that boy might become.
“In my kingdom, for example, the king and queen rule together,” she explained. “They’re a team, each having their strengths and weaknesses, and their advisors and ministers support that team—in political matters, that is. It’s hard for a person to run a kingdom on their own because one person never has all the answers.
“I thought you and I might be a good match because I want to help your kingdom and I assumed you did, too, and that’s more of a shared interest than many arranged marriages have. And I thought the choice of me as your bride had been strategic because you wanted to forge ties with Thesolo.”
“I had no choice in you as a bride, and I doubt your connection to Thesolo was taken into account,” he said. “You were likely chosen for your looks.”
Ouch.
“Right, my looks. And despite that, I’m not even allowed to be arm candy.” Shanti reminded herself that it didn’t matter. If she cared about winning her husband’s heart, maybe, but all she needed was his backing. “Your council wastes me like it does all of Njaza’s resources.”
Okay, that last bit hadn’t been strictly necessary, but enough was enough. It wasn’t as if being meek and patient had worked in her favor anyway—it wasn’t as if this man who’d married her cared how she behaved at all.
Sanyu exhaled and dropped down into the settee, which groaned its protest. He sat stiffly, the thick bands of muscles in his thighs bunched so tautly that she thought he might burst through his trousers.
She’d be okay with that.
She grazed her teeth over her lower lip at the thought, and his gaze homed in on her mouth like a hawk spotting its prey.
“I have many deficiencies, but I’m not wasteful. I’m going to start visiting you. Here. At night.” He said it with more feeling than anything she’d heard from him, his eyes trained on her every movement in a way that reminded her that he’d been raised to be a warrior.
The heat was back in her husband, and it was focused on her.
“Visiting? Here? At night?” She remembered that she’d found other things to do with her nights and, because she needed to manage her time wisely, asked, “Every night?”
“That will be at my discretion.”
Okay, then. Had she been right, all those times she’d caught him staring with something in his eyes that might be lust? She didn’t need love, but she did want sex and she supposed her husband would be a good solution to that problem.
He laced his fingers together and leaned toward her, and when he spoke again his voice was deep. Commanding. Absolutely obnoxious.
“I’ve been thinking about this Rail Pan Afrique offer from Thesolo, and Njaza taking steps toward becoming part of the UAN. You can help me figure out the logistics of how to move forward with this, since you clearly have ideas and you’re so eager to be utilized.”
Ideas. That was what he wanted from her.
Of course.
“I’m not sure I understand why you’ve come to me and not one of your councilors, Your Highness,” she said, keeping her tone a degree above frosty as she tried to freeze her heated thoughts. “I thought queens were not allowed to help in matters of politics here.”
“Not in the council chambers,” he said, not realizing how close he was to her point while still missing it.
“And not within earshot of the royal advisors?” she prodded. “Because the queen’s opinion is not permissible?”
“Yes. That’s why I propose we do this here. At night.” He squared his shoulders. “That’s normal for a husband and wife, I imagine? To discuss things before bed?”
Shanti swallowed against the image that popped into her mind at the words husband and wife and bed.
“It’s a common aspect of marriage in many cultures,” she said. “Among other things.”
“Right.” His Adam’s apple bobbed beneath the perfect fade of his beard. “That’s settled, then.”
She wanted to ask him why he’d come to her now. Why he let Musoke do as he pleased and treat people like they were his playthings. Why he was so blind to how the women of his kingdom were being relegated to the sidelines.
Something told her if she asked she’d meet resistance, so she didn’t. If Shanti was anything, it was patient. She’d been playing the long game since she was seven years old and decided she’d be queen. She’d have her answers, and her kingdom, and Sanyu would never even realize she’d asked anything—or taken her