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He stepped back.

FUCK.

But before he could turn away and leave, it was too late. Some kind of sixth sense seemed to make her stiffen, and then she was whirling around. The tray of empty plates she was holding in her hands crashed to the ground. And as everyone’s heads snapped towards where she was looking, tears started to run down her face—-

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He opened his arms.

She broke into a run and threw herself at him. “Malik.” She was weeping. “Malik.”

A part of him wondered if the reason she was crying was because he was close to breaking her ribs with the way he was hugging her so hard. He knew it was possible, but he also knew he just could not let her go.

He just could not.

Not just yet.

He closed his eyes.

Fucked. I am fucked. I am eternally fucked.

It was almost two in the morning by the time he made his way to the palace’s luxurious underground baths, where Altair and his other cousins waited. Naturally arching stone ceilings blended well with gilded posts and marble-walled pools while recessed lighting tucked away in hidden crevices made the waters glow like liquid turquoise.

“Hear, hear, our hero has returned.”

“Fuck all of you.” He gave everyone the finger for added measure, but all four men laughed. Slipping into the water, he stretched his arms against the wall and leaned his head back. Hopefully, the supposedly healing waters of the palace’s Turkish bath could help clear his mind.

“She’s become more beautiful than you expected, hasn’t she?” Tarif asked slyly.

His eyes snapped open, and he shot his womanizing cousin a look of warning. “You’re forbidden from seeing her beautiful from now on.” The words were out before he could stop himself, and when he realized what he had just said, andhowandwhyhe had said such words—-

A groan of defeat escaped him.

“I’m fucked.” Malik let out a laugh, but the sound was bleak. The two years he had spent away from Ramil amounted to nothing. If any, it had only made things worse because whereas he had never seen Kyria as a woman before, he did so now—-

“I’m so goddamn fucked.”

This time, no one laughed, and when he looked at the other men’s faces, he saw that they knew exactly what he meant, and they, too, thought the same thing.

Hewasfucked.

Four years ago

Metal clashed against metal as the sheikhs skillfully wielded their swords to parry the attacks endlessly launched against them. Sword fighting was a traditional skill that Ramilian royals were expected to master, but more than that, their instructors wanted to forge the foundation of teamwork among the five young sheikhs. There would come a day when Khalil became king and the four his vassals; it was critical that their trust in each other prove as unassailable as the kingdom’s tallest mountains the moment Khalil took the throne.

“Rayyan, now!” The command came from Khalil, and his blue-eyed cousin whirled around, taking the opponents behind him by surprise. His sword came into contact with the soldiers’ vest, and the pair immediately bowed out of the fight.

Ten more minutes passed, and their enemies – which had started at a mere number of thirty – were now down to ten. Khalil’s gaze scanned his surroundings like surveying a battlefield and wasted no time making his decision. “Cover for Malik.” In war, every second was vital. “Now!”

He and the others cleared the path for their youngest brother in blood—-

One by one, their opponents fell to the ground and tapped out of the fight.

That was to be expected.

But the manner in which Malik executed their strategy was not, and it had everyone in the fighting hall silent and stunned, the other sheikhs included. The speed with which Malik delivered his attack, the daredevil risks he was taking, the barely leashed violence in every strike of his sword—-

When Malik suddenly swung to face them, the four sheikhs involuntarily tensed, their hands poised above the swords they had already sheathed. Malik stared at them, breathing hard, and the four sheikhs looked back at him. All of them shared the same unspoken and utterly discomfiting thought.