HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS

Prologue

Mahmood Muhammad Al-Amin stared at the large two-storey building in front of him with bright lights and the blinking neon image of a naked woman wrapped around a pole. A mixture of anxiety and disgust settled in his stomach. As a religious man, he'd never been to a strip club before, but he'd seen enough in movies to be able to picture all the manners of perversions that went on in there. And for the umpteenth time, he had to wonder if he wasn't crazy for getting into his car and driving for hours only to end up at The Dollhouse, a well-known strip club in the heart of Abuja. Even though there was a perfectly good reason for that.

His fingers clenched around the wheel of his BMW now as he felt it again—that sinister feeling he'd been having in his chest lately. A lingering ache that was like a gentle squeezing hand around his heart. He closed his eyes momentarily while he wrestled with it and tried to even out his breathing. As a little boy it had taken him time to understand what the feeling meant and why it came to him often. He'd learnt that it was his body's way of warning him of certain things that were impending. He'd learnt that somehow he was special. And he was the only one.

As far as he knew, no other member of his family had premonitions. He called them premonitions because they weren't ordinary dreams. They were visions of people and events that were to take place in the near future. Sometimes they came as clear as day, spooky to the extent in which they revealed the exact details of time and place something was going to happen. Most times however, they were vague, confusing, but consistent in the message of doom.

Doom. That was the exact word the soothsayer had used—a strange, old, male beggar he'd offered charity to at the mosque a couple of weeks ago. Something bad was coming, the man had prophesized, clutching Mahmood's kaftan so he would listen to him and believe what he was telling him. Being psychic himself, Mahmood hadn't needed more convincing than the anxious look in the man's eyes and how desperately he'd held on to his clothing.

They were in danger, the old man had foreseen. They, meaning Mahmood's family, the great Al-Amin dynasty. He could see blood, death and intense sorrow coming their way soon. They were currently the ruling family in Gwarzo, but not for much longer. Soon something bad was going to happen that would force the power of kingship in the emirate to shift to another family. Someone else would be emir after his family had been put to ruins. Very soon, it would all come to pass if something urgent wasn't done about it.

Confused, Mahmood had asked what the solution was and he'd been shocked by the old man's response.

"You have to find someone...a woman. She goes by the name Zara...Zara Sanusi. You are familiar with this woman, way back from the past."

Zara was the faceless woman in the dreams he'd been having recently, shortly before he met the old man. The little girl who'd been his best friend and classmate at the palace primary school he'd attended decades ago. The old man's prediction had helped him understand the dreams better.

"You have to find this woman, Son," he'd warned. "You have to make peace with her. She is very angry with your family. Appease her or else she would inevitably be the downfall of you and your family. She would cause you nothing but death and destruction."

There was a lot Mahmood hadn't understood at that moment in which he now did. And like the old man had stressed, time was running out. He could feel it in the frequency and persistence of his dreams. Whatever evil was to befall them, it was close...frighteningly close. Finding this woman, Zara, was the key to stopping it.

She'd been only six years old when she'd disappeared with her parents. And he'd never seen or heard from any of them again. He doubted anyone else had. His sad seven year old mind then could never comprehend or accept why they'd had to leave, even though the story behind their departure then didn't make much sense to him now. Zara's mother had been a maid in the palace, her father a palace guard. Both of them had opted to leave the palace where life had been considerably better for them, only to relocate to some poor remote village somewhere to begin farming.

His dreams, they were never wrong, and as lucid as they were this time had eventually shown him a clear picture of where to find Zara. Though he had no idea what the adult version of her looked like, he was convinced that once he looked into those huge, brown smiley eyes he had never been able to forget even after all these years, he would recognize her instantly.

Out of the curiosity of wanting to know more about the woman he hadn't seen in almost thirty years, Mahmood had carried out an extensive investigation on her. The result had revealed facts that had rocked him to the very foundation of his being, and which made finding her even more important to him now.

Mahmood's skin crawled imagining her as one of those women in the club, virtually naked, pole dancing or performing lap dances or God knows what other acts on randy men. No woman should have to be subjected to that level of shameless degradation. Anger made him want to charge in there right away, find her and drag her out of the place.

Releasing the air in his lungs in a ragged breath, he forced himself to relax. He'd come too far to ruin things at the last minute by getting himself thrown out of the club for harassing a stripper to whom he would no doubt appear as a madman. It wasn't today Zara began working at The Dollhouse. From everything he'd found out, she'd had a pretty rough life. Her story was a very sad one. It brought tears to his eyes knowing everything she'd had to do to survive all these years on the streets after her parents' demise. And finally, he thought, she'd ended up here—a high-end strip club. It was where the investigative trail for her had ended, which was why every nerve in him told him he would find her here. Tonight.

With one final look in his rear view mirror, Mahmood adjusted the baseball cap he had on, sitting it properly on his head. He hoped it was sufficient to hide his face for the short time he needed to spend in there. He didn't even want to begin imagining the sort of headlines there would be if anyone recognized him and a picture of him in a strip club ended up in the news. As the son to one of the most powerful traditional rulers in the country, and the successor to the throne, he couldn't afford a scandal like that.

Without wasting any more time, he pushed open the car door and stepped out. The earlier he got this over with, the better, he decided. Immediately, he was greeted by the warm night air and the strong sound of club music. He lingered for a minute by the closed door wondering how Zara would receive him. Life no doubt had transformed her. He wasn't expecting to meet the sweet little girl he'd once known. But would she at least remember him and the life she'd once had in the palace? Young as they were then, they'd shared a unique bond that had kept her memory fresh in his mind all these years. He wasn't sure if it was the same for her, but he was soon going to find out.

Saying a quick prayer in his mind, he puffed out a breath and took bold strides towards the entrance. His fears tucked aside, he reminded himself that he'd come so far already. He was so close now to the woman he was looking for. His entire mind was so set on finding her here tonight that he didn't even want to think of what would happen if he didn't.

Because that was not an option, he told himself. Whatever happened, he had to find her. He had to.