This wasn’t exactly how Ledi had imagined her evening would play out. Clad in a too short robe and perched on a stool—a fancy, upholstered one, but a stool nonetheless. The fabric covering the seat was itchy against the backs of her thighs. Or maybe that was her nerves. Whatever it was, Ledi couldn’t sit still.
“I would rather not be known as the woman who maimed the future queen,” Nya warned with a faint smile before attempting to line Ledi’s eyes with kohl for the tenth time. Ledi sucked in a breath and stilled herself as Nya finished.
Nothing was as she’d expected. She thought she’d immediately be taken to her room, be able to gather her wits alone, and then meet with the local epidemiologists. But although she was thinking of the trip as field study, everyone else saw this as her homecoming and the reinstatement of her betrothal to Thabiso. Both had to be celebrated before she could get down to work, apparently.
She regretted not consulting Portia about her wardrobe; most of what she’d brought with her was laughably inappropriate, and she was cringing thinking of the photos taken at the airport. Her uncle had ordered her a dress, which was en route; he was apparently an important person in the Thesoloian kingdom because people seemed happy to do his bidding at the snap of a finger. Ledi had often fantasized about breaking the thumbs of restaurant patrons who snapped at her, but she’d decided to cut her uncle some slack. He’d been nice enough, though she’d nodded off in the car as he discussed Jarami pride and how Ledi could change the future of Thesolo. That was after interrogating her about her parents, which, while understandable, wasn’t exactly fun for someone who couldn’t remember them at all. He was . . . Focused. But he treated her with a somewhat cloying affection that she’d heard other people complain about when relatives visited.
I have a family. She tried not to get too excited about it. Alehk hadn’t spoken much about her grandparents in the midst of his discussion of duty to one’s country, probably because they weren’t doing so well. Nya’s somber expression spoke volumes, though.
“Can I have some more of that tea your dad gave me?” Ledi asked. “It was good.” She’d tried to stay hydrated on the plane, and the stewardess had urged her to drink water and use the scented oils and facial masks, but she was more parched than when she’d landed.
“You should taste the water fresh from our mountain springs. They say they were blessed by Ingoka and that the water is imbued with the essence of Thesolo itself.” Nya headed over to a glazed clay pitcher and poured Ledi a drink into a matching cup.
Ledi had read enough to know that Ingoka was the main deity worshipped in Thesolo and that she, and the priestesses who worshipped her, were an important part of Thesoloian culture.
She took a sip of the water, and though it wasn’t quite as tasty as good old New York City tap water, it was a close second.
There was a knock at the door of the dressing room, and two women dressed in the purple shirts and black slacks that identified palace staff rushed in. One woman held a garment bag high over her head, the other had a small utility case in each hand, and the expressions on both of their faces were so serious as to be comical. They were like some tactical fashion team from the reality shows Ledi put on while studying sometimes.
“You did your makeup already?” the taller, curvier woman asked, crestfallen.
“Was I not supposed to?” Judging from the way they loomed over her, that answer was no.
“Jolie is an experienced makeup artist, in demand by all the Nollywood starlets,” the woman holding the dress explained.
“I can remove the makeup,” Nya said quickly, reaching for a box of tissues, but Ledi stopped her. There was something about how quickly she acquiesced that Ledi didn’t like.
“No. It’s my face and I love what you did, so it stays,” Ledi said, feeling oddly protective. “And I have my own lipstick, too. I’m sorry, Jolie.”
“Fine,” the dress woman said, muscling Nya out of the way. “First, we’ll do something with your hair, and then we’ll get you into this dress.”
Jolie set down her makeup case and moved behind Ledi, tugging at the tight curls that framed her face.
“I thought my hair was already done,” Ledi said. Both women had their hair straightened, and she wasn’t going to submit to a hot comb for Thabiso or anyone. The two women looked at each other.
“Come now, girl. You are betrothed to His Royal Highness Prince—”
“Yes, I know who he is,” Ledi interrupted.
“Do you know that he’s topped the Continent’s Hottest Man list three years running? Not to mention making lists around the globe?” Jolie asked as she began gathering Ledi’s hair into a ponytail, smoothing the thick curls back with her hand before reaching for a soft brush. She caught Ledi’s gaze in the mirror and pointed the brush at her. “The line of hopeful brides could stretch from here to the Maghreb.”
Ledi tried not to show how sick that thought made her. “And your point is?”
She knew what the point was: Thabiso had a huge pool of possible brides to choose from. Ledi knew what her chances were in that kind of situation. She’d learned it over and over again every time she’d stuffed her belongings into a black garbage bag and left her temporary home with a social worker at her side.
No one chooses you.
“All we mean to say is that certain families here have set their hats for him. Each time he turned down what could have been prosperous alliances, they believed their chances increased. If you go out there looking like anything other than the woman destined to be princess, there’s a line of people waiting to tear you apart,” Jolie said, curling her hands into claws and slashing in Ledi’s general direction. “You may have been born here, but right now you’re a greedy American coming to take what’s ours.”
The dress woman cleared her throat and Jolie looked chastened.
“Or so people might say.”
Ledi’s palms were sweating and nervous nausea made her clutch her stomach. The problem with compartmentalization was that she had separated all the emotional aspects of the trip—fear, anger, apprehension, anxiety—into various boxes. One by one those boxes were being knocked over, and the resulting mess wouldn’t be pretty.
“Anyone who might say that would be a fool,” Nya said, coming to stand beside Ledi. “Thabiso is a man, not a prize, and if he and Ledi have been lucky enough to find love, everyone should celebrate that.” She spoke in a voice that brooked no discussion. “And any Thesoloian with a problem might want to take it up with the priestesses.”
There was silence after that, except for the rustling of the dress as the other woman prepared it and the sound of Ledi’s hair being twisted and pinned.
“All done,” Jolie said after what seemed like an eternity. Ledi turned to look into the mirror and did a double take. Her hair had been pulled into a high, round bun, a simple sleek look that had been made regal by dozens of crystal-tipped rose gold pins. Her bun had become an elegant, jewel-studded crown. She pulled her shoulders back and raised a hand to touch it.
“Thank you. It looks beautiful.”
Jolie made a sound that was both “you’re welcome” and “duh,” as if it had never been in doubt that she’d make her look amazing.
“Now for the dress,” the other woman said. “Alehk really went all out with this one.”
Ledi turned and saw the woman holding out what seemed to be a pile of black and red silk. She stepped into the opening and sucked in her breath as it was zipped from behind, watching the dress take shape as the zipper made its way up. When the woman stepped away, Ledi stared at herself in disbelief.
The black bodice was formfitting, with a sweetheart neckline and frilly off-the-shoulder straps. The skirt billowed out around her, frothy black and red layers of silk and taffeta that gave the effect of a blooming, fantastical rose. The lavish dress paired with the elegant crown updo and Nya’s top-notch makeup job had transformed her into someone else entirely. Perhaps the woman she would have been if her parents had never taken her to New York.
“The prince will not be able to tear his gaze from you tonight,” Nya said. “And your red lip stain will match perfectly.”
Ledi let Jolie apply the lip liner and stain, not wanting to step on any more toes, then checked herself out in the mirror.
“Wow,” she said, allowing herself a moment of vanity.
“Wow,” Jolie repeated with a little laugh. Ledi thought she was mocking her, but when she glanced at her, Jolie seemed to be genuinely entertained. “Is that what Americans say? Yes. ‘Wow,’ indeed. Cool.”
In the mirror, Ledi noticed Nya looking at the tube of lip stain wistfully. Nya’s dress was simple instead of sumptuous, loose fitting instead of accentuating her slim curves. Her hair was wrapped in a black headwrap, but that was simply done, too, not like the structural marvels Ledi had seen at the gala. She wore no makeup. She was lovely, but there was an air of neglect about her that was concerning. Ledi wondered why Alehk had lavished her with this gift while his own daughter was in Cinderelly-clean-the-kitchen mode.
“Do you want to try some?” she asked.
“That is too bold for me. Red is not for dark-skinned girls anyway,” Nya said.
“Says who?” Ledi tilted her head and regarded her cousin. “I’m the same color as you.”
“But.” Nya eyed the lip stain covetously. “You’re a New Yorker. I’m just a village teacher.”
Ah. That explained the “shut up and sit down” tone she’d used on Jolie.
“I’m a waitress and a glorified number cruncher,” Ledi countered. “You’re not exactly speaking to a paragon of glamor.”
Ledi hadn’t known the woman for more than a few hours, but already she could see the resemblances that went deeper than the surface. The way Nya folded in on herself and tried to be inconspicuous, for example.
“Tell anyone who asks that the bossy American made you do it,” Ledi said, unscrewing the wand from the tube and handing it over. She watched as Nya carefully applied the bright color, and saw the way her eyes lit up when she looked at herself in the mirror.
“Jolie, since you didn’t get to do my makeup, can you do hers instead?”
A few minutes later, Nya had been contoured, concealed, rouged, and eyelashed. Her headwrap had also been redone in a style they’d called gele, a fancier, more structured shape. She had already been lovely, but now she looked like a star.
“This calls for a selfie,” Ledi said, and struck a ridiculous pose beside Nya in the mirror. She snapped a series of photos and chose the best one: when both of them had burst out laughing, red lips stretched wide.
She was in the process of texting it to Portia before she remembered that she wasn’t talking to her. It seemed like a sin to waste such a good selfie though, so she went to her InstaPhoto account to upload it. So what if she only had three followers and one of them was Portia? She had no one else to share the current weirdness of her life with.
When she opened the account she noticed what must have been an error: thousands of notifications. She definitely had more than three followers now, and she’d been tagged in at least a hundred photos. Her stepping off of the plane. Thabiso looking down into her eyes like he actually cared.
“Yasssss (Literal) Queen! Relationship goals: someone who looks at me like PT looks at his fiancé! #RoyalReunion” the caption read.
“Ugh, so jealous!” read the first response.
“Her? Really?” read the third.
She left the app without uploading her photo and put the phone away. She hadn’t entirely thought this thing through. She reminded herself that it didn’t matter what strangers on the internet said, anyway. This whole relationship was a scam, and Thabiso was just another person who didn’t particularly care if she stuck around.
“And then you can go home.”
Still . . . That “Her? Really?” pricked at Ledi’s pride. She pulled out the phone and uploaded the photo of her and Nya, captioning it with a sly smile emoji.
Yes, her, you jerk. Really.
“Come, ladies, enough dillydallying. Time for us to make our entrance!” Alehk knocked at the door with an annoyed vigor, as if it was his fifth time coming around when it was really his first.
“Sorry,” Nya said, and Ledi could tell that she was used to apologizing for the man. It was then Ledi realized that her cousin hadn’t spoken of a significant other or children or home of her own. Not for the first time that day, she wondered if she would have turned out more like Nya if she’d never left Thesolo, or if Nya would have been more like her.
They stepped out into the hall and were whisked into a whirl of color that made the African charity gala look like small potatoes. Alehk kept up a steady stream of conversation that Ledi pretended to follow, although she didn’t catch a word of it. There was too much to see.
The royal guard lined the long hallway leading to the ballroom, each clad in a crisp blue uniform with a sabre hanging from one hip and a horn from the other. The hall was full of people making their way into the room, but her eyes immediately focused on one.
Thabiso stood at the end of the line of sentries, gazing at her. He wore what appeared to be a traditional black suit, the top a longer robe-type garment with a high collar, instead of a formal tux like Alehk was wearing.
“Clinging to the old ways, as usual,” Alehk muttered before clapping her on the shoulder. “Hopefully, you can change that.”
“Hmm,” she replied.
Thesolo was consistently listed as one of the most progressive countries in the world, with more technological and environmental advancements being put in place as Thabiso took on a larger role in government. She’d never seen him use a cell phone, but she wouldn’t exactly call him backward thinking. And if that outfit signified the old ways, then the old ways were quite all right by her.
The suit was finely tailored, enhancing his broad shoulders, accentuating the width of his chest and the taper of his waist. The hems of his sleeves were piped in scarlet, matching her dress.
Alehk released her arm and gave Thabiso a grimace. Nya gave her a thumbs-up before being pulled along with her father. Then she was gone, and there was just Ledi and the weight of Thabiso’s gaze.
Her skin felt suddenly taut and sensitive, betraying her resolve to be unmoved when it came to Thabiso. She knew the technical reason behind her arousal; what she didn’t understand was how she could still feel that way after he’d lied to her. After he’d pretended to be Jamal, making her laugh, making her lov—
Hey now. What was that?
Just the possibility of the unfinished thought made her want to turn and run back to the airport, but her traitorous feet kept carrying her forward until she stood close enough that she had to look up at him. She steeled herself, reminded herself that this was not the man she’d grown close to over the last week.
“Prince Thabiso,” she said, his name another barrier she could throw up between them.
“My beautiful betrothed,” he responded. He said the last word so warmly that anyone watching would think he was a man looking forward to marriage. Then again, she’d never thought Jamal might be a prince in disguise before the night he’d stepped onstage. Her chest tightened at the memory.
“Are you sure you’re not too tired to attend this event?” he asked. His hand went to her shoulder in concern, and she closed her eyes against the pleasure of his touch on her bare skin.
She was exhausted. She had no idea what time it was in NYC, but she was jet-lagged, and meeting her family and an entire nation of people had compounded that. She hadn’t factored in that Thabiso’s presence would be this hard; she’d only known him a few days—he should have been out of her system. Men had done hurtful things to her before, and Ledi had always been able to move on quickly. With Thabiso, she’d actually been hurt, which made things a bit more difficult.
“I’m fine,” she said.
He nodded, then took her arm gently. “A Thesoloian celebration can last for days, but I’ll have you out of here in a couple of hours, just in case you stop feeling fine.”
“I think I can handle a dinner,” she replied curtly, then they stepped into the dining room and she regretted her attitude. The dining room was huge, with cantilevered ceilings and rich tapestries hanging from the walls. The long dining table on a raised area, clearly for the guests of honor, was on the other side of the room. To get to it, they had to walk a gauntlet of people who were apparently all there to meet Naledi.
“Here we go,” he whispered, brushing a caress over the back of her hand, and then they were off. After the first ten people, Ledi barely remembered shaking anyone’s hand or kissing anyone’s cheek. She couldn’t recall a single name, and she didn’t know what she was laughing at when people joked—she simply followed Thabiso’s lead.
“My my, you look just like your mother!” an older man said, after nearly cutting off circulation in her hand. All of the older people she’d met had said something similar, although there was no consensus on which of her parents she resembled more. She smiled and nodded, but all she could think of each time someone mentioned it was that they’d known her parents better than she had.
“Yes, Ledi is surpassingly beautiful,” Thabiso said, clapping the man on the back heartily enough that he dropped Ledi’s hand. He ran interference for her constantly, stepping in every time she was at a loss for words or overwhelmed. “They’re about to serve the salads. We should get to our seats.”
He tucked her arm in his again, and though Ledi had resented the gesture before, she was fairly certain he was holding her up. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since they’d descended onto the main floor, but it could have been days given how many hands she’d shaken and how tired she was. She didn’t want to lean into him, but she was a practical woman and he was the nearest source of support. She leaned.
“You’re doing very well,” he said in the same tone a teacher would use when giving out participation trophies.
She laughed and even that small action left her feeling a bit unsteady. She stumbled and Thabiso stopped and looked down at her. “Ledi. You do not seem fine.”
“I’m not,” she admitted. “Can we sit down?”
He led her to her seat, near the head of the table, and the other guests began to follow suit.
The king and queen were already seated, and she greeted them with as much energy as she could muster. Her head was spinning and she wanted nothing more than to sleep.
“There we go,” Thabiso said as he helped her into her seat. He was so gentle with her that she had to close her eyes against it. Perhaps a bit too gentle.
“Don’t tell me she’s pregnant!” The queen’s indignant whisper jolted Ledi’s eyes open.
“Mother,” Thabiso warned.
“Is that what this is all about? Honestly—”
“I’m not pregnant,” Ledi said. She was too tired and out of sorts to feign politeness. “I know how to use a condom correctly, but I also have an IUD in case of accidents and just had my period. Need anything else cleared up? Want me to pee on a stick for you?”
“Naledi,” Thabiso choked.
The king picked up his glass of wine and took a hearty drink. The queen regarded her with a strange look that Ledi ignored.
She wondered if that’s what everyone thought. That she had entrapped him with a baby, or some other soap opera nonsense. The thought distressed her, then she remembered that they were actually pulling off something even more audacious and she smiled. She wasn’t pleased to be his pretend betrothed, but having that secret felt like a special fuck you to his parents, who were doing their best to make her feel unwelcome.
“You’re smiling,” Nya said as she sat down beside her. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I’m feeling a bit ill, but I think it’s just the jet lag,” Ledi said.
Nya’s smile faltered. She reached into her purse and handed Ledi a small bottle. “Can’t have you feeling out of sorts. It’s a local cure-all. It should help with any queasiness and fatigue. Take one with some water.”
Ledi scanned the ingredients before opening the bottle, shaking out one of the giant capsules and swallowing. When she tried to hand it back, Nya shook her head. “I have more at home. I’m sure you’ll need it, since the next few days are going to be very busy for you. Take one in the morning and one before bed.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Ledi began to feel better shortly after, but as dinner progressed she started to wonder if maybe Nya had slipped her a hallucinogen.
Is this really my life?
She was fairly well versed in international cuisine, but the variety of rich stews, tender meats, and desserts that ran the gamut from sweet to sour was like some kind of fairy-tale feast. Ledi considered herself an awesome server, but she had nothing on the palace waitstaff. At times it felt as if food was appearing by magic in front of her and her dirty plates were disappearing into the ether. She half expected one of the candelabras to start singing and offer her a treat by the time the last dish was taken away.
Nya helped her navigate through Thesoloian society from one side, pointing out important people and providing gossip about others. The king and queen sat across the table, occasionally asking questions of Ledi that were either purposefully insulting or only sounded that way because of cultural miscommunication. Ledi was fairly certain it was the former, though; she only spoke English, but was fluent in shade.
“So an epidemiologist?” the queen asked between delicate bites of her meal. “Not a doctor? It’s best when one knows one’s limitations.”
“Doctors diagnose diseases, Mother. Epidemiologists save the world from them,” Thabiso said from her other side, where he’d remained mostly silent throughout the meal. Instead of making jokes, he’d responded to his parents’ questions with clipped responses. Each time he tried to talk to her, he’d been interrupted by a minister or an advisor or a priestess, all demanding his time and pressuring him about one thing or another. She started to feel vicariously stressed on his behalf, and she was only half listening.
Ledi thought of his silly jokes in Mrs. Garcia’s apartment, and of how he’d made her dinner and been so proud of that small accomplishment. Jamal was truly a different person from the stiff, overburdened Thabiso, who seemed to be on the job even in the midst of his own celebration. A small part of her, just a few molecules really, thought maybe it was understandable that he’d wanted to be someone else, even if just for a short while.
“So you have no memory of your parents at all?” the king jumped in, continuing the tag team pattern he and his wife had established. “That’s quite . . . convenient.”
Ledi choked on the bite of cake she’d been swallowing, and both Thabiso and Nya pounded at her back. She’d allowed the king and queen their polite rudeness, but she’d had about enough. Heat rushed to her face as she stood and glared down at them. “There are many ways to describe growing up an orphan, but convenient isn’t one of them.”
“Enough,” Thabiso said in a tone Ledi hadn’t heard from him before. It was deep and rough and shot straight through Ledi’s eardrums and down between her legs. She liked his commanding tone, it seemed. A lot.
“Yes, tell her to have a seat,” the queen said.
“Actually, it’s you who should have a seat, Mother.”
The queen tilted her head at him, genuinely confused. “I’m already sitting.”
The king leaned toward her. “Oh, that’s something the youth are saying these days. It means—”
“It means you’re going to stop blatantly disrespecting your future daughter-in-law,” Thabiso said. “Immediately.”
There was a taut silence, and then the king picked up his fork and dug into his dessert. “This cake is delicious, isn’t it?”
Ledi slowly sank down into her seat. “Yes. Delicious. My compliments to the chef.”
“Our culinary school turns out some of the best chefs in the world.” The king made congenial small talk about cakes, pies, and pastries for the next few minutes. The queen sipped her coffee in silence. Her gaze slipped to Naledi every once in a while, but her expression was unreadable.
The rest of the dinner passed amicably enough. There was dancing and performances by groups from various tribes, and Ledi got a short-lived second wind, although she steered clear of the dance floor. She was enraptured by the bright colors and the music that almost tempted her past her reservedness, but that didn’t stop her from falling asleep in her seat. Even the strong, bitter coffee couldn’t keep her from nodding off.
She awoke in Thabiso’s arms as he carried her to her room. For a moment she just blinked up at him. His face was handsome as ever, but his eyes were tired, and a frown rested on the lips she’d grown so used to seeing stretched in a smile. The desire to wipe away that frown rose in her so strongly that she shifted in his hold, trying to escape the feeling.
“Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, and her heart lifted to see his grin again.
Stupid heart. It hadn’t done anything but pump blood at a steady pace before Thabiso had come into her life, but it had been engaging in all kinds of bizarre behaviors since he’d stepped into the kitchen at the Institute.
“You’ve read too many fairy tales,” she said grumpily as he deposited her in front of her suite. “I hate to break it to you, but there’s no such thing as a happy ending.”
“One can never read too many fairy tales,” he replied. He moved closer, the bulk of him reminding her of how good it had felt to be pressed beneath his weight as he pushed into her. Her body was suddenly warm, and the heaviness of the material wasn’t the only reason she wanted out of her dress.
Thabiso lifted his hand and skimmed his knuckles down the length of her neck, and if there was anything fairy tale about the feeling it produced, it was from the naughty retellings she’d found on the internet. Lust. Slickness between her legs and a tremble in her knees, just from that one touch.
“And I know you’ve experienced a happy ending. At least two.” His hand stopped feathering down her neck. “I’ve felt you shake in my arms, cry out with my name on your tongue. Your next happy ending is waiting for you whenever you desire it, Naledi.”
And then his hand slipped away, and he turned and made his way back down the long hallway. Ledi realized that she was on her tiptoes, every sensitive part of her body angled up toward the space Thabiso had just vacated.
She lowered herself onto her heels and exhaled. She’d thought that Jamal and Thabiso were entirely different men, but unfortunately for her, they had one thing in common: her defenses were useless against them.