by Alyssa Cole
Hey now. What was that?
Just the possibility of the unfinished thought made her want to turn and run back to the airport, but her traitorous feet kept carrying her forward until she stood close enough that she had to look up at him. She steeled herself, reminded herself that this was not the man she’d grown close to over the last week.
“Prince Thabiso,” she said, his name another barrier she could throw up between them.
“My beautiful betrothed,” he responded. He said the last word so warmly that anyone watching would think he was a man looking forward to marriage. Then again, she’d never thought Jamal might be a prince in disguise before the night he’d stepped onstage. Her chest tightened at the memory.
“Are you sure you’re not too tired to attend this event?” he asked. His hand went to her shoulder in concern, and she closed her eyes against the pleasure of his touch on her bare skin.
She was exhausted. She had no idea what time it was in NYC, but she was jet-lagged, and meeting her family and an entire nation of people had compounded that. She hadn’t factored in that Thabiso’s presence would be this hard; she’d only known him a few days—he should have been out of her system. Men had done hurtful things to her before, and Ledi had always been able to move on quickly. With Thabiso, she’d actually been hurt, which made things a bit more difficult.
“I’m fine,” she said.
He nodded, then took her arm gently. “A Thesoloian celebration can last for days, but I’ll have you out of here in a couple of hours, just in case you stop feeling fine.”
“I think I can handle a dinner,” she replied curtly, then they stepped into the dining room and she regretted her attitude. The dining room was huge, with cantilevered ceilings and rich tapestries hanging from the walls. The long dining table on a raised area, clearly for the guests of honor, was on the other side of the room. To get to it, they had to walk a gauntlet of people who were apparently all there to meet Naledi.
“Here we go,” he whispered, brushing a caress over the back of her hand, and then they were off. After the first ten people, Ledi barely remembered shaking anyone’s hand or kissing anyone’s cheek. She couldn’t recall a single name, and she didn’t know what she was laughing at when people joked—she simply followed Thabiso’s lead.
“My my, you look just like your mother!” an older man said, after nearly cutting off circulation in her hand. All of the older people she’d met had said something similar, although there was no consensus on which of her parents she resembled more. She smiled and nodded, but all she could think of each time someone mentioned it was that they’d known her parents better than she had.
“Yes, Ledi is surpassingly beautiful,” Thabiso said, clapping the man on the back heartily enough that he dropped Ledi’s hand. He ran interference for her constantly, stepping in every time she was at a loss for words or overwhelmed. “They’re about to serve the salads. We should get to our seats.”
He tucked her arm in his again, and though Ledi had resented the gesture before, she was fairly certain he was holding her up. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since they’d descended onto the main floor, but it could have been days given how many hands she’d shaken and how tired she was. She didn’t want to lean into him, but she was a practical woman and he was the nearest source of support. She leaned.
“You’re doing very well,” he said in the same tone a teacher would use when giving out participation trophies.
She laughed and even that small action left her feeling a bit unsteady. She stumbled and Thabiso stopped and looked down at her. “Ledi. You do not seem fine.”
“I’m not,” she admitted. “Can we sit down?”
He led her to her seat, near the head of the table, and the other guests began to follow suit.
The king and queen were already seated, and she greeted them with as much energy as she could muster. Her head was spinning and she wanted nothing more than to sleep.
“There we go,” Thabiso said as he helped her into her seat. He was so gentle with her that she had to close her eyes against it. Perhaps a bit too gentle.
“Don’t tell me she’s pregnant!” The queen’s indignant whisper jolted Ledi’s eyes open.
“Mother,” Thabiso warned.
“Is that what this is all about? Honestly—”
“I’m not pregnant,” Ledi said. She was too tired and out of sorts to feign politeness. “I know how to use a condom correctly, but I also have an IUD in case of accidents and just had my period. Need anything else cleared up? Want me to pee on a stick for you?”
“Naledi,” Thabiso choked.
The king picked up his glass of wine and took a hearty drink. The queen regarded her with a strange look that Ledi ignored.
She wondered if that’s what everyone thought. That she had entrapped him with a baby, or some other soap opera nonsense. The thought distressed her, then she remembered that they were actually pulling off something even more audacious and she smiled. She wasn’t pleased to be his pretend betrothed, but having that secret felt like a special fuck you to his parents, who were doing their best to make her feel unwelcome.
“You’re smiling,” Nya said as she sat down beside her. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I’m feeling a bit ill, but I think it’s just the jet lag,” Ledi said.
Nya’s smile faltered. She reached into her purse and handed Ledi a small bottle. “Can’t have you feeling out of sorts. It’s a local cure-all. It should help with any queasiness and fatigue. Take one with some water.”
Ledi scanned the ingredients before opening the bottle, shaking out one of the giant capsules and swallowing. When she tried to hand it back, Nya shook her head. “I have more at home. I’m sure you’ll need it, since the next few days are going to be very busy for you. Take one in the morning and one before bed.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Ledi began to feel better shortly after, but as dinner progressed she started to wonder if maybe Nya had slipped her a hallucinogen.
Is this really my life?
She was fairly well versed in international cuisine, but the variety of rich stews, tender meats, and desserts that ran the gamut from sweet to sour was like some kind of fairy-tale feast. Ledi considered herself an awesome server, but she had nothing on the palace waitstaff. At times it felt as if food was appearing by magic in front of her and her dirty plates were disappearing into the ether. She half expected one of the candelabras to start singing and offer her a treat by the time the last dish was taken away.
Nya helped her navigate through Thesoloian society from one side, pointing out important people and providing gossip about others. The king and queen sat across the table, occasionally asking questions of Ledi that were either purposefully insulting or only sounded that way because of cultural miscommunication. Ledi was fairly certain it was the former, though; she only spoke English, but was fluent in shade.
“So an epidemiologist?” the queen asked between delicate bites of her meal. “Not a doctor? It’s best when one knows one’s limitations.”
“Doctors diagnose diseases, Mother. Epidemiologists save the world from them,” Thabiso said from her other side, where he’d remained mostly silent throughout the meal. Instead of making jokes, he’d responded to his parents’ questions with clipped responses. Each time he tried to talk to her, he’d been interrupted by a minister or an advisor or a priestess, all demanding his time and pressuring him about one thing or another. She started to feel vicariously stressed on his behalf, and she was only half listening.
Ledi thought of his silly jokes in Mrs. Garcia’s apartment, and of how he’d made her dinner and been so proud of that small accomplishment. Jamal was truly a different person from the stiff, overburdened Thabiso, who seemed to be on the job even in the midst of his own celebration. A small part of her, just a few molecules really, thought maybe it was understandable that he’d wanted to be someone else, even if just for a short while.
“So you have no memory of your parents at all?” the king jumped in, continuing the tag team pattern he and his wife had established. “That’s quite . . . convenient.”
Ledi choked on the bite of cake she’d been swallowing, and both Thabiso and Nya pounded at her back. She’d allowed the king and queen their polite rudeness, but she’d had about enough. Heat rushed to her face as she stood and glared down at them. “There are many ways to describe growing up an orphan, but convenient isn’t one of them.”
“Enough,” Thabiso said in a tone Ledi hadn’t heard from him before. It was deep and rough and shot straight through Ledi’s eardrums and down between her legs. She liked his commanding tone, it seemed. A lot.
“Yes, tell her to have a seat,” the queen said.
“Actually, it’s you who should have a seat, Mother.”
The queen tilted her head at him, genuinely confused. “I’m already sitting.”
The king leaned toward her. “Oh, that’s something the youth are saying these days. It means—”
“It means you’re going to stop blatantly disrespecting your future daughter-in-law,” Thabiso said. “Immediately.”
There was a taut silence, and then the king picked up his fork and dug into his dessert. “This cake is delicious, isn’t it?”
Ledi slowly sank down into her seat. “Yes. Delicious. My compliments to the chef.”
“Our culinary school turns out some of the best chefs in the world.” The king made congenial small talk about cakes, pies, and pastries for the next few minutes. The queen sipped her coffee in silence. Her gaze slipped to Naledi every once in a while, but her expression was unreadable.
The rest of the dinner passed amicably enough. There was dancing and performances by groups from various tribes, and Ledi got a short-lived second wind, although she steered clear of the dance floor. She was enraptured by the bright colors and the music that almost tempted her past her reservedness, but that didn’t stop her from falling asleep in her seat. Even the strong, bitter coffee couldn’t keep her from nodding off.
She awoke in Thabiso’s arms as he carried her to her room. For a moment she just blinked up at him. His face was handsome as ever, but his eyes were tired, and a frown rested on the lips she’d grown so used to seeing stretched in a smile. The desire to wipe away that frown rose in her so strongly that she shifted in his hold, trying to escape the feeling.
“Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, and her heart lifted to see his grin again.
Stupid heart. It hadn’t done anything but pump blood at a steady pace before Thabiso had come into her life, but it had been engaging in all kinds of bizarre behaviors since he’d stepped into the kitchen at the Institute.
“You’ve read too many fairy tales,” she said grumpily as he deposited her in front of her suite. “I hate to break it to you, but there’s no such thing as a happy ending.”
“One can never read too many fairy tales,” he replied. He moved closer, the bulk of him reminding her of how good it had felt to be pressed beneath his weight as he pushed into her. Her body was suddenly warm, and the heaviness of the material wasn’t the only reason she wanted out of her dress.
Thabiso lifted his hand and skimmed his knuckles down the length of her neck, and if there was anything fairy tale about the feeling it produced, it was from the naughty retellings she’d found on the internet. Lust. Slickness between her legs and a tremble in her knees, just from that one touch.
“And I know you’ve experienced a happy ending. At least two.” His hand stopped feathering down her neck. “I’ve felt you shake in my arms, cry out with my name on your tongue. Your next happy ending is waiting for you whenever you desire it, Naledi.”
And then his hand slipped away, and he turned and made his way back down the long hallway. Ledi realized that she was on her tiptoes, every sensitive part of her body angled up toward the space Thabiso had just vacated.
She lowered herself onto her heels and exhaled. She’d thought that Jamal and Thabiso were entirely different men, but unfortunately for her, they had one thing in common: her defenses were useless against them.
Chapter 25
Ledi stared out the window of her room, which was three times the size of her apartment, sipping a cup of the tea Alehk had gifted her and wishing it had more caffeine. She’d already had two cups but felt more muddled instead of less. Jet lag was no joke.
She’d awoken in the middle of the night and, unable to sleep, finally opened Likotsi’s email about her parents. It had been embarrassing, the way people had spoken to her about them at the celebration and she’d nodded along because she knew nothing at all.
There were the basics: the towns they’d been born in. Libiko, Libi, had one brother while Kembe was an only child. They’d met in high school and married as soon as they graduated. At the University of Thesolo, Libi had studied laboratory technology and Kembe mathematics. That was where Naledi sat up in bed, gripping her phone hard.
She had to have known. She thought she’d erased every trace of her parents, but perhaps her desire to be a scientist hadn’t been driven by a National Geographic cover at all, but by the memory of her mother, who had been one as well.
She’d closed her eyes against the hot pressure of tears until it abated, then scrolled down to an attachment: a short video clip. Thirty seconds of tiny versions of her and Thabiso on a bed of pillows in the middle of a gazebo-like structure, chubby-cheeked toddlers playing with the flower petals surrounding them. A woman dressed in a yellow and green robe was speaking blessings over them as their parents stood and watched. Just before the clip ended, her mother leaned over and whispered something to Queen Ramatla, who laughed and clasped her mother’s hand. Her heart had ached at the way they looked at each other; it had made her miss Portia with a fierceness she hadn’t imagined.
Ledi had put her phone away then and pulled out the book she’d picked up about Twentieth Century African epidemics, mostly because it was lighter reading than her parents’ biography.
Now she watched as morning sunlight spread over the winter garden below her room; she’d been told it was called the lesser garden. She couldn’t imagine what the greater garden looked like. Hardy cold-resistant shrubs and trees lined snow-dusted pathways, and small animals darted here and there. A burst of color caught her eye. For a moment she thought the jet lag and fatigue were really getting to her, but that was, in fact, a peacock walking proudly down one of the paths. Thabiso hadn’t been lying when he described his childhood park, though he’d omitted some vital information, such as the fact that the park was part of the palace grounds. He’d been describing the place that might have been her home already if she had stayed.
She was too overwhelmed to parse that. And way too confused by her reaction to Thabiso after the celebration; she’d been exhausted when she stumbled into her ridiculously large suite, but also so annoyed and so horny that she hadn’t been able to sleep until she slid her hands between her legs and massaged away the ache that Thabiso had started in her. And just as she had that first night he arrived in apartment 7 N, as she’d eaten the dinner they’d made together, she wondered if he was doing the same. Could the way her body had arched and trembled at the thought of him stroking himself be blamed on jet lag, too?
Probably.
She moved away from the window, put down her lukewarm tea, and sat down on her bed just as a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in!” She stood, twisted her hands together nervously, then tightened the drawstring of her robe.
The door swung open and a rack of clothes wheeled itself in—or so it seemed at first. Another magical aspect of the palace? Then Naledi spotted the feet underneath and realized there was a woman on the other side.
“Mmoro! O fela jang?” the woman called out from behind the rack stuffed with clothing.
“Oh, um.” Ledi scrambled to the desk to grab the index card with basic Thesoloian phrases she’d copied down. “Lanthe fela, anwo fela jang?”
A hoot
of laughter rang out, and then a short, middle-aged woman stepped out from behind the rack clad in her purple shirt and black pants.
“Oh, they were not joking when they said you’d been Americanized!” she tsked, but she was still smiling. “Your accent is very cute, but I can speak in English, okay? We all speak English here, too, so there is no problem for you.”
The woman gave her a thumbs-up and Ledi returned it, both annoyed and appreciative. It was frustrating to know that Thesoloo had been her native language, and now she stumbled over the words with the clumsiness of a stranger. She was a stranger—her parents had made her one.
Why did we leave? The question lingered around every palatial corner now, and just as in her lab research, there was no guarantee she’d ever find the answer.
“Here is your wardrobe. The prince picked all of this out for you, personally. He said, of course, that you should let me know what you’d like made specifically.”
Ledi would have no idea where to even begin with ordering specially made clothing. Most of her wardrobe had been plucked off of a sales rack. Besides, Thabiso seemed to have ordered enough to last a lifetime.
“I’ve known that boy since he was in short robes and he never cared this much for fashion!” The woman gave her a sly look.
“But Thabiso is always well dressed,” Ledi said.
The woman laughed. “That is all Likotsi. He simply wears what she suggests, and she is never wrong. Well, there was that one time with the genie pants.”
The woman screwed up her face and Ledi laughed.
“Last week was the first time he came to me with specific interest. Make of that what you will. Okay, here are some warm wool pants, and you will need this sweater.” It was a little strange disrobing in front of the woman, but the woman urged her on. Ledi pulled on the thick, legging-like black pants and the soft black cashmere turtleneck she’d been handed. In the mirror, she could see that they had been perfectly tailored, hugging her curves and falling just right at her wrists and waist.
