Hot Arabian Nights. Marguerite Kaye
to his trading business. Ten years of work, ten years of Azhar’s determination and dedication, of his ambition and his flair, to be ended by a packet of letters. Julia patted the package, tied in a leather purse around her waist, along with Daniel’s watch. Now that it was no longer ticking away her time in Qaryma, she found the watch reassuring. It reminded her of Daniel, but it also reminded her of Azhar, who had gone to such trouble to get it back for her.
The two landscapes she had painted of Cornwall, she had left for Azhar in her rooms, along with one of the paintings she had made of the secret garden in the Fourth Court. She hoped he would not find them a painful reminder. She hoped he would look at them and think of her. She hoped, she was ashamed to admit, that he would miss her.
The camels left the city streets and turned towards the desert. Tonight she would sleep under the stars once more. She would take solace in their beauty. She would not look back in sorrow to the desert Prince she had left behind, she would look forward in anticipation to the life she would make for herself. She would not regret her time here in Qaryma because she was done with looking back. There could have been no more perfect idyll.
But it was over. She allowed herself one final glance over her shoulder. The heat haze made the city shimmer like a mirage. And like all mirages, it was not real. It really was over.
Qaryma—two months later
‘And so, as I’ve just explained, this is where the source of the problem is located,’ Kamal said, pointing at a map of the entire region. ‘The centre of the illegal trade network lies here.’ He circled an area of the map with his finger. ‘I have come up with several strategies for dismantling this web of corruption.’
Azhar listened with half an ear as his brother began to expound each of his proposals in detail. After a most reluctant beginning, Kamal was thriving in his new role with all the zeal of a convert. The qualities which had made him an accomplished thief served to make him an equally accomplished thief-hunter. His devious mind was proving the scourge of the vagabonds he had once consorted with.
As a result, their relationship was on a slightly better footing. They would never be close, that was impossible after all he had done. Kamal’s ambition and sense of entitlement would always leave him vulnerable to corruption, his weak character would always cloud his judgement. Azhar was not fooled into thinking his brother was either reformed or redeemed. He would never trust him, but he could respect the work he was doing and the difference he was making.
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