In all the ways I had not been prepared for this, Princess Uhuru Hauya being strikingly beautiful was what I was prepared for the least.
Her skin was the colour of the earth when darkened by rain. It looked smooth and soft, made lovelier by the bright yellow garment that cascaded her frame. It was a simple enough dress but it poured elegantly on her and all her curvature. I suddenly felt underdressed for her presence which in itself was ridiculous because I knew I wasn’t – if anything I was overdressed and yet, staring at her now, with those gold elements on her wrist, on her ears and in her long loose hair – I felt unworthy of this meeting.
She was shorter than I anticipated though she was still somewhat a tall woman. I domineered over her and yet I felt like I was the small one. And very few things made me feel small.
Her almond eyes, long, narrow and black like the tea I drank to keep me awake in the cold and dead of the winter night seemed to be piercing right through me. They were sharp – sharp enough to cut through even my sword and dark enough to fall in without the hope of any refuge. There was a calculatedness to them that could shrink any opponent. I was sure of it because even I felt it.
Those eyes sat on the most unfair face I had ever seen. How could the world permit somebody to look as she did and still expect me to think clearly. Soft cheek bones, a delicate nose, a mouth – so scandalously pink – as plush as the pillows I slept on. My hand could frame that face. Fit perfectly against it.
I shook the thought away.
By my sides, I flexed and unflexed my fingers, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Princess Hauya,” my voice came out more strained than I anticipated. I cleared my throat.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Lord Kahari.”
Her voice was timbre but melodious. After seeing her, I should have not expected anything less.
Regardless, she sounded anything but pleased. She barely sounded interested.
My father was right, this was an absurd idea.
When I had told my father I was traveling to Ivhu to propose marriage to their newly ascended queen, he stared at me as though I had sprouted two heads.
“Khama,” he said, voice low and incredulous, “this is hardly the time. Have you lost your mind? The poor woman has just buried her parents.”
“Exactly,” I answered. “Which is why we should have moved sooner. Other kingdoms are already making proposals.”
His pale eyes pinned me into place. “And what does Dhahabu gain from this arrangement? You know the council will not hear it.”
That was not what he wanted to ask.
He already knew the answer he feared.
He knew very well that I did not care what Ivhu could offer the kingdom, or what the council would say. He knew what was driving this. And he knew who.
He just didn’t want to speak her name.
Before the silence could harden into something sharp, the queen, his wife, let out a quiet, amused laugh from where she sat across the room.
“Oh, Thantwe,” she said, swirling a spoon in her cup of tea. “Must you pretend you don’t understand your son’s motives?”
My father’s jaw tightened.
The queen had always been an unlikely ally.
Where the council would call my plan irrational – pouring resources into a territory ravished by invasion after invasion and on the brink of collapse – she saw my idea as necessary. If not for Dhahabu then for me.
Despite the odd circumstances, Queen Amara and my mother had been quite amicable. Friends even. Two women tied together by the same man.
The queen and my father’s marriage had been ceremonious and strategic. A contract to secure more land in exchange for protection. Dhahabu acquired her territory as theirs to increase our grain yield at the price of vowing to protect Amara’s people and share a fraction of the resources. After the marriage banquet the queen had left the very evening to tend to her own territory and her own lover, while my father lived in the castle with my mother.
Only when my mother died and grief hollowed my father into someone unrecognisable did the queen, understanding this feeling acutely from losing her own lover years prior, move into the palace. Somehow, they found comfort in each other.
It was truly interesting how everything had transpired, but I had no desire for that myself. It seemed too complex for me. Whoever I married would be both queen and mine. I would try but if romance did not come, I would learn to be fond of her at the least.
That, I could manage.
My father exhaled sharply.
“He does not know what he’s doing,” he said to the queen, but his gaze stayed fixed on me. “He thinks he is prepared. He is not. What if she has already accepted another proposal? What if she says no?”
“What I’ll offer is too generous to refuse,” I said.
“And if she does?” he pressed.
“I’ll make another offer.”
He stared at me intensely. Then amusement flickered across his face. He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“My son,” he said gently, “have you considered that all this intensity may alarm her, not soothe her?”
My jaw tightened until my teeth ached.
“She could say no,” he continued, “and then what? Will you invade? Conquer her land just to fulfill some idea of a legacy? Some dream of preserving some loose heritage?”
“Then let me send our armies to assist her,” I snapped. “We’ll stabilise Ivhu. She won’t refuse then.”
My father sighed, clearly tired of this conversation. “To what end, Khama? For how long? At what cost? Even your mother understood this.”
I could feel irritation rising in my throat, burning.
“She will simply have to marry me then our territories will be bound.”
The queen laughed again, soft and delighted.
“I must agree with your father. You need another plan.” she had said. “You’ll be lucky if she agrees. I doubt she’s foolish enough not to regard you with suspicion.”
“I’m willing to take that gamble.”
But now standing before Uhuru, her dark eyes boring into me – I knew my parents had been right.
Princess Hauya would turn me away.