“If this is a real decision and not a political maneuver, it proves he is not power hungry, yet capable of taking its mantle if it falls to him. Add that to his not spouting promises of reform if he becomes king, but being out there already deeply involved in seeing it through, and you might just have the combo that no other candidate can beat.”

Her uncle’s eyes took on the shrewdness of the diversely knowledgeable man he was. It never failed to stun her that, until he’d joined her in sorting through Patrick’s legacy, he’d never maintained one job worthy of his skills and experience.

“Prince Haidar’s efforts would have been a definite advantage,” he said, “if the two other candidates weren’t as involved in reforms as vital as the ones he’s implementing. In fact, it’s said they’re all involved in the first political campaign of its kind in history.”

“Sure they are. They’re the first trio who’re campaigning for a throne, not a presidency. I wonder why the people of Azmahar want the monarchy system to continue.”

“Because before our last king, it worked too well to want to change it. Now if we pick the next, preferably Jalal in my opinion, as a king he will do far more than he’ll be able to do as a president. Also you can’t change the basic constitution of a people or their culture without paying a huge price, as evidenced by how badly the democracies in the region are faring. But that’s not why this throne campaign is unique. It’s the candidates’ approach that makes it so. Instead of trying to convince people they’re the better candidate by tearing the others apart, and spending untold millions to sway opinions, they’re all out there showing their desire and ability to work for Azmahar’s best by solving its problems now, not later. But what’s really remarkable is that they’re doing it together if need be. It’s how they cornered the oil-spill catastrophe.”

That she hadn’t known. And now that she did, it stunned her.

She only knew Haidar was Jalal’s twin and the male edition of their supernaturally beautiful yet soul-free mother. Evidently he wasn’t as devoid of humanity as she was, since all evidence showed that he was head over heels in love with his new wife. From the grandly romantic proposal to the equally heart-fluttering wedding vows to his adoring expression in every photo with her, he actually seemed to be the reverse. She knew even less about the third candidate, Rashid, who from all reports was an unknowable quantity.

But those two men weren’t only doing what all power seekers never did, putting their promises into practice first, they were curbing their egos and lust for power to do what should be done even if it meant putting their hands in their rivals’. What flabbergasted her was that Jalal was doing the same. She hadn’t known he was capable of reining in either ego or lust.

“I think you’ve just proved that both Haidar and Rashid are as worthy, not to mention as equipped, to be king. So where do you get your conviction that Jalal is the best choice?”

“My conviction isn’t built on wishful thinking as you’re implying,” her uncle said. “While Sheikh Rashid is a pure-blooded Azmaharian, a decorated war hero and a formidable power in the world of business, he doesn’t have any ties to Zohayd. And since it’s a fact Azmahar needs Zohayd to survive, let alone prosper, that’s his fatal deficit. He doesn’t have a chance against someone who has all of his assets plus Zohayd’s king for a brother.”

“That still puts Jalal in an equal position with Haidar. So unless he quits the race, Jalal’s chances are only fifty-fifty.”

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Her uncle shook his head again. “You’re assuming Prince Haidar is equal in assets, but that is far from true. He too has a fatal flaw. He bears his mother’s face. You might think it shouldn’t be a factor against him, but it definitely is. You of all people know how abhorred she was here.”

Yeah, that she knew. And she’d experienced some choice abhorrent behavior firsthand.

Her uncle went on. “But Jalal doesn’t suffer from this stigma. To us he’s more of a Zohaydan, when Zohayd has nothing but respect, even love, for most of our population. And he bears the likeness of his father, our biggest ally for the past decades and the one thing that had stopped Azmaharians from overthrowing our ex-king long before now. Prince Jalal is also very much like his oldest brother, King Amjad, and he’d be the one most likely to convince him to resume the vital alliance he’d severed because of the foolish transgressions of our former royalty. Added to that strong Zohaydan ingredient and influence, he has the necessary Azmaharian royal blood, making him the best of all worlds.”

She gaped at her uncle, her head spinning at that unbeatable sales pitch. “Seems he did exactly the right thing in picking you for his campaign. You’d sell him to his worst enemies.”

“I always believed he was the best of the candidates, always admired how he never forgot the other part of his heritage, how he’d started and supported so many worthy causes here in Azmahar long before there was any possibility of his becoming king. But now, after what he’s done…” His voice thickened as he drove his hands through his silvered mane, his every facial muscle trembling with emotion. “Ya Ullah, ya Lujayn, you can never grasp the…the enormity of what he’s done, the weight he’s removed from my chest, what’s been suffocating me all my life. If I respected and admired him before, now that I owe him my and my family’s honor, now that he’s renewed my will to live, I am forever in his debt.”

And that must be exactly what that gargantuan rat was after. What better way to insinuate himself into her life than to inspire something of this intensity and permanence in her closest kin?

But she didn’t believe that he’d found out about her family’s secret only yesterday. As a master of manipulation, he knew how to pull people’s strings as instinctively as he breathed. He must have long uncovered the secret, must have been keeping it to use when it most suited his purposes. And so he had. She’d bet her uncle, and probably her mom, too, would walk off a cliff for him now.

He’d gotten what he wanted. Just like he always did. She’d pushed him away, so he’d swerved, reentered her life from a gaping hole she hadn’t known existed. She had no doubt he’d entrench himself there for as long as he saw fit.

All she could do in the meantime was thwart his intentions and steer away from him until she could flee.




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