by Alyssa Cole
“Deserving?” Sanyu’s eyes widened with incredulity. “How am I supposed to ask you to stay and take on all this work for a country you think really sucks?”
Shanti’s annoyance grew. “You told me you didn’t want another wife. Do you know how cruel it was to say that if you don’t want me either?”
Tears of frustration, with herself and the entire situation, trickled down her cheeks and she dashed them away.
“And you told me that you didn’t care about love,” he countered. “You made that abundantly clear. Love wasn’t necessary to a good marriage, wasn’t needed as a precursor to sex, and wasn’t something that interested you, specifically. Even if you were a True Queen, how would I feel growing old with a wife who didn’t love me or my kingdom but only stayed to check something off her to-do list? You’d leave once you found a new goal—or a husband you actually loved.”
He held her gaze, and Shanti felt that annoying, painful sensation in her chest again.
“I didn’t care about love, or think it was necessary,” she said quietly. “Until I did. I don’t know when it happened but I—”
“Don’t.” The word was hard, but his eyes couldn’t hide that thing he’d told her didn’t exist in the Central Palace: hope.
She ran her hands over his shoulders, stroked his neck, his beard, feeling the smooth and rough and prickly textures of him that had become familiar to her over the past few weeks—that would change and become familiar again and again if four months became forever.
“I care,” she said. “When I was upset because you were looking for a new wife, it wasn’t because I was mad about losing my title. When I didn’t make you tell me why you didn’t want a new queen, it wasn’t because I didn’t care—it was because I hoped it meant you wanted me. Over the last few weeks I’ve started—I’ve felt . . .” She laughed helplessly and sniffled. “I don’t know if this is love.”
“Don’t you have some manuals or notes about marital relations somewhere to help us figure this out?” he asked, his voice gruff but with a hint of laughter underlying some other, deeper emotion.
She huffed out a chuckle, and his hands settled on her back.
“I thought love was an unnecessary source of problems in a marriage, and I wasn’t wrong about that,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, look at us.”
Sanyu laughed again and instead of loosening that pain in her chest, it made it tighter.
“But . . . this? What I feel for you. I don’t want to lose it.”
“Is it teamwork?” he asked, pulling her closer to him. Though it was already warm in the tunnel, the heat of him soothed her like she’d just come in from the cold.
“Yes,” she said as she laid her head on his chest. “I teamwork you.”
The laugh that boomed from him almost bounced her off of him, but she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.
“I teamwork you, too,” he said.
She lifted her head to look at him, and his arms squeezed her more tightly as he lifted her from the ground so that her face was level with his. As she was dragged up his body, his hardening penis throbbed against her belly, her mound, and came to a rest at midthigh.
“If I were a good king, I’d bring you to my office to discuss the meeting tomorrow,” he said, then grazed his mouth with hers, sending sparks of sensation through her. “I guess sometimes being a bad king pays off.”
He dipped his head forward to catch her lips, but she pulled her head back and looked into his eyes.
“No. No more saying that. Not even jokingly. You’re a good king, and one day you’ll be a great one.”
Then she kissed him, as if sealing the words between them in offering, and he groaned with relief into her mouth.
The kiss wasn’t sweet or slow; she kissed him hungrily, freely, with the energy of someone who just revealed so much that only a good fucking would bring things back to equilibrium.
Sanyu evidently felt the same way. He was usually so careful of his strength, but he banded her tight to him with one arm, freeing his other hand to slide between them, under her shift, where his hand rested in the crease between her thigh and hip, and his heavy thumb nestled between her folds to press her clit through the fabric of her underwear.
He began to circle that thumb, slowly.
“Sanyu,” she gasped, bringing her legs up around his waist to take some of the weight off of his one arm—and to trap his hand where it was because she never wanted the delicious pressure of his thumb to stop. She rolled her hips almost desperately, aching for more sensation.
“Does that feel good, my queen?” he growled into her mouth, deepening the pressure of his thumb.
“Yes. Yes.” She pressed her mouth to his, licking at his tongue and nibbling his lips as she rode his hand. When the pleasure began to build in her, she tugged up his robe, hiking it up his body until the head of his cock was nestled against her slick opening.
“I want you,” she said, looking into his eyes. “You’re mine, Sanyu.”
His eyes squeezed shut as she hinged at the knees and lowered herself onto his cock. The slow slide of him filling her was almost enough to send her over the edge. Her inner walls clamped around him as she nestled her head against his neck and pressed her mouth against the taught muscle there to muffle her cries.
“By the two gods,” he grit out. He gripped her by the ass and held her as he pistoned his hips, slowly at first, as if making sure she was ready for him, then fast, deep, desperate strokes that tossed Shanti in his arms. She steadied herself by wrapping her arms around his neck, and began to meet his upward thrust with downward hip rolls of her own.
“Shanti.” Her name was a groan so inarticulate and unsexy that it made her shudder and tighten around him—Sanyu was barely holding himself together and the thought of it paired with the pleasure he gave her made her cry out.
She tightened her grip with her knees and bounced up and down on his length—quick, slick strokes, relentless as her orgasm washed over her. She kissed him as he groaned loudly into her mouth, his fingers digging into her hips and his hips jerking as he found his release, too.
He staggered back into the wall of the tunnel and held her tightly against his body. Nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing filled the tunnel for the minutes afterward as they came down from their peaks—and as they both absorbed what had passed just before their explosive quickie.
I teamwork you.
“Well, that’s orgasms sorted,” Sanyu said. “Should we move on to economics, Wife?”
Shanti laughed into his neck and squeezed him tightly.
“You know me well,” she said.
“Not as well as I’m going to in the years to come, Shanti,” he said, his voice serious.
Then he turned and carried her back down the secret passageway toward her room, where they’d plan for the morning’s meeting—where they’d change Njaza’s future.
Chapter 18
Before taking his seat at the head of the advisory meeting, Sanyu moved the queen’s bench to the front of the room.
Shanti was directly in his line of sight and every time he felt the not-fear grip him, he glanced over at her. Her expression was the same as it had been at every previous advisory meeting, but he knew her better now. The barely suppressed smile showed her excitement that the plan they’d worked on for weeks and tweaked late into the night was about to be tested. The shimmer of competitive pride in her eyes marked her affection for him.
Sanyu would make her proud today. He’d be the kind of king she believed he could be—the kind who would make her want to stay for him and not his kingdom.
Musoke showed up later than usual, likely a show of defiance given that Sanyu had ignored his requests for a meeting the previous night. The council filed in after him. Sanyu could see that they were already curious as to why the queen wasn’t in the back corner, but the hostility on some of their faces was troubling. If this was how they reacted to a seat change, they were in for a shock w
hen they heard the plans for the kingdom.
“Sorry, I was just taking care of some things,” Musoke said as he hobbled over to the table. “I don’t imagine we have much of import to discuss today anyway, apart from the trial.”
“The trial?” Sanyu felt his sure footing begin to slip away from him.
“The trial of Shanti Mohapti,” Musoke said calmly. “For treason. I told you of her crimes yesterday, of course she’ll be punished for them before being deported.”
Nothing was going as he’d planned; there was supposed to be a calm discussion where Sanyu explained he felt the power of the king was being eroded and that he would be taking more direct control over decision-making. He’d present the plan for the Rail Pan Afrique and the application for the UAN. Musoke had upended everything and now had the upper hand.
This was always how it was, how it had been since childhood—Musoke always looking for some way to trip Sanyu up. Strategy had been his job, his calling, but he’d seemingly made use of his power to constantly run mock attacks on a boy who may as well have been his own child.
Sanyu rose slowly to his feet, years of tolerance suddenly giving way to anger like the first wave cresting over the top of a dam. “Enough!”
His voice rang in the air of the room, and this time he didn’t care that the advisors cowered—he wasn’t pretending to be his father. This was his anger and he wanted it to be felt.
“The first order of business today was going to be a gentle reminder that I am king, and I will be the one making the decisions, but there’s no need to be gentle now,” he said. “Musoke, you and the council have gone behind my back one time too many. There will be no trial of my wife, though trying to have one without consulting me is treason in itself. Perhaps it’s you who should be examined?”
Musoke pursed his lips, not even taking Sanyu seriously enough to show anger. “The council and I, who possess the knowledge of Amageez, believe—”
“Using your role to annex power from those you’re supposed to support leads nowhere good. I’m surprised that you of all people haven’t learned this yet,” Lumu said with an edge of anger in his tone that surprised Sanyu. Lumu hadn’t grown up totally sheltered in the palace and had never abided by the same rules of genuflection. “It is said that I’m also touched by Amageez. I do not believe a trial is warranted. What now?”
“A lesser advisor has no say on these matters,” one of Musoke’s allies on the council said, adjusting the tuck of his robe.
“Yes, I’m aware,” Lumu said. “I was aware when I was conveniently demoted just before our former king’s death, thus ensuring that I had no actual power and Sanyu would have to rely on Musoke.”
“I have always done what needs to be done,” Musoke said flatly. “This kingdom would be a blip in post-colonial history if that wasn’t the case. I’m trying to protect that which needs my protection. My kingdom and my king.”
Sanyu’s head swam as the not-fear that came hand in hand with speaking back to Musoke rose up in him; he glanced at Shanti sitting rigid and fierce, and gathered his thoughts.
“Are you attempting a coup? You who have spent your life telling me that I must never allow such a thing?”
“I am trying to save this kingdom from that woman,” he sneered, pointing at Shanti. “Your father would be ashamed of how you let her do as she wishes. She needs to be sent away now. The council chooses the bride, the council also decides whether she is worthy of remaining and we have found her unfit. She is easily replaced and will not be missed.”
Sanyu glanced at Shanti again; her eyes were dark now, and he was certain she was imagining what she could do to Musoke with his own walking stick. She’d warned him that the man might pull something like this as an attempt to hold on to power.
Sanyu sat back down, the impact of his body on the seat loud and his hands slapping onto the tabletop hard enough to make the nearest ministers jump.
“Whether Shanti stays or goes is my decision. Not Musoke’s, not the council’s. Your request for a trial is denied and the subject is closed,” he said.
“You do not get to make that decision on your own,” Musoke cut in.
“Actually, he does,” Lumu said. “You helped build this kingdom, as you’ve told us thousands of times, so you know that Njaza is not a parliamentary monarchy. That means all of the decisions come from the king himself. He can take the word of his advisors into account but it’s not a requirement. King Sanyu I was your lifelong friend and looked to you for help. King Sanyu II does not wish to rely so heavily on your opinion. Will that be a problem?”
Musoke hit the ground with his cane. “Tradition states—”
“Do you really want to discuss tradition, O learned one?” Lumu leaned forward. “I’m but a lesser advisor, but I would love to.”
Musoke glared at Lumu, and then his face twitched with fear and confusion for a moment; it seemed to Sanyu that Musoke had seen a ghost. Without the protection of his usual haughty expression, Musoke looked so old, and it frightened Sanyu—he was reminded of his father in those last days before his death. Of Musoke, ashen and hunched over as he sat beside the bed holding vigil.
Musoke would die, too, sooner rather than later, and Sanyu had just disrespected him, reduced him to this small, frail man before the council. Grief and guilt gripped him, even though he knew Musoke had been out of line. What would he do if Musoke died, hating him, thinking Sanyu had made the wrong choices?
What if he was right?
Darkness began to close in at the edges of his vision, and he looked at Shanti again. She very deliberately mimicked popping a piece of gum into her mouth, then nodded.
Sanyu took a deep breath, filling his lungs and then exhaling out some of the not-fear.
“I will concede the matter for now, but we will discuss it soon,” Musoke said grudgingly. “The king must think of what’s best for the kingdom, and that is not always going to be what makes him happy.”
“Having to argue with you doesn’t make me happy,” Sanyu snapped. “I hope we can come to agreements more easily than this, moving forward.”
Musoke gripped the head of his cane and turned his head. “Very well.”
Sanyu waited a moment for more disruption and felt relief flow through him when Musoke stayed quiet.
He’d won.
Musoke had backed down. It was possible that everything would be okay now. He glanced at the note card he’d written down the most important points on, the things he and Shanti had agreed to tackle. They seemed daunting, but change was necessary and there was no need to drag it out.
Rail Pan Afrique project.
UAN application.
Land mine removal charity.
Move independence parade to a later date.
Create committee to explore inclusion of women and other marginalized groups on the council, to be led by Queen Shanti.
“Next on the docket is a review of the Rail Pan Afrique decision,” Sanyu said as he began to flip through the packet that had been distributed to everyone by Lumu.
He led the advisors through the pamphlet page by page, going through the pros and cons and all possible outcomes he and Shanti had brainstormed. The not-fear was held at bay by the fact that he knew this information backward and forward, and that he truly believed it would help his kingdom.
“You are doing the work of both king and advisor,” Musoke said. “This is not your domain.”
“All that might make Njaza great is my domain,” Sanyu replied. “I believe this project is something that could bring growth and prosperity to the kingdom if managed correctly. I am hereby requesting the formation of an exploratory committee to be led by Minister Masane.”
The finance minister jumped in his seat. “What?”
“Are you capable of handling this?” Sanyu asked, brows raised.
“Yes, of course. I already have everything ready to go, Your Highness. I’ve been tracking the project in case common sense prevai—ah, in case the council reversed its
decision. If you send me what you have, I’ll have something ready to go tomorrow.”
“Excellent.”
He looked at Shanti; she smiled lightly and gave him a subtle nod.
“In addition to this, I would like to move forward with the application to join the Union of African Nations,” he said. “Not being a member leaves us at a significant disadvantage and hampers both trade and innovation. It would be foolish to join this project as an outsider that doesn’t have the benefits of all of the other countries involved.”
Musoke opened his mouth to speak but Sanyu continued.
“This is what I have decided, but I will be having our best and brightest looking into it to find any flaws in my reasoning. Is that acceptable?”
“More than acceptable, my king,” Lumu called out happily, and the other advisors echoed him with less enthusiasm but no outright hostility. Surprisingly, most of them seemed cautiously interested.
He glanced at Shanti again—she sat silently, though he could tell she vibrated with excitement, waiting for her time to shine.
“Also, I heard from von Braustein that there was a miscommunication, and he was told that we wanted to end the land mine charity before it began,” he said. “This charity is the beginning of a new chapter of safety for our people, and a partnership instead of a parasitic relationship with Liechtienbourg. All decisions about this will go through me, moving forward.”
He waited for Musoke’s censure but the man said nothing. In fact, he looked resigned, sitting there alone. The guilt gnawed at him again—Musoke must feel like everything he’d fought so hard to preserve was being trampled.
“Any thoughts?” Sanyu asked.
“The ideas of an old man on his way out of this world aren’t important to the young,” Musoke said. Sanyu would have thought him manipulative if Musoke didn’t seem so truly dejected. What did the man have outside of his role of advisor? He’d never married, had no children, had no friends. When he said he’d sacrificed his entire life for Njaza, he meant it.