Page 4 of Sheikh's Quarantine Triplet Baby Daughters

"So this is real," she said, almost to herself. "We're in lockdown."

"Yes, I'm afraid so, I..."

He glanced at the receptionist, who was watching everything that passed between them with interest. He liked her, he knew she was good at her job, but the palace gossip network traveled faster than lightning. She caught him looking, and straightened up.

"Your Majesty, I could contact the head of household affairs. He'll see about getting her a room in the guest wing."

"No need," Samyar said. "They're filled up with the palace staff who have elected to bring their families in. There's still room in the family wing."

He had spoken without thinking. Apparently there was still a part of him that wanted Diane as close as possible, that stated that the guest wing was simply too far away, and he ignored the chafing guilt over it.

"I'll see her installed now," he said, and he didn't relax until he knew that Diane was following him out and down the hall.

* * *

The halls of the palace were usually bustling with people, but the lockdown had left it empty and echoing, especially as they approached the portion of the palace that was actually lived in rather than open to the public. The only sound was their footsteps and the soft squeak of Diane's suitcase.

"Say something," he found himself saying, and Diane glanced at him.

"And what should I say, Your Majesty?" she asked, and he flinched.

"Don't call me that," he said. "And whatever you like. I've never told you what to talk about before, and right now, I want to hear you."

"And what do you want me to say, Samyar?" Diane demanded, her voice sparking with anger. "Do you want me to talk about what a little idiot I feel like for missing the evacuation announcement? Do you want me to talk about how afraid I am that it sounds like a global pandemic is dropping down on our heads? What about how messed up it is that I am trapped in quarantine with my ex?"

With every word, he could hear the anxiety and fear and anger in her voice, but he let out a breath of relief.

"There you are," he said without thinking.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're still you, and despite everything that has brought you here, I am grateful for it."

He expected that to make her furious, because it was, after all, maddening. They were in a terrible position, one that was outright awful, and through a series of mistakes, none that were awful on their own, she was stuck.

Instead, Diane was silent until they came to one of the guest rooms in the family wing, a door just four down from his own.

"Here, will this do?" he asked, crossing over to the silver tray kept on the desk. He found the key card that was left there while the room was occupied, but he found that she was still frozen at the door. Samyar frowned.

"What's the matter?"

"Are you kidding me?" she asked in a flat voice, looking around, and perplexed, Samyar followed her gaze.

To him, it was one of the guest rooms he had grown up with. It was a small but luxurious suite with a sitting room, a small entertainment center, a bedroom and a decent bathroom equipped with a hot tub and a good shower. His aunts and uncles had used them when they came to visit, and he and his cousins had played cards and video games late into the night on holidays.

"What's the matter?" he asked, concerned, and Diane waved around at the room.

"This place is incredible," she said almost accusingly, stepping into the room and letting the door close behind her. "This is like something out of Versailles, if someone had looked at Versailles and said hmm, but maybe we could make it fancier..."

"Is... that a problem?" asked Samyar, baffled. Maybe there was some problem he couldn't see. He had not had very much sleep in the last little while.

Diane offered him a wry smile, and oh, but it made his heart ache. He remembered that smile. More than almost anything else, it told him that they were fine. They were together, things might be going weirdly or badly, but they were together, and that was the only thing that mattered.

"No," she said. "I guess if I were home in Paris, I'd be holed up in my apartment listening to Madame Gaspard in 201 scream at her son-in-law. Instead it looks like I get to shelter here in the lap of luxury."

Samyar offered her a slight smile in return.

"A gilded cage is still a cage, but I hope you find your confinement less onerous than it might be."

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