The Defiant Princess (28 page)

Her hand stilled midway to reaching for her toothpaste and brush. Was that why Khalid had been such an attentive lover? She stifled a small cry with her fist. Feeling incredibly naive and vulnerable, she realised he may have bedded her more out of duty than desire. Had their marriage bed been all about him doing his duty to produce an heir? Their child would unite the lands. He or she would one day be the ruler of both nations. It had been the goal of both their fathers.

“He doesn't know.” Her words sounded hollow. Logic told her that if his aim had been to get her pregnant—the absence of her period during their time together would surely tell him he'd succeeded. Now, he'd gone.

“You haven't told him?”

“This is the first morning I've been sick. I've suspected, but haven't had it confirmed.”

“Then to betray and publicly humiliate you before he's ensured you're pregnant—he's stupider than I thought. This pregnancy would've been his number one goal.”

Number one goal? “Surely not,” Sabrina denied, but even as she spoke she knew Helen's suspicions made sense. They hadn't once used any birth control. Her stomach cramped again but there was nothing more to bring up.

Her movements were mechanical as she set about brushing her teeth.

Helen paced the room behind her. “It's the one way to make sure the two countries are united. Of course this was his goal.”

Looking in the mirror, Sabrina saw the pain of Khalid's unfaithfulness in the emptiness of her eyes before tears blurred her image.

No. She wouldn't cry over him. He wasn't worth it. He was a dishonest, shallow playboy who'd uttered false promises and lies.

He's the father of your child.

“Oh, no. You're in love with him!” Helen burst out.

Sabrina exhaled deeply, rested against the basin for support and closed her eyes. Oh yes, she loved Khalid. But she was finally starting to realise that not only did he not want her love but he didn't deserve it. She'd fallen in love with an individual she'd never understood and who pushed her every effort at closeness aside.

“He deceived me and I fell for it like an idiot.” She didn't try to hide her despair as they looked at each other in the mirror.

Helen placed her hand on Sabrina's shoulder. “He deceived me, too,” she said bitterly. “Until he took off so quickly for Turastan and I read this article in the paper, I really believed he was besotted with you. He was so attentive, so considerate.”

A sharp knock sounded from outside the bedroom door.

Sabrina drew a steadying breath, dabbed at her eyes with a handtowel and left the en suite. “Come in.”

Her personal assistant entered, wringing his hands together even as he bowed. “Your Royal Highness, a fire has broken out in one of the nearby streets. It's spreading quickly and much damage has been done, but please be assured it'll be under control before it reaches the palace.”

“Is anyone hurt?”

“Yes, Your Highness. First reports indicate some are suffering from smoke inhalation. Thankfully there doesn't appear to be anyone trapped inside the buildings.”

“Give me a minute to dress and have a car ready to take me there.”

The man bowed low and Sabrina hurried into the massive walk-in wardrobe with Helen hot on her heels.

“Do you think it's necessary for you to go?” the older woman asked.

“Of course. There are people who need help. I can at least be there to reassure them, to see the damage and to make sure everything is being done to help.” It would also give her focus. She needed to forget Khalid. As Queen, she had a million things to occupy her time and she would immerse herself in them every daylight hour. During the night, she would cope. She had no choice.

“Are you sure you're up to it?”

“Trust me, I need to do this.”

“Well for goodness sake just remember you're pregnant now. Don't go rushing in to any more fires to save people. There'll be lots of other people there who can do that.”

It was only a matter of minutes before Sabrina was on her way. Sirens wailed. Thick, dark smoke billowed from the buildings and the people seemed disorganised in their attempts to control the fire.

“Why is there only one fire engine here?” Sabrina demanded of one fireman as she arrived at the scene.

“There's only one that works, Your Majesty,” he shouted back at her over the din as the wall of a building collapsed.

“Get back!” yelled a police officer to the crowd of onlookers.

As Sabrina made a mental note to look into the provision of all emergency services, she saw a small, crying boy wandering too close to a burning building. Having witnessed the collapse of the other wall and realising the danger, she immediately sprinted toward him.

The heat from the flames was so intense she thought her skin would blister and it was just like the bus accident all over again.

Her heart raced as the urgency of the situation rammed home. The boy must be in shock and disoriented because he was still moving closer to the fire. Her legs carried her forward as though she was in a race. She grabbed him in her arms and turned to run back to safety but a deafening roar sounded behind her. Pieces of burning debris began to hit the ground beside her so she ran harder, the air burning in her lungs, the muscles of her arms straining with the weight of the young child.

She was almost to safety when something hit the back of her head and everything went black. The last thing she realised was that she was falling …

***

“Where is the Queen?” Khalid demanded as he strode into the Rhajian palace.

“She's gone to the fire, Your Royal Highness,” a servant told him with a note of admiration in his voice. “She wanted to see if she could help.”

Damn!
Of course she had, Khalid thought. Sabihah would want to be in the thick of things without any thought to her own safety. She'd already proven that. It was just one of the things he …

“Prince Khalid,” an advisor rushed toward him. “The Queen is missing.”

Khalid shook his head. “I've just been advised she's gone to the fire. I'm about to go and join her.”

“No, Your Highness,” the advisor continued with agitation. “Queen Sabihah was at the fire. She ran to the aid of a young boy and was hit by debris as she tried to run with the child to safety.”

The room tilted as he processed the news. “What the hell happened?” Questions hammered in his brain demanding quick answers, while his heart pounded and his gut churned.

“A person at the scene said a doctor came forward to treat her,” the advisor relayed, “and she was carried into a house nearby. Her security team guarded the entrance to the house. The bodyguard was ordered out by the doctor.”

A sickening sense of foreboding greater than he'd ever experienced flooded through him as he absorbed every new piece of information.

“After only a few minutes, the bodyguard thought he should try to go back inside. He went back but the house was empty. It's feared the Queen has been abducted.”

Sharp talons of fear ripped through his flesh. “Have you checked to make sure she hasn't been taken to the closest hospital?”

The man was moved to tears as he nodded. “An elderly man said he saw a woman with her hands bound and a sack over her head being carried out the back door of the house. He alerted police.”

Clutching his abdomen, Khalid suspected he was going to vomit. Sabihah was everything to him. He couldn't lose her when he'd hurt her so much and hadn't even had a chance to make it right.

“There's something else, Your Highness. The fire was lit deliberately. Two witnesses saw a man fleeing the scene. They claim he was Ali Badurek, Mustaf's former right-hand man.”

Mustaf.

The waves of bile grew more insistent as they roiled in his gut. Khalid had never felt so panicked. He had never required so much control to keep calm in a crisis situation. “Get me the head of security and the chief of police immediately,” he ordered.

“They are already co-ordinating the search from the throne room, Your Highness.”

Striding toward the throne room, trying to hold himself together, Khalid was consumed by fear and rage. He tried desperately to combat it. He needed to put his emotions away and think rationally if he was going to save his wife—the one person who was more important to him than life itself.

If Mustaf was responsible and the information he'd received in Turastan was accurate, he at least had an idea of where to look for her. He only prayed he wouldn't be too late.

***

When Sabrina regained consciousness, the tight ropes cutting into her flesh at her wrists and ankles told her immediately she was being held prisoner. Her limbs were cramped, her vision a little blurred and the back of her head throbbed where it had been hit.

“Your Majesty, she's awake!”

Sabrina scanned the poorly lit room for the source of the voice. A rough-looking individual was calling into another room. She heard a chair scrape and footsteps approach. The door opened wider and a tall man walked in. She blinked in shock when she recognised her captor.

“The one who would dare call herself Queen.” Mustaf sneered at her. “I hope you enjoyed your short reign. By the time I've finished with you,
Princess
Sabihah, you'll wish you
had
died in a desert storm when you were a child.”

It was futile, but she tried to move further away as he approached. All she could do was turn her head.

His hand snaked out and grabbed a fistful of her hair so hard that tears formed in her eyes. Her head was forced upward, his face mere inches away. The putrid stench of his breath made her gag.

“You look like your mother,” he said with contempt. “A foreign whore.” A sadistic smile curved his lips. His eyes were wild—the eyes of a madman. “She was a bitch who got what she deserved. She wasn't so pretty when she was blown to pieces by the car bomb.”

Sabrina couldn't stop her shudder of horror.

Mustaf raised a hand and slapped her hard across the cheek. She whimpered once at the severity of the blow before she pressed her lips together and glared at him with all the hatred she felt.

He laughed. It was the laugh of a deranged man. “You won't be so lucky, little princess. Your death will be slow and painful because you've caused me no end of grief. I had everything then you came back from the dead and took it away.” He turned his head and shouted into the other room. “Bring me the razor blades.”

Sabrina's empty stomach lurched. Her gaze darted around the room frantically, desperate for any means to fend him off, any means of escape if she could somehow manage to get him to unbind her. She was powerless against him with her wrists and ankles bound. Her back ached as she tried to remain upright to lessen the pain from the hold he had on her hair.

Her fear was so acute she could taste it. There would be no reasoning with this madman. His menacing smile told her he relished the situation and was intent on causing her as much pain as possible.

“You will welcome death. You'll beg me for it,” he told her with great delight.

Mustaf's henchman entered. Sabrina couldn't bring herself to look at the blades she knew he carried. Every muscle stiff, she closed her eyes. She would not give Mustaf the satisfaction of seeing the terror that must be reflected there. She willed herself not to cry or scream as she waited for the first slice of the blade.

“No begging for mercy, Princess Sabihah?” Mustaf asked. “I was rather hoping you would.”

The sharp prick of the razor blade against her cheek had her clenching her teeth together.

“Let's see. What would you prefer? Slashes down your cheek or across?” He made a sound as though he was giving it great consideration. “I know. We can play noughts and crosses. Did you play that game in Australia as a child?”

She refused to answer him as she waited for the physical torture to begin.

All she could think of was Khalid and the child she would have had. She prayed that Khalid would find happiness one day. Prayed that he would allow himself to love and be loved. If she couldn't be that woman for him, at least with her death he would be free to choose his next wife without losing his throne. Even though he'd denied it, his choice must surely still be Inaya considering he'd had her brought to the Turastani palace to his bed.

As much as she squeezed her eyelids tight, she couldn't prevent a tear from rolling down each cheek.

The prick of the razor tip was gone and so was the pressure on her scalp as Mustaf clapped his hands together in glee. “Finally the waterworks begin!”

A huge crash from the outer room made her open her eyes. She saw Mustaf spinning around toward the source as he yelled, “Abdul! What the—?”

A split second later there was the sound of shattering glass from behind her, both to her right and left. She ducked her head in a reflexive action as shards of glass flew across the room, but was powerless to protect herself with her hands and ankles still bound.

Mustaf swore loudly. Glancing up, she saw his face contort into an ugly mask of thunderous rage.

There was a single discharge from a firearm and although everything happened in rapid motion, she registered the details with horrific clarity.

Mid-curse, Mustaf fell backward, his eyes wide and terrified, his mouth gaping, the spray of blood and a single round red mark right in the middle of his forehead.

“Sabihah!”

Khalid! She swung her head as far as she could to her left and saw him. Relief and joy made her weep. Her husband was here. He'd left Inaya and come to rescue her. He'd put his own life in danger for her. Surely he cared for her if he was prepared to do that?

He had a rope tied around his middle and carried a firearm. She became aware of movement to her right as well, and instantly turned that way to search for danger. There was a second man, also with firearm and rope.