“I didn’t know this kind of place existed,” Ledi said, gawking at the opulence around her. She’d heard so many terrible stories about what a shitshow LaGuardia was. If only people knew that while they waited for three-day-old pizza from Sbarro’s, there was a four-star restaurant with comfy leather chairs and gourmet meals.

“Very few people do,” the woman said. “Celebrities sometimes try to get in here, but to no avail. This is Gate R, the Royal boarding area. Come, come.”

Ledi was falling behind Natalie’s high-speed pace again.

“Is everyone else boarded?” Ledi asked, noticing how empty the area was.

Natalie glanced back at her, not missing a step. “There is no one else. You’re it.”

They stepped up to the huge glass windows that looked out onto the tarmac. Sitting outside was the kind of jet Ledi had only seen in articles decrying the carbon footprints of the rich and famous. A yellow flower was painted onto the fin of the plane.

Ledi’s stomach flipped and she stopped, letting Natalie continue on without her.

It was crazy enough to be going to Thesolo. But the limo. The secret gate. The sleek plane waiting to ferry her around the world. She was a woman who lived in a tiny apartment with two mice, who ate a steady diet of ramen and swaddled her phone in layers of protection because breaking it would be unthinkable.

Is this real life?

Up ahead, Natalie was at the door to the tarmac handing off Ledi’s bag to a member of the flight crew.

“Princess! Time to go!”

Ledi looked around to see who she was talking to, then remembered what she was heading toward. She walked to Natalie on shaky legs.

“I’m not a princess,” she said.

Natalie shrugged. “You’re close enough. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be listed as ‘fiancée of Prince Thabiso’ and you wouldn’t be at Gate R.”

Ledi placed a hand over her stomach, willing herself not to puke. Not to run away before she got to Thesolo and was faced with the fact that no one there wanted her either. “I can’t do this. I can vomit, though, and I might do that instead.”

Natalie sighed. When she spoke, some of the stiff formality was gone from her voice. “Look, I’m not a therapist or anything, but I’m going to advise you to chill. You’re about to get on a plane and have a delicious meal, get you some wine, sleep in a comfortable bed—”

“There’s a bed?”

“There’s a bed, and I guarantee it’s more comfortable than anything you’ve slept on in your life,” Natalie said with a bit of envy. “You’re gonna do all that, and then wake up in a place where you can either tell people you’re not a princess or do what I would do given the opportunity.”

“And what’s that?” Ledi asked.

“Live a little.” Natalie smiled. “Do it for those of us who are stuck at LaGuardia every day, watching the planes fly out and never getting on them. Gate R is fancy, but it’s still in Queens.”

Ledi nodded. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and she wasn’t going to let nerves—or an annoying prince—blow it for her.

“Thank you, Natalie.”

“Just doing my job! Enjoy your flight.”

With that she was off.

The crewman with Ledi’s luggage beckoned her out onto the tarmac. She stepped outside, where the roar of the engine filled her ears, blocking out the sound of her rapidly beating heart.

“Thesolo, here I come.”

Chapter 23

Thabiso stood on the tarmac at Kwetsi International Airport with the highland winds at his front and the royal retinue at his back—he wasn’t sure which was colder.

His gaze tracked the plane as it emerged from behind Thesolo’s world-famous mountain range and began its descent. He took a fortifying breath and glanced at his parents: the king tall and slim; the queen matching her husband in height, stature, and frown of disapproval. Thabiso’s plan to cede to the demands of his people while doctors and scientists tracked the disease that stalked them hadn’t gone quite as planned.

“Really, Thabiso,” his mother said, glaring at him from the corner of her eye, “you should have told us about this search for the defector. We would have told you it was unnecessary. Between this and making that scene at the gala—so every auntie from here to Khartoum was wagging their tongues about it—what are we supposed to tell Shanti’s parents?”

Shanti, the woman who was living proof that his parents had not been joking when they’d said that if he didn’t find a bride they’d find one for him, was back at the palace, doing whatever it was a woman did when her life’s purpose was to become a queen. He’d met with her briefly to inform her that they would not be marrying, but his parents and hers had put other ideas into her head. She was nice enough, but nice wasn’t what he wanted. Right now, she was just another worry to add to a plate that was already piled high with them.

“Tell them that you’re sorry but you’ll have to return her,” he said bluntly. “If you weren’t going about snapping up fiancées for me like they were half-ripe fruit at the market, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Son.” It was just one word from his father, but Thabiso heard all that lay beneath it. Boy, don’t think just because you’re grown you can talk to your mother in that tone.