Page 42 of Scarred Crown

He’s such a stick in the mud. “Come on.” I cajole. “That’s impressive. They’re bouncing on their toes and not even using their arms for leverage.”

“The last time I was here,” Nick says. “They tried to get me to do it.”

Brilliant idea. “Excuse me,” I call to Koinet. “Nick would like to try.”

“Jensen,” he growls.

I stifle a laugh.

“Yes, yes.” Koinet gestures to one of the women, who disappears into a hut and emerges with traditional clothing.

“Oh, wonderful,” Nick says, falling into royal mode. “Do you happen to have a women’s set for Secretary Jensen? She’s quite taken with the look. I wouldn’t want her to miss out.”

“Of course, of course.” Koinet shoos the woman away again while he approaches Nick with an armful of heavy blue and red material.

“Carpe Diem,” Nick says in a low enough voice only I’m likely to hear. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out.”

“So sweet. Such kindness,” I say, amused. Watching Nick squirm is worth being draped in heavy material.

They truss Nick up before two women come out and do the same to me. While they tie various pieces of material around me, I can’t take my eyes off Nick. While he might be cringing on the inside, he’s chatting and laughing with the men like they’re all good mates. He might not relish his role as the face of our country, but he understands the importance, slips into it with ease. Missteps he’s made in the past have been drunken foolishness. Sober, his charisma is on full display.

“He’s very handsome,” one of the women whispers, glancing at Nick.

While he still needs a haircut and a shave, there’s no denying the truth. “He is, isn’t he?” I muse. “He used to be so much more than that.”

A furrow appears in the woman’s brow, but she doesn’t say anything else. When they bring out a headdress, I try to protest. There’s only so far I’m comfortable taking this. They wave me off, and Nick shoots another mocking, Carpe Diem my way over the din of the chatter. I grit my teeth and let them settle the beaded masterpiece on my head, and it comes to rest across my forehead.

When the boys start up their vocal rhythm, they drag Nick out of the line and into the open, encouraging him to jump. He laughs good-naturedly and shoots me an embarrassed grin before following the men’s instructions. After a few false starts, Nick jumps along with a couple of the other boys as they tease him into jumping progressively higher and higher.

After a few other boys challenge Nick to jump higher than them, they lead us to the schoolhouse at the back and far right of the community. There, composed mostly of sticks, is a large, rectangular structure with thick grasses and what looks like mud for a roof.

“How do you keep the mud from washing away when it rains?” I ask.

“It’s not mud. It’s cow dung.” Koinet grins.

Ah. Right. That explains the manure smell that coats the air almost everywhere we walk. Subtle, but still present. There are benches in the large, one-room schoolhouse and an oversized chalkboard at the front with letters and words printed on it. We’re here in the middle of the day, and there are no children running around—none anywhere. Young men and women, but no one older or younger in sight. Perhaps this settlement is a scam, but it doesn’t make the experience any less interesting.

While he explains the inner workings of the one-room schoolhouse for the Maasai nomadic lifestyle, my mind drifts to a conversation Nick and I had as kids. Koinet finishes and lets us wander around the schoolhouse where a tip jar sits near the chalkboard. I get out my money and stuff a bill into the empty jar. It looks so lonely in there, I stuff in a second note. Before I can take out a third, Nick jams another dollar into the jar.

I glance up at him, and there’s a hint of a smile at the edges of his lips. “You always were a bleeding heart.” His voice is full of gentle teasing.

His arm is pressed against mine, and the connection feeds some part of me I didn’t realize was empty. “Remember how I wanted to help people who yearned for a different life than the one they were born into?” I whisper.

“I remember,” he says. “Why didn’t you?”

Why didn’t I? Such a simple hard question. “Mom asked me to work for your father while they found a replacement, and then… I just never left.” Not that I was doing much before I took the secretary job, which allowed my mother to retire. They were struggling to find a suitable candidate from the island, which was the only criteria the king gave my mother. Everyone who was interested in the job didn’t have the right resume or didn’t respond well to training.

At least, that’s what my mother told me. Knowing what I know now about the king’s condition, I wonder whether she suspected something was wrong with him a few years ago. It would be like her to manufacture his protection while appearing to do as he asked. My life became the collateral damage. Had she asked me, been upfront, I probably would have said yes anyway, so I can’t be angry with her.

“Shame,” Nick says, almost to himself. “You’re one of the cleverest people I know.”

Warmth floods my chest, and a reply of some sort is stuck in my throat when Koinet pops his head back into the schoolhouse.

“Ready to move on?” he asks.

“Yes,” Nick says with a beleaguered smile. “On to the next.”

We follow Koinet toward the makeshift tables set up with jewelry and trinkets run by the women. While I wander the stalls and chat with the women, Nick’s words reverberate around my mind. Why does he believe being his father’s secretary is a waste of my intelligence? It’s actually a very challenging job with multiple moving pieces. Any complaints I might have about the position have nothing to do with being bored. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I’m often so busy looking after the king and his interests that I don’t have much of a life beyond the royal family. My last relationship ended almost six months ago when he told me I was married to the job, and there wasn’t enough room in my life for him. Not untrue, but the breakup definitely stung. This is the first ‘vacation’ I’ve taken in three years, and technically, I’m on the job right now.