They drove for over an hour without sighting much of anything outside the occasional gazelle and lion—which felt entirely too soon after watching Owen nearly get shredded. A while later, they came upon a large acacia tree whose branches were filled with lions. There had to be a dozen cats lounging up in those branches. So wild! They returned to camp just in time for lunch.
“Nouri.”
At Owen’s terse call, she felt her insides tighten and slowed to turn to him.
“Keep walking,” Daria hissed as she and Aliyah linked arms with her. “Do not stop.”
“Do not look at him,” Aliyah insisted with a conspiratorial giggle. “He does not deserve you. You are an al-Zahrani.”
Yet, Owen had deserved Aliyah when she sought his attention earlier in the safari? Was it wounded pride that made the princess speak ill of him now?
She allowed the princesses to herd her back toward their tent to freshen up before eating. But she hated this—being rude to him. Guilt plagued her, worried her that he might believe her indifference real. She silently prayed he’d understand it was an act. It crushed her to think that he might believe her cold shoulder. Believe that she had rejected him.
“I cannot wait to get this dust and dirt off me,” Daria complained as they made their way back to their shared arrangements. “I thought this safari was supposed to be a luxury venture!”
“Ugh, me too,” Aliyah whined as they entered the tent, where servants immediately started toward them. “Every day I wash a pound of grit off me. But at least I don’t look like Mr. Apollo with that large black bruise on my face!”
Leighton startled at the way they openly mocked him.
“Hideous,” Daria sniffed as the servant stripped her out of the safari clothes and went to work refreshing her appearance. “That’s what he gets for overstepping.” Her dark, cruel eyes landed on Leighton. “You are far too good and noble for a man like that, Nouri.”
Aliyah clucked her tongue. “Yes, indeed.” As a servant swathed her down and helped her into clean clothes—why were they even bothering?—she winked at Leighton. “I have it on good authority that my brother is talking to our cousin about a marriage offer for you…” Her trilling laugh made Leighton’s skin crawl.
As did the threat of marriage. Heart thundering, she put a hand to her throat. Rayan wanted to marry her? No…no no no. I’m going to be sick.
“Look,” Daria said as her servant secured her hair, “poor thing is overcome. She never imagined a prince would want her!”
“Of course she wouldn’t. But you do have a little royal blood,” Aliyah said, giving a pursed-lip nod. “You should not discount yourself so thoroughly, Cousin.”
Hearing them draw her into their family with their words—and snobbery—was not as satisfying as Leighton had expected it to be. In fact, it was downright hypocritical of them. She told herself not to react. To let them talk, think she was buying into their absurdities. Their inane comments and existence was definitely not one she had any interest in.
“Oh,” Aliyah said excitedly. “Tomorrow we go to the Ngorongoro crater!”
“Forget the crater,” Daria sniffed. “I’m looking forward to the spa and a massage afterward.” She gave Leighton a long look. “If you would like, I could ask Maaz to put in for you to get one too.”
“What a treat that would be,” Aliyah said, nodding. “I know you’ve never had anything like it, but it would do you good to get those knots out of your thick shoulders. It helps, I promise.”
Thick shoulders? Was it possible these princesses didn’t know they were being insulting? She sincerely doubted it. They talked about blood, that she had their blood, but they didn’t have blood in their veins—they had venom.
Regardless, Leighton had to play nice. Bide her time. Bite her tongue. As always.
They were soon back out with the others and went straight to the food table. Stomach rumbling, she was anxious for one of those kebabs. Even as she waited for the princesses to fill their plates first, Leighton swept her gaze around the others. Searching, she realized, for a familiar pair of blue eyes. Where was he?
“Balloons, six p.m.” Owen’s warm words skated along her neck.
By the time she twitched and turned, he was already moving away. What had he said? Balloons? What was he talking about?
“You are well?”
Leighton yipped and spun to the new voice—Rayan. “Oh. Hi.” Embarrassment flooded her at finding him beside her and arching a rueful eyebrow. Had he seen her staring after Owen—or worse, had he heard Owen issue the hushed words?
Rayan’s expression softened as he gazed at her, and he clearly believed the color in her cheeks was because of him. Wholly wrong, but she must allow him that misconception. He smiled and ran his knuckles along her jaw. “Even after a safari, you are beautiful.”
No, that was too far. She stepped back and ducked. Mentally heard Owen railing about her looking down, which made her smile. Then she cursed herself, because no doubt Rayan would take her smile as being meant for him.
“Rayan,” Prince Maaz chided with a warning tone and disapproving look.
Suddenly, Leighton had a deep appreciation for the strict rules of conduct that had driven her crazy before.
