How to Catch a Queen (Runaway Royals #1) - Alyssa Cole Page 0,6
the palace for queens who displeased the Iron Fist, or if his father simply murdered his wives. Those boys hadn’t known that the palace itself was a dungeon, and Sanyu was the only one imprisoned by it.
“Most of these rumors were started by Europeans and other Western interests after Njazans fought for their independence and won it. After sanctions and punishment by the international community left your father the choice of groveling or forging his own path.” She looked at him intently as he came to a stop in front of her, studying his face. “So, yes. I’ve heard the rumors about your father, but I’m not marrying him. And you’ve already proven you aren’t cruel. You wouldn’t have asked these questions if you were.”
She held his gaze. There was fear in the depths of those wide brown eyes, but not of him. He could see something else there, too: hope. It was better she learned quickly that no such thing existed within the palace walls.
“I don’t know what to make of a woman so desperate she’d give herself to me with no prerequisites,” he said, the harsh bark of his voice the same he’d heard so many times from his father and Musoke. He wanted her to feel what he did when receiving a lecture: the desire to run. “I’m not cruel—what a low bar I’ve managed to step over! That doesn’t mean you should marry me.”
His words reverberated in the room, and he fought his displeasure with himself for raising his voice to her. This was why he didn’t want to be king, why he didn’t want to take a wife, let alone dozens of them.
“So you admit you aren’t cruel.” Her expression remained pleasant but her gaze hardened with resolve. “Maybe I shouldn’t marry you. I don’t know what to make of a man so desperate he’d call me to his kingdom with the offer of a crown, but I came to Njaza to be queen. If you don’t want to make me one, say so and stop wasting my time.”
Sanyu bristled, though he should have figured that she was a title chaser. His father had once said that the reason he was able to have so many wives was there was always a woman eager for the coin and the crown.
“Fine,” Sanyu said. “You want to be queen so badly? We’ll marry. But don’t expect a happily-ever-after. Those don’t happen here.”
No. Here, women appeared briefly and faded away before they disappeared entirely, leaving nothing behind but snippets of memory.
Or perhaps a son.
No. No child would come of this union, despite his attraction to her. Despite the heat in her eyes as she looked at him. Sanyu would see to that, no matter what tricks she pulled.
“Happily-ever-afters don’t concern me,” she said firmly. “Love isn’t an indicator of marital success, and I’m not one to seek out failure unnecessarily.”
Sanyu snorted.
“You expect me to believe you don’t think you’ll win my heart? Make me love you?” he asked, following the question with a purposefully nasty chuckle to hide the frustration that rose in him from knowing he couldn’t love her even if he wanted to.
She didn’t show any sign that his words affected her, just kept looking at him with that steady gaze.
“I require only respect and cooperation. See? I do have prerequisites. Expectations, even. Whether you meet them over the course of the next four months is up to you,” she said, dropping into an even more elaborate bow.
Behind her, the door opened and Musoke stepped in, his lips pressed flat.
“Are you ready to proceed? Your father is awake—we should get this over with now.”
. . . because he might not wake up again, went unspoken.
“We are ready,” Sanyu lied, his voice a perfect, confident imitation of his father.
He was prepared, more than prepared after a lifetime of coaching on how to be the king Njaza needed, but Sanyu was not ready. Not for any of what was to come, or what he was to lose.
They left the room single file, a somber procession.
He would be married. He would become king. In four months, when the trial was over, he would send his wife away.
The Njazan crown wasn’t so easily escaped, so he would remain.
In the meantime, he’d keep his distance because the last thing he needed was another person to disappoint—he’d just gained the attention of his subjects and a spotlight on the world stage.
His wife could fend for herself, as had every “queen” before her.