Updated: Jan 9, 2019
All week, I'm sharing sequential teasers from His Captive Princess which is currently undergoing revisions and will be out soon.
Come back everyday for more. Enjoy.
CHAPTER ONE - Part Two
“Anyone who sees this ring will know how much he values you above all else,” Amara released Isha’s fingers as she leaned into the seat.
“Really?” Isha tilted her head, brows raised as she suppressed laughter.
Her friend was being sarcastic, surely. Amara remained unlikely to be swayed by expensive items since her family proved to be one of the richest on the continent. Like Isha she had never been driven by the urge to flaunt her wealth, which made them such great pals.
“Yes, the bigger the ring, the better.” Amusement laced Amara’s words. She lifted her flute as if in salutation.
Isha played along with the joke. She angled her hand, as if examining the sparkling jewellery. “By your words, then, this ring guarantees me a happy marriage?” “If I had that ring on my finger, I’d be happy.” Joya’s giggle tinkled like merry bells.
Their chuckled proved the opposite.
“Okay. Okay,” Amara conceded. “The ring does not guarantee your happiness. But at least, it shows he cares enough to go to all that expense.”
“And on top of that,” Joya chimed in. “the two of you are the hottest couple in Africa at the moment. You, the daughter of a King, and him, the son of a president, and you’ve been dating for years. Surely, it’s a match made in Heaven. You must both be in love.”
The heavy weight resettled on Isha’s chest. She struggled to breath.
She had once been in love.
A long time ago.
A lifetime ago.
She had been barely out of her teen years when she had fallen in heedless love at university. She had given her heart without reservations. Until her lover had deserted her and left her heart in tatters.
Vowing never to give her heart to another man, she had refocused her energies on building her career as a lawyer and performing her royal duties as a princess.
She wouldn’t be foolish enough to repeat the reckless error of her youth.
Consequently, her agreement to marry Kweku proved to be a matter of the head not the heart. The palace matchmaker had provided a short list of suitors. Out of the men she had dated, Kweku has proved the most determined. He accepted her desire to carve out a life and had been patient enough despite her reluctance to tie the knot at earlier opportunities.
They enjoyed each other’s company and held mutual respect and perhaps some affection.
Nothing like the all-consuming passion of the past.
Passion didn’t make for a successful union.
Commitment and compassion would be the key.
And she had both in abundance.
“Kweku is a good man, and we’ll be happy together.” She hoped.
Marriages in her social circles were matches made to secure strategic alliances between nations. It had worked for her father. No reason it shouldn’t work for her.
“You will be.” Joya patted her hand in affirmation.
“I say amen.”
They raised the champagne flutes and converged then in a toast. The clinking glasses mixed with the sound of the live band playing Afro Jazz.
Isha relaxed into her seat as she took another sip of the bubbly drink. She closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax.
“I read some news online the other day about Wanai.”
Isha’s lashes fluttered open. “What was it?”
“There’s a region of Wanai looking to break away and form a new nation. It caught my attention because of you and Kweku. Do you know what’s going on there? There seems to be a media blackout. I read that they’re not allowing journalists into the region.”
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