Son?”
Thabiso turned at the sound of his mother’s voice echoing in the palace hallway. He hadn’t really spoken to her since Ledi’s arrival, in part because he was busy dealing with rebellious finance ministers and a possible epidemic, and in part because he hadn’t wanted to. He couldn’t think of much to say to her, given her treatment of Ledi, that wouldn’t result in banishment. That wasn’t what he was afraid of, though. He’d never fought with his parents over something substantial. Disagreements about how to rule their country and his deportment were one thing, but the low insults they’d resorted to of late were something he didn’t know how to equate with the people he loved most. He didn’t know how to navigate this new rocky terrain in the geography of their relationship.
“Mother.”
He waited as her heels clicked noisily down the hall, the sound bouncing off of the walls of a palace that had stood strong for generations. That would one day be his.
She slid her arm through his and they fell into step, continuing toward the private wing. They had walked like this so many times before, but it felt forced now, stiff.
“That was quite a spectacle earlier,” she said.
Spectacle? As he had danced with Ledi, he’d felt something move in him. He wasn’t sure if it was Ingoka, but it had been suspiciously close to the center of his chest and had throbbed painfully as Ledi beckoned him closer. Calling it a spectacle cheapened it.
“I was quite pleased with how the purification ceremony turned out,” he said, putting his diplomatic training to good use. “I’m glad the priestesses did not find her wanting. I wish everyone shared their belief in Ingoka’s will.”
His mother sighed, then stopped and looked up at him. “Thabiso, you are our only child. We have tried to instill in you the importance of your role in this kingdom, but perhaps we were remiss in extolling the importance of choosing the proper wife.”
“Interesting. You weren’t quite so particular before I left, throwing any breathing woman my way, and going so far as to bring in Shanti while I was away.”
“Shanti knows how to be a queen because she was raised for it. She would be an excellent and attentive wife, would see to your needs and–”
Thabiso disengaged his arm from hers as frustration made her touch irksome. “I don’t love her, Mother!” Thabiso had never raised his voice to his mother before. Shame and anger and sadness washed over him, and dealing with that was hard enough without taking into account what he had just confessed.
She stared at him for a long while, and then shook her head sadly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have indulged you when you were a child who insisted she and her parents would return.”
“Why? I was right. She’s here now.”
The queen’s gaze sharpened. “Are you willing to gamble the future of our country on whatever game it is you’re playing?”
“This is not a game.” He exhaled through flared nostrils. “I’m sorry, but I refuse to discuss this further. You’ve raised me to be a man who does not give up on what he believes in. I can’t begin to figure out why you’re set against Naledi, but my choice is made.”
“Is hers?” the queen pressed.
Thabiso had no response that wasn’t a lie, and he was done with lying.
“I have things to attend to,” he said.
She nodded. “Your father and I have pressured you, but you know we only want what is best for you, right? You must know that.”
Thabiso couldn’t stand the sight of the uncertainty in his mother’s face. He leaned down and pulled her into a hug.
“I know you do, mother. But you’re going to have to trust me here.”
“I trust you. It’s her I’m worried about.” She pulled her head back to look him in the face, concern etched into her expression. “Thabiso, you have never truly experienced loss. Loving someone, letting them into your heart, and then losing them, or worse, being betrayed? It’s something we must all face at some point, but if I can prevent you from being hurt unnecessarily, I will.” She turned on her heels, clicking her way back in the direction she’d come from.
Thabiso looked after his mother. She had always been protective, and perhaps indulgent, but had never coddled him. His mother had always been particularly incensed by the betrayal of the Ajouas, but he’d thought that would fade once she knew that they had died, and perhaps would have returned. He had been wrong.
He made his way to Naledi’s room, his mother’s words echoing in his head. When he’d been kneeling down before Naledi during the ceremony, the first time he’d so abased himself before anyone, something had clicked for Thabiso. He couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t. He wanted her, not out of some twisted nostalgia or because she wasn’t a prize easily won, but because she was perfect for him and—perhaps just as important—perfect for his people. She pushed him to try harder, just through her own example. What could they do together as husband and wife—king and queen?
His mother was right, though. No matter what he wanted, she wasn’t planning to stay, and he wasn’t selfish enough to hope that the medical crisis lasted long enough to keep her in his kingdom. He imagined her getting back on the plane to leave and his frustration grew again. Could he really just let her leave? Could he let another moment pass in which she thought he didn’t care if she did?
His mind was racing by the time he’d made his way down the damned interminably long hallway and reached her room.
“Naledi.”
He knocked hard, and she opened the door with the general look of annoyance she seemed to reserve for him.
“I’m busy, so unless there’s an emergency—”
“I think this counts as an emergency.”
His hands went to her waist, fingertips sinking into her curves as he pulled her toward him. He dropped his head, angling for her lips, but stopped just before their mouths touched, resting his forehead against hers.
“Can I?” he asked. He wasn’t going to kiss her into submission. He had already submitted to the force that drew him to her—he could only ask her to join him willingly.
“Um.” Her breath was coming fast and she hadn’t pulled away, but she looked ready to bolt. “This is novel. Guys don’t usually ask after the first time.”
Frustration tautened within him.
“I’m a fucking gentleman, Naledi. Gentlemen don’t assume, they ask. So. Can I kiss you?”
“Wow. No pressure at all,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“Oh, there’s a ton of pressure,” he said, and realized how ridiculous the line sounded without the part he’d left unspoken. In my pants. He wasn’t entirely a gentleman.
Ledi huffed a breath. “In your pants?” she asked.
The tension between them deflated, pierced by the sharp laughter that burst from them both. He let his head fall back, away from hers, but his hands still rested on her hips.
“Goddess. And to think I was once voted World’s Smoothest Royal.” He shook his head.
“Wait, people vote on these things?”
He dropped his hands from her waist, walked over to her bed, and flopped down on it.
“Well, luckily for me it’s usually a group of strangers who’ve never heard my attempts at seduction.”
“Obviously.” The door clicked shut.
“No need to agree so heartily,” he muttered.
“I needed that laugh,” she said with a sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Today has been really intense. I’ve barely slept, I’ve been reading case studies all day, and that ceremony really fucked me up. Emotionally.”
“You’re not the only one,” he said, folding her pillow beneath his head so he was propped up and looking at her.
“I grew up with no one, Thabiso. No one. And now?” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “I don’t know how to take in what happened today, or what I’m feeling. It’s just too much. Priestesses singing to me. Welcoming me. People bowing to me.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “And you. There’s you.”
“What about me?” He leaned up away from the pillow, and her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze ran over his face and the pain and confusion he saw there lanced through him.
“This isn’t real.” She motioned to the air between them. “But it’s starting to feel way too real and . . . I can’t. I just can’t.”
“And what if it feels real to me, too?” he asked quietly. “What if it feels real because it is?”
His heart thumped heavy in his chest, because yes, that was it. It was real for him, always had been, and she might never feel the same way.
She shook her head. “The only reason you think we should be together is because you were told we should be, and now you need a wife. Let’s say I agree that this is real. What then? One day you’ll realize what everyone does eventually.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”
Thabiso’s frustration pushed him up to a sitting position.
“Has it ever occurred to you that I like you? You. Naledi. And that I would have liked you even if there was no betrothal ceremony?”
“No, it hasn’t,” she said stiffly.
He thought back to her comment from their previous conversation and was struck by something. “This is the Velcro thing, isn’t it? The not sticking? Ledi, if you haven’t noticed, let me tell you, I’m stuck. Intractably so.”
“Enough, Thabiso.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Why? Would us being together really be the most terrible thing to happen to you?”
“No, being left parentless in a foreign country was the worst thing to happen to me,” she said. Her expression closed off again.
“Ledi.” He pitched his voice gentle, trying to ease in between the bricks of the wall she was rapidly rebuilding.
She looked at him, expressionless. “It’s funny that you resented me for abandoning you. You with your family and servants and people. Meanwhile, halfway across the globe, I was the one who was alone.” She swiped at her eyes. “You should have told me. The minute you knew that I had no idea who I was, you should have told me. But you didn’t. So no, I can’t say yes when you come to my door all handsome and Disney-eyed, asking if you can kiss me.”
There it was. Thabiso had been so fixated on forcing her to forget he’d lied about Jamal that he’d missed the forest for the trees. He’d done more than that; he’d lied to Ledi about herself. Likotsi had called him a coward and she had been right.
He exhaled, a deep weary sound. “What can I say? I’m sorry for being a fuckboy, Naledi.”
Ledi shrugged, swiped surreptitiously at her eyes again. “Fuckboyism is a fairly common disease in men aged eighteen to thirty-five.”
“What’s the cure?” he asked.
“You’ll have to ask your doctor about that. But I can tell you right now that it’s not me.”
With that, she got up and walked back to her desk.
Thabiso fought the urge to stalk over and command her to forgive him; she wasn’t one of his subjects. He headed for the door.
“We have the trip to Lek Hemone, your hometown, tomorrow morning. Dress warmly because it’s at a higher altitude.”
“Thanks. Hopefully we’ll find what we’re looking for there because nothing in the research is giving any clues as to what’s going on here. I need to figure this out.”
So you can go.
“May the goddess make it so,” he said, and then walked back into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
Thabiso stood for a moment. Although he’d been told otherwise his entire life, he was learning that there was something stronger than a Moshoeshoe prince’s will.
Reality.