His Hidden Heir - Introduction
Al-Sintra Family
Jemma’s story…
“I’m so proud of you!” Jemma’s mother, Jenny, whispered. “Look at you! All graduated and with a job on the way!”
A snort from behind warned Jemma and Jenny that Jemma’s brother, Jasper, was nearby. Yeah, her mom had a weird thing for names starting with the letter J.
Both Jenny and Jemma turned, laughing at Jasper. He was ten years younger than Jemma, but they had a special bond.
“You’re a dork,” Jasper declared, his eyes bright with their usual challenge.
“You’re a dweeb,” Jemma came right back. Then both of them snorted with laughter at their stupid, brother-sister joke. A moment later, Jasper threw himself into Jemma’s arms. He was already the same height as Jemma, so he was able to whisper in her ear, “You’re also awesome!”
Jemma closed her eyes, then laughed when they felt their mother’s arms around both of them. The other graduates mingled around the trio, but they ignored them. This was their moment. It had been tough getting to this point after Jemma and Jasper’s father left. But they’d overcome all the obstacles. Jemma had graduated from college with her business degree and even had a great job lined up. Things were going to be okay.
Jenny pulled back first, wiping tears of joy from her eyes. She sniffed once, then looked at her “kids”. “Both of you are so amazing. Let’s go have some dinner to celebrate!”
Jemma pulled back, shaking her head. “Mom, I don’t need…,” she started, only for her mother to lift her hand, stopping the words.
“You just graduated from college, dear. We’re going to celebrate.”
“Mom, I know that you can’t afford a restaurant.”
Jenny chuckled. “There’s no way we’re celebrating this event with the rest of the world. I made a picnic. Jasper helped.”
Jasper looked out at the world through the mess of curls on his head. “I only made the cookies,” he explained, shrugging in that awkward, self-conscious way that all male teenagers learned to do.
Jemma hugged him, then her mom again, sniffing back the tears. “A picnic sounds absolutely perfect!” Jemma wondered if she and her family could ever dig themselves out of the paycheck to paycheck mode that they’d been living in for the past…however many years it had been. But they’d made it. She’d graduated from university today and she could help with the monthly expenses after she started her job. Yeah, things were looking better and better!
Saif’s Story…
No one was watching.
At least, that’s what Prince Saif believed as he ducked beneath the stable archway before dawn, a single apple tucked into his palm and a dog-eared book wedged under his arm.
The palace was still asleep, the desert sky bruised with the lavender blush of morning. Even the servants hadn’t stirred yet.
Only the stallion was awake.
The beast stood in the farthest corner of his stall, eyes dark and distrustful. His flanks twitched at every sound. His coat bore the scars of whips, and his ears were nearly always pinned back.
He’d been gifted to the palace by a desert tribe, along with a warning: don’t get close.
But Saif had come back every morning for the past twelve days.
He’d never told anyone. Not his tutors. Not the grooms. Not even his father.
He didn’t want an audience. He didn’t want praise.
He just wanted the stallion to stop flinching.
Across the yard, concealed in the upper level of the training arena, Sheik Raj and Sheik Khal stood behind a dusty half-curtain, watching.
“He thinks he’s alone,” Raj murmured, arms folded across his chest.
“Good,” Khal replied, sipping black coffee. “You learn more about a man when he believes no one is looking.”
In the stable, Saif slowly lowered himself to the straw-covered floor just outside the stall. He didn’t look directly at the stallion. That would have been a threat.
He opened the book instead.
His voice was soft, the words steady—something about a soldier lost in the mountains, trying to find his way home.
He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t beg for attention. He just read.
The stallion didn’t approach. But his ears flicked forward.
Raj noticed. So did Khal.
“That’s new,” Khal whispered.
“First time,” Raj confirmed, barely breathing.
On the thirteenth day, Saif brought water instead of an apple. Left it and retreated.
On the fourteenth day, he hummed a quiet tune his mother used to sing when he was small.
On the fifteenth day, he stepped into the stall.
Khal muttered a curse under his breath. “That boy is either very brave or very foolish.”
“He’s both,” Raj replied. “But mostly brave.”
They watched as Saif moved slowly, hands relaxed at his sides. The stallion didn’t charge. Didn’t bare his teeth.
He simply…watched.
Saif sank to his knees and waited.
That was all.
They stayed like that for nearly an hour.
Then, cautiously, the stallion took one step forward.
Then another.
And finally—so softly it was easy to miss—the stallion lowered his head and blew warm air against Saif’s chest.
From the shadows above, Raj exhaled. It sounded like a prayer.
Khal let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Raj didn’t speak. He couldn’t.
He was too busy watching his son stroke the stallion’s cheek—tentatively, reverently—like he was touching a wounded brother, not a beast twice his size.
“Don’t tell him we saw,” Raj finally murmured.
Khal raised an eyebrow. “Not even a word?”
Raj shook his head. “Not yet. This is his. Let him believe it was always between him and the horse.”
Below, unaware of his audience, Saif leaned his forehead against the stallion’s and whispered something into the creature’s ear.
Whatever he said, it made the horse close his eyes.
And finally rest.
