Now, when she stepped under the lush canopy of trees, her anticipation was different, because it was borne of fact. He would come to her, on this night. She would be made his. She moved deeper into the forest, looking for familiar landmarks, but so much had changed with the seasons. Large trees remained, but smaller shrubs had given way, so too the colours of the flowers, so Chloe had to mentally map the forest almost from scratch. As she moved higher, though, the sound of flowing water reminded her of the natural landscape, the way the water gathered pace through these cliffs and mountains until it formed an overwhelming weight at the top of the cliff.
She weaved alongside it for some time, before a sudden movement startled her into utter stillness. Save for the frantic racing of her heart, she was motionless. Were there predatory animals in the forest? She had never been told so; then again, she’d never wandered this far, even as a curious little girl holidaying in this grand palace. Besides, she reassured herself, desperate to quell her raging pulse, there were guards around. Perhaps it had even been a guard who had startled her?
She took a tentative step forward, and then another, before the movement caught her attention once more. Now, she followed it, homing in on first the stone as it hit the water and skipped several times before thudding beneath the surface, then to the arm which had cast it, and then to his face. She gasped when she saw him, for the child was so like Raffa that she knew instantly who stood before her.
“Amit,” she said the name aloud, almost as a talisman to herself, and yet he heard, and his own expression was startled.
He hadn’t realized she was there. He wore a simple pair of black trousers and a loose-fitting white top, and to his right there was a stash of stones.
He picked one up, running his fingertips over the smoothness of it before standing. He met her eyes, which was a welcome change from the palace servants.
“Amit,” she said again, more confidently this time, wanting to reassure him.
He was so like Raffa, and yet different too. He had Raffa’s intelligent eyes and assessing gaze, his generous lips. But he was gangly and tall, slim and uncertain. Even as a teenager, Chloe doubted Raffa had ever been anything other than muscular and warrior-like.
“No one usually comes up here,” the teenager said defensively, echoing so many of her own teenaged resentments that she could do nothing but nod.
She tried to marshal her thoughts, to quickly recollect all that she knew of her husband’s love child. He’d been conceived when Raffa had been only twenty years old, and the woman was rumoured to be the love of Raffa’s life. They’d never been able to acknowledge their relationship, but though it remained shrouded in secrecy, she’d been living at the palace, leaving little doubt as to their bond.
A frisson of emotion trickled down her spine. That was all palace gossip, whispered between her maids when they’d thought she hadn’t been listening. Talk of how the Sheikh’s marriage had always been destined to fail, given that he was still in love with the other woman. And now she was face to face with the physical proof of that love.
“What are you doing?” She asked, with natural curiosity, moving closer to the boy.
He eyed her thoughtfully, the intensity of his gaze so like Raffa’s that she felt almost as if she knew him already. “Skimming rocks,” he said after a moment, evidently deciding to trust her.
“I see.” She had two options. Leave, or stay.
“Have you ever done it?”
“No,” she shook her head, moving forward, her mind made up.
“The Sheikh taught me,” he said, causing Chloe’s lips to momentarily twitch downwards, into a small frown. “He used to come here to do this, when he was my age.” He wrinkled his nose. “Or a bit younger, I guess. He taught me two years ago. On my tenth birthday.”
“Did he?” Chloe murmured, seating herself with care on the large rock beside Amit. It was not easy in the robes she’d been wrapped into that morning.
“He’s better at it than I am.”
“Show me,” she commanded, but softened the words with a smile. Their eyes met and her heart lurched. This young man was her step-son. Why had she never thought to get to know him before this moment? How come she’d neglected her responsibilities to him? Shame flushed through her but she didn’t reveal, even for a moment, the direction of her thoughts.
“You need to have the right stones, to start with. Smooth, like this. Not too big or they’ll sink. Here. Feel it.” He extended his hand, palm-side up, with one of the pebbles in it. She took it, running her fingers over the edges.
“See what I mean?”
She nodded. “It’s smooth.”
“Yes.” He reached for another one. “You need to imagine the water is a plane, with nothing beneath. You want to throw the rock so that it lands square on the water’s surface, and the tension bounces it to the next spot.”
“That sounds almost impossible.”
“Watch.” He lifted his hand and then, with the action of someone who’s done something many times, he expertly cast the stone onto the water. It did just as he’d said, bouncing four times before thudding into the water and sinking from view.
“That’s impressive,” she said truthfully.
“Not really. The Sheikh once made a pebble skin all the way across the stream. I counted ten jumps.”
“Ten?” She lifted her brows. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “He’s had a lot longer to practice.” The words rung with such arrogant pride, so like Raffa, that Chloe had to stifle a laugh.
“Let me try.” She fingered the rock once more, the tip of her
