she rocked against him, then her hand went to his wrist to still him.
Sanyu kissed her as he moved his hand away from her warmth. He wanted more, to replace his fingers with his mouth and tongue until he was ready again and could push into her.
He leaned away from her and she moved from the giant vase, holding on to the mouth of it as if to steady herself. She glanced down at the splatter along the side of it.
“I hope this isn’t a religious artifact,” she said. “Surely that would unlock some ancient evil, or bring a curse down on us.”
Sanyu laughed, surprising himself. “I believe they are reproductions acquired from the mansion of a colonizer, so we haven’t disrespected Omakuumi or Amageez.”
“I hope not, but I’d be willing to risk it again even if we did.” She took a couple of steps on shaky legs, then paused as she passed him. When she looked up into his face, she was as composed as ever—making her come hadn’t turned her into some docile creature—but some of the formality between them had fallen away.
“I’m guessing you were outside my door for some other reason?” she asked, her voice even and composed, even though her lids were still heavy with passion.
“Yes. I received some data from a finance minister who wants to change the Njazan economic model, and I wanted to go over it with you.” He looked back over his shoulder at the papers scattered near the door.
He thought she might get upset, feel used, but she smiled. “You showed up at my door with orgasms and economics? You don’t need as much instruction in how to please me as you think, Husband.”
She went to the larger bathroom after showing Sanyu to the sink in the small water closet so he could clean himself and, afterward, the vase.
He felt loose . . . good. When was the last time he’d felt good?
After putting on a teakettle in the kitchenette, he sat and marveled at how life in the queen’s wing was calmer and more comfortable. He could almost imagine it was their own private apartment, their own quiet life.
No.
She wasn’t a woman who’d want a quiet life—she’d married him solely to gain a crown so she could do all the kinds of things he hated. They could have their fun, but she would be leaving soon. All queens did, and he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to hold his country together, let alone a marriage.
Chapter 7
Shanti’s eyes drooped with fatigue and her nose itched from the dust wafting up from her work. She was hiding behind a stack of papers in the library, sorting them before scanning. When she’d been given something to do besides wander aimlessly around the palace, she’d been thrilled. However, it’d immediately become clear that what Lumu had called a “critical” archival position in the Royal Library was busywork where she scanned the trash left behind after the actual archivists were done. Sure, she was learning about Njaza in bits and pieces, but nothing so far had been new or critical, or interesting. It was like they purposely gave her the most boring things possible.
Josiane, the head librarian who seemed to delight in snapping at her, was working today, and Shanti was doing her best not to be seen. She tried to choose her battles wisely; discretion was as important to good leadership as taking no shit.
Besides, the woman was scary.
Her phone buzzed beside her on the table, and she dove for it, sending a few of the boring papers she’d been scanning flying.
Nya: Johan made me dinner using your recipe! Thank you so much, it made me very happy!
Shanti ignored the strange tight feeling in her chest. It certainly wasn’t envy over the fact that Nya’d spent her night being wined and dined. Shanti didn’t want that kind of romance, and besides, she’d had her toes curled quick and dirty against a possibly cursed vase, which was better than any meal.
Shanti: I’m so glad it made you happy!
And she was. She didn’t need a king who made stew for her. Things were fine as they were, and Sanyu was at least starting to see her as a partner. She couldn’t compare her marriage—a strategic step toward her goals—with Nya and Johan’s love match. The pictures they occasionally allowed to run in the tabloids spoke for themselves. She wasn’t sure she and Sanyu even had a photograph together.
Nya: What are you up to, friend?