The palace woke beneath a sun that bled gold into the desert.

The sand outside shimmered in waves, and the call of distant birds drifted through the carved windows. Inside, the palace was quiet. The harem chamber lay empty. The gardens still smelled of roses. But Amira wasn’t in the harem anymore.

She was in his bed.

The silk sheets still clung to her bare skin, warm and damp from the night before. The faint bruises on her thighs were proof of everything he had taken from her in the ...