How to Catch a Queen (Runaway Royals #1) - Alyssa Cole Page 0,91

resting snugly between his pectorals.

“Mint and assorted chemical flavorings.”

“Where do you feel the tingle?”

“My mouth, my nose, my throat.”

“Okay. Breathe deeply. Until you feel it in your lungs, too. Here.” She tapped her fingertips on his chest, and the sensation almost made him swallow the gum, defeating the purpose.

He breathed deeply and—oh. He hadn’t been breathing, really, as the not-fear began to consume him. And she’d noticed.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. “A teammate knows what their partner needs. Plus, I’m brilliant, right?”

The car pulled to a stop and she leaned and kissed him. This wasn’t like the passionate kisses they’d shared. It was brief, soft, and almost an offering of support. Tingles entirely unrelated to his chewing gum went through his body, and he slipped his arm around her back, deepening the kiss; not to take more from her, but because he wanted to give to her so badly. To show that he appreciated these gestures of care so unlike what he was used to, and that he was glad she was on his team—things he was certain he wasn’t allowed to say aloud.

Her tongue licked over his and her leg slid into his lap, and it was only a very emphatic throat clearing and a cool breeze up his robe that made him realize the driver had come around to open the door.

“Your Highnesses,” the man said, his eyes carefully averted. “We are here.”

Sanyu was nervous when he met the group of farmers waiting at a table laden with food and drinks, but he kept breathing and Shanti was beside him. His stomach didn’t ache and his words didn’t leave him. He could tell that he still sounded gruff, but he was able to make small talk and to ask questions about land erosion and crop yield, about coffee and wheat and what the farmers thought they needed. When he wasn’t in the grip of the not-fear, he was better able to sort through all the information in his head and choose what seemed appropriate instead of just getting stuck in endless indecision.

Shanti was at his side the whole time, as they walked along dirt roads and up the terraced cliffs and over marshy land. She jumped in to fill any silences and made jokes in passable Njazan—proving right his theory that she was fluent. And her keen eyes took in everything—he knew she’d be adding this information to that vast source of knowledge that she had often dipped into during their conversations.

After promising that he would see to their worries directly, they were back in the car and on their way.

“Do you see that in the distance?” Sanyu said. “If we take the next turn, we can visit the Southern Palace. It’s smaller, and where we host certain guests, but I haven’t been there for years. I always preferred it to the Central Palace.”

“Is that where the temple of Amageez is?” Shanti asked.

Sanyu shook his head. “No, but it’s on the same road, just a bit closer.”

“Can we go?” she asked, oddly excited for someone who believed in a different deity. “I’m not allowed in the temple to Omakuumi and I’d like to pay my respects.”

Sanyu side-eyed her, but he wasn’t in a rush to return to the palace and Shanti had been stuck inside for months. He’d take her wherever she wanted to make up for that.

“Sure. I haven’t been there in years either,” he said, then asked the driver to change destinations.

When they reached the modest temple, Sanyu was surprised to see that many of the attendants in the small brick-and-wood building were women. Because the space for prayer was so small, he and Shanti made a quick round of the interior—most of their time there was spent fending off offers of food and drink and then eating the snacks they served up anyway.

It was interesting how the temple dedicated to the god of knowledge was so humble and understated compared to Musoke’s vivid robes and ornate walking sticks.

He and Shanti explored together, with a handful of the older attendants of Amageez surrounding him until Shanti slipped off from the group with a grin. A couple of the attendants flanked him on either side, looking at him with an affection he hadn’t been certain he would receive from his subjects and doubted he was worthy of.

“And you’re doing well, Your Highness?” a woman with rheumy eyes asked. “I know it must have been hard for you after your father’s passing. You