and gave him a subtle nod.
“In addition to this, I would like to move forward with the application to join the Union of African Nations,” he said. “Not being a member leaves us at a significant disadvantage and hampers both trade and innovation. It would be foolish to join this project as an outsider that doesn’t have the benefits of all of the other countries involved.”
Musoke opened his mouth to speak but Sanyu continued.
“This is what I have decided, but I will be having our best and brightest looking into it to find any flaws in my reasoning. Is that acceptable?”
“More than acceptable, my king,” Lumu called out happily, and the other advisors echoed him with less enthusiasm but no outright hostility. Surprisingly, most of them seemed cautiously interested.
He glanced at Shanti again—she sat silently, though he could tell she vibrated with excitement, waiting for her time to shine.
“Also, I heard from von Braustein that there was a miscommunication, and he was told that we wanted to end the land mine charity before it began,” he said. “This charity is the beginning of a new chapter of safety for our people, and a partnership instead of a parasitic relationship with Liechtienbourg. All decisions about this will go through me, moving forward.”
He waited for Musoke’s censure but the man said nothing. In fact, he looked resigned, sitting there alone. The guilt gnawed at him again—Musoke must feel like everything he’d fought so hard to preserve was being trampled.
“Any thoughts?” Sanyu asked.
“The ideas of an old man on his way out of this world aren’t important to the young,” Musoke said. Sanyu would have thought him manipulative if Musoke didn’t seem so truly dejected. What did the man have outside of his role of advisor? He’d never married, had no children, had no friends. When he said he’d sacrificed his entire life for Njaza, he meant it.
Sanyu glanced down at the note card.
Move independence parade to a later date.
Create committee to explore inclusion of women and other marginalized groups on a council, to be led by Queen Shanti.
He’d just made a huge change to the structure of how things worked in the kingdom, and two changes that would immediately impact life as everyone knew it. Were the last two items on the list truly critical?
He didn’t want to hurt Musoke any more than he had. How would he react to the parade honoring his contribution to the kingdom being moved? Or to learning Sanyu had decided Shanti was his True Queen in a meeting, instead of being told privately? Musoke often imagined disrespect but Sanyu feared that this would actually be it—enough to serve as a final blow to a man who’d just had his life’s purpose snatched away.
Allowing a woman to speak, lead a committee, and effectively take on the role of advisor might be a bridge too far for this first time taking control. Deciding to make changes for business and trade reasons was one thing, but going against the tradition of the council, of their country and religion, in the same day? It had all made sense when he was discussing it with Shanti, but now looking out at the faces of the advisors, he realized too much change too quickly could lead to chaos. Sanyu had to prevent that at all cost; it was his job as king.
These changes could wait for the next meeting, and they could just leave the date for the parade as is. It would clash with both the renewal ceremony and Shanti’s event in Thesolo, but given how much she’d pushed for changes to Njaza, surely she would understand they had to offer Musoke some concessions. That was teamwork, right? As long as it got done eventually, it wasn’t a problem.
His stomach began to ache and his head to crowd with thoughts.
He caught sight of Shanti, at the secret smile she’d been giving him, and then he spoke.
“We still have many changes to make, but that is all for today,” he said. “All questions, concerns, and personal follow-up to this will be had with me, not Musoke. Musoke and Lumu, you will meet in my office immediately after this. The council is adjourned.”
The room suddenly exploded with chatter.
Councilors rushed toward him immediately after, pulling him into conversation after conversation. He was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t even feel the not-fear—anxiety. When he finally finished with the last councilor and was able to breathe, an hour and a half had passed and Shanti was