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He watched as her eyes scanned the crowd, and she lifted a hand to mop her brow. A small urchin boy approached her from the side, his face covered in dust. The child must have been four or five – only young. Such beggars were common near the palace. The young boy’s hand curled around the bottom of the woman’s shirt and the guard stood a little straighter, preparing to intervene if the child threatened her in any way.
The woman crouched down, so that her eyes were at the child’s level. She smiled at him gently and nodded, though the guard highly doubted the child had said anything intelligible to a foreigner.
He caught the sound of her words on the breeze but could not discern what she was saying. Then, she reached into her bag and lifted something out and handed it to the child. The guard had to squint to make out what she was holding: a sandwich and bottle of water.
The child looked nervous; shy, suddenly, but the woman was insistent and her expression encouraged the child to relax. Finally, he took the proffered food and then ran quickly through the crowd, as though she might change her mind and demand these gifts back.
The American watched him skip away with a forlorn look on her face and then returned her attention to the palace. Her eyes were focused on the walls, scanning them as though she could intuit facts from the marble that others could not.
The guard could not afford to lose his job. With four brothers to support, and he the only old enough to work, his duties were sacred. Yet her small act of kindness had touched something deep within him, for it was a similar kindness that had, at one point, saved his family from ruin.
With a suppressed sigh, he signalled to one of the guards in the tower and waited until a relief sentry came towards him. Only then was he able to step away from his post and marc swiftly towards her.
“Madam?” His English halting but his tone was insistent enough to draw her attention.
“Oh, yes!” She spun around, her small nose covered in beads of sweat and tiny little freckles. “Yes! Thank you! You’re going to help me after all, aren’t you?”
His expression was lacking conviction, as though even he couldn’t believe what he was about to do. “I do not know yet. But I will let someone else decide. Okay?”
Her heart hammered. It presented yet another bridge to cross but she wasn’t going to complain. She was one step closer to the most excruciating and essential conversation of her life.
Michael. She thought of his sweet little body and bright green eyes and straightened her spine. “I must speak to him. It’s imperative. I know he’ll be … glad to see me.”
The guard wondered if he was signing his own arrest warrant but nonetheless, he nodded slowly. “I cannot promise a thing, Madam.”
“It’s enough that you’re trying,” she said in a rush, her whole body tense. “Thank you. Whatever happens.”
He didn’t lead her through the main gate of the
palace. That was thronging with tourists. Instead, they walked the length of its fence line and around the corner, and then he paused at a checkpoint. There were four men like him inside, with identical uniforms. Though as they spoke quickly, in their own language, she saw that one of the men had three yellow arrows on his pocket, and he seemed to be speaking most. Apparently, he was in charge.
She stared at him directly and cut him off mid-sentence. “I need to see His Royal Highness Kiral Mazroui on a matter of enormous importance.”
The man in charge stared at her with obvious disdain. He didn’t speak, but his eyes seemed to say, “What could you have to say of any importance to our King?”
“Please,” she whispered, the word barely a breath.
“He is not available to waste time speaking to tourists,” the man said with a cold sneer. “Perhaps you have not heard, madam, that he is due to be married in a matter of days.”
Oh, she’d heard. She’d heard about little else since landing in this country of his. How excited his people were to be welcoming a new princess to the royal palace. She hid her hurt well, though her heart was barbing with tiny darts of pain. Pain was nothing new when it came to her relationship with Kiral. There had been pain all along. Pain in the intense pleasure he wrought. Pain in his departure. Pain in his deception. Pain, horrible pain.
“I’ll wait,” she muttered through gritted teeth. And then, as if remembering she was speaking to the very man who might hold her fate in his hands, she softened her words with an attempt at a gracious smile. “If there’s somewhere to do so.”
Her original saviour, the guard from the main gate, said something in his own language. Whatever it was, it had more effect on the lead officer. With a look of disapproval and a slow, insulting inspection of Abigail from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, he drawled a few words and then spun on his heel.
“What did he say?” She whispered, her breath bottled in her chest.
The original guard swallowed. “He said you may wait. But first, you must go through security.”
She nodded. She’d expected as much. In other circumstances she might even have made a joke, asking if she looked like the kind of person who might pose a threat to someone like Kiral. But she couldn’t joke. She couldn’t say or do anything that might jeopardize this very fragile bubble of hope she had.
And so she waited. She waited in the small, hot room until yet another guard beckoned for her to follow. By the time she stood, she felt almost faint from the heat. She had to put a hand on the wall for support but two more guards immediately moved towards her and began speaking harshly in foreign words. She startled and stood upright.
“Don’t touch the walls,” the guard she had been following cautioned. But he was kind. She could see a look of pity in his eyes as he took in her appearance. His words were heavily accented. “Would you like a chair with wheels to be brought?”
She had imagined meeting Kiral again, after all this time, and at no point had she imagined that she would have such a disadvantage. She needed to face him with at least some of her pride in tact. She would have liked to be looking her best, but she was sweaty and covered in a fine layer of dust and sand. She shook her head. “I’m fine,” she lied. Having given her water away, her throat was dryer than it had ever been. She would have drunk water from a camel’s bowl, if they’d offered it.
Two doors opened seamlessly as they arrived; they led deeper into the interior of the palace. She was so relieved to have crossed this barrier that she didn’t, at first, notice the grandeur of her surroundings. But two steps down the corridor, she couldn’t help but appreciate the overwhelming luxury. Enormous marbled tiles met walls that were glistening white. Everything was white, in fact, and bright. Except where it was gold — and there was a lot of gold. She swallowed as the guard quickened his step. At the end of the first hallway there was a security scanner, the likes of which she was familiar with from the airport.
