read before but no—these were her own words.
“A story can’t be wrong,” she said. “Because a story can always change. Your father and Musoke’s mistake wasn’t that they chose the wrong story for Njaza, it was that they used all their power to keep the story from changing. It’s not only the story that matters. It’s the teller.”
Sanyu chuckled. “I’m a terrible storyteller.”
“I don’t believe that,” she said. “You once told me a story of a man who wanted to be a better king and would do anything to achieve that, and look at you now.”
His gaze on her was warm, so she stood up and began to clear dishes, letting the chatter of the women who had preceded her whirl around her.
She didn’t know what she wanted from Sanyu. She’d left. He’d found her. But did that mean that their story would continue? Or that it should?
She was so deep in thought as she cleaned the kitchen that she didn’t notice Josiane until she turned to put a plate away and bumped into the woman.
“Sorry,” Shanti said firmly, unwilling to deal with Josiane’s attitude even if she was a former queen.
“Do you know I never talked to my husband once after our wedding?” Josiane said.
“What?”
“I believe I was wife number thirty, or so. He was long past pretending that he was interested in marriage. I didn’t mind. I’d come from a family home where I shared a room with three aunts and two sisters, and suddenly I had a whole wing to myself, and a very pretty guard to spend my nights with. Who needed a husband?” Josiane laughed. “When I saw you moping about, I thought you were like some of the other foolish queens who convinced themselves they would be the ones to make the king fall in love.”
“That’s why you were mean to me?” Shanti asked. “As some kind of test?”
“Oh no, I just didn’t like you at first. You grew on me, though.” Josiane grinned.
Shanti frowned at the woman.
“The reason I didn’t like you was because I soon realized it wasn’t love you were after, but power. I saw that you wanted to be the queen, not a queen. Made me feel like . . . maybe I should have tried harder when I was queen. But Sanyu I wasn’t capable of love for his wives, or even friendly affection and camaraderie. That one out there? He was a boy who wanted to be loved so badly, even if just a few months at a time. And that doesn’t mean you have to accept bad behavior but . . . imagine growing up with Musoke for a father.”
Shanti glanced out into the dining room, where Sanyu sat surrounded by the former queens looking like a happy child.
“And what about my feelings?” Shanti asked, both to herself and Josiane.
“That’s for you two to work out. If he doesn’t treat you well, then he doesn’t deserve you, no matter how unfair his childhood was.” Josiane shrugged. “The old queens who talk to each other all believe that he will be a great king. I hope he’s a great man as well, so that you stay, because we think you’ll be a great queen, too.”
Shanti inclined her head and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
When she went back into the dining room, there was a silence that seemed heavier than a lull in conversation. She settled back into her seat around the table and wondered why all of the former queens had their heads bowed.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t know where your mother is,” Anise said. “She was specifically chosen as a surrogate and volunteered for the job—your father and Musoke were stubborn men, but not evil ones. They didn’t rip you from your mother’s arms and kick her out. She wanted to leave Njaza.”
“Oh,” Sanyu said. “So she—left me on purpose. I stopped hoping to meet her long, long ago, but . . . I guess part of me always assumed she’d been sad to leave me.”
“And perhaps she was,” Anise said. “This doesn’t change whatever connection you might have had with her and might still have with her if you decide to find her. It doesn’t mean you were unloved. This is my first time meeting you, but all of these women care for you. Your father loved you. Musoke loves you, though I know his love often doesn’t feel like it.”
Anise glanced at Shanti, a knowing look in her eyes.
“I’ve always wanted to run from here,” Sanyu