Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
The sinfully gorgeous sheikh now sees me as a challenge...
And in no time at all, I find myself enslaved by his touch, and begging wildly for his possession. But just when I start to believe in love, that's when I'm arrested for treason...on the orders of Sheikh Tarif himself . And it hurts. It hurts so, so much to see the way he's looking at me now.
Was all that we had nothing but a lie?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Two years ago
“Your Majesty? Queen Harper?”
But the queen didn’t even look her way and rushed past Anisah with her head bowed and her shoulders shaking. Foreboding stirred inside the queen’s court tutor, and after a moment’s hesitation, Anisah ran after the queen.
“Your Majesty!”
Anisah managed to catch hold of the queen when the other woman seemed to stumble upon crossing the palace’s massive doors. “Your Majesty, please—-” Anisah helped her up, and that was when she saw the tears running down the queen’s face, and the unspeakable pain in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Harper choked as she wrenched her arm out of her tutor’s hold. “I’m sorry.” The queen’s voice shook. “But I just can’t—-” She stopped, the words she wished to speak causing her too much to pain, and in the end all she could do was whisper, “I’m sorry. I just need to do this.”
The queen ran down the steps of the palace, and the sight of her solitary, trembling figure had Anisah feeling frustrated and helpless. There was a nagging feeling inside of her that she had to do something.
But what?
Biting her lip, she sent a quick prayer to the heavens, picked her skirts up, and then she was running, too.
By the time Anisah reached the gates, it was already chaos, the guards up in arms as mad protesters shook the gates while a sobbing Harper publicly performed a ritual that signified she was leaving the king.
Oh dear God, what was happening?
The outer gates suddenly swung open, and the mob turned rabid as they rushed in. Noise erupted from behind, and when Anisah spun around she saw another large crowd rushing towards the scene, led by news-hungry reporters and the unmistakable figure of Sheikh Mahmud.
Violence threatened to break out, and the repugnant stench of anarchy began to stain the air. Sheikh Mahmud was still shouting; such horrifying, vile words of accusation against the queen, words that had Anisah wrapping her arms around herself as she twisted and turned, ran and crouched, all to avoid being trampled and getting caught in the crossfire.
Danger danced around them, dressed in bloodlust, and Anisah felt like throwing up. If any of the words the sheikh were shouting was true, then as a citizen of Ramil, her loyalty was to the kingdom, and her duty was clear.
She must not support the queen.
But...
None of the sheikh’s words made sense. None of it! To believe him was to believe that every moment she spent with the queen was a lie, and that she could never believe.
Never!
One of the protesters shoved a hooded figure towards her, and Anisah automatically reached for the woman to keep her from falling.
“Are you alright—-” She broke off in the middle of her question when she caught sight of a familiar pair of green eyes, the only part of the woman’s face revealed by her niqab. “Joanna?” Anisah gasped.
The other woman gripped her wrist. “We should go! We could get killed here!”
“No, wait—-”
But her friend had a death grip on her wrist, and Joanna was able to forcibly drag her all the way to the edge of the crowd.
“I said wait!” Anisah was finally able to yank her hand free from her friend’s hold. “I need to go back,” she heard herself say.
Joanna gaped at her. “Are you insane? Don’t you see what’s happening?”
“The queen could get hurt.”
“The queen’s a traitor,” Joanna hissed.
“No, she’s not!” Anisah’s voice was fierce, and if anything, her friend’s accusation only made what she needed to do all the clearer. She gestured to Joanna’s headdress, asking abruptly, “May I borrow that?”
“What for?” Joanna was visibly suspicious.
“I’ll explain later. Will you lend it or not?”
Less than a minute later, and Anisah was running straight back into the crowd, her identity now effectively concealed under the layers of silk of her friend’s niqab. The queen was sobbing now, begging for her personal guards not to involve themselves, and the sound wrenched Anisah’s heart.
“Khayin!” Traitor!
Anisah saw one of the protesters rushing forward from the sides, a large rock in his raised hand. He started to take aim, and a horrified cry escaped her when she realized where he had set his sights.
“Your Majesty, duck!”
The queen, recognizing her court tutor’s voice, instinctively crouched down, and her guards, alerted by the words, immediately raised their swords in defense. Farid was the first one to see the rock hurled at his queen and deflected it with his blade, causing it to change direction and strike one of the protesters. The man cried out as he touched his bleeding forehead.
First blood.
A cry of outrage rose from the mob, the sight inciting rage and unleashing madness, and a moment later—-
Red.
The color of violence, of fear, of death—-
Of war winning over peace—-
Anisah pulled her own dagger from the hidden strap under her skirt. She would not stand by and do nothing. She would defend her queen, even if it meant sacrificing her own life.