Intense sunlight blinded Prince Eli, and he slammed into a shimmering wall of heat as he exited the ship’s cabin. A cacophony of scents filled the air as the perfume of exotic flowers mingled with sweat, animals, and the tang of salt.

Better than the weeks he’d spent at sea, but not much.

Keeping his face impassive, Eli’s gaze fell on a man dressed in magenta, canary, and emerald silks leading a group of dignitaries. The man would’ve reminded Eli of a clown if not for his swagger and protruding stomach.

“Your Highness.” The man bowed to Prince Eli with a grand flourish. “His Eminence is pleased to welcome you to Qumaref.”

“And I am pleased to accept his gracious invitation,” Eli said. The inane pleasantries of diplomacy were as easy as any other lie after years in court. “You’re Premal, his senior adviser?”

The man in bright-colored silk beamed. “So glad news of me has reached Tamryn.”

Eli inclined his head, satisfied the information he’d gathered was correct, including the assessment on the sultan’s key adviser.

Premal waved over a gilded palanquin, and the bearers kept their heads bowed as they lowered it in front of the Prince of Tamryn.

Eli sat under gold lattice carved to look like swans. As he leaned back against plump pillows and studied the desert city, the massive procession tottered through the sand-strewn streets.

Squat adobe buildings crowded against the thoroughfare, and throngs of people crushed together as they meandered about their business under the blazing sun. Most dressed in light-colored robes with scarves tied around their heads to protect them from the ubiquitous sand. A few men dressed in silk and rode camels.

Everyone moved aside for the flamboyant parade though many stopped to watch it pass.

Eli stayed alert despite the heat and rocking of the palanquin as he surveyed the streets and people of Qumaref. The last Tamarian diplomat had left the desert city twenty years ago when King Garrett had recalled them to satisfy the Dragon Church. Qumaref had retaliated, and relations had all but ended between the kingdoms.

Eli had much to learn about the desert kingdom before he could re-establish meaningful relations.

As the prince compared all he saw to the last delegates’ stories of Qumaref, it seemed little had changed. Eli doubted the Dragon Church would be any friendlier to Qumaref now than it had been twenty years ago.

He wondered again why his father had sent him on this fool’s errand when the king’s health was failing. But no one disobeyed a direct order from King Garrett, not even the king’s son.

Eli sucked in air hotter than a dragon’s breath. He’d keep the trip short. There was little to recommend the desert city, and the trade agreement his father wanted was all but impossible with the restrictions imposed by the Dragon Church. The king had to know that, making Prince Eli more curious as to why his father had sent him.

Must be a test. Wasn’t be the first time Eli had been tested, and probably wouldn’t be the last.

Perhaps Dracor had finally chosen who would be the next king, selecting someone the church and nobility would both support. The prince almost smiled at the thought. They’d been waiting over twenty-five years for the Dragon God to choose who would succeed King Garrett. If Dracor had chosen someone, Eli would know. A secret that big didn’t stay secret for long, especially not with the prince’s spies.

Eli fisted his hands at his sides. Whatever the reason for King Garrett’s orders, the prince wouldn’t let this mission interfere with his plans to take the throne when his father died. Plans that required him to marry Lady Daniella, Duke Calloway’s daughter.

Though he’d have preferred to marry Lady Daniella before he’d set sail, the duke had negotiated six months to arrange the wedding. Eli didn’t think Dracor would choose another monarch before King Garrett died, but he worried his father might not live the full six months.

Eli’s marriage to Lady Daniella would cement Duke Calloway’s support and the support of fools who believed an Elven mystic. The engagement alone might be enough to secure their backing against the Dragon Church should the king die.

It would be enough. Eli would make it enough. He wouldn’t let his mother’s death be for nothing. Wouldn’t let the kingdom she died for fall into civil war, whatever the cost to him.

The prince unclenched his fists. The crown would be his. There would be no civil war.

The procession slowed, and Eli glanced up at the sultan’s palace and the high walls that encircled it. The alabaster exterior gleamed in a rippling haze of heat, its turrets capped by shimmering gold domes of varying sizes. Qumaref favored the mushroom-shaped towers, and Eli wondered if they offered an escape from the oppressive heat.

Large gates set in the wall opened, allowing the procession to enter.

And Eli entered another world.

Exotic plants filled the air with rich scents as they bloomed in riotous colors of magenta, crimson, and blazing purple. Fruits dangled from lush trees, and a massive fountain tiled in blue mosaics dominated the courtyard. Peacocks strutted past and squawked at the intruders while monkeys scampered along the wall. Rainbow-hued parrots perched in the trees.

This is what wealth bought in Qumaref, Eli thought. Fresh water.

His palanquin was lowered in front of a grand entrance, and servants bowed until their foreheads touched the ground as he climbed out of the conveyance.

Premal showed Eli through the front doors and into a massive entryway. Protected from the unrelenting sun by the cool stone of the palace, the prince blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

The sweet smell of honeysuckle and fresh flowers filled the air. Tiled floors were swept clean of sand, and the sound of their steps echoed through the stone corridors.

A bear of a man garbed in red silk waited for the Prince of Tamryn at the end of the hall.

“Prince Eli,” the sultan bellowed as he spread his arms wide. “Welcome to Qumaref!”

“Sultan Pandhuka,” Eli said. “On behalf of Tamryn, I appreciate you extending the courtesy of a visit and hope that this will be the first step in a long and mutually rewarding friendship.”

“Ha, he said my name right!” The sultan laughed. “You have been studying, my friend.”

“Only what has been brought to us second-hand. I hope to remedy that.”

“Man of action. I appreciate that.”

Eli walked beside the sultan, and Pandhuka filled the prince’s ears with the usual idle diplomatic pleasantries as he led Eli through the palace. While Pandhuka spoke, the prince listened enough to respond, but he focused on memorizing their path and the layout of the building.

“We must celebrate your arrival, and what better way than a feast,” the sultan said. He snapped his fingers, and two guards opened the doors of an enormous banquet hall.

Large plush pillows surrounded a long table set low to the ground. A raised throne dominated the head of the table with a large chair on either side of it. A haunting melody filled the hall as servants played exotic instruments, and the scent of roasting meat teased Eli’s senses.

The sultan flopped back in the throne and waved the Prince of Tamryn into the chair on his right. Premal took the seat on the sultan’s left, and sunlight glinted off the rings the adviser wore on every finger.

Dressed in bright-colored silks, Premal’s generous midsection made the fabric billow around him like a tent. Almost comical, except for the way Premal stared at the people entering the dining hall. Like a snake stalking his next meal.

Premal was dangerous, but Eli didn’t yet know if the adviser was an ally or enemy.

Eli sat beside the sultan, and courtiers draped in beautiful silks seated themselves on the plush pillows. Conversation started out as little more than a buzz, but soon laughter and voices filled the hall.

Young men dressed only in baggy silk trousers circulated among the guests, carrying trays laden with fruit, wine and heavily spiced meats. Eli ate the fruit, sampled the wine, and avoided the meat. The spices could mask poison or conceal spoiled food. While the food was better than sea rations, Eli cared little. He ate for sustenance.

The sultan devoured the luscious offerings and called for more wine as he talked about establishing diplomatic relations with Tamryn.

Eli said little but encouraged the sultan to speak, taking mental notes of which topics Pandhuka brought up more than once.

Footmen dressed in matching poofed pants and gold-trimmed vests served dish after dish as the sultan talked. Prince Eli stayed focused and alert even as gluttony gave way to sleepiness for the courtiers. As a servant refilled the sultan’s wine glass again, a troupe of entertainers entered the hall. Even Pandhuka quieted as the troupe bowed low before him then carried their instruments to the side of the massive room.

Eli raised a brow as sensuous notes filled the hall and cascaded around him. Warm and sultry, their powerful beats silenced the idle chatter. The prince had never heard anything like it. Hypnotic, erotic, the music seeped into his blood and wrapped around his brain.

Male dancers wearing nothing but loincloths entered, their bodies undulating with the rhythm of the music. A group of young ladies followed, their sheer silk costumes decorated with shining glass beads in the same hues as the sultan’s gardens. The beads danced with the rhythmic movements of the women’s bodies and amplified the effects of the sensuous music.

The last dancer emerged, and unlike the others, she bared no flesh as the layers of sky blue silk cascaded and swirled around her. Dainty embroidered slippers covered her feet, and a sheer veil left only her hair and large eyes exposed.

She captivated Eli, and the prince ignored Pandhuka as her graceful steps and elegant movements infected him. She danced to the sultry music, the silk sliding over her curves and hinting at the beauty beneath the sumptuous fabric.

Desire swelled, and Eli’s stoic reserve slipped as he shifted in his seat to find a more comfortable position.

The copper red of her hair shimmered in the candlelight, and the prince wanted to touch it, to tangle his fingers in it.

He trapped the thought. The food, the music, the dancers, what was the sultan’s game?

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Pandhuka said.

“Yes,” Eli said. “Should you ever visit me in Tamryn, you’ll find the ballroom dancing most disappointing.”

“I hear Tamryn nights are very cold. Even colder than the desert.”

“During parts of the year, cold enough that water turns to ice.”

“Then, my friend, I shall give you something to keep you warm on those cold Tamryn nights.” The sultan laughed and motioned to the red-haired woman.

The woman stepped forward, knelt at the sultan’s feet, then bowed forward until her forehead touched the floor.

“A gift, Prince Eli.” The sultan spread his arms wide. “From my personal slaves. May she keep you warm in Tamryn.”

“You can’t!” Premal stood, his hands fisted at his sides.

“Silence!” The sultan’s voice echoed through the chamber, and the courtiers turned to stare.

Premal returned to his seat and pressed his lips together, but his fists were still balled at his sides.

The adviser’s audacity surprised Eli. Another facet to Premal, and one the prince might be able to exploit during negotiations.

Eli glanced down at the prostrate slave girl and swallowed hard as desire sliced into him. Slavery was illegal in Tamryn. Amoral. Evil. You couldn’t own a sentient being with a soul that belonged to the gods. It was one of the few Dragon Church teachings he agreed with absolutely.

And yet, as he stared down at her, he wanted her. Just as the sultan’s adviser did. Eli’s cool detachment wavered as the girl stared up at him, her cornflower-blue eyes pleading. He just didn’t know what she was pleading for him to do.

“She does not please?” the sultan asked, his tone cooling as he glared down at the slave.

Fear flickered across the girl’s face.

“She pleases me very much,” Eli said. “But I’m at a loss on how to express my gratitude for such a magnificent gift.”

The prince swallowed back his revulsion at calling the woman a gift, but his words had his desired effect.

The sultan grinned. “I’m glad you are pleased!”

Pandhuka waived the woman to Eli, and she scurried over beside her new master. The sultan then clapped his hands, and the dancing resumed.

Premal glared at Eli. The adviser may not have been an enemy, but he was now.

Eli stared back, raising a brow and waiting for the Qumarefi to look away. Premal grumbled something in his native language then turned his attention back to the entertainments.

The slave girl sat at Eli’s feet and laid her head against the prince’s thigh and leaned her soft curves against his leg. Biting back a wave of desire, Eli forced himself to watch the dancers as he stroked the girl’s copper hair.