How to Catch a Queen (Runaway Royals #1) - Alyssa Cole Page 0,31

was a brief knock at his door and then Lumu stepped into the room, followed by a bald older man of average height with medium brown skin. Laurent Masane, the finance minister.

Sanyu froze—there’d been no meeting planned and he hadn’t had time to slip into the role of king. Right now he was Sanyu, a silly man who was daydreaming about his wife.

“What are you doing here?” The question came out harsh and frightening, because, well, he always sounded like that, even more so when he was under stress.

“I apologize for the interruption, but Minister Masane seemed very eager to talk to you,” Lumu said. “About the state of the economy.”

Masane shifted from one foot to another. He was one of the newer members of the council, but had been on it longer than Sanyu had been alive. If he had hair, it would’ve been gray. None of the advisors were younger than sixty—apparently, Musoke believed that elders were the vessels of knowledge, and best to keep the council stocked with the fullest vessels.

Sanyu frowned more deeply as he stared at Masane; ministers had never directly approached his father, to his knowledge. It was disrespectful because it assumed he had time to spare. Did this man not respect him? The king wasn’t supposed to tolerate disrespect. Should he yell? Send him away?

Too many options. Instead of choosing one, Sanyu stared at the man and waited for him to take the lead.

“Oh. Oh no.” The minister’s hands began to shake. “I don’t mean to displease you, Your Highness.”

“I’m not displeased,” Sanyu boomed.

Sweat dripped down the minister’s forehead. “I just want to help the kingdom.”

Shanti’s words from the night before played in his head. “It’s difficult for a person to run a kingdom on their own—one person never has all the answers.”

It wouldn’t hurt to hear what Masane had to say. He tried to look all-knowing but interested, and then gestured at the seat in front of his desk.

“Sit. Tell me what’s so important that you would show up uninvited.” When the minister remained frozen he added, “Please.”

The man carefully sat on the edge of the seat, as if ready to spring up at any moment, and took a deep breath. When he spoke, he was clearly still nervous, but not because he lacked confidence in his words. “Your Highness, I know you are loyal to Musoke, like your father before you, but the current state of Njaza’s finances . . .” He shook his head. “We are heading toward sure disaster if we don’t change course now. Given our natural resources, the beauty of our lands, our strategic location on the continent, and our history, we should be doing much better than we are.”

This wasn’t a surprise to Sanyu. It was one of those things he’d known he’d have to fix in that brief period before the mental mourning shroud had obscured his view of his duties and Musoke had tightened his hold on things.

“Do you suspect embezzlement?” Sanyu asked, thinking of the parade that had been planned using the charity funds. “Why are we in such bad shape?”

The finance minister glanced at Lumu, who nodded, and then to Sanyu. “Not embezzlement, but mismanagement and flat-out stubborn refusal to move into the future instead of looking to the past. The Njaza of fifty years ago doesn’t exist, and neither does the economy of fifty years ago.”

“So you think we should take the loan from the World Bank?”

“Absolutely not,” Masane all but spat. “We can change things, but to do that we have to rebuild the foundation of Njazan finance, sector by sector. There are many things that can be done internally, but we have to ask for help, too, from people who have a vested interest in us thriving. Trust me, the countries around us are not thrilled to have a kingdom on the brink of collapse and the possibility of civil war in their midst.”

Were things that bad already? Was he so terrible a king that people expected collapse instead of success?

“We cannot let our pride prevent us from seeking out strategic alliances and trade deals,” the minister pressed. “Such as the railway. I’m trying not to exaggerate, but I believe that if we block the construction of the railway, we will be lighting the flame beneath our kingdom’s funeral pyre.”

“Thank you,” Sanyu said, scrubbing his palm over his beard. “I would appreciate any additional recommendations you might have.”

The minister’s eyes went wide. “You mean . . . you agree