How to Catch a Queen (Runaway Royals #1) - Alyssa Cole Page 0,85

his leadership abilities, but the man could make some sexy slides.

There was a knock at the door and she hurried over—it was early afternoon, but maybe Sanyu had decided to change their schedule? Because they didn’t only talk politics and they didn’t only have sex—they were at an in-between stage where they hadn’t committed to one another, despite being married, but she could only think of him when they were apart. She rushed to the door, making sure her smile didn’t drop when she found Lumu there instead.

“Hello, Advisor Lumu,” she said.

“I appreciate you leaving out the ‘lesser’ in my title,” he said with a wide smile. “Matti and Zenya tease me mercilessly about that demotion.”

Light danced in his eyes as he spoke of them, surety that the people he cared for cared for him in return. Shanti hadn’t signed up for that kind of lasting affection with Sanyu, hadn’t thought it was something she needed, but something much too similar to sadness welled up in her when she realized she might never have it with him.

“Are you all right, O revered one?” Lumu asked, startling her.

“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better about my title, too, but I’m not the True Queen and shouldn’t be addressed like that,” she said, hoping the disappointment didn’t show in her tone.

“Ah, I should know better. A true child of Amageez always says what is logical.” Lumu smiled. “I stopped by because I have something for you.”

He stepped aside and one of the palace guards pushed in a two-tiered cart laden with packages, and then stepped out after being thanked. Envelopes of all shapes and sizes, both thin, standard paper and thick, luxurious stationery, were tucked between them.

“What is all this?” she asked as she stepped aside. For a moment she thought they were gifts from Sanyu, but she thought he knew her well enough at this point that he wouldn’t send her unnecessary presents.

“Your mail. It seems there was a misunderstanding at the post, but King Sanyu has taken care of it. The problem with your royal email has also been resolved by my personal IT tech.”

“My email,” she said, too distracted by the bounty on the cart. “Right.”

She held her composure, an unusual influx of emotions bringing tears to her eyes when she caught the scrawl of her father’s handwriting on one of the packages.

“It’s like the goddess’s day with many presents to open,” she said. “Well, I guess you don’t have goddesses here, so the equivalent would be your feast of Omakuumi.”

“Ingoka is not our goddess, but I wouldn’t say we have no goddesses here,” Lumu said.

Shanti glanced over at him.

“Oh?” That hadn’t come up in her previous research of Njazan history, though it nudged at something she’d read recently. What had that been? “Everything I’ve seen has focused on the duology of Omakuumi and Amageez. I wonder if there’s more information in the library at Omakuumi’s temple on the palace grounds, but I’m not allowed in.”

“Omakuumi’s temple is restricted to all who are not men,” Lumu said, his tone making it clear that he thought this was foolish. “But the temple of Amageez, which is near the Southern Palace, is open to everyone.”

“I see. Thank you.” She was certain that Lumu hadn’t given her that information for no reason—he was kind and occasionally seemed lighthearted, but his gaze was much too sharp for Shanti to believe that.

“A hawk floats at ease even while on the hunt,” Shanti remembered her grandfather saying as they watched one of the birds circle gracefully over the chickens scratching around the family farm. She didn’t think she was Lumu’s prey, but she also trusted her instincts.

“I’ll see you at the council meeting tomorrow, I hope?” Lumu said as he walked out to follow the guard.

“I don’t know if I’ll be allowed in after the last one,” she said. She wasn’t sure Lumu knew of her and Sanyu’s meetings and his planned proposals. “Musoke might have me barred.”

“Good thing we both know Musoke isn’t king.”

With that, he left.

His comment about the goddess kept trying to draw her attention, but she waved it away.

You’ll be gone soon, the finer details of Njazan religion don’t matter.

She pushed the thought away and began to sort through the packages, sending selfies of herself eating the Thesoloian snacks to her parents. As she went through the envelopes, she sorted them into piles: royal fan mail, which seemed odd to receive after years of sending letters to her favorite