His babanriga brushed my cheeks as he leaned closer, his breath warm and smelling strongly of wine. "You have the eyes of a wild
cat, Gimbiya Amira," he slurred, his voice a low rumble meant only for my
ears. "And skin like polished ebony." He reached out a hand as if to
touch my arm.
I flinched back instinctively, the movement was slight but definite. "Sarkin Kano," I said, my voice cool, "we are in the
presence of the court."
He chuckled, a rough, unpleasant sound. "Shy, are we?
Or perhaps just inexperienced?" He grinned, a vulgar expression that made
my stomach curdle
"Surely, a woman of your... stature... has known the touch of men before? Have none of your lovers satisfied that fire I see hidden in your eyes?"
My blood ran cold. The sheer audacity, the disrespect in front of my father's court, even with him drunk, was shocking. He spoke as if I were already his, as if the niceties of courtship, the sanctity of marriage
rites, meant nothing. He hadn't paid the bride price; the formal vows hadn't
been exchanged. I stood abruptly, the scraping of my stool a sharp sound in the
surrounding merriment.
"I... I require some air," I murmured, turning
away from him and the oppressive atmosphere of the table. I walked towards the open archway that led to an inner courtyard, the cooler night air a welcome
relief.
I didn't get far before I heard his heavy footsteps behind me. He followed, his swaying gait betraying his intoxication. "Running away, little cat?"
I turned to face him, "Sarkin Kano, this is not
appropriate."
He laughed again, stepping closer, the smell of wine heavy on him. "Appropriate? What is appropriate is taking what is offered. Your
father has offered you. A fine price for the men and horses he needs to bolster
his pathetic little army." He spat the words out, the veneer of diplomacy
completely gone, revealing the crude transaction beneath. "You are coming
to Kano with me tomorrow. The marriage will be done there. Uzazzu's little
princess becomes Kano's property." He spat again, a wet, contemptuous
sound at my feet. "Prepare yourself. We leave at dawn."
He turned and walked back towards the banquet hall, leaving me standing alone in the courtyard, the taste of ash in my mouth. I wasn't a princess being married; I was a chattel, a bargaining chip, traded for soldiers
and steeds. The King of Kano didn't see a queen consort; he saw a possession
bought and paid for.
The tears threatened to return, hot and blinding. But this time, something else surged beneath the pain – a raw, untamed fury. I wouldn't cry. Not here. Not for him but I was definitely done with the charade. Done
with the forced smiles, the political maneuvering, the pretense of a willing
bride.
I will go back inside, find father, and claim that I was unwell, that the evening had been too much. Escape, however temporary.
I walked back towards the archway leading into the banquet hall, the sounds of the celebration growing louder with every step. The low murmur of voices, the clash of platters, and beneath it all, the relentless,
hypnotic beat of the talking drums.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
It wasn't just background noise anymore. It was a pulse, a vibration that seemed to reach out and wrap around me, drawing me in. Through the archway, past the tables of courtiers and the mingling guests, I could see the dancers in the center of the hall. Their movements were fluid, powerful,
their bodies swaying and shaking to the primal rhythm. They wore little
clothing, adorned mostly with beads, shells, and painted symbols, their bare
skin gleaming under the flickering torchlight, covering only their essential
parts. This wasn't the formal, restrained dance often seen in royal courts;
this was raw, earthy, unapologetic. The sort of music and movement considered
wild, perhaps even scandalous, for someone of her station.
Thump-thump-thump.
The sound called to me, bypassing my mind and speaking directly to something deep within my gut. I looked at my assigned seat beside the Sarkin Kano, the vacant space a glaring reminder of my intended role. For a
fleeting second, the path of duty, of returning to that suffocating table,presented itself. But the pull of the drums was stronger. An irresistible force.
A princess, dancing like this, in plain sight of the court, to this music, alongside these dancers, was not merely unusual; it was
abominable, an act completely out of character for the reserved Gimbiya Amira
the court thought they knew. But something more, something ancient and fierce,
called to me, a hunger inside that I could no longer deny. I didn't resist the
call; I surrendered to it, letting the
raw, untamed energy surge.
I began to move, slowly at first, drawn by the magnetic pull of the drums, then with increasing intensity. My feet struck the packed earth of the courtyard floor, sending up faint puffs of dust that swirled around my ankles.
My arms rose, my body swaying, twisting, becoming fluid, responding
instinctively to the rhythm. The other dancers, sensing my untamed passion,
slowly withdrew, leaving me alone in the center of the courtyard.
The air grew thick with their sound, resonating through my entire being. The smoke from the nearby braziers seemed to wrap around me, not choking but invigorating, clinging to my skin like a second skin, enhancing the
feeling of shedding the old, confined self. With each beat of the drum, with
each swirl of smoke, the feeling intensified. I felt a profound connection to
the earth beneath my feet, to the sky above, and to the ancestors whose blood
now surged through my veins. This wasn't just a dance; it was a furious prayer,
it was a release, a transformation. The suppressed anger, the humiliation, the
raw power of my heritage – it all surged to the surface, fueled by the King of
Kano's contempt. It felt as if another spirit, ancient and fierce, the spirit
of the warrior the Oracle had spoken of, was stirring within me, urging my
movements, demanding expression. I didn't resist. The hunger that had always
been a quiet ember in my soul—the yearning for the open plains, for the thrill
of movement, for something more than the gilded cage—now roared into a
wildfire, consuming the fear and sorrow.
I danced not for the courtiers within, not for the leering king, but for myself, for the land that was trading me away, and for the unseen forces that had marked me since birth.
I danced to the sounds of the Gods, the warrior spirit finally finding its voice in the language of smoke and rhythm.
When the drums finally faded, leaving a ringing silence in their wake, I stood panting, sweat slicking my skin, my heart hammering. The exhaustion of the day, the journey, the dance itself, had finally caught up to me.
The weight of the world had not disappeared, but something within me had
shifted. I was no longer just the princess being bargained away.
I had become…. something more.