I was drifting in uneasy dreams when a scent stirred me—earthy, sharp, laced
with something metallic. My eyes snapped open.
Hamza loomed over me.
My heart kicked hard against my ribs. For a wild second I thought she had come to slit my throat where I lay. I searched her eyes, bracing myself, my mind already calculating the space between us, the speed it would take me to strike, though I had no weapon. Could I even win against her?
Then her mouth bent into the faintest half-smile. "Your senses have sharpened," she said. Her voice was calm, steady. "That is good."
Relief and suspicion tangled inside me.
"Rise," she continued. "The Madawaki calls for you. You must come now."
I sat up, clutching the thin cloth at my chest. "I'm not fully dressed."
"Then I will wait." Hamza turned, stepping outside as if she had all the time in the world.
Alone, I sat frozen, my thoughts galloping. Why summon me at this hour? The camp was asleep save for the patrol warriors. Only danger waits in the dark. My stomach turned heavy with dread. I forced myself into my garments, fingers fumbling at the ties, and stepped into the night.
The air was cool, heavy with moonlight. I followed Hamza at a distance, my guard never lowering. Every shadow along the path felt alive, watching. I wanted to ask what awaited me, but when my lips parted, she only shook her head once. Silent. Untouchable.
So I gave up on questions. I let my eyes stray upward to the moon. It was full, almost mocking in its brightness, its silver light washing over me as though the heavens themselves meant to expose my fear.
We passed the quarters of the elite. My steps slowed. What business could the Madawaki have with me here? What trap awaited me?
Hamza stopped at last before a hut. I blinked, surprised. It was plain, small. The dwelling of a common warrior, not the commander of the Masu Jirkin Karfe.
"I cannot go further," she said simply. Then she left me, disappearing into the dark.
My pulse quickened. I drew in a breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped
inside.
The sight hit me like a blow to the chest.
Idris stood tall in the center of the room, bathed in moonlight. His dark skin gleamed beneath the glow, and the regalia on his body caught the light like fire. A crown—his crown—sat on his head, unshaken. His face was carved in steel, eyes hard, mouth grim.
My knees weakened. For an instant, I almost saw the boy I once knew, the brother who teased me in the palace gardens. But no—this man before me was not my little brother. He was Uzazzu's king.
Behind him, the Madawaki sat quietly on a chair near a low bed, watching, silent as a hawk.
"Idris…" The word slipped from me.
I swallowed, remembering myself. I bowed quickly. "I mean, my king."
"Enough of that," Idris's voice cut through the air, sharp and accusing.
"What madness drives you to the Masu Jirkin Karfe camp?"
My jaw tightened. So much for courtesy.
He stepped closer, his eyes blazing. "You vanished without a word. Our grandmother hasn't slept. Do you want to drive her to her grave? For days I thought you were locked in your room. But no. Trays of food spoiled at your door while you hid. Was this your punishment for me?"
His words struck, heavy as stones.
"And now I find you here." He gestured around, his face twisted. "A princess
among men who break warriors for sport. You will not survive, Amira. Is this how you mean to die?"
I lifted my chin. My voice was steadier than I felt. "I was meant to be a warrior. It is my destiny. And I will see it through."
He laughed, bitter, almost cruel. "Destiny? Our father died trying to keep you from this path! Do his sacrifices mean nothing? Is this your thanks? Tell me, Amira—does his death weigh so little on you?"
I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood. Tears threatened, but I would not let them fall.
He pressed on, each word sharp as a knife. "Tell me, then. Do you mean to form a coup? Kill me and take the throne? If that is your aim, do it wisely. Hire an assassin. Slip poison in my cup. But don't throw yourself into this pit like a fool. Don't destroy yourself out of pride."
My chest heaved. His words cut deeper than any blade. "How dare you," I whispered, my voice trembling. "How dare you ask me that."
I stepped closer, tears now spilling freely. "Do you think I don't carry Father's death with me? It is my fault! My scar! My burden! I cannot even cry for him because I know it should have been me in the grave. If he had given me away to Kano, all would have been spared. Men would not have died. Boys would still have fathers."
My voice cracked, raw. "I caused this war. Me—naïve, weak Amira. I sat helpless while others bled for my sake. That ends now. If I cannot protect my people from the throne, then I will protect them on the battlefield. I will die trying if I must. So you can keep your crown, Idris. Eat it for all I care. I never want to see you again."
The silence burned.
Then Idris lunged forward, his hand clamping around my wrist like iron.
"Enough! You will come home. Now. Before this test kills you."
"Let go!" I screamed, thrashing.
Suddenly, a sharp strike knocked his hand away. Idris's head snapped toward the door.
Nala stood there, her chest heaving, her eyes alight with fire.
"You dare interrupt a royal matter?" Idris roared. "I am your king!"
"Yes," Nala said, her voice firm, though I saw her hands shake. "But I was sworn to Gimbiya Amira when I was a child. My life, my allegiance, are hers. I will gladly protect her with my life. Always."
My heart tightened at her words.
Idris's fury was a storm. "You! If you were not special, I'd have your head on the gallows this very night!"
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Then, slowly, he straightened, his voice lowering but no less dangerous. "Tor. If she won't come willingly, then I will wait. Wait until you crawl back to me, broken, begging. And I have patience, Amira. When it comes to you, I have plenty."
I glared at him through my tears. "That day will never come. I will become a warrior. Whether you like it or not."
His eyes lingered on me, searching, almost wounded, but he turned away before I could read it. His gaze flicked to the Madawaki. "I cannot believe my own friend fed her this nonsense." With a hiss, he strode out into the night, leaving the air heavy with his absence.
I realized then that I had been holding my breath. It burst from me in a shudder, my knees weak.
The Madawaki finally rose. His gaze slid to Nala first. "I was wondering how long you would spy on us."
Nala bowed her head, cheeks flushing.
Then his eyes turned to me. They were stern, sharp as ever—but softer beneath the steel, almost proud.
"You stood your ground," he said. Then his voice deepened, commanding. "Now rest. The test begins in a few hours."