“My wife,” Sanyu said, watching with a closed-off expression as Shanti slowly became more animated, picking up on Nya’s enthusiasm.

Sanyu was unhappy, too.

Hmm.

“I again extend my hearty congratulations on your coronation and nuptials, and King Linus and Prince Lukas send theirs as well,” he said. He thought about what he knew of Sanyu. The new king of an unstable kingdom, raised by a father considered cruel and formidable. “Your father, and now you, have done and continue to do the actual work of rebuilding your country. I’m happy to discuss how Liechtienbourg contributed to the problems of this region, and what we can contribute to make it right. I’m not happy to let you insult my fiancée, though. Don’t do it again.”

Sanyu smirked.

“Your African fiancée, acquired just in time for a visit to a former colony? Do you think I was born this morning? I’m sure you’ve already alerted the paparazzi. What a great photo opportunity! The benevolent European prince and his African betrothed, washing away the sins of the past.” Sanyu spread his hands as if shaping a rainbow, then dropped them into his lap and gave Johan an unamused look.

“I hadn’t thought of that angle,” Johan said, ruffling his hair. “That would play really well with the referendum crowd. ‘Prince Jo-Jo Solves Racism’ would be one of my better headlines. My stepfather could actually put that one on the fridge.”

Sanyu looked at him for a long moment, again, and then allowed himself a chuckle. It wasn’t his boisterous laugh, but it was authentic and slightly less filled with malice.

He clapped once. “Well. Since you have solved racism, you can come meet the children. Perhaps you can solve their problems as well.”

WHEN THEY SHUFFLED into the modern hospital, which looked like a giant alien duck had laid a metallic egg alongside a beautiful lake, Johan felt at ease for the first time since his arrival.

There was a certain lack of surety when it came to fake fiancées and angry kings and their silent wives, but talking to children was something Johan was good at. It was something he enjoyed—his mother had brought him with her on her travels, and she always made sure to talk to children, and more importantly to listen to them, just as she had listened to him when he was a boy. He made hospital visits often, but those were usually private and those that weren’t were considered PR to cover his ass for not covering his ass.

“Do you know anything about the civil war in Njaza?” Sanyu asked, looking down at Johan. There was a carefully controlled grace to his movements, though he was a large man. Behind them Shanti, willowy and with doleful eyes, spoke quietly with Nya, and a retinue of three royal guards and two advisors hovered behind them all.

Johan almost said “of course” but it wasn’t a matter of course. He’d had to research on his own because Liechtienbourg’s treatment of Njaza had all but been written out of their history books. His country had done a great many good things in the past, and it seemed that this was the shame they preferred to overlook. “I’ve read about the various factions that struggled for power after independence was won, but I always welcome more information,” he said.

Sanyu came to a stop and Johan followed suit, peering into a room with several children playing—no, they weren’t playing. Well, not just playing. It was physical therapy: several of them were wearing prosthetic limbs, and some raced around in wheelchairs.

“I can give you information, but only one thing is currently relevant. Land mines. Land mines lie in the earth of Njaza and, like much of history, one wrong move sets off a powder keg.” Sanyu gestured to the children, and his expression was lined with fatigue. “After Njaza won its freedom by force, we were blacklisted. Strapped down with sanctions and boxed out by tariffs.”

Johan breathed deeply and blinked. As always, the unfairness of the world was something that cut into him quick and deep.

I know it’s not fair, my Jo-Jo. We cannot right every wrong, but we can’t be crushed by that fact. We help where we can, liebling. Others help, too. And it makes a difference even when it doesn’t feel like enough.

“My father was a proud man. He responded to the shunning by doubling down, by telling the world we didn’t need their help and turning away the aid of even our neighboring countries.” Sanyu exhaled deeply, like a bodybuilder readjusting his hold on the overloaded barbell he was charged with lifting. “I have been away for a few years, and now that I’m back I’m working on many, many things, but my country has been cut off from assistance for years. I’m tired of seeing my people injured, von Braustein. You spoke of making things right when you contacted me? I don’t give a damn if this is just good publicity for you. If you want to help, this is where it starts.”

Johan gazed at the children, then nodded. “Okay.”

Sanyu glanced at him sidelong. “That’s it? You’ll just wave your magic wand?”

“Well, no, we have a lot to talk about and set up, but that will take some time. I am saying okay, I am committed to helping, no matter what happens during the referendum, and I believe King Linus and Prince Lukas will also pledge their aid.” He made a silly face at a boy who was giving him a puzzled look through the glass. “Some of the children are pointing at me and laughing, so I think we should go say hello.”

“I believe I will go help plan the evening meal,” Shanti said woodenly, turning and walking away before anyone could reply.