Chapter 12 - The Prince's Pawn

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Aria

I woke to the soft sway of the yacht, sunlight filtering through the curtains, and a bizarre sense of contentment. It was hard to explain, but somehow after having a gun shoved in my face last night, I felt more at ease.

Everyone’s cards were on the table now.

My vision still blurry, I tapped the nightstand out of habit, searching for my phone, but finding nothing but a pretty lamp. No scrolling for me this morning.

And no way of knowing what Khalid had done with my cell phone. Had he used it to text Dave on my behalf? Or Dad? I almost hoped he did.

Not because either of them could help me, but just so they wouldn’t worry. Especially Dad.

I rolled over onto my side, freezing mid-motion when I saw the door was slightly ajar, though I had clearly heard Callum lock it from the outside when he stormed out.

Had he come back while I was sleeping? I pulled back the covers and padded across the floorboards, peering out into the hallway. It was deserted.

I let out a breath and shut the door, turning the lock with an audible click. Maybe there were servants aboard who had come in to clean.

Surely Prince Charming wouldn’t deign to do his own laundry.

Still, unease prickled the back of my neck—wondering if this was some kind of test. Maybe Callum wanted me to try to escape so he’d have an excuse to pummel me.

Or maybe Khalid wanted you to know you can walk around if you want…

 The second option seemed likely, given what I’d learned by touching him last night. But I still knew nothing about Callum, or what his deal was. What did he mean when he warned Khalid would “find out what I am?” Even I didn’t know what I was.

The possibility that Callum knew something I didn’t made me want to get a hold of him even more, but I’d need to be careful about it. I certainly didn’t want him pulling a gun on me again.

I damn sure wasn’t going to stay in this room all day, nice though it was.

With my suitcase still MIA, I busied myself rifling through the contents of an ornately carved armoire, discovering it held a variety of clothing—undies still with tags on them, socks, swim suits, and a collection of perfectly matched workout outfits. The fancy kind that the OnlyFans girls wear to the gym.

If I picked any of that crap, I’d have to put the abaya on over it, so I moved to the closet, looking for something else. Yes, I kept myself covered to prevent accidentally touching people, but over the years I’d become embarrassed at the thought of showing skin. Showing skin meant getting attention and getting attention meant trouble. Always. I certainly didn’t need any more of that.

I opened the closet and found it filled with a variety of clothing. Some pieces were in my size, but most were far too large. I wondered if they were meant for someone else—maybe girls from Khalid’s twenty-deep harem?

 The thought made my mouth pucker in anger for some reason, so I turned my attention to the row of dresses.

A vivid turquoise sundress caught my eye, the spaghetti straps and flowing skirt ideal for the warm weather. And the breezy white cardigan next to it would be perfect for avoiding the appearance of wanting to show off.

I slipped it on, along with a pair of strappy sandals that fit. There were benefits to wearing the most common shoe size, I guessed.

I left the door open as I left the room and followed the same path I had last night, only now in the daylight it looked far less scary. As I ascended the stairs leading to the deck, the sound of waves crashing against the yacht greeted me.

Reaching the deck, I was struck by the breathtaking view before me. The storm from last night had subsided, giving way to a sunlit morning that sparkled on the water’s surface. The sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds.

“Wow,” I breathed, wondering if this was just how rich people lived. Wake up whenever they wanted, be greeted with beauty at every turn, and feel like nothing could hurt them.

No wonder they were often so detached from reality.

I was on this yacht after being shot with a tranq dart and kidnapped, and still I felt utterly at peace looking out onto the sea, feeling the wind in my hair and the sun on my shoulders.

I had nothing to do. No emails to answer or presentations to give. No arguments to have about who left their tuna in the fridge for over a month.

Just the sea, the sun, and a deck full of comfy-looking lounge chairs.

I decided to soak up the sun and enjoy the view for the morning, hoping it would calm my mind and help me think clearly. I laid down on one of the lounge chairs, stretching out and taking off my cardigan to enjoy the heat.

For a moment, I could almost forget the strangeness of my circumstances. Almost.

As far as Khalid was concerned, I knew what kind of man I was dealing with, and he wasn’t someone who delighted in hurting others.

It might seem like a low bar, but part of the reason I dreaded shaking hands with people was that a startling number of them would happily hurt others if jail wouldn’t be involved.

If The Purge ever became a real thing, best believe the majority of your neighbors would happily join in the games.

The sun’s warmth on my face contrasted with the cool breeze that played with the hem of my sundress. I closed my eyes for just a moment, reveling in the feeling of freedom that the open air provided.

Assuming I really would be paid for helping Khalid with his uncle, maybe I could take an actual vacation when this was all over.

That pleasant thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, so faint I barely recognized them against the gentle lapping of water against the hull.

My eyes fluttered open as a shadow fell across my face. Khalid stood over me, his expression unreadable behind a pair of dark sunglasses. “Did I wake you?”

I sat up, brushing my bangs off my face. “No, I was just resting my eyes.”

“Of course.” A flicker of amusement colored his tone. “My apologies for disturbing you.”

He didn’t sound very apologetic and I squinted up at him, searching for any clue as to what he might be thinking behind that handsome, inscrutable face.

Khalid removed his sunglasses, tucking them into the front pocket of his shirt, which was only buttoned to halfway up his chest.

No formal shirt-dress or head covering today. Just a button-up shirt and trousers. Like he was a regular guy rather than the prince he was.

 “I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I’ve had a chance to think it over and I may have overstepped… threatening your father. It was unacceptable and unnecessary. I hope you will forgive me.”

My eyes flicked up to meet his, and I was struck by the genuine remorse that filled his dark gaze.

Interesting…

“So you wish you’d been more polite in your kidnapping endeavors?”

He looked down at my chest, then quickly back up to my face. I had removed the band-aid last night, and there was now a large purple bruise where the dart had hit me.

“Yes. To say the least.”

I nodded, suppressing my impulse to say thank you. He might be sorry about the strong-arm tactics, but he certainly wasn’t going to take me back to shore and let me be on my way. He cared about how I felt; I was sure of that. From touching him last night I saw how much he cared about what people thought of him—that they viewed him as sophisticated and smart.

But that was just his ego, not truly valuing me.

“I’m not sure why you didn’t ask Callum to kill your uncle. Or hire some Hungarian mercenaries. Seems more convenient,” I offered, keeping my tone as light as possible.

Khalid nodded, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the shimmering sea. The mask of civility he kept on his face was flawless.

“May I sit?” he asked, his tone hesitant, as if he didn’t already know how I would respond.

“Of course,” I replied, offering a small smile as I sat up and moved slightly to make room for him on the lounge chair.

Khalid lowered himself into the deck chair next to me, our shoulders almost touching. I could smell the faint scent of his cologne, a warm and spicy aroma that was somehow both comforting and exhilarating. He smelled like money and all the security it could bring.

My heart skipped a beat, then raced in my chest. I curled my hands into fists, hiding them beneath the folds of my sundress.

“I wish it were as simple as hiring an assassin. Unfortunately, over the years, I’ve made myself into the prime suspect for my uncle’s eventual death. Even if he were to go peaceably in his sleep, there would be a cloud of suspicion over me until a coroner confirmed there was no foul play.”

I nodded, having watched enough murder shows to know exactly what he meant.

Still, though…

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said softly. “Your eyes are so unusual. I’ve never seen anything like them.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Do they have anything to do with your abilities?”

I looked away, my breath catching in my throat with disappointment. I was hoping he planned to tell me whatever inside information Callum had on me, but apparently not.

“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly, my voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of waves against the yacht’s hull. “No one’s ever been able to explain why I’m... the way I am.”

Khalid nodded, a crease forming between his brows. “A heavy burden, I imagine.”

I huffed a bitter laugh. “You have no idea.”

“And your parents don’t know either?”

My heart twisted at the memory of Callum’s sneering at me: different complexion, same filth.

I shook my head, a wistful smile curving my lips. “Dad never told me why we left Ireland. I always assumed he got in some kind of trouble with his people. He clams up anytime I ask about the past.”

“And your mother?”

I shook my head. “He raised me alone. We didn’t have much, but we had each other. I did whatever I could to help pay the bills, working from the time I was old enough to get a job. He didn’t start getting sick until I was in college. After that, it was harder.”

Khalid watched me with a considering look, chin propped on one hand. “He sounds like a good man, your father. To sacrifice so much for you, and to keep you safe by not sharing details that might put you at risk.”

I stared at him, stunned. It had never occurred to me that Dad might be hiding the truth to protect me. If that was true, it was misguided, but still very much the way Dad had always been.

A heavy silence settled between us, Khalid’s gaze on me, penetrating and thoughtful

“Your father never spoke of your mother?” he inquired, leaning closer to me, our shoulders almost touching.

“Never.” The single word emerged from my throat, raw and laden with memories I had tried to bury. “My father is... secretive, always guarded. He never mentioned her, and I learned not to ask questions.”

“Did he ever give you any indication of why she wasn’t in your lives?” Khalid probed, his voice filled with genuine concern.

“Nothing.” I shook my head, pushing back the light sting cropping up in my eyes. Why was he asking about my mother? Was he probing to see if anyone not in my phone would raise the alarm that I was missing?

Or was the idea of being raised by a single father so alien to him?

In my mind, I could see the rare moments when Dad’s stoic façade would crack, revealing the pain he carried within him. But whenever I tried to reach out, to understand what really kept him away from his home country and the rest of our family, he would recoil from me like I was a venomous snake.

Don’t you try it, love. Nothing in here is for you!

“Sometimes,” I continued, my voice barely audible against the gentle sounds of the sea, “I wonder if she abandoned us, and he had to leave just to deal with the pain.”

“Or maybe he wasn’t given a choice,” Khalid offered.

“Most likely,” I said, a lump forming in my throat. “I think he would burn the rest of the world to the ground if it would allow him to go back to Ireland.”

“I understand how he feels.” Khalid’s tone was wry. “One’s home… it’s all you have. Even if it becomes overrun with your enemies. I don’t pretend to know much about Irish Travelers. But from what Callum says, they can be fearsome when crossed.”

“How did you know my dad was a Traveler?” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I didn’t,” Khalid shrugged, his eyes meeting mine once more. “Callum said he thought you were based on the fake identities. And he said he’d seen your eyes on other Travelers. We took a guess and it panned out.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Most people would think I was in the witness protection program if they found out I was using a fake name. But not our bonny boy Callum.

Guess Dad wasn’t lying when he said people in the UK hate Travelers.

“I’m sorry,” Khalid said, leaning closer. “I don’t mean to upset you. That’s the last thing I want.”

I looked down, seeing him reaching for my hand. As if suddenly remembering the invisible barrier that separated us, he quickly withdrew his fingers, leaving an almost palpable sense of yearning hanging in the air between us.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. Khalid’s eyes were dark and intense, staring into mine. For a moment neither of us spoke. The tension between us felt electric, like the air before a storm.

He wanted to touch me again, I could sense it. And God help me, but I wanted him to. I found myself leaning closer, drawn to him like a moth to flame. My lips parted, breaths coming fast and shallow.

Khalid made a low sound in his throat and jerked back, as if coming to his senses. I opened my eyes in confusion to find him staring at me with a pained expression.

Embarrassment flooded me, hot and prickling. I’d completely lost myself in the moment, forgetting that actually, nobody wanted to have their mind probed by a near-stranger.

I’d done it last night out of necessity, and now I knew a lot more about him than he was likely comfortable with. I doubt he wanted to let me know anything more.

“Sorry,” he muttered, the furrows in his brow deepening. “I forgot.”

“It’s okay.” My heart skipped a beat at the thought of touching Khalid.

“Your ability,” he said softly, as if reading my mind, “it’s not something you feel blessed by, is it?”

“Definitely not,” I admitted, the memories of countless unwanted intrusions into the minds and hearts of others surfacing like specters from my past. “There are moments when they’ve saved me from pain or harm. But it can be... uncomfortable for me to experience other people’s feelings.”

Khalid nodded, but looked at me quizzically. “For you? How so?”

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. Other than Dad, I hadn’t talked about this with anyone.

Hey, if you can’t be honest with the guy kidnapping you, who can you be honest with?

The words tumbled out in a rush. “Obviously you know when I touch someone I can affect their body—stop their heart, damage their brain, suffocate them. It’s an ability I discovered by accident as a child. But it’s not just that.” I looked up at him, willing him to understand. “I can see memories, feel emotions, see exactly what people think of me.”

His eyes widened, the slightest tinge of pink appearing on his cheekbones. “Is that right?”

I nodded, a heat rising to my own cheeks.

“And yet, you risked that with me,” he said wonderingly. “When you touched me, what did you see?”

“I saw a man who told me the truth when he didn’t have to. I saw a man who loves his family and is desperate not to lose face in front of Americans, who he thinks are super cool, for some reason,” I added with a smile.

“Let’s not exaggerate,” he laughed along with me.

I didn’t say out loud that I knew he thought I was cute. I didn’t need to. And he didn’t need to affirm he knew the feeling was mutual.

The silence didn’t make the knowledge any less awkward.

“It’s uncomfortable that you see so much.”

I nodded, acknowledging the violation. “I know. If it makes you feel any better, it’s uncomfortable to see as well. It’s actually better not to know exactly what people think of you.”

I would have had a much more normal life if touching people could be pleasurable. I had never been able to have full and proper sex with anyone. The most I got through was a blow job. Every time I touched a guy, I could see how they viewed me—as a collection of fuckable parts rather than a person.

Something to be lied to until I did what they want.

I could see how they hadn’t listened to a word I said, or even really had a full conception of what my face looked like. I couldn’t do it. I knew if I kept trying, I would turn into a full-blown man-hater. And my attempts at being a lesbian in college just didn’t pan out.

I don’t know if there are people out there who wish they were gay. But I do. Unfortunately, it seems people really are “born this way.” Because nobody wanted that life more than me.

Probably not a good idea to tell that to the Muslim guy though.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I met Khalid’s intense gaze, all too aware of how close we were sitting. I pulled back a bit so I could breathe.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he said, not breaking eye contact.

“I’m not,” I said, looking away. “But I think maybe that’s just stupidity on my part.”

***

Khalid

The ocean’s vast expanse stretched out before us, an endless canvas of deep blue. I could see her eyes flicker with hesitant warmth, like she was happy to be here with me, but fighting it all the same.

It made sense. She’d been vulnerable with me, answering my questions with what seemed like perfect honesty. Maybe it wasn’t something she did often.

“I need to tell you something, even if you may have already absorbed it last night.” I took a deep breath, inhaling the salty air around us. “I live for my father as well, even though he’s gone. I’m fairly certain my uncle is responsible for that, which makes me hate him even more.”

My hands clenched into fists as I thought of that fat-necked idiot. “I need you to understand that a kingdom is not a democracy. There are no elections, no peaceful transfer of power. The only way to be rid of him is a coup, where a lot of good, honorable men will die.

“And if I let him rule for the rest of his life… that means the whole kingdom dies. Our women get thrown into prison where they’re tortured by men, all because they drove a car or showed their hair. Meanwhile, their fathers and brothers fly prostitutes into the UAE and perform whatever unspeakable perversions they want. The bar my uncle sets for society gets so high no one can live up to it and that’s intentional. Because the rules don’t apply to him. Or to his favorites. They only apply to his enemies.”

Aria shifted in her seat, looking uncomfortable. As fascinating as Americans were, they had a blind spot—none of them truly understood living under tyranny. They didn’t know what it was to have violence be the only option for getting rid of their ruler.

“I can’t allow that to happen to my sisters,” I continued. “Or the daughter I may have some day. This is my home and I won’t let him destroy it.”

Aria listened intently, her eyes glowing with a mix of compassion and admiration. I felt a sense of relief wash over me as I saw no fear or anger on her face.

“Before my father passed away,” I began, “he made sure that Islam was infused into our government, but it didn’t dictate every aspect of our life. The teachings of the Quran guided us but didn’t hinder progress. He understood it wasn’t his role to measure a man’s level of piety.”

The yacht gently swayed beneath us, and the light breeze stirring Aria’s hair, framing her face in an ethereal halo.

“Do you believe in God?” I asked.

Aria shook her head, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “Obviously I can’t know if there’s a god out there. But if he does exist, I can’t help but think he’s moved onto other things. I feel like he got sick of our shit and stopped paying attention.”

The sadness in her voice was palpable, and again I had to restrain myself from taking her hand. Atheists were another fascinating group to me. How could anyone possibly believe that humans just sprung out of matter on their own? How could anyone with a brain look at this planet and see chaotic, coincidence in all God created?

But far from the sneering, self-important atheists on the internet, Aria at least was honest about her reason for not believing—she felt abandoned. She couldn’t see God’s hand on her life. Tempting though it was, I didn’t dive into all the ways God was acting on her life right now.

When all this is over, we’ll talk about it…

“Well God has certainly looked after your friend Arjun,” I replied, changing the subject. “Dave sent you another text message and Arjun will make a full recovery. He needs to stay here for a while before he can travel, but he’s on the mend.”

Aria let out a soft sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “Thank you for telling me. I was really worried about him.”

Unsettled, Aria shifted her gaze, focusing on something beyond my shoulder as she formulated her next question.

“Did you... has my father sent any text messages to my phone?”

I shook my head, regretting the truth in my answer. “No. When I checked this morning, there weren’t any messages from him.”

Her expression shifted from relief to worry, and I couldn’t help but feel responsible for the growing unease that seemed to settle around her like a shroud. I saw the message she sent him last night, the desperation to talk to him palpable in the few words she sent. But he hadn’t responded.

“Perhaps he’s just... busy,” I offered, trying to ease her concern.

“Maybe,” Aria murmured, though it was clear she wasn’t entirely convinced. Her fingers traced the edge of the lounge chair as she stared out at the water, lost in thought.

I wanted to say something more, anything to take away the troubled furrow of her brow, but I looked up to see Callum emerging onto the deck, gesturing for me to come over.

This can’t be good…

Aria saw him too, her mouth turning down at the sight of him.

“We’ll talk again later,” I promised, hoping I didn’t look too disappointed as I stood up.

“Of course,” she replied, her gaze holding mine for a moment longer before drifting back to the sea. “I’ll be here.”

As I walked towards Callum, leaving Aria with her thoughts, I couldn’t help but wish things were different. That the demo had gone normally and afterwards, I’d pulled her aside and asked her to dinner.

Such a normal interaction now seemed out of reach, with every word between us tainted by what I’d done.