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Tess shot Julie a quelling look, then pulled out a thick card printed in gold lettering from the envelope.
Bouncing on her toes, Julie spoke before Tess could read it. "It's an invitation. To perform at the first annual Ashira Festival in Zahkim. Buzz is already building that it is going to be the event of the year, with royalty coming in from all over. They want you to headline, and if your sheikh doesn't sweep you up and hang on this time, then call me, and I'll come and kick his butt."
Tess pulled a face. "It'd mean another flight for you."
"For you, I'd do it. But I don't think I'll have to. And with me running things here, you'll have time to set up a new label for Angel Productions in Al Resab. You know you're dying to hook up with more amazing musicians there, and it's not that far to Mumbai if you want to stop by to check up on Riya."
"We’re going to have a new label?" Tess arched her eyebrows.
"I'm thinking we'll call it Eastern Star. Or maybe Fallen Angels. Or Don't Be Afraid. Yeah—that's good. That's what angels in the Bible always say when they show up, since they’re so fierce. I'll work on it."
Tess tapped the card on the railing. "No, I think Don't Be Afraid is the perfect name. Middle Eastern pop-rock that will turn the world upside down."
"See, you're already getting your mojo back. Now we need to get you back to Zahkim. Didn't you say something about a prophecy? Chica, you cannot go against fate. You know that." Grabbing Tess's hand, Julie headed inside. "Now let's get you a really safe flight back to where your butt needs to be."
When Tess stepped out onto the tarmac at the Al Resab airport, after a short flight from Cairo, where she’d spent the previous night, she knew Julie had been right. Her stomach had been tightening into knots, but as soon as the desert sun hit her shoulders it felt like a warm welcome. Dabir stood beside a palace limo, complete with the little flags on the front, and took her bag from her.
"Marhaban, Miss Angel. Welcome! You have been missed."
Tess bit her lip. Was it too much to hope that Tarek had been the one doing most of the missing? Was this festival really for her, or was he using her as a name to ensure it was a hit? She didn't know, and her stomach went back to jumping.
Tess tried to settle against the plush leather and the cool of the air conditioning and make small talk. She asked Dabir how he and his family were doing and heard that his sister was now sharing an apartment with a friend. His father was as crotchety as ever, complaining about all the changes being made.
Tess perked up at that. She wanted to ask what changes, but she didn't dare. What if Tarek had shifted into more than a tyrant? She flinched from the idea. He couldn't—he wouldn't. But he did have a country to run in the best way he thought possible.
Dabir took the turn to the palace, but she spotted tents along the way. Those were new.
Leaning forward to stare out the windshield, she asked, "What's all this? Part of the festival?"
Dabir glanced into the rearview mirror. "Yes, we have had events all week. Tonight is the culmination. We have a great deal to celebrate, and it is supposed to be a beautiful evening."
Tess swallowed hard and wet her lips. She tried to make her question sound casual. "Sheikh Tarek will be there?"
"His Majesty, his ministers, everyone who is anyone in Zahkim, dignitaries from our neighboring countries, and a great many others."
"Great—a crowd," Tess muttered. Ideas of stealing Tarek away for either an intimate moment or a confession of how she felt about him faded.
Dabir didn't seem to pick up on her mood change. "Of course, without you, His Majesty would never have changed the laws—a welcome relief to many, including my sister. That’s why he invited you to perform."
Tess flopped back in her seat. "Yay me." She tried to be more upbeat about it. It was nice to hear Tarek was managing so well, but she'd hoped this would be more than her showing up for a concert, a handshake, and another good-bye.
She heard the music before they reached the palace grounds—drums in an infectious beat, a soaring melody, and instruments Tess couldn't quite identify.
Colored lights lit the road and the area around the palace, turning the white walls into a rainbow. Tents with flapping banners rose up outside the palace, creating almost another city. The crowd looked to be a mix of those in traditional garb and others in Western-style clothing, everything from jeans to formal dresses and tuxedos. Carpets defined pathways, and the voices of vendors rose up, the words all Arabic, but she knew a call to come try and buy when she heard one.
Dabir stopped briefly at a cordoned off road, and a security guard waved the car through. Tess kept staring. There had to be a few thousand people here.
The sun was just going down when Dabir pulled the car to a stop and got out to open the door for her. She glanced around and saw that the area outside the palace had been converted into a miniature version of the Amir oasis. Night chased the day across the water's surface, and lanterns strung across the artificial lake multiplied the stars into a dazzling array of colors.
Someone thrust a drink into her hand, and the band struck up a new song. A man in a uniform gave her a badge on a lanyard—backstage pass or performer's ID—and she slipped it over her head. It was hotter than she remembered, and she was glad she’d worn a long, loose dress.
Everywhere she looked, she could see colors, lights, and the motion of the crowd. Finally, she found a quiet bench beside the lake to take it all in.
And where the hell was Tarek? Was he ducking her? Schmoozing with VIPs? She glanced at her watch. She was due on stage in an hour. Maybe she should drink her drink and head backstage, get her makeup done, and do a final touchup on her hair.
Her pass let her into another roped-off area, and she found what had to be the makeup trailer. A young woman welcomed her with the emotion of a true fan, but she managed Tess’s makeup and hair with great professionalism. Soon she had fresh foundation and mascara and darkly exotic eyes. After expertly taming Tess’s hair—she really needed to get it cut—she stood back and nodded in approval.
“You look beautiful, Miss Angel.”
