The carriage wheels ground against the increasingly uneven road, each revolution carrying me further from Uzazzu, far from everything familiar. The landscape had changed, the open savannah giving way to denser scrubland and occasional rocky outcrops as we neared the borderlands. Inside the carriage, the air was thick with
unspoken thoughts. I watched the passing scenery, my reflection staring back at
me in the small, polished metal surface of a decorative plaque – a stranger
with tired eyes and a jaw set with new, hard lines.
Since the dance, a strange energy had coursed through my veins. I feel utterly drained, the physical exertion and emotional outpouring leaving my body was heavy and aching. Yet, beneath the exhaustion, there was a buzzing vitality, a sharp awareness that made me feel strangely alive,
almost... humming.
They called it the dance of the spirits... Still, I wonder what force had taken hold of me. I didn't understand it, but I knew it had fundamentally altered something inside me.
Beside me, Nala sat quietly. Since my outburst the previous day, a fragile silence had hung between us. Nala had been a pillar of quiet support during the hurried preparations for the journey, Making sure I had everything I needed, her eyes were full of concern, but she hadn't pushed for
conversation.
Honestly her silence was becoming unbearable so I finally turned to her, the words catching in my throat. Apologies were never easy for me, not for the Gimbiya. Instead, I cooked up a memory, a shared moment of mischief from years past.
"Remember the time," I began, my voice softer than Nala had heard it since the summons,
"we tried to sneak those date cakes from the festival kitchen, and old Baba Musa caught us, covered head to toe in flour?"
A hesitant smile touched Nala's lips, her eyes lighting up with the memory. "Haba, Gimbiya! He chased us all the way to the training grounds, waving his wooden spoon like a spear!"
A small smile formed on my lips "And you tripped right over that lazy guard dog, remember? Landed head first in a pile of dried leaves. Kai, kin cika zolaya," I added, using the familiar, lighthearted
phrase – You, you're too much teasing and playing around – the insult gentle,
an inside joke that bridged the gap between us, a quiet acknowledgement of our
shared history and Nala's often clumsy nature.
Nala giggled, the tension finally breaking. "And you just stood there laughing! Didn't even try to help me up!"
"Someone had to retrieve the cakes!" I retorted, the brief return to their old dynamic a bittersweet comfort. The moment was
fleeting, but it had reset something between us, acknowledging the strain
without dwelling on the apology that I couldn't voice.
"…Gimbiya," she started, but I already knew what she wanted to say
"I will be fine Nala, its for the best" I said trying to find comfort in my own words.
As dusk began to paint the sky in hues of orange and purple, our small caravan pulled off the main track. The Sarkin Kano's guards led us towards a cluster of mud-brick huts – a small village before the border was
chosen as our overnight stop before reaching the actual border crossing
tomorrow. The village felt quiet, humble, with the poeple going about their
primary business, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the palace we'd left or
the city we were heading towards.
We were given the largest hut, likely the headman's dwelling, while the guards and attendants set up camp around us. The Sarkin Kano took the inner room, while Nala and I were given the outer chamber. The
air inside the hut was close, smelling of dry earth and old cooking fires.
I stretched, from the long journey, and turned towards the entrance of our simple chamber, where Nala was already pushing aside the hanging mat. "Finally,"
I murmured,
"some privacy. Though this hut is hardly a palace."
Just as the words left my lips, a shadow filled the doorway.
The Sarkin Kano stood there, a wide smile on his face, though it didn't quite
reach his eyes. He still wore his rich crimson robe from the banquet.
"Gimbiya," he said, his voice smooth and
remarkably cordial, devoid of the previous night's escapade. "I trust your
journey was... agreeable? Not too taxing for a princess accustomed to more...
comfortable modes of transport." His eyes swept over our surroundings with
a subtle, dismissive glance.
His gaze met mine, my jaw tightening. I caught the faint whiff of something other than dust and cooking smoke – a hint of palm wine, but not the overpowering stench from the banquet. He wasn't fully drunk, merely loosening. "The journey was as expected, Sarkin Kano. The desert roads are rarely a path of velvet."
"Indeed," he chuckled, the sound deep and
outwardly pleasant. "And I must confess, I missed your presence at the
banquet last night. You departed rather early. A sudden indisposition, perhaps?" The question was laced with hidden mockery, a playful taunt that dared me to lie or confirm his suspicions about my abrupt exit.
I could feel the heat rising within me. "The atmosphere was indeed stifling, Sarkin Kano. More stifling than a hot desert
afternoon." I threw the jab back at him, letting my dislike for him come
to light through my tone.
He laughed, a genuine, outgoing sound that momentarily eased the tension, making him seem disarmingly charming to any casual observer.
"Ah, a sharp wit! A rare jewel from your quiet desert lands." His smile broadened, but his eyes held a calculating glint. "Though I find
that an Uzazzu princess should be more accustomed to such pressures. Unless, of
course, your education in that quiet little corner of the desert was perhaps...
incomplete?"
My jaw tightened further, but before I could retort, he continued, stepping a fraction deeper into the room. "Kano's embrace will,
however, be much more... invigorating. It will sharpen your edges, I assure you." He extended a hand to touch my shoulder, a gesture of casual familiarity. "You have much to learn, little Gimbiya. But fear not, I am
an excellent teacher."
I recoiled subtly, my body stiffening as his hand paused in the air. "Uzazzu cherishes its quiet strength, Sarkin Kano," I spat, my
voice low and firm, refusing to yield ground. "It does not seek... forced invigoration. And I have no need of a tutor, least of all in matters of personal liberty."
His smile remained, but his eyes, dark and intelligent,hardened imperceptibly. The warmth vanished, replaced by a chilling glint of pride. "Such fire," he purred, withdrawing his hand, though his gaze still felt like a physical touch. "But fire, if not properly contained, can consume itself. A wife, however, Gimbiya, requires obedience. Kano expects its women to know their place. And their duties. You will learn, little
Gimbiya. And what I cannot tame, I break."
He chuckled, a sound devoid of
warmth. "You will find our court... enlightening. Perhaps even...
satisfying." His last word was a smooth, veiled insinuation, a hint of the
mischeviousness I'd glimpsed before, promising things I now loathed.
He then gave a slight, arrogant nod. "Rest well, little bride. Tomorrow, your education truly begins." With that chilling promise,
he turned and strolled back towards his own chamber, leaving me trembling with
a mixture of fear and rage, feeling as though I had just been watched, studied, and subtly
violated.