Disappointment lurked at the back of Owen’s mind. The woman was alive, so…she had denied Jesus?
“Something else happened while we were in Tahiti. I met and fell in love with a man. We were going to run away together, but Nasir’s guards showed up to take us back before I could. When I was returned to Omnia, I was already pregnant,” she confessed quietly. “I had always been the king’s favorite, so there on my knees, when I faltered, still new in my faith but also keenly aware of the life I harbored in my womb, the king assumed that I, his youngest, had been coerced by his errant wife. To protect my child, I let him believe that. So while he let me live, he did not forgive me. Imprisoned in the palace, I was not allowed to leave. Allowed no visitors. And I endured it for the sake of my baby. I hid my pregnancy, gave birth in secret, and with the help of my maid, arranged for an American family to take my daughter. A year after she was safely out of Omnia, I escaped and fled to London.”
That was an incredible, daunting story. Yet… “Am I missing something?” Owen cursed himself for drawing Pike’s gaze again. “If you spirited her out of the palace and fled, why would they come after Nouri? They don’t know she exists. Or again, did I miss something?”
“No, you are correct. I…I was trying to protect myself by only telling certain parts of this story, but that will not work,” Yasmina said gravely. With her head down, she continued. “Shortly after our return from Tahiti and being granted mercy by King Nasir, I was raped by my stepbrother—the king’s eldest son.”
“Faruq,” Luther Landry said, rapping his knuckles on the table. “As in the current ruler of the Central Kingdom: King Faruq.”
Yasmina inclined her head. “After my escape, they tortured my maid. Learned about Nouri, but she had been very clever and refused to know where Nouri or I ended up. But they still knew I had given birth to a daughter.”
“King Faruq thinks Nouri is his daughter?” Disbelief colored with dread filled Brick’s words.
“So that’s why he’s keeping her,” Owen muttered.
Yasmina shuddered a breath. “If they discover she is not his daughter, that I was already with child when I returned from Tahiti?—”
“She’s as good as dead,” Owen said quietly. What Navas had told Dad confirmed all this.
“Faruq believes he has his daughter, that holding her will force my return—he wants to punish me for stealing his father’s affection, for supposedly bearing his child and giving her away. But he is…evil. And if he discovers any of this, Nouri will die. Please,” she pleaded, despair pushing tears down her face, “you must get her out of there before they uncover the truth. Even Juan mentioned that his enemies have discovered her existence as well. It is clear, is it not, the danger she is in? I have only just gotten her back. I cannot lose her.”
“Nobody will lose her, Yasmina,” Navas vowed. “She will be back in your arms soon. I swear it.”
Dabbing a tissue at her eyes, she managed a small smile. “I am surprised you are not breaking down doors yourself.”
Navas swiped a hand over his mouth. “If I had a few less gray hairs…” Then he indicated to Pike. “He will need as much information from you about the palace and family as you can remember. We are even now en route, and our timeline is short.” Then he motioned to Owen. “This is the young man we will insert.”
Craning her neck, she seemed to be straining to see him. “What is your name?”
Owen eased into full view beside Navas. “I am?—”
“Apollo,” Pike interrupted, inclining his head to the screen. “For operational security, we won’t use his given name.”
“Of course,” Yasmina said, her gaze shifting. “Apollo, Nouri has it ingrained into her to be wary of strangers. She will not trust you. To gain her confidence, say this: ‘religieuse may be your favorite, but it is not the best pastry.’”
Owen faltered, no idea what that meant. “Religious…”
“Religieuse.” Yasmina gave a triumphant nod.
“It’s a French pastry,” Luther said, and when the rest of the team gaped at him, he held up his hands. “Just because you heathens are uncouth doesn’t mean I am too.”
“By that, she will know you are there with my blessing,” Yasmina continued. “And once you say that, she will trust you.”
Owen wasn’t sure what to say to the princess’s instruction. A pastry was supposed to save him?
4
Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
One single hair could undo every effort here. If King Faruq learned she was not his biological daughter, he would kill her, then track down her mother and kill her. Maybe even kill her adoptive family. Thus, Leighton put forth every effort to keep the room as sterile—and lacking any means by which they could extract DNA—as was humanly possible. Granted, they could simply hold her down and swab her mouth, but she must nurture their belief that she was Faruq’s daughter and was integrating into their world. Do everything in her power to convince them she did not mind being here.
Leighton inspected the pillow—surprisingly comfortable—and scanned for hair. Then she checked the bathroom for the same, poured some of the sugar-laced mouthwash—oh, the irony—into a glass and set her toothbrush in it. That wouldn’t necessarily eliminate DNA evidence, but she knew from some TV show she’d watched ages ago that it would degrade and make a clean extraction or analysis difficult.
And I’m all about difficult if it means my family is safe.
After one more vigilant check, she stood in the center of the room, drew in a steadying breath, and smoothed a hand over the brown abaya that was more like a paper sack than a dress. Nerves thrummed—she had been instructed to be ready at eight o’clock for dinner with the royals. Guess they were short on servants to beat tonight.
But seriously… Why? No idea, save that ominous warning from Zayna about Princess Daria. But Leighton had a terrible feeling she’d forgotten something. This attire was all new to her, yet she loved its comfort and the whisper-soft fabric against her skin. Running a hand over her hair?—
