Her shoulders were slumped, her eyes dull from lack of sleep. The deep purple smudges beneath her lids attested to the turmoil raging within her. Her mind told her that deceiving Jamal had been the right thing to do, yet her heart wept. She had done a despicable thing to Jamal, but she’d had no choice. Her father had faced death, she’d been enslaved, and to add to her misery, she had had to fight a growing attraction to her avowed enemy. A week had passed since she had drugged Jamal and escaped with her father and the Blue Men. A week during which she felt like a stranger among her own people. She was sure that everyone knew she had bargained for Youssef’s freedom with her body. Though her sacrifice wasn’t mentioned openly, Zara sensed her people’s pity and did not want it. Jamal had made her his in the most basic way, taken her body and given unstintingly of his own. He had given her a glimpse of rapture and surprised her by suggesting she become his wife. He had admitted to being besotted with her and wanting to take her with him aboard his ship.
