“It would disrupt all your plans, yes? Assuming you—or she—lived that long.”
A thought struck Owen. “What would they do if they knew you were warning me?”
Concern flickered through Rafi’s eyes, no doubt wondering if Owen intended to betray his confidence. “That would be a very bad day.”
The man had sought to help Leighton. And him. He owed the guy. “They won’t learn about this from me.”
With a gentle incline of his head, Rafi strode to the far end of the bunkhouse, past twenty or more additional cots, and exited through the rear door.
Even as he turned to head out and join Leighton, Owen could not shake the ominous thought that they would not survive this trip. Most people would think the wildlife was the biggest threat here, but they hadn’t met the royal spawn of the Central Kingdom.
Sitting at the folding table, picking at the fruit, Leighton could not forget Ghalib punching Owen the night before last. That horrible crack. The thud of his body hitting the ground… The memory made her stomach churn. On top of everything else he’d endured that day—to have been punched so cruelly…
A full day of safari and touring, paired with that painful memory, put Leighton’s teeth on edge. Why had she fought so hard to stay here? Yes—to protect Ummi, but hadn’t he given her many promises that Ummi was okay?
Fear had held her captive long enough.
At the bonfire last night, even the shadows of the night could not hide the large bruise spreading over Owen’s face and jaw as he sat off to the side with other workers. It also could not hide the vow of violence in his beautiful eyes.
That scared her more than anything. What if he made good on that promise and started a fight? After all that had happened, surely he understood these people would kill them. And they’d likely do it while in the wild, then leave their bodies for the animals to feast on. Nobody would be the wiser.
“You look a little pale.” Rayan edged into her line of sight. “Something from dinner last night not agree with you?”
Yeah, try the brutality leveraged against Owen, the subtle threat to her. But she dared not speak those things. This was her life, this was what she had to do—keep the secret. Play the game. Live the lie. Pray she survived.
She’d survived for twenty-five years. But this last week with Owen had been a sweet reprieve. Showed her what life could be like. Except the lion attacks and the fleeing shooters at the village.
Rayan set a hand on her wrist.
A subtle-but-direct reminder that she was not in control, though she doubted Rayan intended it that way. It was the way of things—the al-Zahranis were in control. Always had been. The ominous dark shadow of their power had lingered over every hour of her life.
“Perhaps,” Rayan said, his kindness erstwhile yet frustrating as morning light spilled across the savanna behind him, “when we return, try a kebab or some other protein to fortify yourself. I could ask one of the workers to retrieve something if you are faint.”
“N-no. All is well.” She flashed a smile. “Besides, I’m not sure I could eat right now…” It was as good an excuse as any, because the last thing she wanted was him doting over her. “Thank you for the consideration, though.”
“Come, come!” Aliyah hooked her arm through Leighton’s. “Time to go to the next site.” With that, the princess herded Leighton toward the vehicles and all but shoved her up into the second vehicle with Rayan, Daria, and Hassan.
Her gaze found Owen’s, and she saw the frustration in his expression. Begged him not to start something. He’d think it was to protect her, defend her, but…
Truth be told, she just wasn’t worth it. She could never live with herself if he got killed because of her.
“They know…” His pained words from a few nights ago, warning her the royals knew he was trying to save her, get her away from them, echoed in her thoughts. Reinforced what she detected from Daria and Aliyah—they were trying to drive a wedge between her and Owen.
It was for the best, being separated from him, even if it angered him. At least his chance of survival increased and he could be mad to his heart’s content.
But…that wasn’t like Owen—he was stronger than bitterness. He was a wolf tracking her.
The Cruiser paused at a wildebeest watering hole.
Leighton watched as a few of the odd-faced beests lumbered over to the vehicles. As the royals took photos with their phones, she slid her gaze to the other Cruiser—and rammed right into Owen. An eruption of warmth rushed through her belly at the impact. Recalled their kiss. The tender moments. His humor.
A rustling to the left drew her attention back to her own vehicle and spotted a beest nibbling Aliyah’s sleeve. “Oh, give care,” Leighton said.
Aliyah glanced down and shrieked. When she yanked her arm away, a strip of fabric tore away. The princess let out a strangled cry and huffed. “You beast! How dare you!”
As if her upset urged it, the driver pulled away from the watering hole.
Leighton settled in her seat, thoughts and heart spun to the rear—to the Cruiser that held Owen. Were the workers treating him fairly? Or was he the brunt of more ill treatment?
