"You almost touched another boy's hand," he said between clenched teeth.
"But I did not," Safiya countered reasonably.
"Yet you almost did."
"But I did not."
Altair threw the princess a savage look. "What I want to hear is for you to promise that you will never let such a thing happen again—-"
Before he had even finished speaking, the princess was already doing as he asked—-
"I will never let such a thing happen again."
And the way she had uttered each word with such seriousness—-
Aira. Fuck.
He just couldn't fucking figure her out, dammit.
She was a princess whose beauty literally turned heads wherever she went, and yet every time she looked at him—-
Every time she talked to him—-
This was wrong, Altair thought broodingly. If there was even the slightest chance that the princess was innocent, then he had to put an end to his deception. Safiya was young and beautiful beyond words while he was old, flawed, and cynical. It was only understandable that he found himself attracted to her, but for the princess to feel the same way about him?
Safiya felt herself growing cold at the way the sheikh was suddenly looking at her.
I don't understand, Mama.
Why was the sheikh looking at her as if he wished to end their betrothal? Was this her punishment for becoming greedy?
I'm sorry, God.
She would never be greedy again.
So please, Mama.
She heard the sheikh inhale sharply, and Safiya felt herself grow colder.
"I'm sorry, hamira."
No, please, God, no. I promise I won't be greedy again, just please—-
"It was wrong of me to feel jealous—-"
Safiya desperately shook her head. "La, alshaykh. It was my mistake—-"
"Your only mistake," Altair said quietly, "is to believe yourself attracted to me."
Safiya, already prepared to list all the reasons there was for the sheikh to give her another chance, found herself stunned speechless instead.
"I do not deserve a girl like you, hamira."
Safiya stared at him in confusion. "Why would you say a thing like that?"
"Because it's true."
"But it's not."
Altair nearly fell for the same trap of he-said-and-she-said but managed to hold himself back in time.
"I am the one who doesn't deserve you—-"
"Many would beg to differ."
"Other people's opinions matter not to me," Safiya said simply. "It is only you who matters."
Altair's lips tightened at how easy it seemed for the princess to say such words. So fucking easy that, even though he was more than halfway convinced of her innocence—-
One couldn't help but wonder and doubt—-
"Do you truly mean that, hamira?"
Safiya was not at all hurt by the sheikh's question. She would rather he ask her straight like this, always, and so she simply shook her head and said, "I would never lie to you, alshaykh."
"Why?"
"Because you're my hero."
Altair's body turned rigid.
Hero.
He had been using her from day one, and she thought him her fucking hero, and God...
"What the hell am I going to do with you?"
He hadn't really been expecting an answer, but then he saw her bite her lip, and he knew he would get one anyway.
"Perhaps..." Safiya found herself hiding her hands behind her back so the sheikh wouldn't see her wringing them. "Perhaps you could start by calling me by my name?"
Altair's jaw clenched. She had noticed then. He had thought she wouldn't, but maybe...he should've expected her to notice. As naïve as the princess often appeared, in the times it mattered most...it was times like this that she made him remember he still had a heart that could break.
So be it then...
"Cards on the table," he said softly. "Deal?"
Safiya nodded.
"You know of the charges your father is facing?
"Nem."
"Do you believe him capable of treason?"
"I believe he will do everything he can to make me queen."
"Fair enough," Altair conceded. "And you? You truly do not wish to be queen?
"Only if you wish to be king."
"I don't."
"Then I don't."
"I matter that much to you?"
"Nem."
"Because I'm your hero."
"Nem."
"Why?"
"Because you always do the right thing," Safiya said simply.
"I am not a fucking saint—-"
"I know, alshaykh. You are no saint."
Altair stiffened.
"Because saints die..."
Her voice trailed off, but he heard the rest of her words all the same.
Saints died, and the princess did not want him to die.
The princess, who was a traitor's daughter, wanted him—-
A man she thought was her hero, but also...
A man who had been lying to her and was still lying to her—-
She did not want him to die, and it was just one of the thousand things about her that did not make sense.
Nothing about her ever made sense, but for now—-
"May I kiss you, Safiya?"
He saw her eyes start to shine at hearing him say her name, and when she finally spoke, it was that voice again.
"Yes, please."
It was the kind of voice that loved without saying the words.
Chapter Seven
Dear Mama,
The sheikh gave me his first gift. Nothing new and fancy, but there is nothing that I would ever treasure more in this world. It is his mother's necklace, given to her by the great Hadwin, the sheikh's father and one of our kingdom's greatest heroes. I thanked him with a kiss, of course, and when he asked me if there was anything else I wanted...I just could not tell him, Mama. All I want, you see, is for him to let me stay with him, and if I tell him that...
I'm afraid of what he'll say in return.
SAFIYA NEVER THOUGHT about sex. It was not that she found sex frightening or sickening, but because of what she had witnessed in her childhood, she had never found herself desiring it either.
Until now.
She had expected the sheikh to draw her close by taking her hand, but instead she felt his fingers curve around the sides of her waist. Her breath caught, and fire caressed every inch of her skin as his fingers tightened.
The sheikh slowly drew her close, and her heart began to pound.
Faster.
Harder.
And as the space between them disappeared, and her dark eyes lifted to his, it was also then that the sheikh's head slowly descended, and their lips finally
