How to Catch a Queen (Runaway Royals #1) - Alyssa Cole Page 0,29

moment of sunshine in the usually dour palace, and she’d wondered what a friendship with Nya might be like.

Musoke had been angry about the visit, and had decreed that all interactions with the Liechtienbourgish royal family and their representatives must go through the council. Shanti had obeyed but . . . Nya wasn’t married to Prince Johan. She wasn’t part of the royal family nor was she a representative.

Maybe it was a technicality, but Shanti was about to sneak out of the palace again—sending a text was nothing compared to what her night had in store.

Shanti: Hello, Nya. You’ve broken no messaging protocols and I am delighted to hear from you. I hope all is well in Liechtienbourg.

There. That sounded queenly enough she supposed. And she knew all was well if Johan was in love enough to be harassing Sanyu for stew recipes, so it was a safe ask.

Nya: It’s going great, thank you! But . . . even though I wanted to move here, I’m finding it very difficult adjusting to some things and just want to go home! I thought it might be the same for you?

Shanti: Am I to understand that you’re messaging me out of pity?

Her tear ducts burned but she blinked until the aggravating sensation passed. Had she been that obvious in her unhappiness? she wondered, then cringed as she remembered fleeing from the dinner table. Yeah, it had been obvious.

Nya: Never, Your Highness. I’m writing because *I* am looking for friends who understand what I’m going through, and, only if it pleases you of course, I thought maybe you could be one of them?

Shanti lowered the phone and worked her lips back and forth as she parsed the words for additional meaning. Was this some kind of trap? Some kind of joke? Something set up by Musoke to test her loyalty?

Nya: I apologize if I’ve been too forward. I’m not always sure how acquiring friends works and maybe you aren’t supposed to message someone and ask them outright? Is this weird? Either way, this is my number. You can text me, anytime, about anything, and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

Shanti didn’t have friends, really. She’d always been focused on her goal, and even when she did make acquaintances, eventually they’d get tired of hearing her talk about the same thing over and over again or ditching them for her queen-building activities. They’d eventually stop contacting her, or start making fun of her, and that was that.

It could be nice to have a friend who was from her homeland and knew what royal life entailed—probably far better than Shanti, born a commoner and who’d basically been relegated to royal staff after her marriage. And, as Nya had said, someone who knew what it was like to miss home.

“Queens are strong, but they do need support.”

She’d written that into her “Field Guide to Queendom” years ago after watching footage from the Royal Unity Weekend, the annual conference started by the late Queen Laetitia where queens, princesses, duchesses, and royals of all sorts gathered to discuss how to improve things in their kingdoms and beyond. Nya could be that support. But first Shanti had to ask something.

Shanti: Does your cousin know that you wish to be my friend?

She’d assumed Princess Naledi would hate her—in part because she’d kind of hated Naledi for a while. Their first and only encounter had been the most humiliating moment of Shanti’s life.

Prince Thabiso of Thesolo had been her first bite on RoyalMatch.com, and it had seemed like the goddess had truly blessed her—the possibility of gaining her hero as a mother-in-law and marrying the prince whose posters had adorned her wall, all without even having to move countries. She’d arrived to their first meeting only to come face-to-face with Thabiso and his true love Naledi, and mouth to shoe with the contents of Naledi’s stomach and her favorite heels. She’d been left a smelly, rejected mess, watching Queen Ramatla run off to tend to her actual future daughter-in-law.

Nya: I don’t need Naledi’s permission to make friends, but she does know and is happy. She figured when you didn’t respond to her official apology or her multiple invites, including to the royal wedding, that you hadn’t forgiven her for the whole puking on you thing. She thinks that’s legit, though.

Shanti hadn’t seen any official invites. She’d received almost no correspondence since becoming queen, even on her royal email account. It was almost as if she didn’t