ZAYRINIA WAS BEAUTIFUL, Flo thought as the plane came in to land and she got a glimpse of the Palace sitting atop the canyon on the very edge of the desert. She could absolutely see why Maggie had been drawn to the place.
Flo was nervous, though.
Last time she had flown here it had been on a private jet and they had landed in the grounds of the Palace. She had been with Maggie, revelling in the bliss of Ilyas’s jet and so excited about the wedding. This time, an itinerary had been sent to her by Kumu. She was being flown first class, which was terribly exciting, although a part of Flo would have preferred to be back in economy and the flight paid for by herself.
Just a friend visiting a friend.
Flo’s itinerary stated she would be met at Zayrinia airport and then be taken straight to the Palace.
It was as impersonal as that.
But as she stepped into a small lounge area, the first person she saw was Maggie.
Hugely pregnant and waving to her friend.
Although it was the VIP lounge rather than the chocolate café of old, immediately they clicked back into familiar ways.
‘I didn’t think you were coming to meet me,’ Flo admitted.
‘Didn’t Kumu tell you that you would be met? She told me she’d sent you all the details.’
‘The itinerary just said I’d be taken to the palace,’ Flo said. ‘It didn’t mention you.’
‘Well, Kumu’s super-organised and was no doubt making provisions in case I was in labour. Otherwise, of course I’d be here.’
The Palace was as beautiful as when Flo had left it and she was shown to her former, now-familiar suite.
‘I told you not to worry about clothes,’ Maggie said when she saw Flo’s cases waiting in her suite. ‘It’s all robes here and I have loads.’
They had always borrowed and swapped clothes. As Maggie had pointed out, it was a bit pointless to fork out for a new wardrobe when she had so many.
‘I just didn’t know what to pack.’
That wasn’t true.
Flo had packed plenty and had warned the maids that she wanted to unpack the cases herself, because they didn’t contain many clothes—her luggage was mostly filled with presents.
They went for a walk in the gardens and though cool it was nice to breathe in fresh air and to walk for a while after being on a plane.
‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Maggie said.
‘Nor can I.’ Flo smiled.
It had all been a huge rush to get here—dropping Christmas presents off to her family as she’d told them of her sudden change of plans.
Her mother, Flo could tell, while excited for her, had been disappointed that she wouldn’t be there for Christmas, but they had promised they would have a big dinner as soon as Flo got back.
* * *
‘How’s work?’ Maggie asked.
‘It’s great but always too busy,’ Flo said. ‘I seem to spend more time writing up notes than anything.’
‘Well, you don’t have to write any notes up on me. I’m just so glad there’s a chance you’ll be here when he’s born.’
‘I’ll be here whenever he arrives,’ Flo said.
She had made up her mind.
Just as she wouldn’t leave a woman in the second stage of labour, neither would she walk away from her friend so close to the end. ‘I told the unit manager that I’m staying until the baby’s here. I’m not officially due back until the fifth but we can work something out if your little man isn’t here by then.’
‘Oh, I hope he is,’ Maggie sighed, and finally explained some of what was on her mind. ‘I told you that an elder has to be present at the birth?’
Flo nodded.
Since Maggie had asked her to be there, Flo had looked into things and had thought through her approach. Instead of fighting the system and getting Maggie all worked up in the process, she was practical instead.
‘Maggie, you are giving birth to the future King. If there wasn’t someone official present, I could well be smuggling him in under my robe.’
Maggie smiled but Flo could tell she was still concerned.
‘I’ll talk to the Palace doctor and find out what has to happen and how we can all work around it.’
‘Will you?’
‘Of course I will,’ Flo said. ‘You’re going to have a fantastic birth, I just know it.’
‘Thanks.’ Maggie’s smile was more relaxed now. ‘And we’re going to have an amazing time. Ilyas has to go to the desert next week and, as long as the baby is behaving, we can spend the day at the tent!’
‘Where you two met,’ Flo said.
‘Well, not met exactly,’ Maggie said. ‘Where he had me brought to him!’
They both laughed at all that had happened.
‘So what’s been happening with you?’
‘Oh, you know,’ Flo said. ‘More of the same.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I’ve just been really busy with work.’
‘You’re always busy with work,’ Maggie said. ‘But you still manage to squeeze in fun. Are you seeing anyone?’
‘Not really.’
Flo knew she was being evasive, yet she was also telling the truth. It had been almost a year since she’d gone out with anyone. Hazin had been her only slip-up.
And they had never really gone out.
It had been just a one-night stand really, except to Flo it felt so much more than that.
But instead of talking about her lack of a love life, Flo asked about Christmas plans.
‘There aren’t any,’ Maggie said. ‘It’s just another day here. Ilyas and I have to go to Idihr a few days before...’
‘That’s fine,’ Flo said. ‘I don’t need a babysitter.’
‘And then there’s Hazin’s speech on the twenty-third.’ Flo felt her stomach clench as Maggie mentioned his name. ‘If he gets here.’
She looked at Maggie as they walked.
They chatted about a lot.
A lot.
Yet Flo simply did not know how to chat about this.
‘If he gets here?’ Flo checked.
‘It would seem that he’s still doing his best to get disinherited. He was in the Caribbean the last Ilyas heard. No doubt partying hard.’
Maggie knew no more than her, Flo realised.
* * *
No one really knew Hazin.
Not his parents.
Or his brother.
And clearly not the King’s vizier, Mahmoud, who, a few days later emailed the first draft of Hazin’s speech, to be delivered on the tenth anniversary of Petra’s death.
Hazin lay on top of a bed, drinking iced sparkling water, but it did not cool his building temper as he read through the words.
The proposed speech belittled the brief joy Petra had brought to the people of Zayrinia and it cited her death as the cause for Hazin’s reckless years.
It made her into an excuse for him.
Hazin flung the glass of water across the room and it smashed against the wall. But it brought Hazin no relief.
He then walked out onto the beach. The water was azure and crystal clear and the beach so white, unlike at home, where the sands were a rusty, beautiful orange.
Home.
It had never really felt like Zayrinia was home, but there was no denying that it called to him now, for the commemoration of Petra’s life was just a few days away.
And he had decided to attend.
Hazin intended to fly in on the morning of the ceremony and back out that same night, though he had not told Ilyas that, for he knew he would try to coax him into staying longer.
There was little chance of that.
As for the speech, Hazin would not be reading from Mahmoud’s draft. He wanted to honour Petra, but to stand there and say such empty words would dishonour her memory.
Hazin called his brother.
‘I write my own speeches, Ilyas.’
‘Since when?’ Ilyas clipped. ‘You’re never here to make one.’
Hazin had no smart reply to that.
‘You had better be here,’ Ilyas warned. ‘And sober this time, unlike at my wedding.’
His brother had no idea that Hazin didn’t drink.
But Flo did.
After one night together she had worked it out. But he could not think of that now and so instead he tore the current version of his speech apart. ‘What is this about the black sheep, and grief making a foolish guide?’
‘Hazin,’ Ilyas sighed. ‘We’ve thought long and hard and decided that your reckless ways cannot be ignored.’
‘So you make Petra’s death into an excuse for me? How dare you use her in that way?’
‘No one is using Petra but, for whatever reason, since Petra died you have gone off the rails.’
‘Rubbish.’
‘Hazin, your brother is the person who is honest with you, not the one who believes you.’
He did not need some old saying stuffed down his throat and Hazin told his brother that. ‘You have the gall to criticise me when you had your harem?’ Hazin pointed out. ‘All you had to do was pull a bell—at least I indulge in a bit flirting and conversation.’
‘Don’t try and condone your behaviour,’ Ilyas said. ‘From all I have read there is little conversation and no flirting where your lovers are concerned.’
Hazin closed his eyes for there had been plenty to read and most of the kiss-and-tell stories were true. He was on the cover of trashy magazines, and there were articles and photos all over the Internet.
Not recently, though, and Ilyas admitted that at least. ‘But there have been no scandals of late.’
‘No.’
‘Can you keep it that way until the ceremony at least?’
‘I don’t need you to tell me how to act,’ Hazin said as he looked out at the lonely island where he had holed himself away from the world.
An idyllic romantic retreat—without the romance.
What Ilyas had said was true, there had been no scandals recently. But that was not because he was attempting to redeem his name, neither was it because all temptations had been removed.
They simply no longer held any appeal for him.
‘I need to go.’ Ilyas cut into his thoughts. ‘Not only am I sick of discussing your sex life, Hazin, but I am taking Maggie and her friend out to the desert abode today.’
‘Playing tourist guide,’ Hazin sneered.
‘Not playing,’ Ilyas responded. ‘I am meeting with the Bedouin leaders to solidify our political ties and to invite them to join a roundtable so they can play a bigger role in shaping the country’s future.’
Hazin frowned, because this had been something the Bedouins had long been pushing for yet his father had always dismissed the notion.
But Ilyas had more to say.
‘I also happen to enjoy my wife’s company and I am more than pleased to show Flo where we first met.’
‘Flo?’
‘Maggie’s friend. You would have met her at the wedding...’ Ilyas paused. ‘Oh, that’s right, you were too drunk to attend.’ Ilyas stopped the lectures then. ‘Flo’s also a midwife and has been staying with us. I think Maggie is nervous about giving birth with an elder present and—’
‘Ilyas,’ Hazin interrupted. ‘Just as you don’t want to discuss my sex life, neither do I need to hear about Maggie’s plans for her labour.’
‘Fine.’
Hazin was curt, but there was no emotional bond between them and not a single memory Hazin could call on that softened his brother. He had always been forbidding and distant. Certainly it was too late to be friends and have cosy chats but, more importantly, Hazin did not want to hear about Flo.
Not now.
‘Enjoy your time in the desert,’ Hazin said, and rang off.
He stripped and placed his phone on his clothes, then headed into the surf and swam for the best part of an hour. But no matter how far or how hard he swam, he could not outswim his own thoughts.
Flo was in Zayrinia.
How was he supposed to feel at hearing that news?
There would be warmth and laughter for once at the Palace, and if he did not care about her so much she might even have served as a pleasant distraction.
Yet he did care.
Hazin wanted to address how he felt about Flo, after the anniversary.
Not before.
First up, he had to finally do the right thing by Petra.