by Pike, Leslie
“Our fears were unfounded, and not because her husband- to- be is about to be coronated. It’s because he’s a great guy. We like him, and that’s an understatement. So here’s to Zan and Belinda. Hope you have a wonderful life together.”
Oh, sweet James. Now I’m crying.
“I’m going to need to reapply my makeup pretty soon!” Soraya teases through tears.
“Before you do, let me speak. Then we both can excuse ourselves and wipe the mascara off our faces,” the queen says.
I look at Soraya, because I know she’s thrilled that the queen just spoke to her. It almost makes me laugh to see the look on her face when she sees me watching.
Queen Ayana rises and holds her flute of champagne out for a refill, which is done within seconds. The staff moves to refill all glasses.
Her eyes scan the table. All guests acknowledged with a smile. Then she settles on Zan and me.
“My children. You are my daughter now, Belinda, and I welcome you into our little world. I say little because that is what King Mansa and I fashioned it to be. We deal enough with the big world and all its problems. For us the family is a tight contained unit, powered by the love and affection we offer each other. Tonight I offer you mine.”
I touch my heart, which has just been filled with her words.
“My son Zan holds a special place in our hearts because he came to us in such an unusual way.”
I watch the people’s faces. Some know the story, others don’t. But what everyone sees is a mother’s love. The purest of emotions put to words.
“He has been a gift. Not only to his mother and father, brothers, and nephews and nieces, but to our country. His compassionate nature shapes everything he has done. Because of that I know he will be a great king. But king will not be his greatest role. It’s husband and father that will hold that title. I know you will be brilliant at them both.”
“I love you, Mother,” Zan says with a cracking voice.
“And I you, my son.” Then she turns to me. “Beautiful Belinda. I want to thank you for your immeasurable contribution to not only our family, but to Mozia. Your love of my son has made our destinies possible. Without you, I’m not so sure we’d be about to crown a king. You came into our lives at the darkest of our times. You loved us even when we were lost in grief. Tonight there’s a king and a prince smiling down on you with gratitude. And we here at this table are doing the same. You are loved beyond measure.”
She raises her flute and all follow the lead. But I can’t see a thing through the tears.
* * *
I look into the full-length mirror. My close-fitting, beautifully tailored long sleeved white dress is magnificent. The simplicity of it defies the impact. It’s the best I’ve ever looked in anything. Mission accomplished.
“Make sure it’s going to stay put! If I lose my veil halfway to my husband, it wouldn’t be good.”
“This thing isn’t going anywhere! Hold still!”
Soraya fastens the last clip holding the six-foot beaded veil to my hair. The circular band sits atop my braided knot, surrounding it with all colors of blue. Down my back, white and blue beads drape to the floor.
“This sucker is heavy,” Soraya says, straightening it out behind me.
“Oh, you look beautiful, Belinda! I’m crying already.” My mother weeps into her handkerchief.
“How many brides can say a Zulu Chief gave them their wedding veil? This is awesome!” Soraya examines the intricate beadwork.
“Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” I say, staring at my image. “Do I look okay?”
Both my mother and Soraya chuckle at the question.
“You look like an angel.” My mother takes my hands. “I’m so happy for you, darling.”
A quiet rap on the bedroom door sounds. “It’s just me,” the queen calls.
“Come in, Your Majesty.” The door opens and she stands with an envelope and a small box in her hand. How lovely she looks in her butter yellow dress. There’s understated gold jewelry around her wrist and neck. But I know those are precious national treasures made over two centuries ago.
“You are a vision, Belinda. Zan is going to cry.”
“Thank you, Queen Ayana. I know I will when I see him.”
“I’ve already started!” my mother adds.
“Zan asked me to give these to you.”
She passes them to me and I smile at the thought of him thinking of this today. Opening the envelope, I remove the plain white folded notecard.
My love,
Today begins our life together, and what a beautiful journey it will be. Thank you for giving me all of yourself. I could not bear any less of you.
Z
“Give me a tissue, quick,” I say to Soraya.
She gets one and gently wipes my tears.
“Oh no!” the queen says.
“It’s alright. I’m just moved by his words.” I hold the note close, then hand it to my mother. “Save this for me, Mom.”
She returns it to the envelope and tucks it inside her clutch.
I open the little box to find the most beautiful ring inside. An emerald cut emerald stone sits in a gold setting. It reminds me of his eyes.
“Oh, Belinda!” Soraya says with a gasp.
* * *
I stand under an archway of lilies, on the path at the entry of the queen’s garden. Soraya just left my side and began her walk. The scent of blossoms fills the air. I wear no mixture of notes to compete with nature’s perfume. Africa and its unique beauty is present, as if a guest.
My arm is linked with my father’s and he’s looking in my eyes.
“Ready, honey?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He smiles. I haven’t called him that since I was a child. But before he passes my protection to another man, I acknowledge the child will always be his.
We start down the path, and into the open space, where the guests come into view. My stomach was twisting with excitement and nerves all morning. But as I raise my head and find Zan’s face everything in me calms. We lock eyes. And as if by Royal command, a songbird chirps her love song.
Epilogue
Belinda
Inside the walls of the Hall of Kings stand seven marble figures, each lit by the warm light of torches. Etched in the stone, at the base of the statues, is a king’s name and the years of his reign. King Mansa’s figure is powerful. Carved ten years ago, when the artist could take as much time as necessary, it’s sat waiting. The plaque is new. That’s how many governed over Mozia since the independent nation was established.
Zan reminds me, in the long march of history, we are just witnessing the birth of a nation. It’s hard to believe I’m part of the story now. Or that our children will be. How strange life is. I’m actually watching Queen Ayana as she stands before the king. As Queen Consort, I sit behind where Zan stands, on one side of Her Majesty, The Queen’s throne. Prince Kwai sits on the other.
It’s a solemn occasion, and the faces and postures in the gallery reflect that. There’s a select audience present for the Coronation, but the television cameras bring the ceremony straight into Mozians’ homes.
Zan looks every inch the king. Central casting would have put him in the film. He stands tall, wearing the deep blue dress uniform of the military. He carries a traditional saber and lance. I almost start laughing picturing him standing naked in our bedroom with his props. Stop it!
It was moving hearing him take the Constitutional Oath. He promised to defend the rule of law and the interests of his subjects. Most importantly he vowed to safeguard the realm.
The queen slips the diamond-encrusted ring onto Zan’s finger. It had to be sized from when it belonged to King Mansa. Then the imperial vestments are placed around his shoulders and neck. And now the crown. It’s so beautiful. Gold with encrusted gems of every color. I’m not even sure what all of them are. He kneels. Queen Ayana lifts it from the white velvet pillow it lays on and places it over his hea
d.
“And now the torch of leadership passes to King Zan. May God guide your days.”
She crowns him with the words and a contained smile. His face is so expressive. He holds her gaze and smiles back in the same way. This is one of those moments that are too big for emotions like tears. It’s beyond that.
Zan stands and a few words pass between them that I can’t hear. But whatever she’s said makes the corners of his mouth lift.
* * *
The king and I are escorted outside by a parade of notables chanting, “Blessed be the king!” Once there, units of mounted police flank our carriage, which will take us beyond the gates. The sound of masses of people waiting in the street makes such an impact. This is emotionally powerful.
“Come on, let me help you up,” Zan says, taking my arm. I step into the carriage and slide over to the far side. He follows me in. The horses clippity clop toward the gates.
“How’d I do?”
“Honey, you were magnificent. I’m proud to be your wife, and so happy to experience this day with you… King Zan.”
I bow my head as I say it, and he laughs and pulls me closer.
“Is this behavior befitting a king?” I ask.
“King or not, I will never stop touching you, or wanting you. Or loving you.”
He takes my face in his hands, and as we pass through the gates, he kisses me. The crowd lining either side of the street roars its approval. Mozian flags and banners lift above the smiling faces.
“Here we go baby, you ready?”
Holding on to my hand, Zan waves to the adoring crowd. He’s so effortlessly himself and the world loves him for it. Then he looks into my eyes. Yes, my love, I’m ready.
Cocky Hero Club
Want to keep up with all of the new releases in Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward's Cocky Hero Club world? Make sure you sign up for the official Cocky Hero Club newsletter for all the latest on our upcoming books:https://www.subscribepage.com/CockyHeroClub
Check out other books in the Cocky Hero Club series:
http://www.cockyheroclub.com
Acknowledgments
Writing seems like a solitary art, but that’s not strictly true. There are silent partners in my vision, helpers in league with the dreamer. Invisible hands lift an author so she can have a better view of herself, and sharp eyes read early efforts of every story told. There are shoulders to stand on so I can see what’s possible, letting me know what to aim for. So, to all the good-hearted companions in the dream, I say thank you. And to the generous writers, Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward, an undeniable feeling of gratitude.
To my beta readers Lara Petterson, Misti Sonntag, Jamee Wick, Felicia Scammell, Letty Sidon and Krisztina Hollo’ for your sharp eyes and study support.
About the Author
USA TODAY bestselling author, Leslie Pike, has loved expressing herself through the written word since she was a child. The first romance “book” she wrote was at ten years old. The scene, a California Beach. The hero, a blonde surfer. The ending, happily forever after.
Leslie’s passion for film and screenwriting eventually led her to Texas for eight years, writing for a prime time CBS series. She’s traveled the world as part of film crews, from Africa to Israel, New York to San Francisco. Now she finds her favorite creative adventures taking place in her home, in Southern California, writing Contemporary Romance.
Connect With Leslie:
Website
FB Readers Group
Also by Leslie Pike
The Paradise Series
The Trouble With Eden
Wild In Paradise
The Road To Paradise
The Paradise Series Box Set
Love In Italy World
The Adventure
The Art Of Love
The Santini Series
Destiny Laughs
Destiny Plays
Destiny Shines
Santini Series Collection
Destiny Dawns
The Swift Series
The Curve
The Closer
The Cannon
The Beach In Winter