Page 2 of Sheikh's Quarantine Triplet Baby Daughters

"You are being kept safe in better conditions than most of the world enjoys."

Diane sputtered.

"And that doesn't mean a damned thing if I can't leave! Look, let me talk to someone else, all right? Let me talk to an administrator, someone who can make this decision."

"Really? You want to talk to my manager? You know what, fine. Fine. You can be someone else's problem for a while. Right down the hall, take a right. Door at the end of the hall. That's palace policy and administration. They're going to tell you the same thing that I have, but at least I can get some work done."

Diane sighed, because she knew how unpleasant she was being, but she couldn't be here. If this was a real pandemic, she wanted to be in France, in her own apartment. The royal palace of Alraed was admittedly more luxurious by far, but the longer she stayed, the more likely it was that she was going to come face to face with—

The policy office looked the most normal out of all the places she had been yet. There was a receptionist who looked as if she had been at her job for decades, and she gave Diane a careful look.

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Diane Warner. They forgot me in the museum wing, and now they're telling me that I can't leave? I need to get out, I—"

"No one is leaving," she said firmly. "Palace protocol. You were given the chance to leave—"

"I wasn't! I keep telling people, I didn't hear it, and I'm leaving, there's nothing that hurts you if I'm leaving the country."

Her words caught in her throat as the door to the inner office opened, and a tall, lean man in a sharply-cut blue suit came out.

"We're not just interested in stopping the spread of the virus throughout our country," he said with the air of someone who had given the same talk many times. "We need to be cognizant of the spread to our neighbors as well, and that's why ..."

The man's words trailed off, and now Diane was looking into the same pair of golden eyes that haunted her dreams.

It was Samyar, five years older, wearing a nicer suit than she had ever seen him in, clean-shaven rather than with a dark scruff on his jaw, but unmistakably him.

It was the King of Alraed, and her heart beat as if it wanted to fly straight to him again.

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