That would've killed her.
Saul claiming her body was the worst fate she could imagine that time.
But now...
Now, she knew she was wrong.
That necklace is as fucking fake as your relationship with the sheikh.
The mere memory of those words almost had her stumbling, and even though she already knew what she would find, she still could not stop herself from reaching up to touch her throat. Just could not help but punish herself over and over for how bare it was because it was just like that woman said.
So if you actually think he loved you—-
She had been shameless and ambitious.
And she should've known.
God.
She should have known.
Mama, help me.
Should've known—-
Mama, it hurts so, so much.
Should've known a man like him could never have loved someone like her, whose own flesh and blood had almost brought the kingdom to its knees.
Chapter Twenty
Arraignments made on the grounds of political treason were a uniquely grueling process in the kingdom of Ramil. Unlike other nations, Ramilian laws were such that the king and the other sheikhs were duty-bound to establish logistics for a maximum-security transfer of Tamara to the nearest courthouse, appoint a nonpartisan counsel for the accused, and submit verifiable and well-documented evidence of the defendant's wrongdoing. More importantly, the royal family was expected to perform all of these...within a set number of hours from the moment the defendant was taken into custody and read her rights.
Not only was the process physically and mentally taxing, but the fact that Tamara was their blood - she was Tarif's own mother, for fuck's sake - weighed heavily on all of the sheikhs. While there was no love lost between the older woman and the sheikhs, her betrayal still cut deep, and her presence an undesirable reminder of some of their worst memories.
Of the five of them, Tarif had been the only unlucky bastard to be cursed with a bitch for a parent, and even now Altair had a hard time believing that his own mother and Tamara were sisters. The two women were different as day and night, and Altair could still remember how painful it had been for him and the others to see Tamara's cruel treatment of her own son.
To say that Tarif's relationship with his mother had been traumatic and toxic would be a gross understatement, and in truth Altair was privately surprised but immensely relieved to see how well the other man was coping under the circumstances.
Minutes dragged into hours, and the only reason the sheikh was able to keep himself from calling and checking in on Safiya was because of the GPS tracker he had installed in the necklace he had given her. It showed that she was still in the palace, and it was enough for him for now to know that she remained safe in his home. They had much to talk about. Too goddamn much for a simple phone conversation. Too fucking much for him to beg her forgiveness, especially when he thought of the countless times he had questioned her loyalty and distanced himself from her—-
It shamed him.
Yara had told him from the very start that Safiya was different.
That she was nice.
And with hindsight, he knew now that he had seen the same thing Yara did.
One moment in her presence, and he had known she was an earthbound angel.
But because the past had turned him into a fucking coward, he had deliberately blinded himself to all that was good about her, and it was ironic that 53, of all people, had been the one to make him realize this.
With how 53 had kept trying to force his hand, doing everything she possibly could to make him denounce the princess—-
Things that Safiya would never have done even if their situations had been reversed and she was the one whose feelings he had spurned—-
It was the moment he had realized that among the three of them—-
It was Safiya who was good and honorable.
Not him, even with all the wars he had fought.
Not 53, even with all the service she had done for the crown.
But Safiya.
She was the only one among them who had never lied.
The only one who had always been nice.
And tonight, he would bare his heart to her. Tell her the entire truth and fucking hope that she would give him a chance to love her back.
IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT by the time Altair and the other sheikhs had arrived back at the palace. None of them had spoken in the ride back home, but as the five men walked into the throne room, it was then and only then that they all suddenly stopped and looked at each other—-
Then and only then did the shock seem to finally wear off, and they realized that it was truly over.
No more enemies hiding in the dark.
No more betrayals.
It was truly over, and for just one moment, the five men simply looked at each other...until Khalil finally broke the silence, saying simply, "Shukrahn." Thank you.
Because once upon a time, he had been nothing but the illegitimate son of a king, and his brothers were boys whom the world ridiculed for swearing fealty to a prince believed to be unfit and incapable of taking the Ramilian throne.
And yet...
Here they were now, and Khalil was not the only one whose eyes were suspiciously bright as Altair, Tarif, Rayyan, and Malik bowed to him.
Yaehish Amyr Alshaykh!
Long live the Emir Sheikh!
No other words needed to be spoken, and one by one the sheikhs walked their separate paths, Khalil to his waiting queen and heir, Malik to his young wife and child, Tarif to his beloved Anisah, Rayyan to his precious Hyacinth, and finally...
Altair's heart was pounding as he made his way down to his office, which the tracking app on his phone showed the princess to be. But when he entered the room, it was not Safiya he found.
A pale-looking 53 clumsily rose to her feet. "I'm so sorry," she whispered painfully. "I'm so sorry, Altair. I told her—-"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I d-didn't know it was her—-"
Even without understanding a single word she was saying, the sheikh could already feel his world starting to crash—-
"I'm sorry," 53 wept. "I'm so sorry."
Altair saw her open her hand, and he felt himself lose all color as he saw the torn strand of gold she held in her grip.
God.
He didn't need to hear anything else. Didn't need to listen to another word for his heart to know—-
God.
The sheikh's fingers shook as he reached for his phone and sent a coded message to his brothers. His heart was already telling him something his mind was desperate to refute, but still he forced himself to head to the security room. The palace being massive, it took a while before they were able to find the most recent footage showing the princess, and Altair broke into a run as soon as he realized where the princess was last seen.
His mind hurtled back to the past as his footsteps pounded the marbled tiles of the palace's vast hallways, and all he could suddenly think about was how fucking easy it had been for Mahmud to escape—-
Too, too fucking easy—-
A realization hit him then, and it almost had him staggering to a stop.
Mahmud could've escaped captivity from the very start. Altair was damn sure of it. So fucking certain, in fact, that when he thought about how Safiya herself once mentioned she had planned to escape as soon as leaving Farigha—-