replied bluntly.
Her knee pressed into his thigh as she turned to face him more fully, and Sanyu felt the heat of her skin. He tried to ignore it, but sensation spiraled in growing circles from the spot where their bodies touched, resonating particularly in the place where she’d stroked him the night before.
“Husband, the world is changing more quickly than ever. You can’t do things a certain way simply because they’ve always been done that way. Traditions are rooted in meaning and if the tradition doesn’t change when it has to, the meaning and how it’s received certainly does.”
“But traditions are . . . it is the way my father did things.”
Grief surged out of nowhere, clamping his vocal cords painfully with the fact that he wished his father were here so he could ask him what to do—not wait to be told, but ask his advice, as one king to another. He would never get to do that.
He took a sip of the tea, cataloging the flavors as she’d instructed him to do earlier, until the muscles in his throat loosened.
“I understand why people are upset,” he said quietly. He felt traitorous finally saying this aloud. “They’re making enough money to scrape by, while I seem to live in the lap of luxury. But that’s not true either. The palace is crumbling just like the country is. If we tell the people that, everything will fall apart.”
He cleared his throat of the ticklish sensation that meant he’d said too much.
“You can tell them without telling them,” she said. “You can tell them you know they’re upset and that you’re working to fix things to make the kingdom better for everyone. And then you work to fix things, so that you’re not lying.”
He stood, propelled out of his seat by nervous energy and the need to escape the sensation the press of an inch of her knee caused in him.
“You have no idea how things work here. We would have to change everything, restructure everything—”
This wasn’t at all what he should be revealing to this foreigner even if she was his wife. But his words spilled from him like someone had blown a hole in the dam surrounding his inhibitions; maybe it was because she’d be leaving soon. He wouldn’t have to face her disappointment like he did with Musoke—and had with his father.
She looked up at him, eyes glinting with excitement instead of judgment. “Yes! You’ll have to rebuild everything from the foundation up. You say this like it’s impossible.”
Every lesson that Musoke had taught him echoed in his head. “You like rules, yes? Well I will tell you how things must be here in Njaza to prevent the kingdom from falling. If you do as I say, you will be a good king.”
Musoke was strict, but he didn’t lie, and he always had a reason for why changes couldn’t be made. If Sanyu were to change everything, wouldn’t that be saying that all his father and Musoke had built wasn’t good enough?
“And you say it like it’s easy,” he responded, ignoring the throb of pain in his stomach.
“Oh no, it won’t be easy. It can take a lifetime, or many lifetimes. But that doesn’t change the fact that it needs to be done and it’s your job to do it. Let’s start small. Do you want to address what happened today with your citizens?”
“Not particularly.”
She paused, twisted her lips. “Do you want your citizens to trust you?”
“You are our protector!”
“Yes.” He sighed. “And to do that I’ll have to address it. I won’t apologize. But . . .”
“But?”
“I will try to say what I think instead of what I’ve memorized more often.”
“That’s impressive,” she said. “That you memorize those speeches. Lots of politicians use notes or a teleprompter.”
“I do it to make things easier,” he said. “When I say things people don’t want to hear, they get angry. That’s why I was confused earlier because I thought I’d said what people want to hear. I don’t like when things suddenly change like that, so I just kept talking.”
He felt ridiculous, and she probably thought he was.
“It’s hard for you to switch gears in the moment, then? Maybe it would help to practice being taken by surprise.”
“Or maybe my subjects could not surprise me,” he bit out.
Shanti took a sip of her tea, watching him over the rim of her cup. When she kept looking, without saying anything, he took the pad of paper from her lap, just to