Free Forged in the Desert Heat by Maisey Yates Page B

didn’t have a lot of other options. She had to understand.
    She had to know why he was so despised.
    “Things had been tense. There were rumors that the royal family might be the target of an attack. And routines were changed, security measures were taken. The sheikh and his wife were preparing to go into hiding until the threat had passed. But there was a breach in the security. And the time that the royal family was to leave the palace was given to their enemies. They never had a chance at escaping. What was meant to be a wholly secure operation, moving them until the threat was over, became the end.”
    “And how did you get the blame for this, Zafar? I don’t understand.”
    “It was my fault,” he said. “And I have spent every year, every day since then, fighting to atone for the destruction I brought on my own people. This is why the papers, why the people, are so anticipating my downfall. My exile was very much deserved. I was responsible for the death of my mother and father, the sheikh and sheikha. And the people of Al Sabah have long memories. They won’t forget who they would rather have on the throne. And they won’t forget why their most beloved rulers aren’t with us any longer. And it’s because of me.”

CHAPTER SIX
    Z AFAR COULD SEE the dawning horror in her eyes, and he was almost glad of it. Because they needed something to break this strange band of tension that was stretching between them, pulling them closer to each other, even as they tried to resist.
    Even as he tried to resist. With everything he had in him.
    But there was something so very fascinating about her. Something so tempting. But he knew what would happen if he touched her. War aside.
    It would be like pouring water on the cracked desert earth. He would take everything she had, soak it in for himself, and at the end of the day, the ground on his soul would still be dry.
    “You couldn’t have done anything on purpose, Zafar.”
    “No,” he said, his voice harsher than he intended. “I didn’t do it on purpose, and in many ways that makes it much worse. I was a fool, manipulated into giving the truth because of trust. Because of love.”
    She blinked slowly a few times, a look of confusion on her face, as if the idea of him being in love, the whole concept, seemed foreign and unbelievable to her.
    Reassuring. That he didn’t in any way resemble the soft, stupid boy he’d been. Years in the desert had hardened him, and he was damned grateful for it.
    “But if it was an accident...” she started.
    “No. There is no excusing it.” He didn’t want to tell the story. Didn’t want to speak of Fatin or the hold she’d had on him. About how, during a time of extreme turmoil for his country and his family, he’d only been able to think of one woman. Of how he’d wanted her.
    He’d been able to spare no thought for anything else. For anyone else.
    Thank God he’d cut that out of himself, that weak, sorry emotion. He’d sliced out his heart and left it to burn beneath the desert sun. Until he was impervious, until he was too hard and too weathered by the heat and wind to care about a damn thing.
    Nothing but the cause. Nothing but the purpose.
    And she had to realize that. She had to know. What manner of boy he’d been, what manner of man he’d become.
    Why he’d had to bury that boy, deep, and destroy everything tender inside of him so that he would emerge better. So that he would never again cause such unthinking destruction.
    “As with most tales, this one starts with a woman.”
    Ana’s breath caught. She was instantly consumed with curiosity. About the woman. The one who had created emotion in Zafar. Emotion he seemed to be lacking now.
    She noticed he liked to tell her things this way. As though they were nothing more than tales, and he was nothing more than the storyteller. Not a player in the piece.
    “She was a servant in the palace. She had been for a long time. Beautiful, and smart. Ambitious. She