The Resolute Prince

by Nana Prah

  First Published in Great Britain in 2021 by

  LOVE AFRICA PRESS

  103 Reaver House, 12 East Street, Epsom KT17 1HX

  www.loveafricapress.com

  Text copyright © Nana Prah, 2021

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  The right of Nana Prah to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Also available as paperback

  Royal House of Saene

  The Princesses:

  His Defiant Princess by Nana Prah

  His Inherited Princess by Empi Baryeh

  His Captive Princess by Kiru Taye

  The Princes:

  The Torn Prince by Zee Monodee

  The Resolute Prince by Nana Prah

  The Tainted Prince by Kiru Taye

  The Illegitimate Prince by Empi Baryeh

  The Future King by Kiru Taye

  BLURB

  As head of palace security Prince Zareb Saene lives to protect the Royal House of Saene. Between his work and coaching competitive fencing, he has no time for relationships. That is, until he meets the beautiful and headstrong Malika Ahvanti. She scales his carefully constructed walls and lands squarely in his heart. If only he could shake this unwarranted, illicit pull towards her younger brother, the new fencing protégé that he’s been charged with training.

  Malika dreams of becoming an Olympic gold medalist and is determined to succeed. Training with the Lion of Bagumi is her only chance, but after past deceptions, he refuses to coach females. Getting what she wants comes at an uncomfortable price. With great risk she presents herself as a young man with promising skill. The guilt of lying compounded by her undeniable desire for Zareb puts her future in jeopardy and her heart in danger.

  Chapter One

  “That’s enough!”

  Prince Zareb Saene’s bellow resounded with a deep frustration disproportional to the actions he’d just witnessed from his fencing trainees.

  His students ceased sparring and lowered their swords.

  Zareb held out a gloved hand to receive the épée from the shorter of the two young men, Rafi, before waving him aside. The thin, blunted sword was lighter than his own, but he’d make do. Putting on protective gear would be optimal, but he knew for a fact that the trainee lacked the skills to come anywhere close to scoring a point against him.

  “The flick is a complicated move. Timing and gauging are critical,” he said while adjusting his stance into the basic en garde position.

  His opponent, Salim, mimicked the stance with his épée, prepared to fight.

  “Attack with an advance-lunge.”

  The young man nodded.

  “Allez!” Zareb gave the word to begin.

  Salim sprang forward and aimed his sword.

  With the ease of swatting the air, Zareb stepped backwards while blocking the attack. Gaging the distance, he took the slightest step forward, raised his elbow, and whipped his épée, stopping it at the last moment so that the tip hit his student’s shoulder.

  “Again.”

  With the expertise that had won him bronze in the 2016 Summer Olympics, he demonstrated the move two more times at full speed. Then he slowed the pace and explained what they had been doing wrong with the advanced procedure.

  Handing the weapon back to Rafi, he clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Now, you try.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to contain the light buzz of adrenalin humming through his system. Anytime he had an épée in his hand, the strong desire to pounce on his competition emerged. The need to excel at what he set his determined mind to would never be abated. To be the best meant everything.

  Rafi slid his mask over his head and stepped onto the piste. After several attempts, he shook out his hand and winced.

  “Your turn, Salim,” Zareb said.

  The less experienced of the two did no better.

  He kept the disappointment out of his voice. “Practice until you can no longer hold your sword.”

  That would teach them to skip out on grip-strengthening exercises.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” they answered in unison, not daring to express a single objection.

  Discipline. He demanded it in his training facility and his life.

  He lifted his gaze to assess the establishment his father had built for him so he could bring glory to Bagumi. His coaches drilled the other participants who had come to train. Their facility was the largest in Africa, boasting of ten fencing strips. Each piste was electronically enhanced with wireless signals, just as they’d be found in the Olympics.

  The 200-metre elevated running track allowed the trainees to gain physical endurance in an air-conditioned environment when the weather grew too stifling to jog outside. After torturing himself by running in the sweltering West African sun for years, Zareb had insisted on the structure.

  A state-of-the-art gym and swimming pool sat on the other side of the glass where the security-vetted members could watch the fencers’ practice if they were interested.

  Assessing the manoeuvres of the twenty men and women who paid to train in his facility, dissatisfaction clutched at his heart. Where was the greatness he was searching for? He had yet to teach anyone with the skill and potential to get anywhere near the Olympics. No matter how many hours they practised or how hard he pushed the ones who came to him, he’d never seen that grit and determination to make winning the only thing that mattered. He hadn’t witnessed himself in anyone.

  He'd hung up his competitive sword too early. At twenty-eight, he still had a lot of wins left in him. Yet, as fit as he was, he was not in Olympic condition. He could gain it back. Exhaustive hours training with his mind laser-focused on fencing all day every day would probably kill him. But at least, he’d have that renewed sense of accomplishment back.

  No one can serve two masters. His initial failure on his climb to the Olympics had taught him that tough lesson. He’d made his choice and had no option but to stick with it.

  The hollowness in his chest at losing the chance to be the best at what he loved with a passion he’d never felt for anything else would pass. Even if it didn’t, it wouldn’t matter—he had chosen the more worthy of the two masters. To protect his family. Nothing else was more important. Not even his own happiness.

  A familiar heat pulsed into his back. He turned to find his twin brother Zediah holding his son. Zed dipped his head towards Zareb’s office, expecting him to follow.

  Zareb retreated from the cling of clashing metal swords and closed the door to his soundproof office, where the silence rang in his ears.

  His eighteen-month-old nephew raised his hands and squealed.

  Reflex brought out the smile reserved for the toddler he lifted into his arms.

  “Hey, Nour.” Zareb tugged on a strand of the boy’s hair. Nour grabbed a fistful of Zareb’s bound locs and pulled as he giggled. At least he’d stopped trying to eat the strands as he’d been prone to do when he’d been teething. Being around the child lightened his mood.

  He then focused on his brother. “Where’s your guard?”

  No one could tell they were twins—not by face, physique, or personality. Zareb was stern and had to have control over every aspect of his and everyone else’s life. Ze
d was more laidback, artistic to the point of being inspiring, and gentle to everyone he encountered. People gravitated to Zed and fled from Zareb. Just the way he liked it.

  Zed shook his head. “Don’t start.”

  Not likely. “You’re the one who called off the marriage with the president of Barakat’s daughter. Tensions are high between our countries. Her father is resisting the settlement of the territorial water disputes that your marriage to Bilkiss would’ve eradicated.”

  Zed’s eyes narrowed, expression stern. “Guilty as charged. And I’d do it all over again to have Rio and Nour in my life.”

  Zareb’s arm flexed around Nour, who’d decided to pinch his cheek and laugh. He was overprotective of everyone in the royal family, but he would never forgive himself if something happened to his nephew. “General Noda isn’t known for his beneficent and forgiving nature. He's a good ally but a formidable foe. Thanks to you, we’re on his vengeful side.”

  The comment was met with Zed’s gimlet stare. His brother would make no apologies for putting Bagumi at risk. “Don’t forget that it wasn’t all me. Bilkiss ran from the impending wedding.”

  “True, but you are a Saene, not the blood relative of the General. I doubt that he would hesitate to try to make you pay. You have a family to look after now,” Zareb grunted with jealousy at his twin’s ability to have chosen to fulfil his own desires over sacrificing for his country. “I understand that having a guard with you at all times impinges on your freedom, but as long as you’re under my protection, you will walk with one.”

  He pulled out his phone to contact the shift manager to see what had gone wrong.

  Zed stood and snatched the phone. The stare down lasted for a few seconds before his brother dropped his gaze and returned the cell.

  “You need to relax, Zareb. You’ve amped up security twenty-fold.” He swung his arm. “Everywhere I turn, there’s a camera. The king wasn’t happy about you stopping the palace tours for those two weeks when we first returned. You know how our father likes to show off our opulence.”

  Zareb snorted. Doing a thorough investigation on the tourists proved impossible, so he’d shut it down only to be vetoed when peace remained.

  “Little bro, we’ll be fine walking around on our own grounds without being haunted by security every minute.”

  The speech didn’t ease the churning disquiet in his gut. Nothing had happened, and it may not come from the General, but his instincts screamed that something bad was on the way. No matter what it was, he’d protect his own.

  Zed shrugged and grinned. “No one’s out to kill me. The one person who might’ve wanted to at one point is now irrevocably in love with me.”

  Zareb barked out a laugh that made Nour jump. “It’s a good thing, too. I’d put my money on Rio to do more harm than Bagumi’s enemies any day. What are you doing here?”

  Zed stepped back with his hands crossed against his chest. “You wound me, Reb. I long to be in your presence always.”

  Nour wound his arms around Zareb’s neck and squeezed. He kissed the boy’s plump cheek before tickling him under his arm. Giggles filled the room.

  “Mama wants to see you.”

  Zareb’s jaw tightened to the point of cramping. A summons from Queen Zulekha, his father's first wife, tended to give him more work because his mother was likely up to one of her infamous conspiracies.

  Lately, she and the king had been insistent on him marrying. The woman would, of course, belong to a family who’d make a strong ally in times of need.

  His siblings weren’t setting good examples for him to maintain his bachelorhood. His sisters Amira, India, and Isha had married and claimed to be happy. He hadn’t received a reason to sneak-attack any of their husbands in case they weren’t treating them well.

  He appreciated that he could keep an eagle eye on Amira’s husband, Jake, who had moved to Bagumi. He actually missed his brother-in-law, who’d swept his wife away last week for a month-long tour of Europe before going on a cruise in the Caribbean.

  Now that Zed was married and had provided their mother with her first grandchild, she’d become voracious for more. Good thing the couple were obliging with Rio already pregnant with their second one. In about six months, they’d have a crying infant in the palace again.

  Zed reached for Nour, who readily went to his father. “I’m just the messenger. Save your scowls for our life-giver. She said to meet her in her suite at seven.”

  Zareb glanced at his watch. He had an hour. “Were you ordered to bring me in, or will she allow me the dignity of arriving by myself?”

  “Nour wanted to see you after visiting with her, so I told her I’d inform you about her request. We can’t go with you, anyway. Tonight, I’m spending some much-needed time with Rio as soon as I get this one to bed,” Zed said with a wink.

  Once again, that green-eyed monster sliced into his belly. Watching Zed with his wife and child brought up longing for a woman in his life that had snuck up on him. He didn’t need it. Women were not to be trusted. Lessons learned the hard way were the ones that stuck.

  “Did Mama tell you why she wanted to see me?”

  Zed snorted. “And give you time to prepare?”

  “Not our queen.”

  He’d developed the love of strategizing from her. Not everyone was privy to the insight, but his mother guided his father in many of the more important operational decisions of the country. Her opinions were valued because she saw many angles to every situation, just like the most viable piece on a chess board.

  If she were head of security, no one would be able to get through her barriers because they wouldn’t be able to discover how. He tried to emulate her in that regard but didn’t always get it right.

  “Zareb, are you okay? You seem tighter strung than usual.”

  He shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  He’d deal with the restlessness plaguing him just like he did almost everything else. By himself.

  Chapter Two

  Malika Ahvanti adjusted the traditional heavy cotton weave top the men of her people wore, which she’d taken as the uniform in her new guise. For the thousandth time, she checked the front embroidery to ensure the flow of the garment. Along with the breast binder, it was supposed to make her meagre chest look flat so no one would guess she was a woman.

  Queen Zulekha tipped her head to the side. “Stop fidgeting, dear. You must appear confident in front of my son. Weakness is his enemy.”

  “It’s hard to do when I look like my brother instead of myself. Isn’t it possible to get Prince Zareb to train me in fencing as a female? I’m good. My previous coaches can vouch for me.”

  “Trust me, he would refuse you.”

  After extensive research on her potential coach, she hadn’t discovered any logical reason he didn’t personally train women. “But why?”

  She half-expected a growl to accompany the queen’s barred teeth.

  “Let’s just say that he’s had unpleasant experiences when it comes to working with young ladies.”

  If the queen had wanted her to know what had happened, she would’ve said it straight out. The elegant woman didn’t mince words.

  “I don’t feel comfortable lying to him.” Her stomach tightened, and she swallowed down the burning acid which rose at the thought of it. Was her goal of becoming an Olympic champion worth infuriating The Lion of Bagumi with her lie? “If he finds out that I’m deceiving him—”

  “As long as you act like a surly teenage boy and don’t talk too much, you’ll do well. You’ve been practising by mimicking your brother, so you should be able to sustain the behaviour for six weeks. That’s when Zareb holds an international fencing competition. Once you prove your skills in the tournament, you can reveal yourself to him.”

  Malika held back a sigh at the ridiculous amount of time she’d have to spend adjusting her stuffed crotch, strutting to hide her hip sway, and stopping herself from crossing her legs. She struggled not to cringe at the thought of wearing t
he binder when her breasts became heavy and tender before her period.

  It was a good thing she’d just finished and wouldn’t have to deal with it for a few more weeks. Pain killers and staying in her room braless when she wasn’t working out was on the agenda for those days.

  The collar of her white undershirt choked her as reality hit that in a few minutes, she was going to have to make Prince Zareb believe that she was something she wasn’t. She hated herself for it, and yet, she hadn’t burst out of the room, leaving apologies in her wake for having wasted the queen’s time.

  “You’ll only have to see Zareb during training. Be careful in public areas—my son has become vigilant with having eyes on every corner of this palace.”

  Silence filled the room as the queen considered Malika.

  “Your mother would always mention how good you were in the plays you acted in during secondary school.” Queen Zulekha chuckled. “She said that your father feared that you would go into it as a profession rather than something practical. This is the same thing. Only now, it’s for your future in a sport you excel at.”

  Malika opened her mouth to protest, but then the remembered words of her late mother brought on a full body tingle. “Promise me that you’ll live life to the fullest, my darling Malika. When I look down from Heaven, I want to see you accomplish your dreams. Follow your heart and do what makes you happy.”

  Engaging in trickery brought her no joy, but excelling at fencing did. Living with the temporary guilt to fulfil one of her mother’s last requests was what she’d do.

  Queen Zulekha tipped her head the slightest bit. “To be honest, you’re doing him a favour. The timing of wanting to resume your training couldn’t have been more ideal. You’ll be a perfect distraction in both your forms.”

  Before Malika could ask any of the fifteen questions that would clarify those cryptic words, a knock came on the door.