“Wait, we still have to capture live, wild animals?” Portia exclaimed.

“They’re domesticated, not wild,” Ledi corrected.

“Now, you must break off into pairs,” Annie said, ignoring Portia. She raised her hands and surveyed the small crowd. “Well, it appears that is already done. Ledi and Thabiso, Portia and His Grace, Kotsi and Fabiola, and . . .”

Her hands dropped and she fixed Johan with the look. The look that said I’ve heard about you. He ran a hand through his hair, scruffing it to make himself look younger and less threatening, and then gave her his most dazzling smile.

She twisted her lips. “. . . Johan and our Nya.” She paused. “You, boy. Listen.”

Johan pointed at himself innocently. “Me, Auntie?”

Thabiso groaned even though he was the one who had taught Johan the honorific. Annie looked even more suspicious.

“I expect you to behave properly with our precious granddaughter, even though you will be alone, unsupervised, and—”

“I’m a grown woman, Nkhono,” Nya said, cutting her grandmother off. “I can handle myself, just as I did living alone in one of the biggest cities in the world. And Johan is . . . a friend. You don’t have to worry.”

Johan wasn’t surprised by much, but Nya’s use of the word friend did just that. He had friends, and even more people who claimed him as such. But after over a year of purposefully ignoring her, then crudely asking her to join him in bed, then collapsing on top of her, she would call him friend?

His heart beat a little bit faster.

“Yes. We’re friends,” Johan added, hoping to quell any fears, and because he liked saying it out loud.

Since when? Portia mouthed at him, her thin eyebrows drawn together speculatively.

“Only friends.” Johan stepped in front of Portia, eclipsing her from Annie’s view. “Nya is safe with me.”

He glanced at Nya, hoping she felt reassured, too, but she’d pulled out her phone and was staring at it intently, lips screwed up in a way that showed annoyance but was also entirely kissable. He waited for her to look over at him, but apparently whatever was on her phone held her attention.

“You are saying you won’t debauch my granddaughter?” Annie asked bluntly, apparently determined to draw this uncomfortable moment out.

“Never,” Johan said, placing his hand over his heart. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I would worry a little bit,” Makalele said, with a twinkle in his eye, teasing his wife. “He’s a handsome lad. He reminds me of that Liechtienbourgish soldier on leave from Njaza who tried to woo you away from me all those years ago. Doesn’t he resemble him?”

Annie shot him a different kind of look. “I have no idea what you mean, as I did not consort with colonizers. But if I had to remember, I do believe it was you he was trying to woo, no?” Makalele shrugged sheepishly and Annie looked back at the group, her gaze jumping from Johan to Tavish. “Not that you are colonizers. Not currently.”

“It’s a nasty addiction, that colonizing. Glad we were broken of the habit,” Johan said smoothly.

“Okay, I like this boy,” Makalele said, shaking his finger in Johan’s direction. “Come now, Annie. Relax.”

Annie still looked suspicious, but finally nodded. “You will be led to animal-specific ‘hunting’ grounds, cleared with the landowners, where you will spend the morning finding your quarry. And that’s it. No funny business.”

She darted a final warning glare at Johan.

“What? I was promised there would be funny business.” Fabiola pouted.

“I have an exemption,” Likotsi said. “You shall have all the funny business you desire, my lady.”

“Johan has already made it clear that I’m not the type to inspire debauchery, Nkhono,” Nya said stiffly, staring at her phone. “It is unnecessary to press the issue.”

Johan glanced at Nya and saw a message pop up on her phone:

I got no response to my last message, cherie. Do you not have time for me? I thought we had something special, but perhaps I was wrong.

She angled the phone away from him, frowning as her fingers tapped at the screen, then tucked it into her pocket.

A feeling that Johan hadn’t experienced since the moment he’d peered out from under his mother’s desk and saw her and Linus staring at each other in starry-eyed wonder gripped him: jealousy. This was different from amorphous envy at his friends’ relationships.

He didn’t want Nya getting texts from someone calling her cherie. Or rather, he wanted her getting them, but only from him.

He was jealous.

Johan thought he might faint again.

Nya crossed her arms over her chest and worried her bottom lip, clearly upset.

Anger rose to meet his jealousy and clasp its hand. He couldn’t be with her—he didn’t date people who inspired actual emotion in him, and Nya was a veritable muse. Whoever she was dating should treat her with care and kindness, not passive-aggressive texts in the middle of a wedding celebration.

“If anyone doesn’t find their, um, quarry, it’s fine,” Ledi said. “This is just for fun and we’re happy you’re here celebrating with us.”

She looked anxiously over at her grandparents, who grudgingly nodded.