The staff manning the estate had been with the royal family for over a decade. They were experienced and well-trained, and in their years of service, they had the opportunity (but not always the pleasure) to attend to A-list celebrities, dignitaries, billionaire tycoons, and - as this was par for the course - other members of royalty as well.
Upon Princess Safiya's arrival, the staff believed they knew everything there was to expect of the girl.
But they were wrong.
Two months had come to pass since then, and by now everyone was well used to the princess' charming...eccentricities. Whereas most other royals nitpicked on just about everything, the princess mostly nodded and quietly thanked all sixty-plus members of the staff...by name. Whereas most other royals demanded to be waited on hand and foot, there hadn't even been a day the princess had slept in; she was always up and about on her own early in the morning, and her bed properly made up by the time the attendants came in.
Everyone had been understandably suspicious at first, and no one more so than the special agent working undercover as the princess' personal maid. But eventually, she and the rest of the staff had come to realize the princess was truly what she seemed: a nice person plain and simple, and it was because of this Yara was now in a bind.
Yara would never have accepted this assignment if she hadn't owed Altair a favor. With a few rare exceptions, Yara saw royals as cruel and useless idiots. The princess, however, wasn't just nice. She was also different...in one of the saddest ways there was.
Yara had seen her fair share of abuse and injustice in the course of her work under the kingdom's defense department. And unfortunately, the more time Yara spent with the princess, the more it became obvious that the fairytale existence the world attributed to the girl was nothing but an illusion. Yara knew a victim when she saw one; there were certain signs one had to look out for...and the princess unfortunately exhibited all of them.
To be fair, the princess was rather good at hiding these signs, and the entire staff clearly didn't notice anything amiss. The other employees simply saw Sheikh of Farigha's daughter as well-mannered and surprisingly easy to please. Yara, however, had witnessed up close how evil lowlifes operated and how their victims turned out after surviving hell on earth. While the rest of the staff didn't see past the surface, Yara did, and what she saw...hurt.
There wasn't a single meal that didn't have the princess' eyes glowing like she had hit the jackpot, and the way she savored each bite made it seem as if she had only lived on stale bread and water before coming to Alfiraz. In the afternoons, Yara would sometimes catch the princess yawning, and the first time Yara had asked the girl if she wanted to rest, the princess had appeared stunned, almost as if she had grown up on the belief that an afternoon nap was a mortal sin.
There were only three kinds of people who made up their beds with the kind of precision Princess Safiya did: a five-star hotel housekeeper, a military recruit...or someone who had learned to do so while having a gun pointed at her head.
It was rare for Yara to feel overly protective about anyone, but once security informed her about the sheikh's impending visit...
ALTAIR WAS PRIVATELY surprised when Yara greeted him by the estate's front steps, all the while looking ready to bite his head off. Although Yara was a distant relation of the royal family, he and the other sheikhs had always considered her as their little sister. And so for her to act if he were the enemy, and it was the princess whom she owed loyalty to—-
"Is anything wrong?" he asked bluntly.
"La, alshaykh." No, sheikh.
Yara's tone was perfectly bland, and Altair frowned. Something was definitely up, but since he had more pressing matters at hand, Altair decided to set the issue aside. "I'm here to speak with the princess," he murmured. "Could you take me to where she is?"
He saw his cousin hesitate for a moment before nodding with visible reluctance. What the hell was wrong with her?
Yara led the sheikh past the courtyard until they were in front of a pair of ornately carved doors, and Altair stared at his cousin in disbelief. The estate's entertainment facilities rivaled that of a five-star hotel and theme park combined...and yet she was expecting him to believe that the princess willingly chose to spend her time at the chapel?
"It's only for half an hour or so each day," Yara said stiffly. "She enjoys praying. I see nothing wrong with that."
Altair's expression turned impassive. Prior to this assignment, Yara had been one of the more cynical and cold-blooded individuals to work under his supervision. So for her to not think this was a mere act...
"She's obviously won you over."
Yara met the sheikh's gaze head on. "She is nothing like what most people would normally expect a princess to be, alshaykh." Yara received a mere grunt in answer, but she simply shrugged this off. "You will know this for yourself sooner or later."
"We shall see." The sheikh's tone was bland. "Were you the one who told her about the betrothal?"
"Nem." Yes.
"And she did not object to it?"
Yara nearly made a face at the question. While it wouldn't be entirely accurate to describe the princess as either aloof or secretive, she had come to notice how the girl appeared more relaxed and inclined to even display a rare smile or two every time the sheikh's name was mentioned.
To say that the princess was keenly interested in the sheikh would be a vast understatement, but since she was also under no obligation to reveal anything that was not a threat to national security—-
"No objection," Yara said finally, "but she did mention she hoped to speak with you first before it was made official."
While Altair had a feeling Yara was keeping something from him, his guts also told him it wasn't the kind of secret that would constitute a betrayal. But since it was also fairly obvious his cousin now saw herself as a lioness and the princess her defenseless cub...
Yara fought to keep her face expressionless as the sheikh informed her of his intention to speak with the princess...alone. She had a feeling he considered her fondness for the princess a weakness, but she also knew no amount of explaining would convince him otherwise.
It was just as she told him earlier. He would know the truth for himself sooner or later, but in the meantime...
The sheikh was an honorable man, Yara reminded herself. The princess would not be harmed, no matter what. Right?
THE DOORS SHUT CLOSED silently behind Altair as he entered the chapel, which he found empty save for the princess. She was on her knees in prayer, a dainty figure dressed in a plain black abaya and an equally plain hijab that hid her hair from view.
The sheikh moved to the side of the chapel to have a better look at the princess' profile, and this time he saw that her eyes were closed while her heart-shaped lips were moving in murmured tandem to the wooden rosary beads running between her fingers.
Unquestionably lovely, Altair noted dispassionately, and if circumstances had been different, Altair was certain the Emir Sheikh would have been pleased to make this girl his wife. But such was how fate often operated, with Khalil unexpectedly falling in love with his American queen, and the princess' destiny now in Altair's hands.
Time glided past, and Altair wondered if the princess could indeed be as comfortable as she appeared. While Altair's sire was a renowned hero, all signs pointed to her father likely being exposed as a traitor. But if this were so, why then did Altair always have a hard time finding the right words to say when praying...while the princess appeared perfectly at ease in God's presence?