Sweet Revenge

and I was the princess I’d read of in all the storybooks. It was very hard work, but I loved being there, being a part of it. I had a house on the water all to myself.”
    “You would be lonely.”
    “No, I had friends and people to talk to. I went places I’d never imagined going—Paris, New York, London … I met your father in London.”
    “Where is London?”
    “England, Europe. You’re forgetting your lessons.”
    “I don’t like lessons. I like stories.” But she thought hard because she knew the lessons were important to Phoebe, and another secret between them. “A queen lives in London whose husband is only a prince.” Adrianne waited, certain her mother would correct her this time. It was such a ridiculous idea—a woman ruling a country. But Phoebe merelysmiled and nodded. “It gets cold in London, and it rains. In Jaquir the sun always shines.”
    “London’s beautiful.” One of her greatest skills was the ability to put herself in a place, real or imagined, and see it clearly. “I thought it was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. We were filming there and people would line up at the barricades to watch. They would call for me, and sometimes I would sign autographs or pose for pictures. Then I met your father. He was so handsome. So elegant.”
    “Elegant?”
    A dreamy smile on her face, Phoebe closed her eyes. “Never mind. I was very nervous because he was a king, and there was protocol to remember and photographers everywhere. But then, after we talked, it didn’t seem to matter. He took me to dinner, he took me dancing.”
    “You danced for him?”
    “With him.” Phoebe set Adrianne on the bench beside her. Nearby a bee droned lazily, drunk on nectar. The sound buzzed pleasantly in Phoebe’s ears, made musical by the drug. “In Europe and America men and women dance together.”
    Adrianne’s eyes narrowed. “This is permitted?”
    “Yes, it’s permitted to dance with a man, to talk to a man, to take drives or go to the theater. So many things. People go on dates together.”
    “Go on?” Adrianne struggled with her English. “Dates are to eat.”
    Phoebe laughed again, sleepy in the sun. She could remember dancing in Abdu’s arms, and his smiling down at her. How strong his face had been. How gentle his hands. “These dates are different. A man invites a woman out. He comes to her house to pick her up. Sometimes he’ll bring her flowers.” Roses, she remembered dreamily. Abdu had sent her dozens of white roses. “Then they might go to dinner, or to a show and a late supper. They might go dancing in some crowded little club.”
    “You danced with my father because you were married?”
    “No. We danced, we fell in love, then we were married. It’s different, Adrianne, and so hard to explain. Most parts of the world aren’t like Jaquir.”
    The niggling fear she had lived with since the night shehad witnessed her mother’s rape took hold. “You want to go back.”
    Phoebe didn’t hear the fear, only her own regrets. “It’s a long way back, Addy. Too far. When I married Abdu I left it all behind. More than I understood then. I loved him, and he wanted me. The day we were married was the happiest day of my life. He gave me The Sun and the Moon.” She touched a hand to her bodice, almost feeling the weight and the power of the necklace. “When I wore it, I felt like a queen, and it seemed that all those dreams I’d had as a young girl in Nebraska were coming true. He gave me part of himself then, part of his country. It meant everything to me when he fastened the gems around my neck.”
    “That is the most precious treasure in Jaquir. It showed that he valued you above all else.”
    “Yes, he did once. He doesn’t love me anymore, Addy.”
    She knew it, had known it, but wanted to deny it. “You are his wife.”
    She looked down at her wedding ring, a symbol that had once meant so much. “One of three.”
    “No, he takes others only because he needs sons. A man must have sons.”
    Phoebe cupped Adrianne’s face in her hands. She saw the tears, and the pain. Perhaps she had said too much, but it was too late to take the words back. “I know he ignores you, and it hurts you. Try to understand that it isn’t you, but me.”
    “He hates me.”
    “No.” But he did hate his daughter, Phoebe thought as she gathered her close. And it frightened her, the cold hate she saw in Abdu’s eyes whenever he looked at Adrianne. “No, he doesn’t hate