A Princess in Theory

by Alyssa Cole

  “This isn’t real.” She motioned to the air between them. “But it’s starting to feel way too real and . . . I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “And what if it feels real to me, too?” he asked quietly. “What if it feels real because it is?”

  His heart thumped heavy in his chest, because yes, that was it. It was real for him, always had been, and she might never feel the same way.

  She shook her head. “The only reason you think we should be together is because you were told we should be, and now you need a wife. Let’s say I agree that this is real. What then? One day you’ll realize what everyone does eventually.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Thabiso’s frustration pushed him up to a sitting position.

  “Has it ever occurred to you that I like you? You. Naledi. And that I would have liked you even if there was no betrothal ceremony?”

  “No, it hasn’t,” she said stiffly.

  He thought back to her comment from their previous conversation and was struck by something. “This is the Velcro thing, isn’t it? The not sticking? Ledi, if you haven’t noticed, let me tell you, I’m stuck. Intractably so.”

  “Enough, Thabiso.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Why? Would us being together really be the most terrible thing to happen to you?”

  “No, being left parentless in a foreign country was the worst thing to happen to me,” she said. Her expression closed off again.

  “Ledi.” He pitched his voice gentle, trying to ease in between the bricks of the wall she was rapidly rebuilding.

  She looked at him, expressionless. “It’s funny that you resented me for abandoning you. You with your family and servants and people. Meanwhile, halfway across the globe, I was the one who was alone.” She swiped at her eyes. “You should have told me. The minute you knew that I had no idea who I was, you should have told me. But you didn’t. So no, I can’t say yes when you come to my door all handsome and Disney-eyed, asking if you can kiss me.”

  There it was. Thabiso had been so fixated on forcing her to forget he’d lied about Jamal that he’d missed the forest for the trees. He’d done more than that; he’d lied to Ledi about herself. Likotsi had called him a coward and she had been right.

  He exhaled, a deep weary sound. “What can I say? I’m sorry for being a fuckboy, Naledi.”

  Ledi shrugged, swiped surreptitiously at her eyes again. “Fuckboyism is a fairly common disease in men aged eighteen to thirty-five.”

  “What’s the cure?” he asked.

  “You’ll have to ask your doctor about that. But I can tell you right now that it’s not me.”

  With that, she got up and walked back to her desk.

  Thabiso fought the urge to stalk over and command her to forgive him; she wasn’t one of his subjects. He headed for the door.

  “We have the trip to Lek Hemone, your hometown, tomorrow morning. Dress warmly because it’s at a higher altitude.”

  “Thanks. Hopefully we’ll find what we’re looking for there because nothing in the research is giving any clues as to what’s going on here. I need to figure this out.”

  So you can go.

  “May the goddess make it so,” he said, and then walked back into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

  Thabiso stood for a moment. Although he’d been told otherwise his entire life, he was learning that there was something stronger than a Moshoeshoe prince’s will.

  Reality.

  Chapter 29

  Ledi thought daily subway commutes had prepared her to handle any means of transportation, but she’d been mistaken.

  She readjusted herself on D’artagnan—the donkey that was conveying her to Lek Hemane—as it ambled up the winding mountain trail at a slow, steady pace, and prayed that the animal didn’t make any sudden moves. It was super cute, and had looked at her like she was its best friend after she gave it some apple slices, but she couldn’t quite get with transportation that could also take a bite out of her.

  When the Land Rover carrying her and Thabiso to Lek Hemane had stopped at the base of a winding trail where a few goat herdsmen awaited with their flock, Ledi had thought it was a cultural break, not the next leg of their journey. She’d tentatively fed some goats and chatted with a shepherd. She’d even felt a spark of adventure when she was hoisted onto D’artagnan, that is, until Thabiso had climbed on behind her. An hour riding a donkey up steep, mountainous terrain surrounded by goats was jarring enough—goats were way chattier than she’d realized—but having Thabiso settled in behind her was even more disorienting.

  Their conversation the previous evening had left her unsettled. She wanted so badly to believe what he’d said. But he had lied before. Could she really trust him?

  “Doing okay?” he asked from behind her.

  “I still don’t see why we couldn’t have taken a helicopter up here,” she said, then shivered as a cold blast of wind swept across the exposed skin of her face.

  “Because the mountain winds are too strong to ensure a safe landing,” he said. “This is the safest route.”

  Safe? Thabiso’s thighs pressed into her hips, his strong arms caged her as he held the reins, and his body heat inscribed warm memories of their night together into the skin of her back. There was nothing safe about that. She’d spent the entire ride ashamed at the way she wanted to push her ass back into him, to feel the length of him grow against her, like he wasn’t a man who’d betrayed her.

  She arched her back away from Thabiso and sucked in a breath of air so cold that she thought she might be able to feel each individual bronchiole as it froze. She focused on that instead of how her body protested being separated from his. “You could have found your own donkey,” she said.

  “I could have,” he said, leaning forward just enough to close the space she’d created between them without pressing himself against her. “I think you would find the trip much colder without me here at your back. Sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”

  Her breath caught at his words and she wished she had never let her silly Velcro hang-up slip. He couldn’t be telling the truth. She had years and years of evidence to back her up—people might give her a try, but in the end, she was not the kind of person anyone kept around.

  “I really hate having people behind me, actually,” she bit out. “Especially people I can’t trust.” She needed to remind herself of why she couldn’t just relax against him. Why she couldn’t believe it when he said that maybe they could have something more.

  She felt the expansion of his chest as he sighed. “Well, I watch the backs of people I care about, whether they trust me to or not. It’s a princely requirement, though my wanting to protect you has nothing to do with my job. That’s one thing we should be clear on.”

  “Oh, now you want to be clear?” she snapped. That wasn’t entirely fair, though. He’d been trying to clarify things ever since she’d discovered the truth. And before that. She remembered that day in Fort Tryon Park, and that night, and how many times he’d tried to tell her before the gala.

  His arms tightened against her sides a bit as he leaned closer to her ear.

  “Yes. I want to be clear now. I should have been honest with you sooner, but I was frightened of losing you. I believe this is called irony.” She felt a laugh rumble through his chest, but could tell it wasn’t a happy one. “Even if you never forgive me, even if you leave Thesolo and don’t look back, know that I will regret hurting you for the rest of my days. And, I’m sure you already know this from your research, but Thesoloians have quite a long life span.”

  She told herself that it was the cold wind that was making her eyes water. Why did it seem like the more determined she was to keep him at arm’s length, the easier it was for his words to affect her? And his touch, too?

  “Thabiso—”

  “The town is just around the bend,” one of the herdsmen called out.

  They made a sharp turn and the rocky cliff face gave way to a sprawling town like somethi
ng out of a nativity scene. Most of the snow-dusted houses appeared to be traditional Thesoloian huts like the ones she’d read about during her research—round structures with thatch roofs—but as they drew closer, Naledi realized they were made of concrete, not clay, and painted brown. The thatch was real, but it had to cover some other structure judging from the weight of the satellite dishes and solar panels that rested on each house. They looked like large, fancy yurts, and Ledi half expected to see a crew from the House & Home channel filming a segment.

  In the distance, larger, less traditional houses loomed—Victorians, Georgians, and a couple of blocky condominiums.

  Snow had been packed down and worn away on the cobblestones beneath D’artagnan’s hooves, but the sidewalks were completely clear. They were also steaming.

  “Is this mountain a volcano?” she asked. “Because with the luck I’ve been having, it might be better for everyone if I left.”

  Thabiso chuckled.

  “There are heated coils in the sidewalks that melt the snow,” he said. “The meltwater is collected in drains and used to heat homes, so people no longer have to use wood or coal. Energy efficient and good for the atmosphere, although not ideal when the livestock decide to stray from the street.”

  “That’s impressive,” Ledi said. “Is every town this advanced?”

  “Not yet. Lek Hemane was the site of our pilot project because they receive the most snowfall, but we hope to expand the project soon. It had been put on hold when the Omega Corp deal was in play.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because there was no use investing in a town where the people would be uprooted and the infrastructure razed.”

  “Oh.” A frisson of foreboding went down her spine. “I imagine that would have been a hard choice to make.”

  “Unfortunately, it came quite easily to some.”

  She remembered his talk of the finance ministers and how they were upset about the deal he hadn’t agreed to. Making large-scale decisions like this must have been the equivalent of a group assignment with some major assholes, but where the fate of a country rested on it instead of a grade.

  “You made the right choice,” she said, and felt him stiffen behind her. “I give you a lot of shit, but you do seem to have the well-being of your people in mind. I can’t say the same of most people in power.”

  “Nearly everyone is unhappy with me right now, so that’s refreshing,” he said. “Honestly? It feels like I’m doing everything wrong, and I’ve only been given a portion of the royal responsibility. I feel like I can’t make any mistakes at all, but everything I do causes discontent.”

  There was vulnerability in his voice. Ledi knew that feeling well. She’d spent most of her life thinking if she did everything just right, things would work out. She’d be adopted, she’d get into a good school, she’d get the right practicum. In the end, nothing had worked out as planned, but everything had still worked out. She had her practicum, she had found her family, and she was on a noble steed with a handsome prince. Not too shabby.

  “If I have to say one thing about you it’s that you’re persistent and you own up to your mistakes. And you care. That’s a good start for a future king.”

  She closed her eyes and for a moment imagined what it would be like to be his future queen. To have such responsibility would be nerve-racking, but the trade-off would be getting to help people. Being royalty might have its upside, but thinking about it in relation to herself was asking for trouble.

  “You won’t ever be perfect—”

  “Because of the fuckboyism?” he cut in.

  “Because you’re human,” she said. “And humans make mistakes.”

  “So I’ve heard. So. I’ve. Heard.” He maneuvered the donkey around an SUV.

  She thought of Thabiso’s expression that day in the park when he’d tried to tell her the truth; that night when he’d tried again. And again. She thought of Portia, who had made mistakes but who she missed so much it hurt. That was the thing with people getting past your defenses. They were bound to fuck up, maybe a little, maybe a lot. It was what they did afterward that counted. Ledi wondered if her Velcro was always defective, or if sometimes she was so scared of being hurt that she preemptively ripped herself away.

  She turned her attention back to the town instead of digging deeper into that revelation. The sky was slate gray and overcast, and glowing streetlights illuminated cars and motorbikes and goats that rambled along the streets, a mix of ancient and modern.

  “This is where my family is from.”

  Thabiso murmured a sound of confirmation behind her. Ledi strained, tried so hard to remember a life with her parents that she briefly felt dizzy, but came up with nothing. She didn’t remember a damn thing about this place.

  “Funny. I hate snow.”

  He didn’t say anything, but it didn’t feel like a careless silence. He seemed to be giving her space to breathe.

  It was hard to take in, the differences from the life she’d known in New York and what she saw before her. As they passed a larger house, a group of children came bolting out of the gate, pelting each other with snowballs. Their happy laughter echoed off of the cobblestones, and a couple of women in parkas came out and joined in the snowball fight. Ledi caught sight of the sign in front and sucked in a breath.

  LEK HEMANE ORPHANAGE

  “It looks like any other home here,” she said. “The group homes I was in always felt like what they were. A place for kids they didn’t know what to do with. Not because the social workers didn’t try, but they were underpaid, overworked, and fighting a system that should have been helping them along.”

  Thabiso dropped the rein with one hand and circled his arm around her so she was cradled against him. It felt good, too good, but she allowed herself the comfort. “Children who lose their parents in Thesolo are raised by the community. They live with the caretakers at the orphanage, but the orphanage is at the center of town because we believe everyone should interact with and take care of them. Nya works at the school that is attached.”

  She thought of the lonely halfway houses and overcrowded foster homes. Those children had run past like they were free and happy, and unafraid of anything. Had she ever felt that safe?

  You do now, in Thabiso’s arms.

  She ignored the emotions that threatened to overtake her when he pulled her closer and sighed.

  “Are we near the hospital?” she asked.

  “It’s straight ahead, just a few blocks down.”

  “Good.” She grabbed the reins just a bit below where he held them and pulled, as she’d seen him do; he released his hold on her. The donkey stopped and she gave him a pat on the head. “I’ll get off here and do some looking around before speaking with Dr. Bata.”

  She slid down to the ground, her body suddenly cool where Thabiso had kept her warm.

  He nodded. “I will tell her you’re on your way. Be careful, please.”

  With that he was off. How did he make riding a donkey look sexy? D’artagnan looked back at her, batting his long lashes as if to say Girl, I know.

  Ledi took a deep breath. She needed to get her head right before they arrived at the hospital. No thoughts of what it would be like to be queen, or of orphans, of Thabiso up against her back and promising to watch out for her. She was coming into an investigation that was already underway, and though she had already been brought up to speed there was so much more work ahead of her. They were already at step five of the outbreak investigation, trying to orient the data they already had in terms of time, place, and people. She needed to prove herself useful to Dr. Bata; that was the real reason she was in Thesolo, after all.

  Is it, though? Like her Velcro theory, her “I’m not here to make friends” theory was quickly unraveling. Her social cell membrane had completely failed her, but maybe that wasn’t always such a bad thing.

  She passed a small restaurant; through the window she could see men squeezed into the small space and laughing as
they told stories and ate delicious-looking meat. Her stomach growled, despite the rich breakfast she’d eaten. The one Thabiso had brought in to her, again, despite his gaggle of servants.

  Ledi trudged forward to the hospital, but a familiar scent caught her attention as she walked by a small shop. She stepped inside, the rattle of beads above the door announcing her entry as she was enveloped in a mélange of smells, some floral, some musk.

  An older woman with long, gray dreads and a round face turned toward her, and then her eyes widened. “My lady! Welcome back.” She hurried from behind the counter and curtsied.

  “Um . . .” Ledi curtsied back, or as close as she could get after spending the morning astride a donkey.

  “Oh, I remember when you were a little potbellied thing, toddling around, and now look at you! The spitting image of your grandmother. We are all so happy you have returned,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

  Ledi shifted uncomfortably under the woman’s gaze. This was the first time she had been out on her own away from the palace and she hadn’t thought about how people would react to her. She certainly hadn’t expected this kind of reception.

  The woman curtsied again, as if she also didn’t know the protocol for interacting with a prodigal betrothed. “We prayed to the goddess that the prince would find a bride and end this terrible curse that has befallen our land, and our prayers were answered tenfold!”

  “Thank you. I’m happy to be back, although this is all a bit overwhelming for me.” Ledi lifted a sachet of leaves and sniffed it. “Why do you think the goddess would punish the country because Thabiso was unwed?”

  Thabiso had mentioned there were rumors but she’d been on palace grounds since her arrival. No one would dare speak ill of him there.

  The woman seemed surprised. “Well, you should talk to your uncle. He is a very educated man, but he is well versed in the traditional ways, too. Even before the illness started, he warned us of what would happen if the prince dawdled. Ingoka has given Alehk the gift of foresight, and he wishes to use it to aid the people of Lek Hemane, and of Thesolo.”