up.
Hazin could tell no one his feelings.
He looked out at the glorious sky and wished the drapes were closed.
Everyone assumed they knew why he had gone off the rails—Hazin’s grieving, they’d said.
Of course he had been grieving, for Petra had been nineteen when she’d died and he had done everything he could to save her. Flying in different doctors for opinion after opinion. An operation had left her unable to have children and he would never forgive his parents for their reaction to that news.
They felt they had chosen unwisely.
Hazin could not forgive them for that.
He had been by Petra’s side every step of the way and had held her hand through the hell of surgery and chemotherapy. And, when there had been nothing more that could be done, Petra had asked to come home.
Here.
Her parents and brother had moved into the vast apartment and they had done all they could to love and support Petra.
Sometimes when tears had refused to remain hidden, Kumu, Petra’s assistant, had stepped in and read to her or sat a while.
Hazin and his in-laws would step out onto the balcony and comfort and draw strength from each other before heading back to her side.
Now and then, Hazin would carry her from the bed to glimpse the desert and enjoy the warm breeze on her skin. Hazin had made her smile as often as he could. In fact, making Petra smile had been his daily mission.
But for all Hazin had cared, he hadn’t loved Petra.
On his wedding day, staring out at the cheering masses, he’d known he had married in an attempt to please his father, rather than follow his dream and study classical archaeology and ancient history at university.
He had told Petra how much he loved her, though, and had done everything he could not to let her know his truth.
Yet she had.
Right near the end of her far too short life, he had lain with her on this very bed, holding her to him, refusing to believe it was close to goodbye.
And then she’d said it. ‘I want you to find true love, Hazin.’
‘I have already found it.’
‘No, Hazin. You have been a wonderful husband. I have been so happy in my time with you but I know you don’t love me.’
‘Petra—’
‘Stop.’ She had told him and he’d been able to see her struggle to open her eyes and that every breath had been an effort. ‘I want you to find the one who makes your heart beat too fast.’
And then hers had stopped.
He loathed it that she had felt unloved.
To Hazin’s eyes he had even messed up on Petra’s deathbed.