as tightly strung as the reed bows hung around the palace.
She would certainly be smart enough not to mention his humiliation, if she’d heard what had happened. Maybe it would be like the last time he’d visited, when he’d walked in and their desire had wiped away everything else. He could fall into the touch and taste of her and forget that he was a king.
He was about to knock when the door swung open.
Shanti looked up at him, gaze sharp. She held a broomstick without the broom attached to the end in her hand, and her hairline was damp with sweat—he imagined trying to sweep without a broom head was tiring.
“Good evening,” he said.
“Where are the women who interrupted your speech?” she asked, tucking the broomstick behind the door.
“So you heard about that?” he asked, his body tensing. He’d come to her for reprieve, not reproach. “Who told you?”
“Where are they?” she pressed, gaze unwavering.
“They were questioned by the royal guard and released,” he said. He’d received the report from Lumu.
“They weren’t harmed?” she asked.
Sanyu’s shame and annoyance slithered to a rest between his shoulder blades, and he stepped into the doorway. “What if they were? They openly defied and attempted to humiliate their king.”
Shanti matched his step forward, not at all cowed by him. Something blazed in her eyes, and when he dropped his gaze to avoid the heat of judgment, it landed on the smooth brown skin of her décolletage.
“They could only humiliate their king if they were correct,” she said. He watched the dip at the base of her throat work as she spoke instead of meeting the disappointment in her eyes. “In that case, the proper response is to fix the problems, not silence those who point them out.”
She turned her back to him and strode into her quarters, the thin colorful outer robe she wore flowing around her legs like an angry cat.
He took a deep breath and willed his muscles to loosen, then closed the door and followed her inside.
“You say they were correct?”
“You say they humiliated you,” Shanti said, pouring tea with hands that were perfectly steady though he was using the tone that made everyone around him startle. “I followed your line of reasoning.”
He didn’t sit across from her, but beside her, knowing that he was dominating the space and wanting her to be aware of it, to feel the imposition of his size since that was the only thing he had going for him in the moment—why should he be the only uncomfortable one?
“It is not possible for me to be incorrect. I am king.”
Maybe she’ll lean into me. Maybe she’ll slide into my lap, and then I can fall into the touch and feel of her and forget everything else.
Shanti scooted away from him on the couch, but left an unnecessary amount of space on her other side. Sanyu was squeezed between her body and the arm of the couch, which poked into his side, while she had plenty of space. When he tried to spread his legs, she wiggled her behind more firmly into her seat, blocking the action.
“What decisions have you made that I could judge as correct or incorrect? Please remind me. So far, all decisions have been made by Musoke.” She turned and held a teacup out to him and he wanted to knock it away. Not because she defied him, but because he was jealous of that defiance. She was so clearheaded, so unflappable, while his thoughts felt like a useless jumble.
She pressed the cup into his hand and held it there, looking into his eyes until he gripped it.
“Drink it, Husband. You’ve had a long day.” Then she pulled a pad and paper from the coffee table, settling it onto her lap with one hand while bringing her teacup to her mouth with the other.
She savored the sip that she took—Sanyu could see that in the way her lips turned up at the corners and hear it in the small sound of appreciation she made as she shifted beside him.
“Do you like it?” she asked. “It’s Thesoloian tea. You better appreciate it because it’s the last of my stock.”
He sipped quickly, then said, “It’s hot water and leaves, like all tea.”
“Sacrilege! The blessings of the goddess aren’t meant to be received mindlessly,” she said. “Take a sip, and then close your eyes and tell me what you taste.”
Sanyu huffed a breath, but took another sip, focusing on the way the warm liquid washed