How to Catch a Queen (Runaway Royals #1) - Alyssa Cole Page 0,74

ruin. His father and Musoke hadn’t said that explicitly, but they might as well have.

I can change things a little, he thought to himself giddily. Even tradition.

As Musoke droned on, Sanyu was filled with the almost overwhelming urge to jump up, to tell him to stop speaking. Guilt raced in after his agitation, and Sanyu realized this was why he’d tuned out, too. Musoke had helped raise him, but the things the man said and did and the way the country was run created a response in Sanyu that felt much too close to dislike for him.

Love wasn’t something that was discussed at the Central Palace, but he cared deeply for Musoke. The flashes of resentment toward him felt more treasonous than not wanting to be king—though still less treasonous than thinking he might actually be fit for the job. Musoke, after all, was supposed to be the one who determined whether or not that was true, so what would it mean if Sanyu decided he could be a good king when Musoke clearly thought otherwise?

Would it mean that Musoke could also be wrong about Shanti not being a True Queen? About everything? Sanyu took a sip of his tea and cataloged flavors until his thoughts stopped multiplying.

“Ah yes, and for the parade, I’m thinking we need to have a reenactment of that final battle.” Musoke’s words drew his attention. “But perhaps we can add a chariot. There were no chariots, of course, but it would add some drama to the reenactment. The citizens would be amused.”

The advisors around him nodded their encouragement, but Sanyu could see it now that he was paying attention—these men were checked out, too. Maybe some of them were actually interested in Musoke’s never-ending reminiscence about the past, or agreed that Sanyu shouldn’t have made a deal with von Braustein, but all of them had to have heard this story and all of the stories of military glory hundreds of times.

“You know, this kingdom almost didn’t win its freedom. If not for Sanyu I’s strength and my intelligence, we’d still be under Liechtienbourger rule or in the throes of civil war,” Musoke said. “And we might yet be if we continue to work with them on the land mine removal.”

Sanyu took a deep breath knowing he’d likely regret what he was about to do, but he couldn’t sit quietly any longer.

“O learned Musoke,” he interrupted when the advisor took a breath of his own. “The land mine removal is to the benefit of our people, and acting like it’s a Trojan horse implies that our advisors are too ignorant to do a thorough check before letting said horse in through the gates. Or that I am. I have faith in our council and its ability to guide us toward a future where we don’t reject offers out of hand because we fear we can’t defend ourselves. And if anyone doesn’t have that faith, they need to speak up so we can address any issues that they think make us vulnerable.”

Sanyu felt the sudden shift in the room’s mood, a vibrating silence like his ears had been blocked due to an altitude change for months, years, and suddenly popped.

In a way, he still felt he was on autopilot because otherwise, how was he speaking so freely? This had to be his father’s confidence, and perhaps his father’s words, too. Or Shanti’s. He still felt the not-fear, but it didn’t squeeze his vocal cords as it had in the past. He didn’t wait for Musoke to answer, deciding instead to ride this wave for as long as he could.

“Is it possible to get an update on how the parade will be funded?” he asked. “It’s already a tremendous undertaking, and given the last-minute nature of all of this, I’m sure the cost will be even higher than necessary.”

When he glanced toward Minister Masane, the man’s eyes were bright and locked on him. He patted at his bald head with a handkerchief.

“Oh right, you and your quibbling over the legality and cost of celebrating your recently deceased father—what every honorable son worries about,” Musoke said.

A dull pain throbbed in Sanyu’s abdomen and his hand closed over the tube of antacid in the fold of his robe, but he didn’t pull it out.

“It’s what every honorable king worries about,” he said sharply. “Legalities. Finances. Ethics and accountability. It should be what every advisor worries about, too. If Amageez gave you the gift of knowledge, that shouldn’t be hard to