the group with sword emojis. Anzam added a peach emoji to his display name and then asked Johan what it symbolized. Johan gave a brief emoji anatomy lesson. Anzam left the emoji.
Sanyu smiled. His friend had always been a free spirit, and the tenets of Druk encouraged the pursuit of all pleasure, including the pleasures of the peach emoji.
The door to Shanti’s room opened and he glanced away from the chaos on his phone screen to find her staring at him in surprise.
“Sanyu?”
Oh right, he’d come here to see his wife. Who was now standing before him in tiny red shorts and a matching loose crop top that clung to the curves of her breasts and exposed a sliver of her stomach.
“Hello,” he said hoarsely. “You have quite the pajama collection.”
“You’re here early this evening.” Her eyes were wide and her face looked a bit different. He squinted at her, trying to figure out what had changed.
“You’re not wearing makeup?”
“I am. It’s just a more subdued look,” she said. “And that doesn’t explain why you’re lurking outside my door.”
“I was added to a group chat,” he explained, gesturing to his phone.
She tilted her head and squinted at him. “A group chat?”
She seemed slightly agitated when she was usually unruffled, and that triggered a realization—she hadn’t just emerged from a relaxing soak or a brief nap.
She was hiding something from him.
“I told you that when we meet is at my discretion, so whenever I arrive is the right time.” He frowned. “I knocked several times and you didn’t answer.”
And now she was acting strange, while wearing a sexy pajama set. An alien sensation squelched into being in his chest and then slithered through his body.
Jealousy.
What had she been doing in this wing all by herself for three months? Had she found someone else to entertain her during the months when he’d ignored her? Kenyatta the guard seemed to know about her bathing habits. Or maybe she’d been covering for her because there was someone else in there.
“Are you alone?” he asked as he marched into the entryway and closed the door behind him. His muscles felt tense as boulders as he scanned the room.
Instead of cowering, she dropped a long-fingered hand to her hip and raised her brows. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”
“I asked are you alone. It’s a yes or no question,” he growled. “If the answer was yes, you would have said so, so I’ll assume it’s no.”
He took another step forward and she placed her hand out, so that when he took another her palm pressed lightly into his chest. The heat of it seared through the light material of his royal robe, and her fingertips pressed into the bare skin of his pectoral.
“No,” she said firmly.
“No, you’re not alone? Who—”
“No, you don’t get to do this.” He could feel her hand trembling against his chest—not from fear, but from anger. “You don’t get to ignore me, lock me in a tower, use me as your advisor without acknowledgment, and then imply I’m having an affair the first time I’m not at your beck and call. Absolutely not.”
Her voice was cool, but her eyes blazed with that defiance that ignited something in him—the same defiance that’d shown when she’d challenged Musoke in front of the council for the better of the kingdom and when she’d challenged Sanyu by pouring his tea and demanding he be a better king to his people. And now here he was, accusing her of betrayal—though he wasn’t sure it could even be called that since he hadn’t put enough work into their marriage for there to be anything to betray.
As if sensing his thoughts, she moved to pull her hand away but he brought his larger one over it, holding it in place lightly.
“I . . . apologize. What I asked was disrespectful and uncalled for. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
There. The apology of a Njazan king was almost as rare as a Liechtienbourger keeping his word. She should be appeased.
She wasn’t.
Her fingers drew together, gathering fabric and surely ruining the pleat of his robe. He found that he liked the tug of her fingers and the press of her knuckles, and the way she stood her ground when most people would be cowering.
“No, you shouldn’t have.” She stepped closer. His jealousy had faded quickly, a flash of irrational emotion, but her anger was still going strong. “What if someone was here? Would you even care, apart from me