𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐍

TREACHERY IN THE PALACE

"Seize him!"

Queen Ameena roared, and the watchers stomped towards the vizier in an attempt to surround him. Njoku turned to the Queen, fire blazing in his eyes.

"You will not do such", he bellowed in a commanding voice, deep enough to shake the foundations of the palace and the watchers stopped in their tracks, frozen as mere blocks of ice in different positions.
They were stuck. Stuck to the ground and left unable to release themselves.

Queen Ameena was seething with undiluted rage and sprang up from her chair. The royal physician was yet to arrive, and her son would have been dead, if not for her power to stabilize him.

A while ago the grand hall of the royal palace was adorned with vibrant tapestries depicting scenes of ancient African legends. The air was heavy with anticipation as council members from the twelve powerful tribes of the realm gathered around an enormous round table. The flickering light of crystal chandeliers danced upon their solemn faces, their traditional robes whispering tales of their lineage and power.

Ameena sauntered in graciously with her son, the prince by her side, oozing grace like she always did. A queen was always supposed to be eloquent, her mother had once told her.

Prince Tafiq who had his mother's hand in his, squeezed in a gentle, assuring manner and the queen's smile as reply calmed his racing heart down. He knew she was still mourning the death of her husband, and his father would have made things easier if he was still alive. Yet, the spirits had other plans.

Tafiq had only been to the throne room twice. Two occasions which called for his presence. He had been restricted from the area of the large, extravagant room all his life, and all of a sudden he was here, when his father was gone.

He was scared.

He was very scared.

The prince was still young, about twelve summers old,too young to sit on the throne of his father, yet, there was no temporary successor and he had no elder brother. He was an only child. It was only him. Just him and his mother for as long as he could remember.

Queen Ameena, regal and resolute, stood at the head of the table, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of treachery. She had heard whispers of deceit in the corridors, rumors of a plot to seize power in the chaos that followed the king's untimely demise.

This had always been her greatest fear, that the plot against her son that had been envisioned years ago would manifest and so she had been anything but careless since the day he was born.

The council members had arrived bearing gifts of allegiance, but she remained wary, knowing that loyalty could be a fleeting commodity in such treacherous times.

As the councilors took their seats, servants scurried around, presenting trays of golden goblets filled with a rich and exotic blend of ceremonial drinks. The scent of aromatic spices and rare herbs filled the air, a heady mixture that tickled the senses. Queen Amina's gaze fell upon the young prince, Tariq, seated next to her, his wide eyes held a wisdom far beyond his years and she was proud.

"Are you sure it's safe, Mother?" Tariq asked in a hushed voice, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

"I assure you, my boy. Just keep calm. Mother is here." She replied in an equally low tone, intertwining her fingers with his underneath the large dining table.

Her eyes searched around the table for a particular person who hadn't arrived yet, and as if on cue, the wide gates of the throne room were pushed open, and the familiar sound of the tune from the horn came blasting through them, announcing the presence of the vizier.