Nya nodded, though she wished someone would tell her what she could do to make the pain stop.

“Hey,” Portia said, coming to kneel beside Nya and rub her back. “Why don’t you take a hot shower, relax, and then come eat with us?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine. I just hate that he would use me like this,” Nya said on a shuddering breath. “It’s just how he is, though. A zebra cannot change its stripes.”

“We can kill him, right, Ledi?” Portia asked hopefully.

“I’ll look into it,” Ledi said, stroking her chin in a very Thabiso-like fashion.

Nya wasn’t sure how to tell them that death threats weren’t helping, but then someone cleared their throat and they turned to see a wide-eyed palace staff member in the doorway.

“Good morning, Indira,” Ledi said, inclining her head toward the woman.

“Excuse me, Your Highness and esteemed guests. Good morning. I am here to clean but I can come back if I am interrupting a matter of import,” the middle-aged woman said. She glanced at Nya, then down to the ground.

“No, nothing of import,” Nya said, trying to surreptitiously wipe at her face.

“Can I be of assistance to you?” Indira asked.

“Can you please take the item that’s soaking in the bathroom to be washed?” Nya said politely. “Oh, and please take Prince Johan’s suit jacket and have it cleaned and returned to him, too. Thank you.”

She pointed at the jacket hanging from the bathroom door and tried not to remember the look in his eyes when he’d tied it around her.

Indira glanced at the jacket. “Yes. I will do that.”

“Thank you,” Ledi said warmly.

“It is my pleasure to serve,” she said, then disappeared into the bathroom.

“Ugh, why does this have to hurt?” Nya complained, talking about both her period and life in general. “It really isn’t fair.”

“Did you take any pills?” Portia pulled a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers from some hidden pocket.

“I’ll take one,” Nya said, ignoring her instinct not to take any medicine at all. Portia wouldn’t harm her.

There was a splashing of water and then a sharp gasp, and when Indira came out from the bathroom with the dripping bundle of linen she looked stricken. Nya was awash in embarrassment, which she was starting to think had become her perpetual state. She had tried to scrub the dress, but apparently hadn’t done a good enough job.

“Ms. Jerami, I— Are you all right? Do you need any unguents, poultices, or herbal remedies?”

Nya relaxed. The woman was just worried about her well-being.

“I appreciate your offer,” Nya said. “I am in pain, but it’s not that bad. Nothing uncommon given the situation.”

Indira nodded sharply. “Yes, it is exactly that, Ms. Jerami. Blessings of Ingoka upon you, and her wrath on those who have caused you any distress.”

The woman marched toward the door, came back to snatch the suit jacket up, then marched out again.

“What was that about?” Portia asked.

“Maybe she heard about my father,” Nya said, then sighed. “Okay, go to the brunch. I’ll be there soon.”

Her friends hesitated.

“I swear on my stash of dating games.”

They each hugged her before they left, and she made her way into the bathroom, feeling both heavier and lighter. She decided not to think of visiting her father. She was good at pretending everything was okay, after years of practice. She would smile and laugh and not let anyone know that her father could still hurt her, even from behind bars.

THE BRUNCH WAS still going strong when Nya arrived clad in one of the rompers she’d bought when she planned on running wild in New York City, but had never dared to wear. She’d chosen the outfit because the red silky material was stretchy and comfortable and the brunch was outdoors in the summer garden, but as she’d stared in the mirror and dabbed at her red lipstick, she’d thought of Johan. Johan who was suddenly a friend, but a friend who she wanted to appreciate how nice her legs looked in heels and how her melanin popped.

She’d also thought of her father, who’d only allowed her to wear drab, dark, loose-fitting clothing because “men were like dogs.”

Do you really want to wear that outfit, child? What will people say?

If someone was giving him information about her, he should know that his daughter was wearing bright colors, showing skin, and inviting the dogs to feast their eyes on her.

Okay, she only had one particular dog in mind. A fox, to be more precise, and one whose mouth had been so close to hers the night before that their noses had brushed.

As soon as she walked into the gated-off area of the garden where the brunch was being held, her gaze landed on him. Everyone was laughing and talking but he sat staring at his jollof like the meaning of life could be found in the grains. He looked up suddenly, his gaze locking right on to hers, and she wobbled in her Mary Jane stilettos even though she knew how to navigate grass in high heels. Ledi had taught her in Central Park, outside the royal town house.

“Cousiiiiiin!” Thabiso called out happily, seemingly having indulged in the apricot mimosas that were on the brunch menu. “Come, we saved you a seat!”

He pointed to the seat across from him—next to Johan. She was starting to wonder whether the goddess wasn’t testing her. In the many visits to New York he’d made, he hadn’t spoken a word to her, but now she couldn’t seem to escape him. She’d comforted herself with the fact that he was a spoiled jerk who she didn’t want to talk to anyway, but she’d been wrong on that front. She wanted to talk to him, about anything and everything, even if he was exactly the last man in the world she should get ideas about.