He wanted to feel those hips that swayed as she walked down the plane’s steps beneath his hands. He wanted to taste the lips that pulled into a smile as a boy approached and handed her a bouquet of flowers. He wanted Naledi Ajoua, even though he had no right to her—despite their betrothal, only she could bequeath him with that honor. The warmth in his chest transformed into a throb, one that synced with each step Ledi took toward him.

“Sire. You are making her walk into a strange land, toward a strange people, alone.” The tip of Likotsi’s pointy Italian loafer dug into the back of his ankle, propelling him into action.

Thabiso moved toward Ledi, and although the first step was one of uncertainty, the next brought him closer to her, and there was assuredly nothing he wanted more than that. He knew that she knew he was approaching, although she kept her attention on a little girl who had grabbed her by the hand and gazed up adoringly.

“Welcome home, my dear Naledi,” he said as he approached, his voice almost drowned out by the children’s chorus that had begun to sing their national anthem. She finally turned to him.

“Oh hi, dear,” she said with a wry smile. “Nice crown.”

He touched the ring of platinum encircling his head. He’d forgotten it was there, even though it was supposed to serve as a constant reminder, like a wedding band.

He shrugged. “Oh this old thing? This is my casual crown. The formal one is eight inches tall.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“We Moshoeshoes are not known for our subtlety,” he said.

“The princess is boo-the-ful,” the little girl holding Ledi’s hand said, ducking her head shyly.

“That she is.”

The girl darted back into the crowd when Thabiso addressed her, hiding behind her mother’s long patterned skirt.

“She is also underdressed,” Ledi said through chattering teeth. “Isn’t it supposed to be hot in Africa?”

He could see her shivering; she was still dressed for spring in the Northern Hemisphere, not winter in the Southern. He removed his thick wool cloak and wrapped it around her. A gasp went through the crowd. Sharing one’s cloak was an act of intimacy; it was like sharing your second skin. As he pulled the collar closed, he noticed the thin, serpentine metal glinting against her collarbone.

The necklace.

What did it mean that she still wore his gift? Hope, stronger than the logic that told him nothing could bring Ledi back to him, spread in his chest like one of the great winged creatures said to serve Ingoka’s will.

He inhaled deeply as he tucked the collar of the cloak and fixed it in place with a button. “It is hot on some parts of the continent. Your current location is fifteen hundred feet above sea level, nestled in the mountains, and it is winter. It’s ski season here.”

“Of course,” Ledi muttered.

Thabiso wondered how Naledi, lover of data, had been remiss in reading up on the local climate. He was sure Likotsi would have informed her in one of her emails, but then he remembered how Naledi ignored that which caused her emotional discomfort.

“Are you ready to meet your people?”

“I guess.” She was looking down at her sneakers.

He held his hand out, and when she took it warily, he tugged her toward him, gently folding her arm under his so that she was pressed against him along one side.

“What—”

“Mother, Father, esteemed citizens of Thesolo, and our guests. I present to you my future wife, and your future queen: Naledi Ajoua.” Polite clapping broke out from the crowds that had gathered to witness this historic event. He felt Ledi stiffen beside him. “Although she is one of us, it has been many years since her feet touched this sacred soil. The people of Thesolo are world renowned for their kindness and hospitality, and I have no doubt you will help show her just how wonderful her homeland—our homeland—truly is.”

That bit was met with thunderous applause. It never hurt to compliment people when you were asking them to do you a favor. He was trying to recruit two hundred thousand wingmen—he needed all the help he could get.

“Um. There are a lot of people. Looking at me. And holding up their cell phones and taking pictures.”

Thabiso glanced down and noticed that Ledi was breathing shallowly and her eyes were wide with panic.

“Thousands. Like cells on a hemocytometer. If there are eight people per square foot, and you multiply that by . . .”

Thabiso hadn’t even thought of how she’d react to the crowd. Although she’d made a crack about putting him under a microscope, the truth of the matter was that he always had been. He expected to be stared at and photographed as soon as he left the privacy of the palace grounds.

He didn’t know what to say to calm her.

Instead, he lifted his hand to her face and brushed his knuckles along her jawline. Her gaze darted to his, but her breathing didn’t slow. In fact, she was breathing more quickly now, and her eyes had gone a little unfocused—how she’d looked before he’d thrust into her back in her tiny apartment. Before she’d clenched and cried out at only the smallest fraction of the pleasure he’d wanted to give her.

Desire stirred, but the biggest photo opportunity in a generation wasn’t the ideal place to display the royal member.

“People are looking at you, yes, but you need fear nothing from their judgment.”