Two is Plenty, Three's a Crowd

I didn't find it immediately, nor did I find it when I turned the bag upside down in the middle of the hall, dumping its contents everywhere. The key wasn't there. Shit. I can't text Honey and ask to borrow theirs; they would know I wasn't in class. I looked down at the doorknob and my hand stretched out towards it.

Please, please, please, I silently prayed.

The knob twisted in my grip and the door opened.

Sabrina and Angelica were in class, meaning they'd left the door unsecured after giving me hell about it just this morning.

Fucking hypocrites.

I regathered my items, carelessly throwing them into my bag, and entered my home. Closing the door and latching it behind me, I turned towards mine and Honey's bedroom and realized that I was not alone.

A tall, dark-skinned woman with a shiny, shaven head and silver body armor was standing in front of the entrance to my room.

I stopped in my tracks when I noticed she was gripping a spear that was double the length of my tiny body. Angelica was right, I thought. Someone would climb six flights of stairs to murder us.

Looking around the room as quickly as I could, I came across a speaker lying on our coffee table. I think it was Honey's but it was large and heavy enough to be used as a weapon. I lifted the massive device above my head, ready to throw it and run if I needed to.

"Is this how you Americans greet people?" The intimidating woman spoke, in a heavy accent. "Put it down, small girl. You'll hurt yourself."

The speaker remained in my hands. "Who are you and how the hell did you get in here?" Twelve words.

She scoffed at me. "Please, that lock wasn't keeping anyone out. I could have picked it in my sleep."

As she was speaking to me, the door to my bedroom opened and another woman stepped out. This one I recognized. She was tall and thin, her tiny frame supporting toned muscles that flexed with every movement.

"Okoye, myeke. Leave her alone; she is afraid," the taller woman spoke, with a voice smoother than velvet. It was entrancing, to listen to her talk. I began to lower the speaker, lower my defenses.

"Sade, it is nice to meet you finally," came the voice again, and at this point, the speaker was back on the table.

Somehow, I found my voice. "Pr-Princess Shuri." Two.

The woman with the spear, Okoye, cleared her throat. "Queen."

Princess-Queen Shuri shot her a glance and tilted her head toward the door. "Go," she spoke to Okoye, who was not happy to oblige but did. Picking up her spear, she walked to the front door and out of it, closing the hardwood behind her.

Shuri turned towards me and offered me a smile. I didn't know what to say. The Queen of Wakanda was in my room. As excited as I wanted to be, I felt myself growing angry. I admired how she ran her country, how she kicked ass, and how she was now the Black Panther. But that was all before she took my Riri from me.

Her Majesty's eyes roamed over my body and I was suddenly self-conscious about what I'd chosen to wear on my way out the door this morning. The sweatpants were baggy and hid my curves, the shirt, a bit too small. My pierced belly button was exposed, as was my cleavage, and I wished so badly that I could cover up. My curls sat atop my head in a dry bun and I sported my silver glasses on my makeup-less face.

Once her gaze reached my face, she spoke again. "You haven't replied to any of my letters." And that's when I noticed them in her hands; the letters. They were from her? Why was the Wakandan Queen writing me letters?