Fickle

Chapter 30

In the palace of Daura, Othman paced his chambers, the intricate carpets muffling his footfalls. General Mustapha stood by the window, his posture rigid as he outlined their findings. The intercepted letter from Neil was spread out on the table, its contents damning.

"This letter ties Neil to at least three influential council members," Mustapha said. "They’re being promised lucrative positions if Hanifah’s plans succeed."

Othman’s jaw tightened. "How many others do you suspect are wavering?"

Mustapha hesitated before answering. "At least four more are showing signs of discontent. Hanifah’s dinners and her subtle campaigning have been effective. If we don’t act soon, the council’s majority could shift against Abdullah."

Othman sank into a chair, running a hand through his hair. "We need a decisive move—something to not only stop Hanifah and Neil but also restore confidence in Abdullah’s leadership."

Othman and Mustapha began reaching out to the loyalists within the council, inviting them to private meetings under the guise of informal discussions. Over quiet dinners in Othman’s quarters, they laid out the situation.

"Abdullah may be away," Othman would begin, "but his commitment to this kingdom is unwavering. What Hanifah is doing isn’t about the kingdom’s future; it’s about her ambition. We need to stand together against this."

Some council members, like the wise elder Ibrahim, voiced their agreement immediately. "Hanifah’s charm is no match for the truth. I’ll stand with you, Prince Othman."

Others, however, were hesitant. "What proof do we have of Hanifah’s intent?" asked Fatima, one of the younger council members.

It was then that Othman presented the intercepted letter, its incriminating promises clear. Fatima’s eyes widened as she read it. "If this is true, then we’re on dangerous ground. You have my support, Your Highness."

With each meeting, their coalition grew stronger.

As they solidified their allies, Mustapha proposed a bold plan to expose Hanifah’s schemes publicly.

"We know she’s hosting another dinner soon," Mustapha said. "Let’s use it to our advantage. If we can plant someone to gather direct evidence or even disrupt her narrative, we could force the council to see her true intentions."

Othman nodded slowly. "Who do you have in mind?"

Mustapha’s eyes gleamed with determination. "Idris, the treasurer. He’s been swaying back and forth, unsure of where his loyalties lie. If we can convince him to attend the dinner and subtly challenge her, it might cause a rift among her supporters."

Convincing Idris was no easy task. The man was skittish, constantly wringing his hands as Othman and Mustapha laid out their plan.

"If this fails, I’ll lose everything," Idris fretted.

Othman placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You’ll have the backing of the Crown Prince, Idris. And more importantly, you’ll be doing the right thing for the kingdom. You’re not alone in this."

After hours of persuasion, Idris reluctantly agreed.

The night of Hanifah’s dinner arrived, and the palace buzzed with activity. Hanifah had spared no expense, the banquet hall shimmering with gold accents and crystal chandeliers.

Neil stood by her side, greeting guests with his trademark charm, while Hanifah played the gracious hostess.

Idris arrived late, his nervousness poorly hidden. As the dinner progressed, Hanifah began weaving her narrative, subtly questioning Abdullah’s commitment to the throne.