by Susan Stoker
Beside me, Mazi sighed. “Not tonight, Norah, okay? Let’s not waste a beautiful night on what-ifs and what might happen. Let’s just enjoy tonight.”
This time it was my turn to stay silent. It was easy for him to ignore the elephant in the room. He wasn’t the one who stood risking his heart being smashed into a million pieces.
“It’s never the right time, Mazi!” I said sadly, fully exasperated. “There isn’t a right time. Your life is utter chaos right now, I get it, and I feel like such a selfish bitch for having to bring this up again, but you aren’t the only one who matters in this relationship, if you can even call it that!” The words fell out before I could stop them. I hadn’t meant for the night to go this way. But the thoughts that plagued me were incessant. I couldn’t get away from them. They had to come out, or they festered and got worse.
Mazi stopped short, grabbing one of my shoulders with a large hand, and moved me to face him, holding me at arm’s length.
“Of course I call it that. What else would I call it?” he questioned darkly. “And furthermore, you know how I feel about you calling yourself names.”
He held my gaze, and I sighed. “Yes, Mazi. I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated.”
“And I’m just exhausted. I’ve had a busy week, and a hard one. I just want to enjoy a night with my girl and pretend my life isn’t about to get turned upside down and sideways.”
I wanted that, too. But I was tired of pretending. Sometimes I felt like it was all I had been doing lately. But he was right; he deserved a night off.
“Yes, Mazi,” I agreed with a sigh.
“There’s a ball on Saturday.”
The announcement came out of nowhere, and I wrinkled my brows in confusion. “What?”
“A ball. Saturday,” he repeated with a shrug. “A big fancy proper shindig, you know, like the one in Cinderella.”
“Yes, I got that. But… isn’t… shouldn’t we… is this a good time?”
Mazi shrugged. “Apparently, the king likes to dance. Guess I got that from him.”
“So he’s throwing a ball?”
“He wants to. One last one, he said.”
“Oh.” We both fell silent at the thought of King Ona-Mazi beginning to carry out his last wishes, checking things off a list, the rest of us weren’t privy to.
He let go of my shoulders and took my hands instead.
“Come with me to the ball, Norah. Come with me, as my date, and afterwards we shall have this discussion you keep bringing up.”
The minute he said ball, I had found my inner little girl. The one who dreamed of marrying a prince. I realized there was no way, with our current arrangement, I could go to the ball as Mazi’s date, but I no longer cared. My mind was in the grand ballroom, decked out in a fancy dress with expensive jewels dangling from my neck and throat, dancing with my prince.
Never mind the fact that I didn’t own a fancy dress or jewels of any kind, expensive or otherwise—I was going to a royal ball!
Mazi was staring at me, and I realized I hadn’t yet answered, so I squealed and jumped into his arms.
I was going to a royal ball! Why was it I suddenly wanted to believe in fairytale endings?
Chapter Eleven
Mazi
My father was acting funny. They say dementia can set in when a person is close to death, and you’re unlikely to get a coherent thought most days. But that didn’t feel like what was going on.
His mind was sound. Every morning we met for breakfast, and he gave me an impromptu history lesson, teaching me all about the rich history of the island. Every day at lunch, we hammered through the list of duties and responsibilities I would have as king, and bounced around ideas to save the country he loved so much.
At dinner, he would talk about his childhood, his parents, and sometimes, my mother. His stories were always perfect, with just the right mix of nostalgia and humor. I always left dinner with a smile on my face.
And then there was the ball. It had been his idea, something he swore he wanted more than anything, but every time it got brought up, he started to act a little off.
For instance, just now, I had asked him to send up a dressmaker to Norah’s room, so that she would have something to wear. One minute he had been going over ballroom etiquette and customs that dated back two centuries, and the next he was staring at me like I was speaking a foreign language and he couldn’t remember who Norah was, or figure out why she would need a dress.
It didn’t help that Jax hovered nearby, looking more than a little perturbed about the conversation that was taking place. Or not taking place, as the case may be.
My father was suddenly flustered, shuffling papers as he muttered to himself.
“Father? Is there a problem? If there are no dressmakers, I suppose I can make time to take Norah out shopping. We might have to ferry to the mainland, but I think I can make the time.”
Jax cleared his throat, and the papers in my father’s hands suddenly stilled. He laid them on the table, sat back down, and peered at me, opening his mouth and closing it again, as if choosing his words carefully.
When he finally spoke, the words he chose left me reeling.
“Mazi, I’ve found you a wife. It took a little longer than it should have, what with all this stripper nonsense, but Miss Norah’s story cleared the way for me to find you a lovely bride. You shall meet her Saturday night, at the ball, and be wed as soon as possible.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I actually stuck my finger in my ear, jiggling it around some, as if to clear it out. I couldn’t have heard correctly.
“Every king needs a queen, son. With a good woman by your side, you will thrive as ruler of your kingdom and restore this country to greatness.”
This was too much. I couldn’t comprehend the words he was speaking, much less fathom an intelligent response. It was fucking 2017. He couldn’t possibly be talking about an arranged marriage—and yet he was.
“You found me a bride?” I repeated dumbly. “And I will meet her Saturday? And you expect me to marry her soon after?”
“There will be time for a brief courtship. But I would like to see you married before I die, yes.” He said these things as if they were completely normal, and like the floor hadn’t just fallen out from under me.
“If you don’t stop this crazy talk, you might die a lot sooner than you think.” Those were the words I muttered under my breath. Out loud, all I said was “No.”
He didn’t hear me, or rather he did, but there was a delay as he processed the fact that I hadn’t blindly agreed to his ridiculous decree.
“I beg your pardon?”
“No.” I repeated. “N.O. I will not marry just to appease you and your constituents. I will not have these major life decisions made for me as if I am a child, or some pawn in the game of life. I will not marry a woman I have only just met, and my father who, mind you, barely knows me, will not be picking out my wife. It’s marriage, not a business merger.”
“That’s rather naive.” He was the one mumbling this time. “Son, this is the way we do things in Osei. This is the way it has always been. The marriage between you and Zahra will go a long way in restoring the kingdom’s relations with Nigeria.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t really give a fuck.”
“Son….” He was at a loss for words, and that was fine with me. I didn’t really want to hear anything else he had to say.
“I said no!” I roared, standing and slamming my fist on the table for good measure. “It’s not happening, so you can just give Zahra’s daddy a call back, and tell him to pawn his daughter off on some other schmuck. I will not sell my future for a business deal.”
“Osei is your future!” He was yelling too, and I had never seen him yell. “I have given you everything!”
My eyes narrowed, and I stared darkly at him, contemplating my response. “Yeah, well, you didn’t tell me there were so many strings attached,” I spat.
He had, in fact, told me the opposite
, when he asked me to come and paid off my mother’s staggering medical bills. No strings attached.
He sobered at the dig. “Mazi, a king needs a queen. I did not expect the media storm surrounding your arrival, and I have done my best at performing damage control, but it hasn’t been enough. Marrying Zahra will not only do great things for the kingdom of Osei, but it will further your image as a future king. One who takes his role seriously. Not to mention, a wife will bless you.”
I stared him down, my mouth gaping open. “I have done nothing but bend over backwards for weeks! I have gone wherever I was needed, done whatever I was asked, and dedicated nearly every meal to learning the history and customs of Osei, as well as planning for a better future. If that’s not me taking it seriously enough for you, well, you can just fuck off.” I didn’t even bother addressing the wife comments. I was pissed enough as it was.
My father clicked his tongue and furrowed his brow. “Mazi, a king does not speak with such foul language. But for what it’s worth, I happen to agree with you. You have been doing a fine job. You have done everything that has been asked of you and then some. But the people of Osei are worried. “
“Well, they can fuck off too, then.”
“They don’t want a playboy king. They would feel better if you settled down and took a wife,” my father said with a sigh. “The least you can do is go to the ball and meet Zahra. Give her a chance. She’s a wonderful young woman, and I think you will really like her.”
“It wouldn’t matter if she was Mother Theresa in a supermodel’s body!” I shouted, unable to contain the truth any longer. “I’m in love with someone else!”
Both Jax and my father stopped short and stared at me with their mouths open.
“Norah,” I whispered, even though they hadn’t asked. “I’m in love with Norah.”
***
Kings married for their country, not for love. They made what was essentially a business match, and believed that the gods would fill them with a love for their spouse.
That was what I walked away from the conversation with. And if you asked me, it was a complete and utter crock of shit.
Even bigger shit was that Norah had been right all along. A king marrying a reporter was unheard of in Osei. My father refused to consider that I was in love with her, much less discuss the possibility of me marrying her.
All he could do was talk about how wonderful Zahra was. Zahra this, Zahra that. I had to talk him out of firing Norah. It didn’t hurt that he was a fan of her work. Her articles had already gone a long way in improving tourism on the island.
Unfortunately, that fact hadn’t done much to help my case for marrying her.
I left the king’s room in a snit and stomped around the palace, pacing blindly, not really sure where to go or what to do.
The king’s speech before I left had affected me, more than I expected. It had all been about duty, and country, and roots, and a woman who would understand the importance of those things.
I thought that Norah would, but the niggling of doubt came from the fact that she had repeatedly told me she wasn’t princess material, couldn’t be with a king, and didn’t see a future for us. It was the source of more fights than I could count.
But she loved me. I knew she did. I knew it without a doubt in my mind.
Marriage was a thing that needed to happen. My father had managed to convince me of that, if nothing else. And I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I couldn’t imagine having time to date after I became king. Perhaps that’s how the tradition had started.
I was also convinced that, if at all possible, I would have my father at my wedding. That was something I knew I wanted.
The only question that truly remained was this: Would I marry for love, or for duty?
Chapter Twelve
Norah
When Mazi showed up at my door after his daily lunch meeting with King Ona-Mazi, there was a fierceness about him I had never seen before.
For a hot minute, I had almost been afraid to let him in. My heart pounded as I stared at the look of anger on his face, and I briefly wondered what I had done to set him off.
And then he smiled. And I remembered who he was.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. You seemed kind of upset for a minute,” I explained, holding the door open wider, so he could step inside.
He shrugged, and I could tell that whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Tough lunch,” he explained with a shrug. “It happens. I came up here for some stress relief,” he said with a wink, taking the desk chair from its spot at the desk and rotating it to face the bed before sitting and taking off his shoes.
I sat on the bed and faced him, watching as I tried to get a read on what was bugging him. There were no clues on his face. The only thing I saw now was a hint of annoyance and a lot of lust. I focused on the lust, coming to stand between his legs, shivering when his large hands gripped my hips tightly. “What kind of stress relief did you have in mind?” I asked with a devilish grin, leaning down to kiss his neck.
He arched his back, leaning into my kisses. I looked down at his lap, and saw that he was very aroused. Taking a seat on his lap, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and continued my course, interspersing kisses with nibbles until he was moaning aloud.
“Damn, girl.” His moans were laced with angst and sexual tension. I grabbed his face with both hands and forced him to face me, before claiming his lips in a kiss that was hard and deep.
If Mazi needed stress relief, I was going to try my damndest to provide it.
I was rewarded when he stood, grabbing me into his embrace and throwing me onto the bed, leaning over me with a feral growl on his face.
My panties filled with the juice of my arousal. I needed this as much as he did. I tugged at his shirt, ripping it over his head, and my own quickly followed.
It was all the encouragement he needed, and within a minute he was naked and I was down to my bra and underwear.
He closed the space between our bodies, and I hummed with delight when his cock pressed against the thin lace fabric of my panties. I was so ready.
He kissed my neck, exactly as I had done to him earlier, interspersing kisses and small bites, until I was ready to crawl out of my skin with need.
“Mazi,” I moaned. “Fuck me, please. I need your cock!”
His eyes were cloudy with lust as he pushed my panties aside and thrust inside me. His movements and mine became frenzied as our bodies came together. My hands were all over him, clawing and stroking every reachable inch. He grabbed my hair and held on, using it as leverage for each forceful thrust.
When we came, it was together, crying out our releases simultaneously before collapsing side by side on the bed, still entwined. Hot. Sticky. Satiated.
We kissed once more before separating. I rolled onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow, and faced him. Mazi rolled onto his back, folding his arms behind his head.
“Marry me.” At least that’s what I thought he said. But that was crazy. I had to be hearing things. It had been so softly spoken, I hadn’t even seen his lips move.
I shifted on my elbow and peered at him, waiting to see if he spoke again.
“They want me to marry.”
That got my attention. I sat up on the bed with a start, staring at him with my mouth gaping open. “I’m sorry, what?”
“They want me to marry. As soon as possible.” Mazi was still in the same position, staring up at the ceiling blankly, appearing unaffected by this startling development.
I had studied the culture and customs of Osei well enough to know that every king dating back for centuries, including King Ona-Mazi, had had an arranged marriage. My answer was short and curt. “I see. I assume they have someone in mind?”
Mazi’s only answer was a nod of affirmation. I waited for more, with tears pricking the back of my eyes.
“Princess Zahra of Nigeria,” he finally stated.
M
y face contorted in a mixture of rage and sadness, as anger welled in my chest. “So, what was this then, Mazi? One last fuck to say goodbye?”
His head whipped around as he faced me quickly, sitting up with a start. “No! It’s not like that.”
I wasn’t listening. I fumbled for the pile of his clothes, and shoved them into his hands, refusing to look at him. “Of course it is, and I knew it would be. I knew that this, what we had, was going nowhere fast, Mazi, and I kept trying to tell you that. But you wouldn’t listen, and damn it, shame on me for being a fool, but I started to believe you!” I shook my head as the tears began to fall. “And that’s the worst thing, Mazi! The worst thing of all, you gave me false hope.”
Mazi was staring at me, dumbfounded, as I continued my rant.
“It’s not like that, Norah. I swear. I wasn’t using you, and I certainly never intended to give you false hope. I had no idea that this would happen. None. I’m as pissed as you are.”
“That’s not even possible,” I scoffed at him, standing and beginning to pace around my small room. “Get dressed. Put your clothes on and get out.”
He just sat there, his mouth opening and closing in shock. If I wasn’t so angry, I might have felt bad for him.
But I was angry, and I didn’t feel bad, so I grabbed the nearest thing I could find—a cup of water sitting on my desk—and chucked it at the wall behind his head. The crash of the glass and the splash of the water as it dripped down the wall gave me little satisfaction. “Get. Out.” I repeated, my eyes darting around the room as I searched for something else to throw.
When my hand closed over the small desk lamp, Mazi scrambled into action, pulling his jeans over his naked body, not even bothering with his boxer briefs. His T-shirt followed, and he was hopping on one foot, putting his shoe on as he moved towards the door, when the lamp crashed into the wall where the glass had hit minutes before.