“I would be honored,” Hana replied.
“Thank you.” With that, Sean rose to his feet and walked back to where Bash and Mansur still stood near the door. “Shall we go? I’d like to have a little time to settle in.”
Mansur opened the door and held it open for Sean respectfully. Bash thought the obsequiousness was over the top, but no one else seemed to think it was anything but what was due to Sean as crown prince. Bash took a quick look around to see if anyone in the room betrayed themselves with an expression of anger or resentment, but he didn’t pick up on anything. As good as he was at reading people, the assassin was probably just as good. But if Bash could find anyone who seemed unhappy at Sean’s presence and the deference shown to him, it would give him a place to start.
He needed something to go on, and soon. Right now, the assassin had all the advantages, and if there was one thing Bash hated, it was being on the short end of the stick.
18
As Mansur escorted them through the palace, heading from Faisal’s rooms to the suite Sean would occupy, Sean couldn’t help but reflect with a certain irony on the differences between his second arrival at the palace and his first. The first time, he’d walked through the doors, not knowing he was at the center of a plot; this time, he was fully aware of it, but the knowledge didn’t make dealing with it any easier. The biggest difference was that this time, whatever he faced, he wouldn’t be alone.
With difficulty, he refrained from turning to look at Bash to seek reassurance. They were undoubtedly being watched, and Sean knew he couldn’t do anything to betray the true nature of their relationship. It was hard, because he would have felt much better with Bash’s arm around his shoulders, but just knowing Bash was there helped Sean deal with the reality of his situation. And the reality was even worse than he’d feared.
While Sean couldn’t claim to have any genuine love for his grandfather, seeing the man brought so low was difficult in more ways than one. Sean had held out some hope that Faisal’s condition wasn’t as bad as Mansur and Nick believed and Faisal might recover and resume the throne. Unfortunately, it was every bit as bad as he’d been told, if not worse. The king was being kept alive by machines, and his brain activity indicated a coma from which he might never awaken. Sean wasn’t certain what, if anything, Akkadian law had to say about the situation, but he could see little hope that Faisal might ever regain consciousness, much less recover enough to wield power again. All of which put Sean, and by extension Bash, in a difficult position.
Until they could identify and apprehend the traitor, Sean had to help hold the country together and keep the chaos outside Akkadia’s borders from seeping into the country and wreaking havoc, all without Faisal’s knowledge, approval, or assistance, and with the threat of assassination hanging over him.
“We’ve put you on the other side of the palace from the king,” Mansur explained quietly as they walked the long corridor back toward the entry hall. “It’s as secure as the other wing, and we don’t want to make it too tempting for the assassin to bomb the building to remove both you and Faisal simultaneously.”
“Do you think the assassin might have the resources to plan such an attack?” Bash asked. His handsome face was set in grim lines, making him look older and far more dangerous than Sean was used to seeing. Bash had once again become the man Sean had first met in the palace prison: tough, uncompromising, with the hard edge of a professional killer, his eyes taking in everything, but his face betraying absolutely nothing of his thoughts.. The sight was just as terrifying — and arousing — as Sean remembered.
“I’d prefer to discuss the security arrangements when we’re in Mishaan’s quarters,” Mansur replied. Bash nodded, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
While Sean knew he would not be given quarters as stark as the cell he’d once occupied, he wasn’t prepared for his new suite. It was bigger than his first flat in London, with a foyer, a living room, an office, two bedrooms, and a bathroom with a sunken whirlpool tub. He couldn’t resist darting a glance at Bash as they looked at the king-sized bed, which looked almost lost in the enormous bedroom, but Bash’s expression had been closed off and remote since the moment they’d stepped off the plane.
Mansur gestured to a door at one side of the bedroom. “Sebastian’s quarters are through that door.” He paused, as though considering his next words with extreme care. “These quarters are private, but there are servants who will be in and out to clean them. I’m sure both of you are aware of the laws of this country, both the secular and the religious, and that there are people who would welcome any reason to keep Mishaan from the throne.”
Sean wanted to snap back at Mansur that neither he nor Bash were stupid and that he had no interest in the throne, but Bash spoke first.
“Understood,” Bash snapped. “You want me to believe in your professionalism, Mansur? Then you’d better believe in mine. I know the mission. You do your job and find that would-be assassin and whoever hired him. I’ll do mine and protect Sean, which includes getting him out of the country if I think the danger’s too great.”
Mansur looked as if he wanted to argue, but at last he nodded. “Your luggage should arrive shortly, so I’ll leave you to settle in. Obviously, there will be no parties held while Faisal is so ill, but you aren’t limited to taking your meals in your suite. Tomorrow, if you’re up for it, there will be an audience where you will meet the most important members of the government. It’s important for them to see there will be continuity while Faisal recovers.”
Apparently, Mansur either didn’t know or was in denial about the seriousness of his father’s condition, but Sean wasn’t going to bring it up. Sean needed time to get his bearings before he did anything that might upset the delicate condition of the status quo.
“We’ll discuss it,” Sean said, after a quick glance at Bash. “Thank you, Uncle.”
Mansur’s expression softened. “I truly am grateful you agreed to come back,” he said. “I will do my best to expose the traitor as quickly as possible. Until later, then.” With that, Mansur left them alone, and Sean let out a groan of pent-up stress as he dropped onto one end of the luxurious sofa in the lavish seating group.
Bash walked to the door of the suite, making certain it was locked, then returned to sit beside Sean, pulling Sean into a comforting embrace. It was probably foolish to give in, but Sean needed Bash’s strength, because he was feeling out of his depth.
“This is harder than I expected,” he murmured, leaning his head on Bash’s shoulder. “Faisal is in far worse shape than I thought. By rights, he should be dead. But I must think positive. If he’s still alive, perhaps he can recover. If not fully enough to sit on the throne again, at least enough to keep me from having to take his place.”
Bash was silent for a long moment. “Honestly, I would say good riddance, except for the fact that if Mansur hasn’t caught the traitor, it means your position becomes even more dangerous.”
Sean grimaced. “And I can’t make it obvious I’m no threat to anyone’s ambitions to the crown, because I don’t want it.” He raised his head and looked at Bash. “You know that, right? I want to help stop unnecessary deaths here, but I don’t want to be king. I don’t belong here. I want to be with you.”
The slow smile Sean so loved curved Bash’s lips, softening the intensity of his expression. “And I want to be with you. Mansur had better capture the traitor quickly, because being near you and not being able to touch you is going to be hard.”
“Tell me about it,” Sean grumbled.
Bash snorted. “You aren’t suffering alone, trust me. I’m going to help look for the traitor. It’s relatively easy to cover your tracks for a single incident — and trust me, covering tracks is something I know how to do — it gets harder when multiple crimes have been committed. I’m going to get Fortress’s analysts to look for links that maybe no one ever thought of before.”
Sean frowned. “Links? Between what?”
A cold gleam lit Bash’s eyes. “Everything that’s happened. Faisal being shot, the kidnapping of that family Fortress rescued, and anything else Mansur hasn’t found a culprit for. Plus the deaths of your parents and your uncle and cousins who stood before you in the succession. It seems really convenient that in a relatively short time, so many people in line for the throne have perished. Maybe there isn’t a link, and your family just has terrible luck, like the Kennedys. But it sure seems like someone wants to wipe out Faisal’s bloodline. Or the male part, at least.”
The idea was one Sean found horrifying. He dealt with death as a doctor, and he’d even come to understand the necessity of killing in a job like Bash’s, where the lives of innocent people were being saved by removing those who were harming them. But murder, even the murder of someone like Faisal, for whom Sean held no love, was a terrible thing. And to believe that someone was so ambitious and greedy to murder seven people — with Sean’s life still in jeopardy — was something Sean had a difficult time understanding. He would kill if he must to protect the people he loved, but to kill for money or power was inhuman.
