by Alyssa Cole
He reached across the car and took her hand, which trembled a bit against his palm. “I’m sorry,” he said, raising a hand to silence Likotsi, who had opened her mouth to chastise him again. “My mother’s behavior is bizarre, but I’ve made it clear that you are an important part of my life. You aren’t a distraction and I’m so happy you’re here.”
Ledi smiled at him, and he noticed her pupils were wide, blocking out the beautiful brown he loved looking into.
“I’m happy I’m here, too. If I’ve learned one useful thing in life, it’s that I can’t make someone care for me. But I guess I can be better about letting in the people who do,” she said, giving him a shy smile that warmed him like the sun rising over the mountains. Then she shivered hard, as if she’d stepped on a live wire, and his warmth drained away. “Guess I overcaffeinated.”
Thabiso nodded, but gripped her hand tightly, feeling the steady tremor that hadn’t been there before. He should have let her sleep more instead of making love to her until she was jelly-boned and couldn’t keep her eyes open. Perhaps she’d taken ill from the snow? He was glad she’d be able to rest soon, and he’d have the doctor come to her chambers.
The car pulled into the palace compound, and his parents walked out toward them, a group of people at their rear as usual.
He glanced at Ledi. “Perhaps we should have stayed in the cave.”
Ledi rolled her eyes. “If your mother is upset that you can’t control the forces of nature, then I really do understand what you meant when you said your parents had high expectations.”
He laughed, his anxiety dissipating.
“I would be upset if I thought something happened to you, too, though, so cut her some slack,” Ledi added. Thabiso didn’t comment on the fact that she’d admitted she cared about him unprompted.
“I think I can do that,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.
They stepped down from the vehicle, and he kept Ledi’s hand firmly in his.
“Good morning, parents,” he said brightly.
“Son,” they said in unison.
“We’ve returned from our icy adventure, none the worse for the wear. I apologize if you were worried.”
“Worried? Why would we be worried?” his father asked.
“Just because the sole heir to the Thesoloian crown took it upon himself to put himself in jeopardy to continue this farce of an engagement, nearly leaving his people without a future leader, doesn’t mean we were worried,” his mother said smoothly. “No, not worried, but quite done tolerating this.”
“Your Highness, if anyone is to blame, it is me,” Likotsi said, ever the mediator. “I should have checked the weather more carefully and not allowed them to travel alone.”
“No, there is one person at fault here. This thoughtless woman who has distracted Thabiso and who threatens the prosperity of our kingdom.”
“I’m sorry,” Ledi said in a small voice that broke Thabiso’s heart.
“Just like your mother,” the queen said, an irrational rage in her voice. “You don’t care who gets hurt by your selfish plans.”
Ledi cringed, and Thabiso dropped her hand to place his arm around her shoulders. “Mother, Father, I love and respect you both, but you are using an elephant’s brute force when its intelligence would suffice. I don’t know what farce you speak of, but I would advise you to forget you ever said such a thing.”
His head throbbed with the anger building up inside of him. How was it that his parents had told him everything he wanted could be his, yet they would deny him this one thing? The most important thing?
His mother held out her hand and a beautiful young woman stepped out from the group behind her. She was slim, tall, regal. Her hair fell in wavy ringlets down her back and her features could have been sculpted from onyx by one of the masters. Shanti.
“We know that this was just an arrangement between you two to thumb your nose at us.” The queen’s voice was taut. “Did you think we wouldn’t have our intelligence agency search her emails to ensure she wasn’t spying for the meddlesome Americans, or worse? You two can end this now, and Thabiso will move forward with Shanti by his side.”
Shanti curtsied beautifully. “Your Majesty, I have been trained in all the womanly arts, molded by my teachers and my parents to be the best possible bride to a king. If you allow me, I would be honored to show you what an excellent wife I can be.”
Thabiso noticed that Naledi was abnormally quiet, and his anger flared. She was probably already rolling back the trust she’d placed in him, wondering why she had allowed him into her life again. He was bracing himself for her to pull away, but she sagged against him instead.
“She looks like a princess,” Ledi murmured. “Your mother has a point.”
“There’s only one person I’d consider for my wife, and we’re already betrothed,” he said.
“Who?” Ledi asked angrily, her brows drawn in confusion. “Is there another woman?”
Something colder than the ice storm they’d evaded slid down his spine. “I’m talking about you. About us. Ledi, are you all right?”
“Oh! Right. I trust you, Jamal. You wouldn’t hurt me. Except for when you tried to set me on fire.”
She laughed, a slow and unnerving sound that was nothing like her usual laughter.
“What?” His mother started to approach, and she wasn’t wearing the haughty mask she’d had on earlier. This was the face he’d always seen behind closed doors, drawn with concern when she placed her hand against his forehead or waved a thermometer in the air. “Thabiso, did she fall and hit her head? What happened out there?”
His mother stood before them, brows drawn as she studied Ledi’s face. She raised a hand to touch her, then dropped it, intertwining the fingers of both hands with worry.
Thabiso adjusted Ledi in his arms. She was no longer leaning on him for moral support, as he’d thought, but because she couldn’t have stood without his assistance.
“You’re frightening me, Ledi. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m fine. I just have to call Portia,” she said cheerily. Then she bent over and was sick, right down the front of the queen’s cloak.
“Son,” his parents said in unison, this time in fear, but then Ledi began to sink to the ground. Thabiso didn’t think. He scooped her up as she was falling and ran as fast as he could toward the hospital. She had been in the middle of all those people yesterday with no protection but rubber gloves and a silly little mask. And he’d brought her there.
He stopped himself from ramming through the slow automatic doors of the hospital, then barreled through the waiting room. He saw the nurse from the other day—what was her name, Ammina? Sesi? Unimportant!
“You! Help her, now!” he roared. She would listen to him because he was a prince and people did what he commanded, dammit.
She rushed forward and then stopped in her tracks. “Your Highness, please put her down right now and step away.”
“What are you talking about? I told you to help her!”
Sesi picked up the phone and made an announcement over the loudspeakers. “Decontamination team, please report to the entrance. Immediately.”
She put the phone down and advanced toward him as she pulled on gloves. “Sire, you cannot afford to get ill. Your people need you. Put her down.” She pulled a gurney away from the wall and pushed it ahead of her.
It was only then that he saw the raised rash winding its way up Ledi’s neck and over her jawline.
“No. No, Ledi.” His world came crashing down around him in that split second. He’d invited Ledi to Thesolo to save his people, but he’d wanted her to save him too, if he was honest with himself. And now she was going to die because of his selfishness.
“Prince Thabiso, we can’t help her until you put her down.” A team of doctors had arrived without him noticing. They wore suits designed to protect them from disease, but it was too late to protect Ledi.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick.
“She’ll be all right. Ingoka did not bring her back to you just to take her away like this.”
Thabiso wasn’t so sure, but he prayed that his father was right.
Chapter 32
Ledi was looking up at her mother and father, who were hurriedly stuffing their belongings into bags. She couldn’t understand what they were saying, except for two words: her name, and Alehk. The way her father’s face contorted in fury when he said her uncle’s name scared her. Then he picked her up and kissed her on the cheek, and they walked into the dark night . . .
Ledi awoke with a jump. For a moment she thought she was at Alehk’s house again. Was that place real? Maybe she was at her studio on the cheap futon. Jamal was across the hall. Was he real? Had everything that passed been a dream? Sorrow clogged her throat at the thought, but then her eyes fluttered open and looked around her. The area was stark and white and she heard a steady beeping noise. Her alarm? She patted the bed beside her for her phone, and something stopped her arm from moving. She sat up, feeling woozy. And thirsty. So thirsty.
For a second she thought the woman at her bedside was Nya—had Nya been real or part of her dream?—but then she recognized the rust-brown curls and the smattering of freckles on the downturned face.
“Portia?”
Portia jumped up in her seat and rushed toward the bed. She wore hospital standard protective clothing for the ICU, including gloves, but she gripped Ledi’s hand in hers and smiled through her tears.
“Only you would come all the way to Africa and catch some strange disease. I told you to stop using that antibacterial gel every time you got on the train. You lowered your immunity.”
“What are you doing here?” Ledi asked, again wondering if she was dreaming. Had she really been mad at Portia? That feeling was gone. There was only happiness and a feeling like her chest would burst at the sight of her. “How did you even get here? Oh wait, I guess it’s easy for rich people to just charter a plane.”
Portia shook her head. “I’m a trust fund baby, but private jets aren’t included in my particular tax bracket package. Thabiso flew me out after giving me a heart attack by telling me you were unconscious in the hospital. You’ve been knocked out for two days.”
“What?” Ledi tried to throw her legs over the bed and her head started to spin. “I need to see him. No, I need to see Dr. Bata.”
Portia stood and gently pushed her back down. “You need to rest. They didn’t know when you were going to wake up. Or if you were going to.” Portia exhaled a stuttering sigh. “I spent that whole trip terrified that you were going to die hating me. Ugh, that sounds selfish. It is selfish. But if you hate me, too . . .”
She shook her head. “I wanted to apologize. I was wrong and I should have admitted it from the beginning. You were so into Jamal, and I fucked up by not warning you of my suspicion before the gala. But part of me wanted it to be him, so you’d get mad and he’d go away. I guess I kind of maybe got scared that he was going to show you that you don’t need me. And I wasn’t exactly wrong because who needs a friend like me?”
Portia was miserable, and even if she had messed up, the pain on her face was too much to bear. Ledi had thought no one cared for her, but Portia cared possibly too much. Ledi realized a problem with her Velcro theory: Velcro was a temporary attachment. Portia, who always tried to help Ledi and would surely hide a body for her, if not do the actual killing, was a Krazy Glue kind of friend. They were stuck with one another by a bond that had been shaken but remained intact. Now they would have to decide how they used that bond.
“I need a friend like you,” Ledi said, giving Portia a weak hug because it was all she could manage. “I don’t hate you, but things can’t be how they were before.”
Portia shut her eyes but that didn’t stop the tears from streaking down. She nodded.
Ledi sighed. “I’m going to work on not being a pushover. You have to work on not pushing.” She paused. “And on not drinking so much. And on wanting as much for yourself as you want for other people.”
Ledi had always been afraid to throw down an ultimatum. It wasn’t what a health care professional would do, but as Ledi the human, she had to put herself first. She wasn’t above leveraging hospital bed guilt, it seemed.
“Well, I had to reschedule my therapist appointment to come here,” Portia said grouchily, wiping her tears away. “I’m working on things.
“Besides, I can’t show up in the middle of the night at a palace, drunkenly banging on the door. This is like having the ultimate doorman,” Portia said. “I guess you can give up the ramen life now, huh?”
“Never,” Ledi said, leaning back against her pillow. “But I’ll consider upgrading to the classy brand.”
The door to the room opened and Thabiso and Dr. Bata walked in, deep in conversation. She saw the exact moment he realized she was awake, the way relief and pain comingled on his face. He rushed to her bed and hugged her, probably breaking whatever protocol was in place, but making her feel a million times better.
“Goddess, I was so worried,” he said on a shaky exhale. He looked haggard; she had never seen his beard and hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. He was a mess.
“Why were you worried? Shanti is waiting in the wings if anything should happen to me,” she said. Just because he was a mess didn’t mean she couldn’t tease him. He released her to see if she was being serious and she just smiled.
“Ah, you really are better,” he said happily. He was working the cartoon prince eyes hard-core, and if Ledi had just a bit more strength she would have grabbed him. “You know I had nothing to do with that. Besides, Shanti is long gone. As are my mother’s favorite shoes.”
“Good,” Ledi said, not sorry in the slightest for either.
“Do I even want to know?” Portia asked diplomatically instead of hissing at Thabiso. She was improving already.
“Naledi, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have to say that your recovery is fairly shocking,” Dr. Bata said while scanning her chart. “None of the other patients are out of the woods, but here you are up and making conversation. And your rash is gone, as well.”
Thabiso’s brow furrowed. “So she wasn’t sick with the Prince’s plague?”
Ledi nudged him, and he shrugged. “What? That’s what everyone is calling it.”
“I’m glad to be better, but I have no idea why,” Ledi said. “We don’t even know how the illness spreads.”
Dr. Bata put the chart down and stared at Ledi. “What did you do after you left the clinic? None of the people who were there have fallen ill, so it’s unlikely you caught it from that group.”
Ledi looked at Thabiso and her face warmed. “Um, I didn’t do very much . . .”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Thabiso murmured.
“Oh my god, you two.” Portia rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone and started typing.
Thabiso cleared his throat. “We went to her uncle’s house, and she slept because she was exhausted. We got trapped by a snowstorm and spent the night in a cave. But, um, if this virus is transmissible, it doesn’t seem to be through bodily fluids.”
Thabiso looked awkwardly defiant but Dr. Bata simply grinned as she took notes.
“Well, what’s different about you from the other patients?” Portia asked. “Are there any specific infection factors that you can think of?”
“Aren’t you an artist?” Thabiso asked, face scrunched in confusion.
“I contain multitudes, Your Highness” Portia said in a sweet tone that wasn’t sweet at all. “You should know a thing or two about that, Jamal.”
She cringed and glanced at Ledi. “Sorry.”
“None of the other patients are foreigners, are they?” Led
i asked, not bothering to mediate since Portia wasn’t wrong. Best friends who would shank your man for you were as valuable as any crown.
“No. As you know, the illness has been restricted to the mountainous region, until you,” Dr. Bata said. “Though you are originally from that region and recently visited.”
“So maybe we should be looking for some kind of genetic marker in the native population that might indicate sensitivity to a particular bacteria?” Ledi’s mind was still muddled, but possibilities were coming fast and thick. “Or something in the local environment.”
There was a knock at the door and Likotsi walked in carrying a tray laden with a ceramic teapot and several cups. “It’s teatime. I figured since you were awake you might need to rehydrate.”
“What kind of tea is it?” Portia asked. “She’s more a coffee kind of girl.”
Portia glanced at Ledi and gave a knowing nod and Ledi had to smile.
“It’s our local bush tea, which is also said to help fight illness—”
The world around Ledi went very still as facts and data and suppositions congealed into hypothesis. “Wait. Wait, I think I might have something. When I got sick, it was right after chugging an entire thermos of strong bush tea.”
“And after facing my mother,” Thabiso added.
“Pfft.” Ledi cut her eyes at him. “Your mother wouldn’t last a day in New York without her retinue. She’s not that scary. So, I drank a substance that my body is not accustomed to at a high volume, very quickly. I immediately threw up, passed out, and broke out in hives. Maybe . . .”
Ledi wished her brain wasn’t still fuzzy with sleep. The connection she was trying to make was so close. She began massaging her temples, hoping that would get the synapses popping even though it was entirely unscientific.