Sweet Revenge

Fahid back with a promise of some new treat. But when his laughter shut off abruptly, she hurried inside. He was sprawled, lips quivering, at Abdu’s feet.
    Abdu looked so tall and so powerful as he stood, legs spread, staring down at his son. His white
throbe
skimmedthe floor where Fahid had fallen. The lights in the tunnel were dim, but Adrianne could see the glint of anger in his eyes.
    “Where is your mother?”
    “Please, sir.” Adrianne rushed forward. She kept her head bowed in submission while her heartbeat thundered. “I was caring for my brother.”
    He looked at her, the tumbled hair, the dust on her dress, her damp, nervous hands. He could have knocked her aside with one sweep of his arm. His pride told him she was worth not even that. “You do a poor job of caring for the prince.”
    She said nothing, knowing no response was expected. She kept her head lowered so that he couldn’t see the flash of fury in her eyes.
    “Tears are not for men, and never for kings,” he said, but he bent with some gentleness to set Fahid on his feet. It was then he noticed the ball his son still gripped tightly. “Where did you get this?” The anger was back, slicing like a sword. “This is forbidden.” He snatched the ball from Fahid and made him wail. “Would you disgrace me, disgrace our house?”
    Because she knew her fathers hand could strike quickly and with force, Adrianne stepped between him and her brother. “It belongs to me. I gave it to him.”
    She braced for the blow, but it never came. Rather than fury, she confronted ice. Adrianne learned that cold disinterest could be the most painful of punishments. Her eyes had filled, but facing her father, she fought back the tears. He wanted her to cry, she felt it. If dry eyes were her only defense, then hers would remain dry.
    “So you would corrupt my son? Give him Christian symbols in the guise of a toy? I should have expected treachery from such as you.” He flung the ball against the wall, shattering it. Terrified, Fahid clung to Adrianne’s legs. “Go back to the women, where you belong. From this moment you are forbidden to care for Fahid.”
    He snatched up his son and turned away. Fahid, his face wet and swollen, reached out for her and called her name.

Chapter Five
    Disgrace made her strong. It made her silent. It made her proud. Over the months that followed, Phoebe worried about Adrianne. For years Phoebe had lived with her own unhappiness, using it like a crutch because she saw no choice. Her American way of life had ended when she had stepped onto the soil of her husband’s country. From the beginning, the laws and traditions of Jaquir had been against her. She was a woman, and as such, despite her own beliefs, despite her own desires, she was forced to conform.
    Over the years Phoebe had found one comfort to ease her imprisonment. In her eyes Adrianne had been content, even suited to the life in Jaquir. She had a heritage, a title, a position even the king’s disfavor couldn’t take from her. She had family, playmates. She had security.
    Phoebe knew that Westerners were beginning to come in droves to Jaquir and the Middle East, lured by oil. And because of this new state of affairs she saw reporters again and played the role of the fairy-tale desert queen. Abdu wanted the money and technology the West would bring, even while he detested Westerners for providing them. With Westerners pouring into Jaquir, there would be progress. In time there even might be liberation. She was clinging to that—not for herself any longer, but for Adrianne. As the months went by, she began to see that if new freedoms did come to Jaquir, they would arrive too late to benefit her daughter.
    Adrianne was quietly obedient but no longer happy. She played games with the other girls and listened to her grandmother’s stories, but she was no longer young. Phoebe began to long for home more fiercely than ever before. She began todream of going back, taking Adrianne, of showing her daughter a world beyond the laws and limitations of Jaquir.
    But even as she dreamed, she didn’t believe it possible. So she took her escape where she could find it, in tranquilizers and forbidden liquor.
    She was not a sophisticated woman. In spite of her rise in the glittery world of entertainment, she had remained very much the naive girl from the small farm in Nebraska. In her days in movie making, she had seen drinking and drug use. But in a way that was innate to her, she