todream of going back, taking Adrianne, of showing her daughter a world beyond the laws and limitations of Jaquir.
But even as she dreamed, she didn’t believe it possible. So she took her escape where she could find it, in tranquilizers and forbidden liquor.
She was not a sophisticated woman. In spite of her rise in the glittery world of entertainment, she had remained very much the naive girl from the small farm in Nebraska. In her days in movie making, she had seen drinking and drug use. But in a way that was innate to her, she passed over what was unpleasant and believed in illusions.
In Jaquir she became an addict, though she was ignorant of it. Drugs made the days bearable and blurred the nights. She had lived in the Middle East almost as long as she had lived in California, but with drugs she blissfully lost track of time and of the fact that she had become as much of an illusion here as the women she had played on the screen.
To be called to Abdu’s apartments filled Phoebe with fear. They never spoke privately now. In public, when he wished it, they portrayed themselves as a couple from a romance. The breathtaking movie star and the elegant king. Though Abdu detested cameras, he allowed the press to photograph them together. He trod a delicate line between the traditional leader of his culture and the symbol of progress. But dollars, deutsche marks, and yen were flowing into his country as oil flowed out.
He was a man who had been educated in the West and who could dine with presidents and prime ministers, leaving them with the impression of a brilliant and open mind. He had been raised in Jaquir, bred on Islam. In his youth he had believed there could be a merging. Now he saw the West only as a threat, even an abomination to Allah. Those beliefs had crystallized because of Phoebe. She was his symbol of the corruption and the dishonor.
He looked at her now as she stood before him in a black dress that covered her from neck to ankle. Her hair was bound in a scarf so that not a hint of fire showed. Her skin was pale, not as creamy as it once had been, and her eyes were dull.
Drugs, Abdu thought with disgust. He knew about them but chose to ignore them.
He tapped a finger on the edge of his ebony desk, knowing every moment he made her wait her fear increased. “You have been invited to Paris to participate in a charity ball:”
“Paris?”
“It appears that there has been a revival of your films. Perhaps people find it amusing to watch the wife of the King of Jaquir expose herself.”
Her head snapped up. He was smiling at her, waiting for her to protest so that he could crush even that small defiance. But she spoke quietly. “There was a time the King of Jaquir was also pleased to watch Phoebe Spring.”
His smile faded. He remembered with self-loathing the hours he had spent watching her, desiring her. “It is thought that your presence would be of interest to those who attend this charity affair.”
Phoebe fought to keep calm, to keep her voice level. “You will permit me to go to Paris?”
“I have business there. It will be convenient for my American wife to accompany me and show Jaquir’s link with the West. You understand what is expected of you.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” It wouldn’t do to appear too pleased, but she couldn’t prevent a smile. “A ball. In Paris?”
“A dress is being designed. You will wear The Sun and the Moon and present yourself as expected of the wife of the King of Jaquir. If you cause me shame, you will ‘develop an indisposition’ and be sent back at once.”
“I understand perfectly.” The idea of Paris, just the idea, made her stronger. “Adrianne—”
“Arrangements have been made for her,” Abdu interrupted.
“Arrangements?” She felt the lick of fear at the base of her neck. She should have remembered that whenever Abdu gave with one hand, he took with the other. “What kind of arrangements?”
“They do not concern
But even as she dreamed, she didn’t believe it possible. So she took her escape where she could find it, in tranquilizers and forbidden liquor.
She was not a sophisticated woman. In spite of her rise in the glittery world of entertainment, she had remained very much the naive girl from the small farm in Nebraska. In her days in movie making, she had seen drinking and drug use. But in a way that was innate to her, she passed over what was unpleasant and believed in illusions.
In Jaquir she became an addict, though she was ignorant of it. Drugs made the days bearable and blurred the nights. She had lived in the Middle East almost as long as she had lived in California, but with drugs she blissfully lost track of time and of the fact that she had become as much of an illusion here as the women she had played on the screen.
To be called to Abdu’s apartments filled Phoebe with fear. They never spoke privately now. In public, when he wished it, they portrayed themselves as a couple from a romance. The breathtaking movie star and the elegant king. Though Abdu detested cameras, he allowed the press to photograph them together. He trod a delicate line between the traditional leader of his culture and the symbol of progress. But dollars, deutsche marks, and yen were flowing into his country as oil flowed out.
He was a man who had been educated in the West and who could dine with presidents and prime ministers, leaving them with the impression of a brilliant and open mind. He had been raised in Jaquir, bred on Islam. In his youth he had believed there could be a merging. Now he saw the West only as a threat, even an abomination to Allah. Those beliefs had crystallized because of Phoebe. She was his symbol of the corruption and the dishonor.
He looked at her now as she stood before him in a black dress that covered her from neck to ankle. Her hair was bound in a scarf so that not a hint of fire showed. Her skin was pale, not as creamy as it once had been, and her eyes were dull.
Drugs, Abdu thought with disgust. He knew about them but chose to ignore them.
He tapped a finger on the edge of his ebony desk, knowing every moment he made her wait her fear increased. “You have been invited to Paris to participate in a charity ball:”
“Paris?”
“It appears that there has been a revival of your films. Perhaps people find it amusing to watch the wife of the King of Jaquir expose herself.”
Her head snapped up. He was smiling at her, waiting for her to protest so that he could crush even that small defiance. But she spoke quietly. “There was a time the King of Jaquir was also pleased to watch Phoebe Spring.”
His smile faded. He remembered with self-loathing the hours he had spent watching her, desiring her. “It is thought that your presence would be of interest to those who attend this charity affair.”
Phoebe fought to keep calm, to keep her voice level. “You will permit me to go to Paris?”
“I have business there. It will be convenient for my American wife to accompany me and show Jaquir’s link with the West. You understand what is expected of you.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” It wouldn’t do to appear too pleased, but she couldn’t prevent a smile. “A ball. In Paris?”
“A dress is being designed. You will wear The Sun and the Moon and present yourself as expected of the wife of the King of Jaquir. If you cause me shame, you will ‘develop an indisposition’ and be sent back at once.”
“I understand perfectly.” The idea of Paris, just the idea, made her stronger. “Adrianne—”
“Arrangements have been made for her,” Abdu interrupted.
“Arrangements?” She felt the lick of fear at the base of her neck. She should have remembered that whenever Abdu gave with one hand, he took with the other. “What kind of arrangements?”
“They do not concern
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