and with the unlikely feelings the investigator’s questions had raised.
Who asks a total stranger if they’re happy? She was annoyed, but the truth was if she’d been able to say yes, there’d be no need for her annoyance.
The sound of tongue against teeth pulled her out of her thoughts.
“Head in the clouds again?” Josiane asked. “Can’t be bothered to do your work?”
Shanti stood abruptly and looked down at the old woman.
“Were you raised in a barn?” she asked, voice frigid. “No. No. Because I was raised in a barn, and when I milked the goats in the morning they knew to bleat a greeting at me before they snapped at my hand. Since you seem to require more instruction than a goat, here it is—your rudeness ends today. I will tolerate no more disrespect from you, Josiane. Not because I am your queen, but because I refuse to be treated badly anymore, by you or anyone else.”
Shanti braced for the woman’s fury, for a reminder that she had no power to wield against anyone because she was a false queen, but was instead met with an appraising look.
“Humph,” was all Josiane said before beginning to gather the papers spread across the table and put them back into the box.
“I wasn’t done yet,” Shanti said. “Asking for a peaceful work environment doesn’t mean I can’t finish my work.”
It was silly to argue since Shanti knew that she’d purposely been given inconsequential work and it didn’t matter whether she finished or not, but she wasn’t a quitter. She didn’t want to give Josiane the satisfaction.
“You are done,” Josiane said. “My archives, my rules—Your Highness. This project is complete for the time being. You know as well as I do that there are more important things to attend to.”
The old woman wasn’t even snapping anymore, and though Shanti had asked her to drop the rudeness, it made her feel like she just wasn’t worth the effort.
“Very well.”
She left the only place in the palace that had given her purpose, even if that purpose had been to spite Josiane.
When she reached the fork in her path and faced the narrow, shabby hallway that would take her the circuitous route to the queen’s wing, she paused.
Josiane had dismissed her. Sanyu was planning her future dismissal. Why should she relegate herself to the path where no one would see her? Why had she ever done it to begin with?
She imagined what Jendy would think of her skulking down the staff hallway, and pure pride made her turn away from her usual route. She wouldn’t let her friends down—she’d thought helping them was enough, that meeting with Sanyu was enough—but it hadn’t been. Sanyu wanted to use her as a sounding board for his policies while already checking out the queen who would be here to see them enacted? Fine.
But no more hiding, and not even a trace of making herself small. She was queen of Njaza for approximately two more weeks and she was going to make her presence known.
She took the main hallway, lined with gilded frames and fading frescoes, and instead of the reserved but regal stride that was her usual gait, she drew on her modeling and dance lessons and switched into catwalk mode—head forward, hips swaying, queen bitch mode activated. Guards stationed along the hallway glanced at her, startling before nodding their acknowledgment. Rafiq’s mouth dropped open.
“Did you speak to the investigator from Royal Match, Your Highness?” he asked.
“I did,” she said, and lifted her chin even higher.
“Be careful, Your Highness. If you can’t see the floor—”
“I don’t need instruction on how to walk, Rafiq. Thank you.”
She kept going, not knowing where she was heading but knowing who she hoped to see.
As she passed by one of the many frescoes in the main corridor something caught her eye; she slowed to scan the scene from a battle similar to the one she’d shown Portia and realized what had jumped out at her. One of the warriors, crouched with a spear jabbing forward in protection of Omakuumi, was clearly painted in a different style. Several of the figures closest to the god-king had been, the difference in technique and even saturation of the paint clear once you had noticed. It was like someone had done the painting version of Photoshop copy and paste. What would they want to cover?
“Who are you and how did you get into the palace?”
Shanti looked at the guard who was jogging up to her, then behind her in