“No promises,” Archie taunted.
Francis sighed deeply, then followed Hasim to the door so they could speak in the hallway alone. “Hasim, I…I’m awfully sorry about all this.” He let out a nervous laugh. “What you must think of me now, I don’t know.”
Finally, Hasim smiled. “Now? I think, ‘what loyal friends you have, and how much they must care for you.’”
“Oh, yes, very much,” Francis said, his cheeks growing hot once again. “I love them all dearly. Well, not so much Gustav, he’s the ambassador, we don’t know each other like that. I’m a third son, you see. I’m the one nobody really bothers about, butGranny insisted I come here, and they came with me.”
He was rambling now, nervous.
Francis paused before speaking again. “So, uh, no major problems at the moment. The situation is…not as dire as I’d feared. Archie can be a bit wild, and my mind feared the worst.”
“Yes, as did I,” Hasim replied.
Francis cleared his throat. “You mentioned that the, uh, tournament might be ending soon?”
“Yes,” Hasim said. “It will. It has gone on far too long already.”
Francis chuckled nervously. “I quite agree. That’s what I thought when I escaped from my window and into the gardens, that day I first met you. I was desperately trying to avoid it all.”
“Why?” Hasim asked.
“Well, I don’t know.” Francis almost laughed. “It all felt rather…absurd, to compete for the favour of a man I’ve still not met, not laid eyes on. I’m not fond of crowds, and less fond of loud group activities so, really, it was my idea of hell. That’s why I sought a bit of peace in the gardens, and maybe to pet a cat or two.”
Hasim grinned. “Yes, you think like me. The company of cats is always better.”
Francis nodded, smiling. “Yes, indeed.”
They were dancing around the main issue, around Francis’s confession. Francis fought the urge to apologise again, instead looking for a way to move forward.
“Hasim? May we speak later on? Or tomorrow, perhaps?” he asked. “I think there is much to talk about.”
Hasim nodded. “Spend the evening with your friends. I will arrange dinner for you in your salon. Your friend should be able to walk out of here soon, with assistance.”
“Yes, that’s probably for the best,” Francis replied. “Thank you. I will see you tomorrow, then? Assuming thetournament is over with, of course.”
“It is over,” Hasim said, holding out his hand. “I have already chosen.”
Francis assumed he wanted a handshake and went to shake Hasim’s hand. “You’ve what now?” he asked, confused and giddy when Hasim held onto his hand in both of his.
“My dear one,” Hasim said, looking Francis in the eyes. “Prince Francis.”
“No need for the formality, Hasim. Just Francis is fine, please,” Francis insisted.
Hasim smiled. “Francis. I have chosen. I am King Omar, and I want you.”
“You…?” Francis was sure he’d misheard. “You, what?”
“I am King Omar.”
“But you said your name is Hasim?”
“It is,” Hasim replied, squeezing Francis’s hand affectionately. “Always, my name has been Hasim. My friends and family call me this. But officially, the name chosen for me as ruler was Omar.”
“Oh,” Francis said. “I see.”
Of course, this was a standard practice. Plenty of Francis’s relatives who wore crowns had to take official names over their given names, too.
Hasim’s words slowly sank in, as Francis realised both of them had lied to the other, while all along the truth would’ve solved their problems.
