Princess of Zamibia

by Delaney Diamond

  In Tofo, when she mentioned she tried to reach him to let him know she was pregnant, it triggered a memory. Back in Atlanta, Dahlia told him she spoke to Kemal, but anger and a sense of betrayal made him ignore her and he never followed up with his assistant.

  The first sign of discomfort appeared when Kemal swallowed. “I remember the conversation,” he said in a composed tone.

  “Why didn’t you tell me she had called?” Kofi became very still.

  “You were on your honeymoon.”

  “And after I returned?”

  “I didn’t think you wanted to have anything to do with her. This woman stole from the kingdom, and you gave no indication you were still interested in her.”

  He had a point, except for one small detail. “I no longer believe she stole from us, and furthermore, I confided in you about my feelings for her. So tell me again how I gave no indication I was interested.”

  Kemal rolled his shoulders. “She wasn’t right for you.”

  Kofi shot up from the chair and marched over to Kemal. He watched his body tense as they stood eye to eye. “That was not your decision to make.”

  Kemal’s jaw went rigid, and his gaze dropped to the floor.

  “Six months after Azireh died, I asked you to find Dahlia. You never told me then that she called, either.” Kemal told him he hadn’t been able to find a trace of her in New York, which made sense. By then she’d left for Atlanta. But did Kemal put in the necessary effort to find her? When Kofi hired an investigator himself, the man located her within weeks.

  “The mourning period had not passed,” Kemal said quietly.

  “Again, not your decision to make.” Kofi slammed a hand against his chest. “I determine how long I should mourn. Not tradition. Maybe we should reevaluate your role.”

  Kemal’s head jerked up. “I’ve been loyal to you for over five years.”

  “Have you?” The question hung in the air like putrid smoke.

  Much of the anger he felt was directed at himself for not believing Dahlia when she told him she had nothing to do with the stolen funds and did try to contact him about Noel. Recognizing her innocence made him feel like a louse when he considered how he’d treated her and the accusations he’d hurled.

  Kemal’s lips tightened and defiance sparked in his eyes. “You’re tired and stressed because of the problem at the mine. I’ll call Alistair—Mr. Davies—and let him know nothing has changed.” He swung on his heels.

  “On second thought, I’ll handle Davies from now on.”

  Kemal paused at the door. “If that’s what you prefer.”

  “That is what I prefer.”

  “Very well.” He exited the office.

  Kofi’s eyes didn’t leave the closed door. After a few minutes, he rounded the desk and sank into the leather chair, mind racing. He needed time to think. His relationship with Kemal was sensitive and complicated, and in all this time he’d never questioned his loyalty. Had he made a mistake in hiring him?

  He was starting to think he had.

  23

  Dahlia awoke with a start and sat up. The image of a familiar figure stood next to the bed.

  She pressed a hand to her chest. “Kofi, you scared me. What are you doing?” she whispered. She didn’t want to wake Noel, who slept beside her with the stuffed worm sandwiched between the mattress and his leg.

  “Thinking.”

  She peered at him in the near darkness and blinked to adjust her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  Dahlia pulled back the linens and silently invited him into the bed. He settled behind her, draping an arm across her waist and sliding a knee between her thighs. They fit together like two magnets, lying together for the first time since their return from Mozambique a week ago. Kofi spent every day in meetings and visited the mine where the accident took place, all to get to the bottom of the catastrophe and make sure those affected were adequately compensated.

  The news cycle hadn’t been kind, questioning whether the Karunzika family had been careless and not hired the right people. Five people died, and she saw the toll the negative press and the deaths took on Kofi. He appeared distracted most days, and at breakfast this morning, there’d been bags under his eyes.

  She did her part to help change the narrative by spending an entire day visiting the injured in the hospital and eating lunch with the doctors and nurses who treated them. The photo ops presented the royal family in a different light and allowed them to appear more compassionate. The visit didn’t only affect the patients. She gained personal satisfaction knowing she’d brightened their day and made a small difference.

  The very next day, she met with her social secretary and scheduled another visit, this time to the children’s hospital, without the cameras. Children suffering from injuries and life-threatening illnesses perked up when she appeared. She and her assistants handed out toys purchased with funds from her budget, and she signed casts and kissed and hugged a lot of children. Her cheeks hurt when she left, but she’d never been so invigorated and decided visiting the children’s hospital would be a regular part of her duties.

  “Has Oriyeh or the police figured out how the note ended up in King Babatunde’s garden?”

  Kofi had briefly discussed the threatening note with her. Since then, additional guards had been assigned to travel with her and Noel at all times. She felt crowded by the extra security but didn’t have any choice since no one knew who the threatening person or persons were.

  “They’re no closer to figuring that out than they were before. Oriyeh is working closely with the police and their contacts.”

  “Is it possible the culprit is someone already in the palace? Not someone from the outside?”

  Kofi remained silent.

  “I’m not wrong, am I?” Dahlia asked quietly.

  “The thought crossed my mind,” Kofi admitted.

  “Have you discussed your thought with Oriyeh?”

  “Yes, among other ideas.” He shifted. “What I hate is this waiting, as if we have to wait for them to strike again before we can get another clue to their identity.”

  Dahlia brushed her knuckles gently over Noel’s cheek. He had surprisingly long eyelashes, which he didn’t inherit from either her or Kofi. They came from his grandmother, Queen Nahla, who from all the photos that she’d seen, had long, thick, curly lashes.

  He slept quietly and peacefully in the bed beside her, with a pillow behind his back to make sure he didn’t fall off the bed in the middle of the night. She’d been spending more time with him lately, worried to let him out of her sight. Not knowing from which direction the danger could come filled her with queasy dread, but she didn’t share her thoughts with Kofi because she didn’t want to burden him more than he already was.

  “I won’t let anything happen to either of you,” Kofi said.

  She didn’t reply. He’d told her once no one would dare harm them. Now she wondered if he’d been wrong.

  “Ow! Stop,” Dahlia howled as Kofi pummeled her with a pillow. She collapsed onto her back in a tangle of sheets and a deep belly laugh, the lavender nightgown riding up her thighs.

  He dropped on top of her, pinning her arms on either side of her head. “Oh, now you wish to cry stop. How do you think I felt when you ambushed me as soon as I came out of the bathroom? You started this war, and I’m going to end it.”

  “That was over an hour ago.”

  “This is my revenge.”

  “Well, you know what? I got you good. Some great warrior you are. You didn’t see that pillow coming.”

  “You think it’s funny to question my skills?” He held her wrists in one hand and tickled her stomach with the other.

  Dahlia burst into a fit of giggles. “Stop. Stop.”

  She looked so delicious writhing beneath him, Kofi kissed her. He couldn’t help himself. Her soft mouth gave under his, but then she retaliated with a nip to his top lip.

  His head popped up. “You better beh
ave,” he warned.

  “You behave and let me go,” Dahlia said.

  His eyes held hers. “Never.”

  They both stopped laughing and he bit his bottom lip, gazing at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. A spark of desire lit his eyes, and he kissed her softly on the mouth again.

  “No, Baba. Enough.” Noel shoved his father’s face and then climbed on top of Dahlia, resting his head on her chest.

  Dahlia burst out laughing at Kofi’s bewildered expression. “You don’t want Baba to kiss me?”

  Pouting, Noel shook his head.

  “He’s going to be very disappointed, then,” Kofi said with amusement, falling onto his back.

  “Let’s get him,” Dahlia said to Noel in a loud whisper.

  Noel jumped on top of his father and landed tiny-fisted punches in Kofi’s stomach, and he pretended to be hurt, grunting after each soft blow landed. In the meantime, Dahlia picked up another pillow and raised it over her head to pummel him.

  “Excuse me, Your Highnesses.”

  An attendant brought in the lunch Kofi ordered. The man kept his eyes averted from the three of them roughhousing in their nightclothes.

  The servant set the silver platter with drinks and covered dishes on a table in the sitting area. With eyes trained on the floor and his hands crossed before him, he asked, “Will there be anything else?”

  “That will be all,” Kofi said.

  At the closing of the door, Dahlia snorted. “What must he be thinking?”

  “That my wife is a bad influence on me.”

  She tossed the pillow toward the head of the bed. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” He smirked. “Come on, we can’t stay in bed all day.” He sat up and scooped up Noel with him, tossing the toddler over his shoulder. Noel squealed and kicked his feet.

  Dahlia groaned and followed him over to the table. They sat down, Noel in his lap.

  Kofi thought back over the almost two weeks since the mine collapse. The tragedy had fallen out of heavy rotation in the news cycle, and Dahlia helped initiate the shift. By visiting the injured and their families, she softened the bent of the stories and allowed him more time to work with law enforcement on catching the perpetrators.

  And their relationship was blossoming. Most nights she slept in his room, like last night, and this morning Aofa brought in Noel. They’d taken advantage of the weekend day and been lazy, watching television, playing with Noel’s building blocks—an entire box of which migrated into Kofi’s room somehow—and play fighting. Their cheerful family life was almost too good. A part of him half expected a rhino to come barreling through the front door to disrupt their peace. Or maybe he was being pessimistic.

  “What’s all this?” Dahlia asked. She inhaled deeply, concentrating her attention on the uncovered plate in front of her.

  “I asked the chef to create a South African dish for you. That’s peri-peri chicken with basmati rice and vegetables.” He lifted the silver dome off another plate. “These are ostrich steaks for you to try.” He lifted the dome off his own plate. “Slow-roasted antelope chops in an herb-butter sauce.” His meat was served with a healthy serving of mushrooms and other vegetables.

  “I ate an ostrich burger once and enjoyed it, so I’ll give the steak a shot.”

  “No antelope for you?”

  “A little piece, in case I don’t like it.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s delicious. Have I led you wrong yet?” She’d been very adventurous in her food choices lately. She was now a biltong convert and most memorably devoured a bowl of peanut stew after wrinkling her nose and declaring she didn’t want any.

  “Not yet,” she admitted.

  Kofi cut a small piece of the tender meat and set it on her plate, and then cut off another piece and shared it with Noel.

  His son chewed fast and swallowed. “All gone.” He opened his mouth wide to show it was empty.

  Kofi chuckled. “You like that, eh?”

  Noel nodded vigorously.

  “Here’s another piece, but Baba needs to eat, too.” Kofi shared another piece with him and then cut up additional slices. Across the table, Dahlia was looking at them.

  “He fits right in, doesn’t he?” she said, her voice thick.

  “This is home. It’s where he belongs,” Kofi said. He kissed the top of his son’s head.

  “More, Baba!”

  Kofi and Dahlia laughed.

  “All right, all right.” Kofi gave him some more food. “What do you say?”

  “Ese-gani,” Noel said, using the Mbutu word for Thank you.

  “Odi. Good. You’re going to be bilingual soon. Unlike Mommy, who only speaks English.” He looked pointedly at Dahlia.

  She glared at him. “I’m going to take classes. I couldn’t decide between French or Mbutu, but I’ve already spoken to the language coach, thank you very much. I’m starting with Mbutu.”

  Her decision to start with his tribal tongue pleased him immensely. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I don’t tell you everything, aremoh mi.” With a cocky smile, she took a sip of bissap.

  He chuckled and gave Noel a mushroom from his plate. “So tell me, what did you buy for my uncle’s wife, so I won’t be surprised when she opens the gift?” Kofi asked.

  Prince Kehinde, his father’s younger brother and Imani’s father, was throwing a birthday party for his youngest wife tonight, who turned fifty. Initially, they’d planned for a huge celebration, but in light of the recent mine collapse, King Babatunde asked them to tone down the festivities. Instead of throwing a big party at a local hotel, they’d opted to have a small, outdoor event on the grounds of the palace, with family, close friends, and servants.

  “Kehinde said she wanted jewelry, and my secretary found a gorgeous diamond bracelet for her. It’s with the other gifts.”

  “We’re all set for this evening, then?”

  “Yes, and we can be lazy for the rest of the day.”

  24

  With lush green mountains in the distance forming a boundary to the hundreds of acres occupied by the royal family, the grounds in the back of the palace were the perfect place for a birthday party. Servants set up lanterns and poles which suspended strings of light over tables filled with food and presents, creating a festive but charming ambiance.

  “I want to thank you all for coming tonight to help me celebrate my wife’s birthday. Fifty years is a milestone many people don’t achieve, and I am the lucky man who has been fortunate enough to spend the last thirty years with this lovely woman. Thank you for my beautiful children. You’ve been a blessing to me and my family. Happy birthday, my love.”

  Dahlia applauded and cheered with everyone else. She watched as Kehinde’s wife blew out the candles and everyone cheered and whistled again, including his other two wives.

  She may not have understood their type of arrangement before she arrived in this country, but she accepted their relationship now. Theirs wasn’t the type of marriage she could see herself in, but they were a happy, close-knit family. The three women lived like sisters, and their children were all close.

  Imani gave her mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then the music started, a traditional Zamibian beat that relied heavily on drums and other percussion instruments, which made her want to shake her shoulders and get up and dance. Her eyes searched for Kofi among the small group. He and his father sat beside each other, their heads close together as they apparently discussed something important. She didn’t want to interrupt.

  “I love your outfit,” Imani said.

  “Thank you.” She’d picked out the dress herself, since she’d given Mariama the day off. The royal blue dress draped over her body in a flattering way. She kept the jewelry to a minimum but added an African flair with colorful balls attached to handmade copper earrings.

  “Kofi told me you’re going to learn Mbutu,” Imani said.

  “I’m going to try. I’m intimidated because the language i
s completely foreign to me, but I’m giving it a shot instead of learning French.”

  Imani nodded. “Even if you learn a few phrases, people will appreciate you for trying. I think you’re making the right choice.”

  She knew she was making the right choice. She was starting to feel closer to the culture of the Zamibian people, less of an outsider and more like a citizen herself. Learning the language would bring her closer to an affinity with them, which she wanted, particularly since she and Kofi were closer now. At times when he looked at her, she saw the reciprocated love in his eyes, and she couldn’t imagine losing that or being apart from him again.

  Dahlia caught sight of Aofa on the outskirts of the group, sitting with Noel in her lap. She had asked Aofa to come to the party and keep an eye on Noel, allowing Dahlia to spend time with the adults.

  Dahlia did a double take. Noel looked odd. Almost lethargic.

  She walked toward them, and when she was a few feet away, he leaned over and vomited on the grass. Dahlia rushed the rest of the way and crouched in front of him.

  “He hasn’t been well since we came to the party,” Aofa said.

  “He was fine this afternoon.” Dahlia rubbed his back.

  “Mommy,” he moaned, reaching for her. She took him in her arms and used the handkerchief Aofa handed her to wipe his mouth.

  “Let me take him upstairs. That way you can stay and enjoy the party,” Aofa offered.

  “No, you stay and enjoy the party. I’ll take him up.” The way Noel held onto her, she knew he wouldn’t let her go. She stood and hoisted him higher on her hip. He was gaining weight and getting so big.

  “I don’t mind,” Aofa said.

  “I insist. You stay here, and I’ll go up to the apartment.”

  “Are you sure, Your Highness? Do you know what to do?” Aofa stood, her arms extended as if to take him.

  Dahlia took a step back. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own child.”