finally gone to Amanda's head?" they wondered. "Has she finally realized that she's the most brilliant one of us all?"
After the long speeches, and the awarding of diplomas, after the processional march and the hymns and the congratulations, Amanda left the others to celebrate with their families. She raced back to her tiny flat, hiking up the skirts of her maroon graduation gown in both hands as her long legs carried her down the shower-glistening narrow streets of London.
Keno Jumyata was already in her flat when she got there.
Amanda felt no surprise. She hadn't expected Keno consciously, but now that she saw him lolling on her shabby, sagging bed, she realized that she had been waiting for him to show up for the past several days.
She closed her door and heard its lock click. No need to ask Keno how he got into her room; he could charm, bully, or infiltrate his way anywhere, she knew.
He was handsome, with the strong graceful body of a black lion and a disarming smile that made Amanda's heart flutter even now, even though she knew that he used it as deliberately as a soldier uses a gun.
"I heard about your brother," Keno said, without preamble.
"Were you there with him?" she asked, her voice flat and hard. She knew he hadn't been.
"No. I was in the capital. I flew here to you at once."
Amanda pulled the graduation gown over her head and let it drop to the floor, alongside the pile of books she no longer needed.
"You flew to me at once," she said. "To console me?"
"To bring you back to your people."
She looked at Keno for a long, desperate moment and almost, in her weakness, flew to him to bury herself in his strong arms and cry out her grief and anger and despair.
But instead she stood where she was, tall and proud, and said simply, "I'm not going back."
That made his eyes go wide. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not going back to Congo," Amanda repeated. "Not now. Not ever."
He swung his long, lithe legs off the bed and sat up. "Of course you are. You're going back with me. Tonight. I have the tickets in my valise."
"I am not going," she said, folding her arms stubbornly across her chest.
Keno gave a heavy, grunting sigh, then slowly got to his feet. He must have flown all night without any sleep, Amanda realized. He stood, tall and massive, dominating the tiny, shabby room.
"You are a princess of the Kolwezi," he said, in a deep, strong voice that resonated with authority. "Your people call out to you. They need you. It is your duty to return to your homeland and help to lead your people against the tyranny that rules the land."
"My duty?" Amanda asked. "As it was my brother's duty?"
"Yes," Keno said.
"And what did his duty gain him? Was he killed by bullets or a grenade? Or did they use gas this time? Or fire bombs from their airplanes?"
Keno's head sank down on his chest.
Advancing a step toward him, Amanda asked, "What good did your revolution do for my brother? Will you build a statue to him once you have won? Have you collected a few cells from his dead body so that you can clone him and make him over again in twenty years?"
"It is not my revolution," Keno said. "It is the people's revolution."
"Really? The people?"
"All the people of our land . . . including the Kolwezi."
She nodded bitterly. "Which is why you needed my brother, to make the Kolwezi follow you. Which is why you need me now."
Keno reached out and took her shoulders in his strong hands. "I have always needed you, Amanda. Come with me now, return to your people. Help me to fight the tyrants . . ."
"So that you can take their place," she said.
"I will lead our nation to greatness! With you at my side."
"As your queen?"
He shook his head vehemently. "We will have no royal titles. I will be President, you will be the First Lady of the land."
Wordlessly, Amanda pulled away from him and went to the closet next to her empty dresser. She slid the screen back and took up the travel bag that she had packed the night before.
Keno's
After the long speeches, and the awarding of diplomas, after the processional march and the hymns and the congratulations, Amanda left the others to celebrate with their families. She raced back to her tiny flat, hiking up the skirts of her maroon graduation gown in both hands as her long legs carried her down the shower-glistening narrow streets of London.
Keno Jumyata was already in her flat when she got there.
Amanda felt no surprise. She hadn't expected Keno consciously, but now that she saw him lolling on her shabby, sagging bed, she realized that she had been waiting for him to show up for the past several days.
She closed her door and heard its lock click. No need to ask Keno how he got into her room; he could charm, bully, or infiltrate his way anywhere, she knew.
He was handsome, with the strong graceful body of a black lion and a disarming smile that made Amanda's heart flutter even now, even though she knew that he used it as deliberately as a soldier uses a gun.
"I heard about your brother," Keno said, without preamble.
"Were you there with him?" she asked, her voice flat and hard. She knew he hadn't been.
"No. I was in the capital. I flew here to you at once."
Amanda pulled the graduation gown over her head and let it drop to the floor, alongside the pile of books she no longer needed.
"You flew to me at once," she said. "To console me?"
"To bring you back to your people."
She looked at Keno for a long, desperate moment and almost, in her weakness, flew to him to bury herself in his strong arms and cry out her grief and anger and despair.
But instead she stood where she was, tall and proud, and said simply, "I'm not going back."
That made his eyes go wide. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not going back to Congo," Amanda repeated. "Not now. Not ever."
He swung his long, lithe legs off the bed and sat up. "Of course you are. You're going back with me. Tonight. I have the tickets in my valise."
"I am not going," she said, folding her arms stubbornly across her chest.
Keno gave a heavy, grunting sigh, then slowly got to his feet. He must have flown all night without any sleep, Amanda realized. He stood, tall and massive, dominating the tiny, shabby room.
"You are a princess of the Kolwezi," he said, in a deep, strong voice that resonated with authority. "Your people call out to you. They need you. It is your duty to return to your homeland and help to lead your people against the tyranny that rules the land."
"My duty?" Amanda asked. "As it was my brother's duty?"
"Yes," Keno said.
"And what did his duty gain him? Was he killed by bullets or a grenade? Or did they use gas this time? Or fire bombs from their airplanes?"
Keno's head sank down on his chest.
Advancing a step toward him, Amanda asked, "What good did your revolution do for my brother? Will you build a statue to him once you have won? Have you collected a few cells from his dead body so that you can clone him and make him over again in twenty years?"
"It is not my revolution," Keno said. "It is the people's revolution."
"Really? The people?"
"All the people of our land . . . including the Kolwezi."
She nodded bitterly. "Which is why you needed my brother, to make the Kolwezi follow you. Which is why you need me now."
Keno reached out and took her shoulders in his strong hands. "I have always needed you, Amanda. Come with me now, return to your people. Help me to fight the tyrants . . ."
"So that you can take their place," she said.
"I will lead our nation to greatness! With you at my side."
"As your queen?"
He shook his head vehemently. "We will have no royal titles. I will be President, you will be the First Lady of the land."
Wordlessly, Amanda pulled away from him and went to the closet next to her empty dresser. She slid the screen back and took up the travel bag that she had packed the night before.
Keno's
Similar Books
