“It appears Lady Aretha suffered amnesia from the accident. A man named Royce found her at the crash site, and when he realized she had no memory...” The doctor paused. “He told her she was his wife.”
Oh, Aretha.
“She only recovered her memories yesterday,” the doctor continued. “She tried to escape, but Royce caught her climbing out a window. There was a struggle. She fell.” He gestured vaguely. “Her leg is broken. She’ll need to wear a cast for at least a month.”
My throat was so tight I could barely speak. “May I see her?”
The doctor glanced at Mik’hail. I caught the sheikh giving a small nod, and then the doctor was opening the door.
The room was dim, just a single lamp by the bed, casting soft shadows across the walls. It took a second for my eyes to adjust, and then...
Aretha.
My throat tightened with tears. She looked so small in that narrow hospital bed. So fragile. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow, her face pale, her leg encased in a cast and propped up on pillows. Nothing like the fierce, commanding sister I remembered.
Guilt consumed me as I thought of how Aretha had been alive all this time, trapped and deceived into living a life that was never hers...while I was here in the palace, falling in love with the sheikh she was supposed to marry.
I wanted to reach for her hand. I wanted to tell her I was sorry—for everything. But my feet wouldn’t move, and my voice wouldn’t work, and all I could do was stand there and watch her breathe.
“Lady Aurora.” The doctor’s voice was gentle behind me. “It’s best to let your sister rest. We’ll look after her, and we’ll let you know as soon as she wakes.”
I nodded and let him guide me out, and as the distance between Aretha and me grew, my guilt turned into the most self-centered of fears.
Oh, Aurora.
How selfish could I get, to worry about the future I had with the sheikh, considering all my sister had gone through? My nails dug into my palms as my mind circled back to Aretha’s face. How pale she looked. How small. It was hard to think of her as the sister who had once made me feel like I would never be good enough.
When we reached my room, I turned to Mik’hail without meeting his eyes. “Good night,akh.” My voice came out strange. Hollow. “I should—”
But before I could finish, he took my hand and led me inside, closing the door behind us.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Aurora.”
Just my name. But the way he said it—like it was something precious, something that belonged only to him—made my chest ache.
“Now that my sister’s back,” I made myself say, “I understand if you need to—”
“We’ll have to delay our wedding, yes.” His voice was grave. “Aretha will never forgive you if you make her attend in a ghastly cast.”
All I could do was stare at him.
“Can you imagine? All those photographs with her leg propped up on a pillow?” He shook his head, mouth twitching. “She would hold it against you forever.”
And just like that, all the fear and uncertainty that had been building inside me since Gordan said her name—
I burst into ugly, noisy tears as Mik’hailed pulled me into his arms.I’m sorry, God. I’m so sorry for being selfish.
“I was terrified you’d leave me now that my s-sister’s—”
“Aretha and I were never lovers,” the sheikh said tautly. “Not in the way you and I are. I am sorry for what she’s gone through, and I will, of course, ensure she receives the best of care. But do not let this blind you to the past, Aurora. She was never faithful to me. And she was never kind to you.”
“I k-know. It’s just—”
“You are the one I want.” His arms tightened around me. “And it will always be so.”
