Desert Sheikh vs American Princess (25 page)

She should have gone herself. Should have taken the risk herself.

"Noelle." Walid's voice broke into her thoughts. "It was a good idea. It might have been true. Perhaps that was where the Palm was found, by someone else."

She sighed. "You're getting better at lying."

"I am not lying," he insisted, and she sort of believed him. "I have something for you. From Salima."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "That girl is poor and shouldn't be giving me anything. Plus I almost got her killed."

"As you know," Walid continued, "no one has climbed this tree for fifty years. Some call it sacred. It is certainly protected."

Which was why it was extra stupid to send someone up there
, she didn't point out.

"Which is why this is almost as valuable as a jewel." Walid extended his hand.

In the center of his palm lay a single piece of rich brown fruit. The date, dried in the sun on the tree, was the length of Noelle's thumb, and fatter than any date she'd ever seen. The skin on Walid's palm was sticky with sugary goo that had come off it.

Not just a date. A freaking
sacred
date. One Salima had risked her life for, and not even gotten to eat herself.

Noelle's father had given her cars, clothes, diamonds. He'd given her trips to the most exotic places on earth. She'd eaten in the most expensive restaurants in the world, and never even thought about the thousand-dollar check.

But this one piece of fruit? Her entire skin went frigid at the idea of eating something that had nearly cost so much. Noelle had never felt so unworthy of anything in her life.

"You eat it," Noelle told him, and walked away in the darkening evening.

*****

Noelle kept herself from curling up into a little ball and sobbing, but just barely. Thank God for the cool darkness of her tent, and for the privacy.

The sun had fully set, and outside the stars pushed white light through the thick layer of black. A half-moon showed a brilliant, clear face, as if it were millions of miles closer. Or hundreds of thousands? How far was the moon from the earth? If she had her cell phone, she'd look it up. If they got service out here.

Despite the full-on dark, it was early. Maybe nine or so. There was a long night to get through. Outside, the villagers had set up a bonfire for their guests and were showing off their hospitality. The sounds of drums, clapping, and songs leaked through the fabric walls of her huge tent.

The word "tent" was a major understatement. She'd stayed in smaller hotel suites--and her father owned the freaking hotels. She could easily stand up in it, could do some jumping jacks if she felt like it.

In one corner was a low table with cushions on the floor--was it called a floor in a tent? Suzette had entered without knocking to deliver a huge plate of yellow rice with flecks of spices, with some meat in a red sauce that Noelle had to admit smelled delicious, objectively speaking. But her appetite had taken a day off.

There was an area for her to change her clothes, behind a screen. She hadn't bothered with it, because who exactly was supposed to be on the other side of the screen? She'd just thrown on her silk pajamas and tossed her khakis on the floor.

A large metal basin of water sat in a wooden stand in another corner. To wash herself, probably.

The tent had everything but what she really wanted. A treadmill. She'd been warned that the countryside was a much more conservative area than Deira. She'd shock everyone if she threw on her gear and went for a sprint, but if she had a treadmill? That she could do.

If she couldn't run, at least she could be alone. She could sit here, cross-legged, in the dark, on a pile of pillows that was probably supposed to be her bed later, and she didn't have to see anyone. Didn't have to put up with anyone trying to cheer her up.

To sit here and feel sorry for yourself?
Bonnie asked, and Noelle heard the wrinkled forehead of contempt in the kid's tone.

What else do you want me to do? That was all I had.

Pfft.
The voice in her head was really good at that scorn thing.
That is not all you have. You have a million different things. Pick one.

"I was always clear the map was a distraction."

Bonnie--

But before she worked up a good argument with her imaginary friend, she realized a) the voice had spoken out loud and b) the voice was pretty much the opposite of an eleven-year-old girl's.

She looked up to see a male face looking down at her with stern sympathy.

Walid. Of course. She'd hoped to get through this alone? Bah, why would
that
happen?

"I suppose asking you to go away would get me thoroughly ignored," she said, already knowing his response.

Walid sat, and somehow managed to look just as regal and buttoned-up on his butt in a tent as he did on a rolling chair behind a sleek desk.

"The map was designed to distract an invading armed force. Its purpose was never to show the location of the jewel, Noelle. With the battalion concentrated on finding the Palm, Jews, Africans, homosexuals, the gypsy population, and others the Nazis considered undesirable were not rounded up to be destroyed." Walid explained it all once more, as if she didn't know it already. "And as the troops were drawn out of the city on their quest, small forces of rebels picked them off as best they could. That map saved so many lives. It saved Askar. Zallaq and Sadad did not fare so well. If the country had been united, we would have been a stronger force to be dealt with. Perhaps the German invasion would not have succeeded in the first place."

"I know." Okay, she hadn't figured out that last part, but she really wasn't in the mood for a history lesson. And she wasn't in the mood to admire the stupid freaking map.

Where do we look next?
Bonnie asked.

Nowhere
, Noelle said. Her arms were so heavy. Her whole body, really. She just wanted to lie down and sleep for a long, long time. Maybe watch reality TV. She was good at watching TV. When you were watching TV, no one challenged you to do hard things or save them from disasters that were so vague you couldn't even identify them.

Don't give up
!

We failed. Just admit it.

Bonnie screwed up her invisible mouth at Noelle.
So what?

So, we failed, and Walid will marry her. The guy I care about will marry another woman for her money, and I couldn't stop it because I'm useless at everything. There. Are you happy now?

We've failed, but we're not done. We're pirate princesses, and we can--

Nope. We're done. I'm done. That's it
, she told Bonnie.

"This land was scoured for the jewel," Walid went on. He'd brought in a sort of a flashlight-slash-lamp. He set it on the floor, letting its fake yellow light create a circle that connected both of them. "I suspect it was found decades ago and sold on the black market. You cannot blame yourself for not finding something that was never there to find, Noelle. This is nothing like your failed attempts at employment."

Oh, great. Now all of that came flooding back into her head, tsunami-strong. Every job she'd ever tried and screwed up. Every opportunity that not just slipped, but exploded, through her fingers. The businesses that had collapsed because of her. The friends who'd helped her and been rewarded with their lives going kablooey.

Maybe all her defeats weren't her father's sabotage after all.

She looked Walid straight in the eye. In the low light, the color of them flashed bronze. "Nope, it's exactly like that. And it'll end the same."

"With you giving up your attempts."

She put fake brightness in her tone. "Sounds good to me."

"I have seen you jump out a window," he said, out of nowhere. "You and your pirate princess. What is her name? Thalatha did not inform me."

"Bonnie."

"That means 'beautiful,' I believe."

From inside her head, she heard an exaggerated gagging noise.

She couldn't help her lip twitching. "She hates that."

"Then I must apologize to her. I meant no disrespect," Walid said, very seriously. "I assume the women of the kitchens told you of Askar's own pirate princess, Inaya Al Hurra."

Something under Noelle's ribs clenched to the point of pain. This again. More pressure on her was the last thing she needed, after failing so spectacularly, so publicly. "Yes. And she's coming back to rescue Askar in its time of need."

"But you and I know that such fairy tales do not exist. My engagement to Kalilah will solve Askar's current crisis. There is no need to resort to mysticism."

Walid said all this offhand... but it was the first time he'd admitted that Askar had any kind of crisis, much less that his marriage would solve it. Was designed to solve it.

"Why are you marrying her?" He winced at the M-word. "You know she's wrong for you."

"Noelle, this is not your concern. You will be returning to your home soon and never need to think of Askar once you do."

Two paths unfurled in front of her. Walid was right. She could walk away from all of this, never spend another second on it. Or she could push. Find out what was wrong, and then... not be able to do anything about it because she was so useless.

Actually, she had to admit, there wasn't any choice at all.

"Walid, I won't think about Askar when I'm gone. I'll think about you."

As she spoke, her hand crawled toward his. About an inch before they touched, he reached out, grabbing her hand and enveloping it in his own. He held her fingers so tight they nearly started hurting.

He cared about her. More than he could afford to admit, she realized. Just as much as she cared about him.

Perhaps loved him. They connected like no one else she'd ever met. They matched each other, challenged each other.

Too bad she was so damned useless that she couldn't even solve this one little problem.

"The state Askar is in." Walid stared at their combined hands as if he could not bear to lift his head. "I am responsible, not my father."

"I don't believe that for a second. But before we get to that, you're going to have to tell me what state Askar is in. I know it has to do with needing money, but you're an oil country. Does it have to do with the price of oil? But you would have put money away anticipating that, I know you could have. Spill. What's going on?"

He sighed so hard his shoulders shook. "I have told no one this. I know I can trust you to keep this a secret from everyone. Especially Ithnan."

"I don't even know your brother," she reminded him.

"It is the pipeline. As things are, Askar cannot pay for its share of the costs, and I am responsible."

Askar was broke? She'd known he needed money, but didn't know it was that bad. "The kitchen staff told me that you've been a great king, much better than your father. They said you're great, really on top of things. They think you're amazing."

"My father." He scoffed. "I saw the world through his tainted view. I let emotion overrule my logic. During his reign, after my brother ascended to the throne of Zallaq, my father pursued a policy of aggression toward the country."

"Ithnan. Was he being threatening?"

"It appeared so for a time," Walid admitted. "A neighboring country, called Hidd, attacked Zallaq, hoping to take advantage of the confusion when the previous ruler passed to gain territory. My brother is many things, but he is rarely confused. Hidd is now a province of Zallaq, and much happier for it."

"Okay, but did he stop with Hidd?"

Walid nodded. "My father did not see things so clearly as you do. You see, Ithnan was not supposed to rule Zallaq. It was a surprise to my father that his relative left the country to Ithnan."

"So who was supposed--" she began. Walid's head shot up. "You? You were supposed to be the King of Zallaq too?"

"Zallaq and Sadad were both provinces of Askar at one time. I was to reunite the three kingdoms. So you see, you are not the only one who fails at their purpose."

She squeezed his hand. "Sounds like it worked out okay."

"My father did not see it that way. He ordered Ithnan to hand over the kingdom to Askar. To me."

"If Ithnan is anything like you, that would not have gone well."

"As you say." Walid didn't out-and-out admit that his brother was like him, but she didn't have any trouble imagining that he was. "So my father began to threaten. However, due to my brother's successful campaign, Zallaq absorbed a significant arsenal from Hidd."

"So your father couldn't do anything," she said. "Right."

"But he could do something." Walid smoothed a wrinkle in the pillow that sat beside him. "He began to acquire military weaponry and install it at the border with Zallaq, in an unsubtle threat to invade."

"Your brother couldn't have taken that very well."

"He responded with the only option he had at the time, by building up his own military," Walid explained. "When my father increased spending, so did Ithnan."

"Wow, that's incredibly dysfunctional. An idiotic pissing contest, with people's lives at stake."