belief, Azmahar was never an extension of Zohayd that splintered into oil-fueled if ill-fated autonomy. It wasn’t destined to return to the motherland’s bosom begging to be annexed back. Not until ex-king Nedal, that is.”
“Whoa. That’s a huge nerve you got exposed there. But sheathe your claws, Rashid. I, of all people, don’t subscribe to any of that. With said king being my uncle, I’m half-Azmaharian through the side of my family who’re responsible for Azmahar’s decline. I can do nothing about anyone’s actions or what they led to, but I’ve always loved Azmahar and am proud to call it my second home.”
His gaze stilled on her face.
Was that welcome news? Or was he only adjusting another misconception in that fathomless mind of his?
He finally exhaled. “You wouldn’t be faulted if you didn’t. Azmahar, as it stands today, doesn’t have much to it to love or to be proud of. It was mismanaged and misrepresented by its rulers and constrained and condescended to by its allies for decades. Most of its people have either forgotten what it is to be proud to be Azmaharian, or never learned it was possible to be so.”
That urge to touch him, hug him, almost overwhelmed her. “But not you. You’re Super Azmahar Man who’ll rectify all that, now that you’re a candidate for the throne.”
His expression changed as if a steel door had slammed shut. It made her realize how much he’d opened up. Another off-limits topic?
When he answered, it seemed she’d imagined all the tension. His shrug was easy. “Candidacy means nothing.”
“Only winning does, huh?”
Again he didn’t pursue the subject she’d introduced. Which she was burning to know more about.
Since her uncle had been forced to abdicate the throne after a long reign of gross “mismanagement,” and his heirs had been rejected for succession, Azmahar had called for a new king. But the country was now divided into three fronts, each supporting a different candidate.
The other two candidates were Haidar and Jalal, her paternal and maternal cousins. They’d been dubbed the Princes of Two Kingdoms and so many said they were perfect for the throne of Azmahar.
Which was ridiculous. Though she loved them and they were incredible men and businessmen, she couldn’t see how anyone would consider them, or anyone else, when Rashid was in the picture. Apart from being beyond compare as a man, in her own humble opinion, he was full-blooded Azmaharian and a war hero many times over, and the wealthiest, most successful businessman in Azmahar’s history.
Rashid’s deep-velvet voice interrupted her musings. “You still haven’t told me what the first three impossibilities are, according to Zohaydan folklore.”
“I do know it’s not known in Azmahar, but I thought with you once spending so much time in Zohayd you’d be as versed as any of us in local colloquial nuances.”
“That one must have slipped my omni-awareness.”
She couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud. He kept surprising her. That combination of corrosive humor and straight-faced delivery was lethal. Like everything about him. It didn’t help to discover he was fun as well as hot as hell. As if she wasn’t already in enough trouble.
Feeling as if her smile would never fade, she said, “Al ghul wal anqa’a wal khell’lel waffi.”
The ghoul, the phoenix and the faithful friend.
His lips curled. “I don’t know about the first two but the impossibility of that last one is certain.”
That was what he believed? About Haidar and Jalal? The three of them had once been inseparable. More. Bonded beyond even brotherhood. What could have happened to shatter their vital connection?
Dared she ask?
No. She’d stepped on too many of his privacy toes for one night. Something of that magnitude had to be reserved for later.
If there was a later.
With dejection setting in, she sighed. “Both our issues are tied to those who should have been our closest
“Whoa. That’s a huge nerve you got exposed there. But sheathe your claws, Rashid. I, of all people, don’t subscribe to any of that. With said king being my uncle, I’m half-Azmaharian through the side of my family who’re responsible for Azmahar’s decline. I can do nothing about anyone’s actions or what they led to, but I’ve always loved Azmahar and am proud to call it my second home.”
His gaze stilled on her face.
Was that welcome news? Or was he only adjusting another misconception in that fathomless mind of his?
He finally exhaled. “You wouldn’t be faulted if you didn’t. Azmahar, as it stands today, doesn’t have much to it to love or to be proud of. It was mismanaged and misrepresented by its rulers and constrained and condescended to by its allies for decades. Most of its people have either forgotten what it is to be proud to be Azmaharian, or never learned it was possible to be so.”
That urge to touch him, hug him, almost overwhelmed her. “But not you. You’re Super Azmahar Man who’ll rectify all that, now that you’re a candidate for the throne.”
His expression changed as if a steel door had slammed shut. It made her realize how much he’d opened up. Another off-limits topic?
When he answered, it seemed she’d imagined all the tension. His shrug was easy. “Candidacy means nothing.”
“Only winning does, huh?”
Again he didn’t pursue the subject she’d introduced. Which she was burning to know more about.
Since her uncle had been forced to abdicate the throne after a long reign of gross “mismanagement,” and his heirs had been rejected for succession, Azmahar had called for a new king. But the country was now divided into three fronts, each supporting a different candidate.
The other two candidates were Haidar and Jalal, her paternal and maternal cousins. They’d been dubbed the Princes of Two Kingdoms and so many said they were perfect for the throne of Azmahar.
Which was ridiculous. Though she loved them and they were incredible men and businessmen, she couldn’t see how anyone would consider them, or anyone else, when Rashid was in the picture. Apart from being beyond compare as a man, in her own humble opinion, he was full-blooded Azmaharian and a war hero many times over, and the wealthiest, most successful businessman in Azmahar’s history.
Rashid’s deep-velvet voice interrupted her musings. “You still haven’t told me what the first three impossibilities are, according to Zohaydan folklore.”
“I do know it’s not known in Azmahar, but I thought with you once spending so much time in Zohayd you’d be as versed as any of us in local colloquial nuances.”
“That one must have slipped my omni-awareness.”
She couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud. He kept surprising her. That combination of corrosive humor and straight-faced delivery was lethal. Like everything about him. It didn’t help to discover he was fun as well as hot as hell. As if she wasn’t already in enough trouble.
Feeling as if her smile would never fade, she said, “Al ghul wal anqa’a wal khell’lel waffi.”
The ghoul, the phoenix and the faithful friend.
His lips curled. “I don’t know about the first two but the impossibility of that last one is certain.”
That was what he believed? About Haidar and Jalal? The three of them had once been inseparable. More. Bonded beyond even brotherhood. What could have happened to shatter their vital connection?
Dared she ask?
No. She’d stepped on too many of his privacy toes for one night. Something of that magnitude had to be reserved for later.
If there was a later.
With dejection setting in, she sighed. “Both our issues are tied to those who should have been our closest
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