The Colonial Heart ✓ (Editing)

Chapter 37

                                A M A

"I must confess, my lady," I began, rising from my seat with deliberate grace. "My trust in you is yet to be earned."

Her gaze met mine, and I continued, my tone measured and refined. "If you wish to prove your loyalty, I have a task of utmost importance. Procure for me the details of the trading ports' security and commerce. I require knowledge of the soldiers' numbers and the ports' busiest hours."

My skirts rustled softly as I paced across the room. "Furthermore, I desire that you nullify all incoming shipments and cancel any outgoing goods. Sever all agreements, leaving our adversaries vulnerable."

My eyes locked onto hers, piercing and unwavering. "Should you succeed, a modicum of trust shall be bestowed upon you. But be warned, my lady, treachery will not be tolerated. Betray me, and your fate shall be sealed."

Her countenance betrayed a flicker of tension, and I smiled, a gentle, enigmatic curve of my lips. "Your mother must be proud to call you her own."

With a gracious nod, I took my leave. "I expect your diligence, my lady. Complete this task within a week, and perhaps we shall forge a bond of trust."

As I closed the door, I pondered whether she truly sought an alliance or merely intended to exploit me. Trust was a luxury I couldn't afford, especially not in this treacherous world. My thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of stifled sobs, like a whispered secret. I followed the noise to a wardrobe storing cleaning tools and detergents.

The soft weeping grew louder, and I knocked gently on the door, but there was no response. I opened it to find a little boy, his knees tucked tightly against his chest, his big blue eyes wide with shock. Tear-stained cheeks and endearing brown freckles across his nose, chin, and forehead captivated me. His wild, curly brown hair seemed to have a life of its own. My heart ached at the sight of him.

I crouched to his level, offering a warm smile, but he regarded me with skepticism. "Hello, sweetheart, what ever is troubling you?" I asked, but he remained silent. I gently wiped away his tears and took his hand, coaxing him to stand. "I may not know your troubles, but I can offer comfort. Would you like a biscuit with tea?" He frowned, and I sensed a deeper sorrow. "I am not allowed biscuits or anything sweet this month," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Why not?" I pressed, and he shrugged.

"I failed my archery exam, and my father was displeased." His words weighed heavily on me.

"Well, how would he find out if neither of us told him?," I said, forcing a playful tone. "Come, let us have some biscuits, our little secret." His face brightened, and we made our way to the maids kitchen. I sensed the weight of his thoughts and felt a pang knowing a young boy like Edgar, Victoria's son, shouldered such burdens. "Tell me, little one, what is your name?" I asked, already knowing the answer

"Edgar, and I am not little, I am  10 years old, a man," he declared, his chin held high. I chuckled, charmed by his spirit.

"Alright, I am Ama," I said, my smile unfolding like a warm embrace, as I beheld Edgar's countenance brighten in response. The kitchen, empty and serene, welcomed us like a gentle sanctuary. I glided across the room, my footsteps quiet on the stone floor, and opened the cabinet where my treasured biscuits lay in wait.

The jar I chose revealed a delightful assortment, which I arranged on a saucer with the precision of an artist. As I presented it to Edgar, his face illuminated with anticipation, like a sunrise breaking over the horizon.

"Not yet, dear boy," I teased, my voice barely above a whisper, "not until I have conjured the perfect brew." He nodded, his hands clasped together in his lap, his eyes aglow with expectation, as he waited with the patience of a child on Christmas morning.

I busied myself brewing a tea that would soothe the soul, the aroma of steeping leaves and creamy milk enveloping us in a cocoon of comfort. As I poured the beige liquid into a tea cup, a spoonful of sugar added just the right touch of sweetness, the sweet crystals dissolving with a soft clink like the gentle lapping of waves on a summer shore.

I presented it to Edgar with a smile, and his eyes sparkled like diamonds as he took his first sip, savoring the warmth that spread through his very being.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice trembling as I handed him the tea cup. I made my way to the sink and began washing the utensils and pot I had used to brew the tea

"I thought you'd mock me when you saw me crying."

I turned from the sink,  and regarded him with gentle curiosity. "Why would I do that?" I asked, my tone soft and encouraging.

He looked down, his embarrassment palpable. "Because men do not ever cry," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. My heart went out to him, and I felt a surge of pity for this young boy, burdened by societal expectations.

"Everyone cries," I said, my voice filled with conviction. "Even the devil himself sheds tears. Crying isn't a sign of weakness, but of acceptance – acknowledging your sorrow and allowing yourself to feel." I paused, studying him intently. "Tears can be a balm to the soul, a release of emotions that heals both body and mind."

He looked up, his eyes skeptical. "I don't believe that, the boys at school say otherwise" he said, his voice laced with doubt. I smiled, my expression gentle.

"The boys at school may say otherwise, but that only reveals their own weaknesses. Strong people embrace their tears, and in doing so, begin their journey toward healing and growth."

"When you suppress your emotions, you risk becoming numb and hardened, a shell of your former self. Some may believe this makes you stronger, but it's a misconception. In reality, it renders you a bitter and desolate soul, devoid of vibrancy and purpose. The world loses its color, and your existence becomes a hollow shell. You begin to push away those who care for you most..."

My voice faltered as I thought of Yaa, and the hurt I may have caused. A pang of regret washed over me, and I could not help but feel that I was changing and it left me wondering if it was for the better or the worse?

"Let us not dwell on this further," I said, forcing a gentle smile. "Finish your tea, dear boy. We wouldn't want it to go to waste." He nodded, his eyes still fixed on me with an unnerving intensity.

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