The royal bedchamber was a monument to wealth and grief in equal measure. Golden fixtures gleamed in the lamplight, silk curtains billowed gently in the evening breeze, yet the air hung heavy with sorrow. King Donkeu Sichom sat slumped in his ivory chair, staring at a sealed letter on the table before him, his weathered hands hanging limp at his sides.
Cynthia entered with the grace of a dancer, her footsteps whisper-soft against the rugs. She had transformed herself completely—the calculating schemer from the hallway replaced by a devoted wife radiating concern and compassion.
"Husband," she said gently, moving to kneel beside his chair and taking his hands in hers. "You have barely touched your food today. You must maintain your strength."
Donkeu's eyes focused on her with effort, then drifted back to the letter. "A response came today. From Ankh. From Steward Zogo himself."
Cynthia's heart lurched, though her face showed only gentle concern. "What does it say?"
Donkeu reached for the letter with trembling hands and broke the seal he had only just received. His voice was hollow as he read aloud:
"To His Majesty, King Donkeu Sichom, Sovereign of the Golden Lands,
It is with profound concern that the Council of Elders of Ankh received your communication regarding the disappearance of Her Royal Highness, Princess Reloua. Please be assured that the Kingdom of Ankh categorically denies any involvement in this troubling matter.
The bonds between our kingdoms, though tested by time and circumstance, have never been so degraded as to warrant harm against royal blood. We hold sacred the ancient laws that protect the children of sovereigns, and we would never violate such fundamental principles of civilized rule.
In demonstration of our sincerity and in the spirit of neighborly cooperation, King Takam has authorized the deployment of our border patrol units to assist in the search for Her Royal Highness. Our forces are familiar with the Botankeu territories and the borderlands between our kingdoms. They stand ready to aid your men in whatever capacity proves useful.
Furthermore, we humbly request that Your Majesty exercise patience and restraint in this difficult hour. We understand that a father's heart suffers greatly when his child is endangered, but we must counsel against any precipitous actions that might escalate tensions between our peoples. The disappearance of the Princess is tragedy enough without compounding it with territorial conflict that would serve neither kingdom's interests.
We pray to the Ancestors for the Princess's safe return and pledge our full cooperation in achieving that end.
With respect and in pursuit of peace,
Steward ZogoOn behalf of the Council of Nine
Kingdom of Ankh"
Silence filled the chamber as Donkeu set the letter down. His hands shook slightly. "They deny involvement. They offer help. They counsel peace." His voice cracked. "But what if they lie? What if this is merely a delay tactic while they—"
"No." Cynthia's mind raced even as her voice remained soothing. This was a complication she had not anticipated. Ankh's cooperation would mean more searchers, more eyes, more chances of finding Reloua alive. "No, husband. This letter bears the mark of sincerity."
"How can you be certain?" Donkeu looked at her desperately.
"Steward Zogo is known throughout Nubia as a man of honor. He would not invoke the Ancestors in a lie—such blasphemy would doom his soul." Cynthia spoke carefully, threading truth with manipulation. "And consider the practicality: if Ankh had taken Reloua for ransom or political leverage, they would have made demands by now. One week of silence suggests they truly know nothing."
"Then where is she?" Donkeu's voice broke into a sob. "If not Ankh, then who? Where?"
Cynthia pulled him into her arms, stroking his hair while her mind calculated furiously. "The forest is vast and dangerous. Perhaps she is lost, trying to find her way. Perhaps she found shelter in some remote village." Each word was carefully chosen. "Kinte said she would return. Trust in that vision."
"But what of this request for restraint? They ask me to avoid territorial conflict." Donkeu pulled back to look at her. "Some of my generals are demanding action. They say we appear weak if we do not respond to our princess's disappearance with force."
"Your generals think like warriors, not rulers." Cynthia's voice was gentle but firm. "War would not bring Reloua home faster. It would only create more death, more grief. And if—when—she returns to find her kingdom at war because of her disappearance, how would that burden her heart?"
Donkeu considered this, his grief-clouded mind grasping for any wisdom. "You speak truth. But to accept their help... it feels like admitting weakness."
"It is strength, not weakness, to accept aid when offered in good faith." Cynthia rose and poured him a goblet of honeyed wine. "Reply to Steward Zogo. Accept his offer of assistance. Let Ankh's border forces join the search. More searchers mean a greater chance of finding her." Even as she said it, she knew she would need to send word to Camara—if Reloua was found, there must be contingencies in place.
"You truly believe this is wise?"
"I believe Reloua's safe return matters more than pride or politics." Cynthia handed him the goblet and cupped his face in her hands. "Send a diplomatic response. Thank them for their cooperation. Coordinate with their forces. And pray to the Ancestors that our daughter comes home safely."
Donkeu drank deeply, then nodded slowly. "You are right. You are always right." He looked at the letter again. "I will draft a response at dawn. One that maintains our dignity while accepting their assistance."
"That is the wise course." Cynthia kissed his forehead gently. "And regarding young Gyan—perhaps tomorrow you should visit him? Old Tai says the boy refuses to leave his chambers. He needs his father."
Donkeu's face darkened with pain. "I cannot face him like this—empty-handed, with nothing but worry and uncertainty. What kind of father visits his son bearing only bad news and grief?" He shook his head firmly. "No. I will go to Gyan when I have good news to share. When I can tell him his sister is found, that she is safe. Then I will face him as a father should—with hope, not despair."
Cynthia studied him for a moment, recognizing the stubbornness in his voice. She knew better than to push further on this point. "As you wish, husband. When Reloua returns, you will have that joyful reunion with both your children."
"Yes." Donkeu's voice was barely a whisper. "When she returns."
"Now rest." Cynthia helped him to bed and sat beside him, stroking his hand until his breathing deepened into sleep.
Only then did her expression change. Her eyes fixed on the letter from Steward Zogo lying on the table, and something cold and calculating flickered across her beautiful features.
Ankh's cooperation was a problem. More searchers meant more risk. She would need to send word to Camara immediately. Adjustments would have to be made or the plan has to be stopped.
But for now, she sat in the darkness beside her sleeping husband, already plotting her next moves in this dangerous game where a single mistake could unravel everything she had built.