How to Catch a Queen (Runaway Royals #1) - Alyssa Cole Page 0,32
to what I said? You’ll take it into account?”
“Of course I will.” Sanyu frowned. He was almost offended and then remembered that this man had no reason to expect anything of him, just as his wife had no reason to. He’d done almost nothing since he’d taken the throne.
“But Musoke doesn’t agree with me,” the minister said. “For years, he hasn’t listened. ‘Amageez’ this and ‘I know what’s best for this kingdom’ that. It’s been like screaming into a void and now . . .” He cleared his throat. “I know he won’t be happy about my coming to you directly. All I ask is that you look over my suggestions.”
“I will,” Sanyu said, confused. “I already asked to see them.”
“Really?”
Sanyu was beginning to think the minister didn’t want to be taken seriously.
“Do you have them on you now?” he asked.
“No.” Masane lifted his hands. “I expected to be dismissed. But I can look over them and get you an updated file that includes the latest Rail Pan Afrique information as well as other projects I think we should consider. Can I have it to you in a few days? Ah! I should have come prepared! I feel I’ve wasted your precious time. Please don’t be angry. I can give you what I have now and—”
“Take your time and get me the information when you can. I agree that things need to change if we want Njaza to flourish, and I don’t want you to rush through any assessment of that.” Discussing matters of Njaza’s future felt strange to Sanyu. He was used to repeating his father or Musoke, but their emphasis had been on survival, not what came after.
Minister Masane stood and bowed his head. When he lifted it, his eyes had a glossy sheen to them.
“Your father was a great man. A mighty king. He helped us gain independence, quelled the turmoil after, and made Njaza into a formidable kingdom as it was in the past. But he was a warrior, a son of Omakuumi. Musoke was the strategist, of Amageez, and the fi—” His mouth slammed shut and he jolted in surprise, as if his words had come to a screeching halt in his mouth before meeting the back of his teeth.
“Ah. Never mind. No talk of the past. I’m glad that you are open to other people’s opinions. Your father was once, too, and even Musoke once had some give to him. But victory and loss alike make a man willing to do anything not to lose what he has. You are young. Not yet tested. I hope you are as willing to lose as you are to win, my king.”
When he’d left, Sanyu was surprised to find that the pain in his stomach only flared a little. He looked over at Lumu, who watched him quietly.
While his father had always been kind to him, he’d never considered the king to be “open to other people’s opinions.” Either the minister was wrong, or that had been before Sanyu was born—and given how old his father had been when Sanyu was born, that was more than likely.
“Are you all right?” Lumu asked.
“Of course,” Sanyu said. “I don’t want my people to be afraid of me. Especially those who have useful suggestions.”
“Maybe you could mention that in your next address.” He nodded toward the speech Sanyu had been memorizing.
“Seeking help would be admitting weakness,” Sanyu said reflexively. “The king has no weaknesses. And as wise as Masane’s words sounded, I will never be willing to lose.”
“Why is admitting the strength of others a weakness?” Lumu asked. “There is no finite supply of strength, and there is certainly a time and a place to embrace both weakness and loss.”
Sanyu tried to come up with an answer, and was only met with years of his father and Musoke’s words filling his head. His face went hot because he felt foolish. Logically, Lumu was correct. It was the same thing Sanyu had thought over the years, the same thing he’d been reprimanded for asking before he learned to stop asking questions at all. He’d numbed the part of himself that thought critically about strength and weakness, but now it burned with embarrassment.
“I will think on how best to express this, though I’m not sure the council will appreciate changes to the speeches.”
Lumu pressed his lips together and looked down for a second, then back up. Sanyu knew that this meant he’d decided against whatever he’d wanted to say.