Sean considered his answer before responding. He probably would have been suspicious of Faisal’s motives and suspected Faisal was trying to lure him back under false pretenses.
“I don’t know,” he said at last. “Probably not, unless he could provide proof that I was in danger.”
“Proof he didn’t have, but now might die in providing.” Hana’s eyes took on a weight of sorrow that was almost painful to witness. “I have lost my only child, and now my husband may be taken from me by the same hands. I don’t want to lose you as well, which is why I had to tell you the truth. I shall pray constantly for Allah to protect you, but in the meantime… be careful. Please, Mishaan, promise me I won’t lose you, too!”
“I can’t promise that,” Sean said, his tone gentle as he reached out to her for the first time and clasped her hands. “But I can promise I’ll be careful. I don’t trust anyone but you and Bash. He’s my guard, and there is no one better equipped to protect me. If anyone can keep me safe, he can.”
She gave him a searching look, and whatever she was looking for, she must have found it, because she nodded slowly. “All right. But if you will take a piece of advice from an old woman, do not let your sense of duty cost you your life. Akkadia will go on, but you get only one life.”
“I know, and I don’t intend to throw it away,” Sean said, giving her a reassuring smile and squeezing her hands gently. “I hope I can save both myself and Akkadia.”
“As do I.” Her answering smile was crooked, but the look in her eyes spoke only of the love she felt for Sean. “Well, if we’ve finished with the heavy discussion, I insist you try the chocolate biscuits and tell me what you and your sister have been doing for the last few months. I’ve missed so much of your life, and I mean to be greedy while I have you here.”
Sean released her hands and reached for his cup of tea, ready to put aside serious topics for the time being. He had enough to process, and he needed time and space in which to do it. For now, he was content to tell Hana about the hospital and his sister’s continued success with the family’s chain of retail shops and forget about political intrigue and potential traitors for a while.
21
Bash was none too pleased at being banished by Sean’s grandmother, and he muttered under his breath as he stepped back into the foyer and closed the door behind himself. Logically, he knew unless Hana had assassins already hiding in the closets, Sean was safe enough, but it still annoyed him, because he secretly would have liked the opportunity to hear any stories about Sean as a child. It was sentimental and not something he would admit to, but he found it fascinating that Sean, while being a prince, had been raised in a way that seemed far more normal than Bash’s own childhood.
He prowled around the foyer, automatically looking for hidden surveillance equipment. He didn’t find any, but he was far too experienced to believe that meant it wasn’t there. So he kept in character, returning to stand in front of the door to the morning room, only moving aside when the girl Marta returned with the tea tray, then again when she left. He was aware of the curiosity in her gaze when she looked at him, but Bash didn’t smile or try to invite any confidences. There was no reason the traitor couldn’t be a woman or have members of the palace staff working for them.
The visit went on for some time, and Bash used the unaccustomed period of inactivity to mentally review the list of the most likely suspects. It was difficult to maintain professional detachment from the situation, but he tried as much as possible to put his innate suspicion of Mansur aside and consider everyone else. There were plenty of people with motive, of course, but those with the opportunity were a more limited list. He was inclined to think it had more to do with someone making a power grab than with an outside attempt to destabilize the country, but he wasn’t going to remove anyone from the suspect list… not unless they were dead.
At last, the door to the morning room opened again, and Hana emerged with Sean right behind her. Bash watched Sean intently, seeing beyond Sean’s mild expression to the tension in the angle of his shoulders and the betraying tightness in the set of his jaw. Whatever Hana had told him, Bash was willing to bet it wasn’t just sweet reminiscences of Sean and his father as children. But he said nothing, simply took out his phone and signaled to palace security that they were about to return to Sean’s suite, and once Sean had bid his grandmother farewell, he opened the door and escorted Sean out.
Neither of them spoke on their way back, but Bash could see Sean becoming more and more agitated the closer they got to his rooms. Once they were safely inside with the door locked, Bash held up a hand, gesturing for Sean to wait for a moment, then he took out a small device from one of his pockets, flipping a switch to start up the emission of a high-pitched, barely audible frequency that would scramble any audio surveillance equipment that might have escaped his notice and interfere with any video transmission as well.
Stepping close to Sean, he reached out with his free hand to stroke Sean’s cheek. “I take it that didn’t go exactly the way you thought?”
“Let’s put it this way,” Sean said, a scowl furrowing his brow. “It’s not so much that I have to figure out how to tell you about the bombshell she dropped on me. It’s that I have to figure out which one to tell you about first.”
Bash raised a brow, surprised. “Do you need a drink first?” As an Islamic country, Akkadia officially disallowed the consumption of alcohol by Muslims. But Bash had brought in his own stash, which he kept hidden from the servants so as not to cause a scandal. “You look like you could use one.”
“God, yes.” Sean paced, twisting his fingers together in visible agitation with every step. “A strong one.”
Bash had never seen Sean this worked up, not even when they were in the middle of thehaboob. He retrieved a plain bottle which held bourbon and poured a double into a crystal glass. He crossed back to Sean and handed it to him.
“Here. Do you want to sit down? Or do you need to walk it off?”
Sean paused long enough to take a deep swallow of bourbon before resuming his pacing. “I’ll walk for now.” He blew out a sharp breath. “I don’t even know where to start. I think the main thing you need to know is that my parents didn’t die in an accident. They were murdered.”
Bash drew in a breath. He wasn’t shocked. It made sense in a sick way, and he didn’t think Hana would have said anything to Sean if she didn’t believe the information was true. But he could imagine how the news must have hit Sean. He wanted more than anything to take Sean in his arms, but he could see Sean needed to move, as though through pacing, he could outdistance the pain. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sure that must have hurt on a number of different levels.”
“It did.” Sean sounded matter-of-fact, but he knocked back the rest of the bourbon. “I didn’t lose them. They were taken from me.”
Bash held out his hand for the glass. “And the same person targeted your uncle and cousins and now your grandfather. And, by extension, you. But I’m not about to let anyone takeyouaway fromme.” Bash spoke the words with quiet intensity. They’d have to kill him first to have any chance of getting at Sean, and Bash was very, very good at surviving.
Sean handed over the glass, smiling slightly. “Good, because I’d rather not be taken away.”
Taking the glass, Bash allowed his fingers to caress Sean’s. “You won’t be, no matter what I have to do or who I have to kill to prevent it. Now… another drink for you, and you can drop the next bombshell.” He refilled Sean’s glass. “I don’t normally think getting plastered is a good way to deal with problems, but the amount of adrenaline in your system right now can handle it.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Sean said, veering off his pacing trail to approach the bar.
Bash held out the glass. “Doctor knows best,” he said, smiling crookedly. “It seems your grandmother must have better sources than Nick. Not even he thought your parents’ deaths were anything more than a tragic accident.”
“Both my grandfather and Mansur know,” Sean said, sipping rather than gulping the bourbon this time. “Grandfather has been aware of the threat for some time. Mansur didn’t believe it and chalked it up to paranoia until Grandfather was shot.”
“Son of a…” Bash scowled. “Mansur was warned, and he did nothing?” Every time Bash tried to look beyond Mansur, things worked back around to point at him as the most likely suspect. “Mansur and I need to have a very private discussion soon. I know Nick trusts him, but I don’t. Especially not with your safety.”
