He walked back to the hotel, a glorious 19th century heap on the Danube, sorting his thoughts, sifting through his options, trying to come up with a plan. He imagined, with vague resentment, that Shuri would still be sleeping the sleep of the innocent and would not have missed him. She'd awaken with her sweet smile and have no idea of the damage she had caused him. That was unfair of him. Of course it was. So what?
His resentment took on substance with every step, so that by the time he came to their door and found it flanked not by the Dora Milaje but by a couple of huge white goons, he almost felt as if Shuri had made the switch specifically to annoy him.
"Where are the Dora Milaje who were here when I left this morning?" he demanded.
"Gone," said one of the men.
"Gone where?"
He shrugged. "Gone away."
"And who the hell are you?"
"New security detail. How do you do? I am Istvan Nagy. He also is Istvan Nagy."
"Yeah. Right. And who hired you to stand outside my hotel room door?"
"Istvan -"
"Nagy," Everett interrupted, feeling tired all over.
"Nagy, yes."
"Are you going to prevent me from going inside?"
"No, sir. Please."
Suddenly, a sharp odor prickled his nose and he sniffed. "Wait - what the hell is that smell?"
Istvan and Istvan sniffed the air like twin golden retrievers.
"Ego haj?" Verbal Istvan asked non-verbal Istvan. Non-verbal Istvan grunted assent.
"Burning hairs," said the verbal Istvan.
Everett went in to find Shuri kneeling on the floor before the fireplace, feeding her tartan wedding dress to the gas fire. She didn't so much as glance at him, but watched the wool curl and smoke in the flames.
"What the hell are you doing, Shuri?" He opened a couple of windows, grabbed the morning paper, knelt down beside her, turned off the gas fire, and fanned the air.
She turned the fire back on. "Extracting the vibranium threads."
"What do you want to do that for? Your country's got mountains of the stuff." He turned the fire off. When she made to turn it back on, he grabbed her wrist and held it, his grip strong. She held her arm stiff, not resisting, not yielding. She would not look at him, nor would she answer his question.
"Where have you been?" she asked quietly.
"Walking. Drinking coffee. Trying to clear my head."
"Hmm. Good for you. I might try doing that. Walking. Drinking coffee. Trying to clear my head. Except that I do not know the language, and I am the only Black woman for kilometers, and I do not understand how to navigate this technologically primitive society."
"Shuri -"
Then she looked at him.
"I know nobody here. I know nothing here. I am caught out of time. And the man - the man who brought me here - the man who - who - he cannot be bothered to let me know when he is leaving, where he is going, and when he intends to come back." She didn't raise her voice, but her whole body trembled, and her eyes stared not at him, but through him, with fixed intensity.
He let go of her wrist. "What's happened?"
She got up and stalked across the room, then whipped around and flung her bracelet of Kimoyo beads at him. "I have been cut out."
He caught them awkwardly against his chest, and fingered them, confused. "They're dark."
"Because I have been cut out. As I said already."
"I'm listening, Shuri, but I don't understand. Please treat me as if I were stupid -"
"Not a reach."
"- and explain everything in detail."
She recounted, with the same deadly quiet, her conversation with Nakia.
"Wait ... your brother allowed that to happen? What the hell is his problem?"
"His problem is that the tribal elders distrust you, and they distrust me for marrying you. And now they have stranded me here in this primitive world, with no way to contact them and no recourse."
"Look. We'll go to Wakanda. There are still flights to Kenya. There are still rental cars."
"The Border Tribe will keep me out. Even should they fail to do so, I will be apprehended and escorted out."
"But not harmed."
"Not harmed? Not harmed?" She was suddenly across the room, uncomfortably near, openly, passionately enraged. "Do you know who I am? Do you know anything at all about me? This has destroyed me! Why did you bring me here?"
With an ill-timed attempt at humor, he said, "I don't think it's fair to blame Budapest."
And her fists and feet were flailing. They went down together, but he somehow managed to gather her in his arms. She caused him actual pain, but he held her tight and he didn't let go.
"Stop it. Stop now, Shuri. Just settle ... settle down. You're a scientist, remember? A rational being. You don't let emotions - Shuri, that hurt! You don't let emotions sway you. You observe. Yes? You observe impartially and you draw con- God damn it! That really hurt! You draw conclusions. There. Breathe. That's good. Okay. Okay. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay."
He rocked her, stroking her braids back from her face, dropping a kiss on her forehead. He still held her tight. He was afraid she'd fly apart again if he relaxed.
"I hate you," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
"I know it," he replied. "I'm sorry I left you alone, Shuri. I'm so, so sorry."
"I was so scared," she said. "And those strange men outside -"
"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't think."
After a moment, in an altered tone, she said, "Will they throw us out of the hotel because of the smoke?"
"Nope. It's straight to prison for us."
She snorted, and she relaxed against him, and for a while it was all right again.