How to Catch a Queen (Runaway Royals #1) - Alyssa Cole Page 0,52

closed the binder with shaking hands and tucked it into the cloth bag on the chair beside her, then walked calmly away from the various papers piled at the table where she usually worked—they’d be there tomorrow.

“Leaving already?” Josiane scoffed.

Shanti didn’t say anything—she was good at containing her emotions, but if she opened her mouth, she knew she would yell. Would demand to know why exactly Josiane was so disdainful of her when she had to be aware Shanti wasn’t in her archives by choice. Or maybe she’d shout the question running laps in her mind: What exactly had happened to all the queens who had preceded her?

There were the rumors of course, but those had always seemed to be the usual whispers that surrounded royals—she knew that people also said Prince Thabiso of Thesolo had set a restaurant on fire and tricked an old woman out of her home in order to win his bride, and she knew that couldn’t be true. The more common legend about Sanyu I was that he’d been such a prolific lover that one woman couldn’t satisfy him for long, but there had been other, darker rumblings—what if the whispers of the iron-fisted king and his disappearing wives were true?

She took the staff passageway to her chambers, head down and avoiding the gaze of people who all seemed to understand she was expendable and not care why. When she got to her room, she sat at the finely crafted desk and paged through the photos again, wondering what exactly she’d gotten herself into.

Chapter 8

Most absolute monarchies ended long ago, but Njaza’s kingdom, though relatively young, is ruled by one man. Not much is known about daily life in the isolated kingdom, but history shows that rule by a single person is invariably not the best for a country or a people.

Lessons from Sanyu’s senior year course, The Management of a Kingdom, popped into his head from time to time. This particular snippet from the course’s textbook, likely the result of his deep dive into the Ramatlan Theory of Kingdom Building the night before, came to Sanyu as he stood with his arms akimbo as two members of the palace staff draped, pinned, and tucked the formal robe he had to wear for his public address. Sanyu kept his thoughts on his class because if he focused on the speech he had to give, the not-fear would overwhelm him.

The teacher hadn’t been correct, but Sanyu hadn’t spoken up, because speaking in class had been as enjoyable as eating glass. Njaza hadn’t been ruled by one man. If his father had worn the iron gauntlet, it was Musoke who’d guided it.

“You are ready, O blessed King,” Anej, the old woman who dressed him every week said. “Ready to lead Njaza into new glory.”

Sanyu nodded, his lips pressed together against pre-speech nausea. He was used to this. He closed his eyes, remembering how the former king had looked during past speeches. Happy. Confident. Just a bit sly. Like the people of Njaza had nothing to fear if he was around. Sanyu inhaled deeply and tried to channel that strength into himself, or at the very least pass off a reasonable forgery.

To pretend to be the king Njaza needed instead of the one it’d been stuck with.

He opened his eyes, as ready as he could be, and his stomach lurched when he caught sight of someone familiar in his peripheral vision.

Father?

Sanyu hadn’t even finished the thought before he realized he’d only glimpsed himself in the full-length mirror, but relief had ballooned in him for that split second and its deflation now left him hollow. The awful emptiness that had swallowed him up three months ago stirred in him.

The fact that he’d confused himself for his father was laughable. He stood staring at his reflection, eyes stinging and hands fisted as he struggled to get himself back into the headspace necessary to give the speech.

There was a knock at the door and Lumu stuck his head in. “Let’s go, Your Highness.”

Sanyu nodded, then unfurled his fist, revealing the paperclip he’d taken from Shanti as an excuse to see her. He fastened it to the cloth pulled tightly around his chest and followed Lumu out.

Sanyu’s pulse began to race as they walked through the corridor toward the auditorium where the address was held. He knew what he looked like to the guards and staff members he passed on the way to the stage: a calm, intense man, walking slowly because