by Pike, Leslie
“Here it is.”
“Oh great! Thank you, baby.”
“I still can’t believe my mother is letting you sit in on the family meetings. Her advisors have consulted with her, saying it’s a horrible idea.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. You don’t seem to be surprised by that.”
I watch her switch gears, and put on a different face. “No. I’m surprised, but I’m getting used to the way she works. I think she wants accurate reporting for historical purposes.”
“Well, this will be educational. Kwai’s here today. Said he’s got some great ideas he wants to share.”
“Are you worried?” It’s a valid question she asks.
“Not worried. Leery.”
The guard opens the door and we walk in to find the queen and Kwai and Nubia sitting at the big table. I’m surprised the cabinet isn’t here.
“Where is everyone?” I say.
“I wanted to have some time alone with my boys. Belinda is going to be taking notes. No recording, no iPad please.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Why does my mother want Belinda here, if not to record anything? Doesn’t make sense. She takes out a notepad and turns to a blank page. We take our places, mine to the left of the queen, Kwai to the right.
“So, we find ourselves in a difficult situation.” Her eyes settle on her grandson, who looks out of his comfort zone.
“Nubia, you are the rightful heir to your father’s throne. But your age eliminates the possibility. You’re much too young to handle the things a king must be responsible for.”
“Thank God,” he says, visibly exhaling his fear. “I don’t want to be the king anyway.”
“Few do, darling.” She says it with the tenderness of a grandmother. Then her attention is on us. “Some have suggested I take the job. And there’s good argument for doing just that. I could rule until such time Nubia comes of age.”
She watches the faces and reactions of the three of us. Her grandson is just happy to be eliminated. I’m waiting to hear the next proposal, which escapes me. But Kwai is wearing his excitement on his sleeve. He thinks it’s him that will be chosen. This is going to be tough.
“I have a proposal I think would benefit Mozia, its people and our family’s pockets.” Kwai spills it out like it’s been hard to keep in. He’s smiling as if he’s about to solve the world’s problems. But mother and I wait. I don’t think Kwai has ever offered a winning suggestion. Obviously I’m not alone in my assessment. It’s backed up by the expression on Nubia’s face. He doesn’t think much of his uncle’s ideas. And I know why. They’re not formed with the logic or sensitivities Tarik used. The boy sees the flaw.
“What are you proposing, Kwai?” my mother says.
Kwai stands and starts moving around the table with an excitement that can’t be contained.
“I’ve been talking with a few interested parties. You know, investors who have the money to back up their proposals.”
The queen gets a steely look in her eyes. I know my expression has darkened too.
“Anyway, we literally have a gold mine at our disposal. It’s been good for our country, but I think we’re missing an opportunity. We could be making so much more.”
“How’s that?” I say, trying to hold back the doubt I’m feeling.
Kwai’s face tightens. “I knew you’d dismiss this great idea. You haven’t even heard it yet. Let me lay it out.”
“Go ahead. Enlighten us.”
“We’ve missed the real fortune that’s right there for our taking. Now hear me out. We could sell portions of the mine or yearly percentages of the gross profit for a chance to make big money. For a boatload of cash. If the mine produces that year, then everybody benefits. If it doesn’t the investors are the only ones who lose. We have our portion of the mine, which of course would be the biggest, and we’d have the huge yearly fees they’re willing to pay.”
Oh shit. He really has no business sense at all. The queen and even my nephew are looking at him with disgust.
“What do you think?” he says innocently.
“I think you have your head up your ass. That’s what I think.” I offer my opinion without hesitation.
It doesn’t sit well with my brother. His lips tighten and his eyes narrow. No words follow.
“We have no interest in selling our greatest resource, Kwai,” the queen says firmly. “And who are these men you’re speaking with? Why are you discussing our business with people I don’t know? Why are you negotiating something you have no ownership or control over?”
That one stings. He sits back down, looking utterly defeated. And pissed.
“I just thought I would get a jump on things before I become king. I need to have some platform to show the people I’m capable of leading the country.”
The queen’s face softens. “That’s not going to happen, son. You’re not going to be king.”
You can hear a pin drop. Kwai and Nubia are stunned. I’m not. But none of us have figured out the next move. Only the queen is privy to her thoughts and decisions. I’m hoping she’s reconsidered ending the monarchy and forming a democracy. It’s not the right time. I see that in the future, but we are too unsettled now with the two deaths. Mozia needs to right itself first. But I have no idea who could become king if not Kwai or Nubia.
“So, when did you come to this conclusion, Mother? Was it yours alone, or did someone whisper in your ear?” Kwai asks.
He looks at me when he says it, but I can’t blame him. He’s hurting and he’s right. But I had nothing to do with this one. My mother respects my business sense more.
“The only person whispering in my ear was your father. We had many discussions on the subject.”
Belinda has been writing nonstop. When she needs to turn a page, she does it quietly. I catch her eye and she does a barely there eye roll.
“Here’s the truth of the situation, Kwai. We all have our strengths. And our weaknesses. Yours doesn’t suit a king’s life. You’d be miserable in the job.” Kwai continues to bite on his bottom lip. I can sense an inner conversation with himself.
“I love you, son.”
He raises his shoulders in a kind of rebuttal. But I can see he knows she’s right.
“There’s more though. And this part may be the hardest for you to take. But remember what your father always said. You have special gifts you haven’t discovered yet. I think he was one hundred percent right.”
We all wait for the other shoe to drop. Even Belinda looks like some great secret is about to be revealed.
“Just tell us, Mother. What have you decided?” I say.
She takes a deep breath and turns her gaze to me.
“I think Zan should be king.”
This time there’s no pins to be heard dropping, because instantly the sound of three voices fill the air. Kwai’s, Nubia’s, and mine. We’re all talking at once.
“What?! That’s ridiculous!” Kwai says.
“It’s not even possible!” I say
“That’s a good idea,” Nubia hollers over the voices.
The ear splitting pitch and the words he says quiets the room. I’m stunned, Kwai’s stunned. But Belinda barely reacts. Did she know?
“Wait! How is that even a possibility? Royal bloodlines don’t run through my veins. I’m a common man, from common people.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Kwai says. “There’s no law. It’s just been how things were done.”
Our mother reaches for Kwai’s hand. He half-heartedly allows it.
“You’re right. How did you know?” she asks.
“The Homeland Secretary told me. I’d said something about when I become king and he responded with an ‘If you become king’ answer.”
“So that tells me the question has been posed before to them. They’ve most likely considered the possibility. Good. When I tell my Cabinet I want their support. And even if I don’t get it, I’ll go to the people.”
“Wait. Don’t tell anybody. I need time to process this. Shit! Is this really happening?” I say.
My mind is a wall. But peeking around it is my Belinda, who watches and waits. Meanwhile, my brother looks defeated.
* * *
An hour later I’m walking out of the palace. But I’m still inside my head. Kwai asked to skip the remainder of the meeting. I didn’t blame him. Neither did my mother. She was glad it went as smoothly as it did. I reminded her he really doesn’t want the job. Not even a little bit. But we’re bound to hear a few more protestations from him, before he accepts the inevitable.
“I want you to find a place for him, Zan.”
“Me?”
“You can find something in your Cabinet that’s befitting a prince. This will be your first goal.”
“I haven’t accepted the offer, Mother.”
Her big brown eyes have always seen beyond the surface of me. She looks inside now.
“You must do what you feel is right. You’ll know, son. If you find yourself considering what is good for you, your answer will be ‘no’. If you can’t stop thinking about what’s right for Mozians, you are the king.”
Those words play on a loop in my mind as I walk back to my house. Repeat. Repeat. And at the same time I’m just trying to take in the idea. King? It’s an honor I never imagined. King Zan. His Highness the King of Mozia. His Majesty will be addressing the nation. What the hell, man? You’re acting like a girl writing her boyfriend’s last name after hers, imagining they’re married.
Belinda? That’s the biggest puzzle piece connecting everything around. She’d have to agree to this kind of life. What if she’d rather keep her privacy, free time, and independence? Would I respectfully decline what may be my destiny? Mozia and my mother would have to find their king elsewhere.
Because no matter what, she’s going to be my wife. In my world or hers.
Chapter 24
Belinda
I find myself staring into space a lot these last few days. I was doing it right now. No matter what happens this will most definitely be the biggest decision of my life. How do you decide on something you’ve never even considered possible? I wasn’t the little girl who dreamed of being a princess. I never became obsessed with the Disney parade of Royal heroines. I was more into skateboarding and riding my bike.
But now I’m faced with a life altering choice. Am I seriously considering what Zan proposes? Actually it’s the queen who made it clear. Zan has given me some time to digest the idea of him being king. But my time is up, because he wants us to have “the conversation” tonight.
He gave me fair warning. I’ve set the stage for a relaxing dinner, hoping it puts us in the right mood. No fancy food made by the palace’s cooks. I wanted to cook our meal, although I use the word loosely. There’s no cooking genes in my body. To be fair, I haven’t tried it enough to come to a conclusion. Maybe I’m a fabulous cook, given the chance.
When I asked what he wanted for the meal, he said hot dogs. I can do that! It’s pretty revealing that I’m getting excited about boiling water.
“Smells good in here,” Zan says, coming out of the bedroom.
“It’s the onions I sautéed.”
“Umm.”
“You look too sexy to be a king.”
“Would you like to kiss my ring?”
“You can kiss my ass. How about that?”
“Sounds great!”
The wet hair, the bare chest, those running pants hung low. He’s got the best peen ravine I’ve ever seen.
He grabs the sweater drooped over the couch and slips it over his head.
“What are we having besides hot dogs?”
I go into my faux chef lingo. For some reason it’s with a French accent. “Well, Monsieur tonight we will dine on potato le salad, and how do you say beans?”
“Haricots.”
“Ver haricots and Le Vin.”
He starts laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I say, joining in his fun.
“You said we were having worm beans and wine. Sounds appetizing, Chef.”
“What? I thought I said green beans.”
He comes and wraps me in his arms. Leaning his head against mine, he sweetly kisses me. This feeling isn’t something I can ever see myself living without. Ever.
“You’ve been deep in thought,” he says.
A sigh leaves me speechless.
“I know.” He locks eyes with me. “It never leaves my mind either.”
“I’m working under a handicap because I’m not sure what this all means for us. I need you to be very clear, but at the same time I’m not sure you even know yourself.”
“Time for some liquid courage. For me anyway,” he says, pouring us both a glass of wine.
I take the goblet and wait for his toast.
“Here’s to the power of love. No. The power of our love.”
The words settle in my heart.
“What’s going to happen, Zan? I mean to us.”
He takes a seat at the table and pushes out a chair for me. “This is a sitting down conversation.”
Bringing my wine to the table, I sit next to him.
“Which way do you lean, Belinda? I know it’s not the most romantic scene, but this is where we find ourselves. Could you live this kind of life?”
“I honestly don’t know. There’s so much I don’t understand about this life. Practically everything. Where are you with this?”
He twirls the glass and takes a sip. “It depends on one thing.”
“There’s only one way it could work. It’s about you. And I don’t want to suggest the fate of my country rests in your hands, but it kind of does.” He follows the statement with a chuckle, but I don’t buy it.
I bury my face in my hands and shake my head. “I’m telling you now, the fate of Mozia is way down on my list of things to consider.”
His hands tug at mine. “Look at me.”
“Does that sound horrible?”
“No. Truthful. I want you to look at every negative you can. If we go into this thing it can’t be half-hearted. And we’ll both be aware of the sacrifices required. I’ve lived this. You have no idea.”
“Tell me the worst of it. In your opinion.”
“You completely lose your anonymity. You can never just walk down a street, or go swimming at the beach, or shop, without bringing armed security. Without throngs of people wanting your picture. Think of that, Belinda. Because it will happen. It’s a given.”
I digest the words. But he has more to say.
“Look at Prince Harry and Meagan Markle. We’ve seen publicly how it wears on a person. We’re no England, but the same rules apply. Oh, and you have to weigh everything you say in public. It’s going to be taken apart word by word. Forget having any real social media account. It’s too risky. I have one for my charities, but’s that it. And it’s managed by someone who speaks as me.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of this?”
“No. I’m showing you how different your life will be. And that’s just the surface. Your career as a writer? That would radically change. The things you’d be privy to would now have to be kept secret.”
That’s a big one. I take in the idea and tuck it away for later when I’m alone.
“Tell me what’s great about your life.”
Now a smile lights his face.
“There’s so many things. Starting with the family. We love one another. Even Kwai, who pisses us off on a daily basis, is a good man. I know he’d die for any of us if push came to shove. And all the luxuries that are afforded royalty. We eat the best food, stay in the best hotels, get invited to the best parties.” He leans in. “But here’s the best thing for me. You can make a difference in the world. It’s at your disposal to choose how. Want to help children? You will. Want to help abused women? You can. Do you want to shine a light on the urgency of climate change? It’s your beacon. This is the biggest gift we are given as royals.”
&nbs
p; We talk for the next hour, until the bottle of wine is empty and the hot dogs have gone cold. I’m so deep inside my mind hunger has gone missing. All I can think about is the fact I have to make this monumental decision. Not for public consumption, but only for Zan. I have to declare my intentions, because if I’m not in, he won’t be either.
“I need more time,” I say. “All the time you have to give me.”
His face softens and his beautiful emerald eyes speak volumes. “Baby, I don’t have much time. I’ve got to give my answer by next week. Thursday. And here’s the crux of the situation. Even what I’m about to ask you isn’t said like this ever. But I have to accept it because love it or not, like it or not, I may be king.”
“Just say it, Zan.”
“I know you deserve all the romance and bells and whistles that normally accompany this moment, but I can’t provide it. Because as is the norm for me, my position dictates. Here it is. I want to marry you, Belinda Banks. I have for a while now. I have no doubt I’ll love you every day of our lives. I’m going to be your husband whether it’s as king or commoner. It’s your choice. If you say yes, that is.”
The room started to tilt, then righted itself. I move to his lap and throw my arms around his neck.
“Yes. I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you, Zan. I love you so deeply.”
The embrace and kiss that follow is new. Even more meaningful than the other one thousand times we’ve done it before.
“This decision is so easy. But the other one not so much.”
“I understand. Completely. I’m glad you’re going to weigh it all. And I want to tell you this. Whichever way you go, however you decide, I’ll be happy. Because it’s you and I now. This,” he says wagging a finger back and forth at us both, “is the only thing that matters. That’s why I’m not telling you which I would choose.”
I hadn’t hardly considered that point. If I wasn’t part of the equation, would he relish the job?
“One more thing,” he says. “We can’t tell anyone about our engagement. No one. I’d rather do it when I tell my family which way I’m going to go. Alright?”
“Yes. That’s makes sense. Now come on, let’s put everything aside. All I want to do is make love.”