Alex seemed nervous as Bassam drove them over to the Palace bin-Tuleb. Zaiman squeezed her hand and smiled at her, and she sent him a weak smile back.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “They’re very relaxed during family dinners. You won’t be expected to behave like royalty.”

“Oh, royalty I can handle,” she said, her voice high and nervous. “It’s meeting the parents that I’m freaking out about.”

Zaiman chuckled and kissed the back of her hand. He turned, and caught Amia peering at him from beneath her lashes.

“Are you excited to see your grandparents, Amia?” he asked her.

She didn’t answer right away, her face growing red.

“Amia, are you all right?”

“Are you in love with Alex?” Amia demanded in a burst.

Zaiman froze. He looked from Amia to Alex, who had a curious look on her face. He hadn’t expected the question, and hadn’t quite put his feelings into words, even to himself.

He considered how she had blown into his life like a summer storm, revitalizing the desert of his life and turning his whole world upside down. How everything she touched just seemed to blossom, including himself. How she had stayed by him when everything fell apart, and how she had forgiven his less-than-stellar response to the media circus.

Every movie night, every conversation, every stolen kiss and tender touch swirled through his head in a heartbeat. It was so clear, and it had taken Amia to point it out to him.

He turned back to his daughter and smiled.

“Yes, I am,” he confessed. “How do you feel about that?”

She frowned, wrinkling her little nose.

Alex squeezed his hand still tighter, and his heart beat a little faster in his chest; so much depended on the next few words his daughter would say.

Like sunlight bursting through storm clouds, she grinned.

“I love her, too!” she crowed. “You thought I was mad!”

“I did,” Zaiman laughed in relief. “You got me good!”

“I got him,” Amia giggled to herself. “Alex, you love us too, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Alex said without hesitation. “So very much.”

“Good,” Amia said with a satisfied nod.

“We’re here,” Zaiman murmured to Alex as they pulled up in front of his family’s house. She gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth, and Zaiman swelled with pride, pleased that he could please her.

Though he had grown up in this house and on these grounds, they still had a powerful effect on him. The sprawling gardens in front of the property tantalized visitors with sporadic glimpses of the palace itself, which glistened white in the sun.

Bassam opened the door, and Amia burst out ahead of him and Alex, virtually vibrating with excitement. Squealing happily, she raced up the steps to greet her cousins, who had exploded from the house as soon as they’d pulled up.

“Your sister’s kids?” Alex asked, more enthralled with the tangle of chattering children than with the towering palace before her.

“Yes,” he told her. “Kids, come here!”

They trotted over to him and stood oldest to youngest, grinning up at him. Amia was caught between the two middle children, who held onto her hands as if they would never let go.

“Alex, these are my nieces, Abaranne and Abebe; and my nephews, Adem, Adil, and Ahmed.”

“It’s so nice to meet you all!” Alex shook each of their hands and met their eyes in that same humanizing fashion which had won Amia’s heart.

“Can we play?” Abebe asked, swinging Amia’s arm.

“Go on,” Zaiman said with an indulgent smile.

Laughing and chattering away, the kids raced back up the stairs and into the palace.

“I’m seeing a pattern here,” Alex said with a sly smile.

“Oh?”

“Your family likes naming patterns, don’t they?”

“Yes,” Zaiman admitted with a grin. “I do hope you like ‘A’ names.”

Alex jolted as if she had been shocked, and her cheeks flushed a deep red. Zaiman chuckled and brushed her hand with his.

“I tease,” he told her affectionately. “We can name them whatever you like.”

Her blush deepened and she began to stutter, making him laugh.

“I’m being mean,” he confessed with a touch of chagrin. “I apologize.”

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed, necessarily,” she muttered as her face darkened a shade further. “I just wasn’t expecting to broach the subject when I’m two steps away from meeting—”

“Mama!” Zaiman interrupted as his mother walked through the door. “Please meet Alex O’Hare. Alex, this is my mother, Sheikha Sabira bin-Tuleb.”

The color drained from Alex’s face, to Zaiman’s amusement; he could always follow her inner emotional state by watching the color of her cheeks, making him feel like a powerful psychic. Sabira clasped both of Alex’s hands in hers, meeting her eyes with a level sort of scrutiny.

“You have changed more things than you may know. None of us are yet aware of the full effects of your influence.” She said it with a neutral tone, giving no hint as to how she felt about the situation.

Zaiman chewed his lip, watching Alex. He knew a test when he saw one, and was mildly frustrated that his mother had not even let Alex in the house before making her prove herself.

“Yes,” she acknowledged. “Though I am sure that Zaiman would have taken these steps on his own in good time.”

“You have a lot of faith in him,” Sabira observed.

“Only as much as he has earned,” Alex told her. “Which, after this morning, is quite a bit.”

“Yes,” Sabira agreed, finally cracking a smile. “He has proved himself to be worthy of his title.”

Zaiman, uncomfortable at being discussed as though he wasn’t there, cleared his throat. His mother shot him a cool glance.

“The sun is hot and the palace is cool. Would you come in?” She released Alex’s hands and gestured for the two of them to follow her inside.

Bassam must have gone ahead, Zaiman realized, as his booming bass rolled through the marbled foyer. His mother gestured toward the drawing room overlooking the back garden.

“Join the men,” she told him in a tone which left no room for argument. “We will join you shortly.”

Zaiman cast a worried glance at Alex, who smiled confidently back at him. She was smart enough to know the true intent behind the previous conversation, but he worried that she might believe that her test was over.

If Zaiman knew his mother as well as he thought he did, he knew that her feelings about Alex were far from settled. But there was nothing he could do but pray that she could handle herself, and join the men for drinks.