The next hour passed in a blur of movement—zippers, footsteps, the rustle of clothing and equipment being stuffed into bags. Talib and Imari's voices carried through the hallway, their excitement impossible to miss.
"Finally going to visit your home," Talib said, practically bouncing.
Imari laughed. "I told you I'd show you the Southern Kingdom one day."
Their joy was infectious, even if I couldn't fully share it.
My mind was elsewhere.
On Femi. On the sudden departure. On the lingering fear I hadn't yet conquered.
By the time we gathered in the concierge, everyone was ready—bags in hand, expressions ranging from excitement to unease.
Professor Mirembe wasn't there yet.
But Sekai was.
And she was walking straight toward me.
"Rahjah," she said, pulling me aside before anyone else could notice. "We need to talk."
Her tone was serious—too serious for casual conversation. Talib glanced over, concerned, but I gave him a small nod to reassure him.
Sekai crossed her arms, her eyes sharp.
"What were you doing yesterday?" she asked. "You skipped lessons. And after what happened—after you almost dropped a palace on us—I need to know where your head is."
I exhaled slowly.
Fair question.
"I went to the marketplace," I said. "I wanted to explore the city. Clear my mind."
"And?" she pressed.
"And I ran into Cisqo."
That made her pause.
I told her everything—how different he had seemed, how his usual charisma had been replaced by something quieter, heavier. How his words lingered in my mind long after I left him.
Sekai listened without interrupting, her expression shifting between concern and contemplation. When I finished, she looked conflicted—like she wasn't sure whether to comfort me or warn me.
Before she could decide, the van arrived.
Professor Mirembe stepped outside.
"Everyone," she said, "the vehicle is ready. Load your belongings and board immediately."
Conversation over.
For now.
This was a slightly different van than what were used to since we been here. The van was sleek, silent, and spacious—designed for comfort during long-distance travel. As soon as we boarded, Sekai and I made a beeline for the back row, eager to continue our conversation.
Zalika followed us, sliding into the seat beside Sekai with a grin.
"You really are like my baby sister," Sekai teased.
Zalika rolled her eyes. "You wish."
Their bickering filled the space with a warmth I hadn't realized I needed. Watching them, I couldn't help but think how much they truly resembled siblings—close, protective, endlessly irritating to each other.
But I needed answers.
"Sakai," I said, cutting through their banter. "You never finished your thoughts on the matter."
She glanced at Zalika, hesitating.
Zalika raised a brow. "What? I can keep a secret."
Sekai sighed. "Fine."
And she told me.
About Cisqo's past. About his gang terrorizing the neighborhood. His arrogance and his disdain for where he lived. About the freak fire, that burned everything he known. The fire that brought death to that same problematic gang. About the second chance he never asked for but was given anyway. The same neighborhood he terrorized saved the life he didn't think was worth saving.
Zalika leaned forward. "Who burned down the hideout?"
Sekai's composure faltered—just for a moment.
"I… don't know," she said, flustered.
Which was unlike her.
Very unlike her.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
But my thoughts were loud.
A person who had brought suffering to the neighborhood he had grew up in. A person who was so vain and arrogant would vocally express his want to leave said neighborhood, thinking life was better elsewhere.
No wonder such a change in Cisqo occurred. He was shown grace and kindness when he never deserved it. He knew that and now he lives in constant penance trying to make up for his awful behavior. For his influence to expand past that neighborhood and into the city though.
It tells a deeper story that is yet to be told. He lifts up the mood of anywhere he's present. Rejuvenating crowds of people, bringing smiles to faces, and hope for tomorrow. That speaks to a leader of men.
I can't help but wonder where he will go from here.
I tap my temple and stare at the screen that just materialized before my eyes. I hesitate at the lone contact I gained debating if I should use it. After a moment of consideration I do, leaving a message checking on Cisqo.
Something told me this wouldn't be the last time I would come across him. It was best to keep him close. Who knows, I might actually make a genuine friend.
As I sent the message waiting for a reply, we sat in silence as navigated traffic in the city. Then left the city into more open plains.
We didn't arrive at the palace.
We arrived at a private airfield.
And waiting for us—standing tall, regal, and unmistakable—was Queen Mariam.
My aunt and Sekai's mother.
Behind her, one of the royal private aircraft gleamed under the sun, engines humming softly, ready for departure.
The others hurried past her, too excited to notice her expression.
But when Sekai and I approached, she raised both hands.
Stopping us.
The others continued toward the aircraft, giving us distance.
Queen Mariam turned to her daughter first.
"Sekai," she said, her voice warm but firm. "You've shown calmness and traits of leadership far above anyone else here currently. I am proud of you. I expect great things from you."
Sekai's eyes widened.
"And," the Queen added, "I know you've been sneaking out into the city all these years."
Sekai panicked instantly. "Mother—I can explain—"
"No need," Queen Mariam said, lifting a hand. "A ruler must know her people. I would be more concerned if you weren't curious. You are my heir I'm glad you've taken interest in our people. I would be worried otherwise. You don't have other siblings that can continue this family's legacy."
Sekai's shoulders sagged with relief, a small smile forming.
"Go," the Queen said gently. "Board the plane."
Sekai obeyed, looking far lighter than I've seen her in years.
Then Queen Mariam turned to me.
And her entire demeanor changed.
She didn't address me as her student.
She addressed me as her nephew.
"Rahjah," she said quietly. "I can sense your fear."
My jaw tightened.
"You are doing yourself—and the empire—a disservice by running from it."
Annoyance flared in my chest. I was being called a coward to my face.
"I'm not running," I said. "I'm being cautious. There's a difference."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Is that so?"
I gestured toward the aircraft. "We're flying instead of teleporting because you're afraid my Focus power will react to the energy concentration. Don't pretend otherwise."
Her surprise was brief. Her eyes slightly widening. Then her expression morphed into something different.
Her disappointment was not as fleeting, it settled on her face a few moments more than I would have liked.
Without warning, her Focus power ignited—blue aura erupting around us, wrapping us in a sphere of shimmering energy.
The killing intent hit me like a tidal wave.
My lungs seized. My vision blurred. I gasped at the air that wasn't there.
And then—just as suddenly—it stopped.
I collapsed to one knee, catching my breath.
Queen Mariam looked down at me, unimpressed.
"You overestimate yourself," she said. "Yes, you are powerful. But compared to the royal court, you are still an ant. We weren't worried about only you losing control. We were worried about the others losing control just as much as you. They have royal bloodlines as well."
Her words cut deeper than her aura.
"Your field of view is narrowing," she continued. "That is not like you. Conquer the fear that drags you down. You have shown potential while here. Moreso than anyone else here. Everyone can see it, feel it, have acknowledge it, and moved forward. Everyone except you. You refuse to think that you are more than just a spare. You are bringing shame to the Askiya bloodline as well as my own nephew. Don't let your potential be just potential. That is a sad life to live."
Shame burned through me.
I stood slowly, avoiding her gaze.
And I nodded.
She said nothing more.
I turned and walked toward the aircraft, the weight of her words pressing against my spine.