Echoes of Kanuri

Chapter 1: The Grand Feast

The palace of Kanuri glittered with opulence as the grand feast began. Nobles adorned in vivid silks mingled in the great hall, their laughter blending with the melodies of the royal orchestra. Fatima Yusuf Babangida, draped in a shimmering emerald gown, stood near the marble balustrade, her poise unshaken despite the curious gazes cast her way. She was an outsider in this royal world, a woman of noble blood but not of the court, her presence both a curiosity and a challenge.

Ahmad Sadiq Babagana, the 32-year-old king, was not just a ruler in title but in spirit. He had been groomed for leadership from an early age, taught the ways of war and diplomacy, and had inherited the weight of his ancestors' decisions. His life was a constant balancing act of power, politics, and personal sacrifice. Beneath his composed exterior, Ahmad often felt the burden of the crown more heavily than anyone realized. His love life had been more a series of political arrangements than true affection, with countless suitors presented before him, but none who had truly sparked his heart.

Fatima Yusuf Babangida, at 24, was the embodiment of elegance and strength. Born into one of the oldest and most influential families in the kingdom, she was often regarded as the Black Beauty due to her flawless complexion, dark eyes, and radiant poise. But beneath her breathtaking beauty lay a sharp mind and a formidable will. Raised with the understanding that beauty alone could not define her worth, Fatima had been educated in history, literature, and philosophy, becoming a woman of influence and knowledge. Her family’s connections ran deep within the court, and though she was held in high regard, her heart had always yearned for something more than political alliances.

The stage was set for their fateful meeting, a grand feast held in honour of a neighbouring kingdom’s arrival at the Kanuri court. The majestic banquet hall was draped in silks of gold and crimson, the air thick with the perfume of exotic flowers and spices. As Fatima entered the room, her gaze briefly met Ahmad’s, and in that moment, time seemed to slow. Their connection was immediate—an undeniable spark that transcended the boundary of duty. Fatima had often been courted by powerful men, but none had stirred her heart like the king did in that single glance. Ahmad, in turn, found himself captivated by her beauty, her confidence, and her intelligence. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt drawn to her in a way he had never experienced.

King Ahmad Sadiq Babagana entered with the bearing of a lion, his every step commanding attention. He scanned the room, his stoic mask unbroken until his gaze landed on Fatima. Their eyes locked—hers alight with defiance, his dark with intrigue. Neither spoke, yet the air between them thickened, an unspoken recognition passing between two souls who had yet to know the weight of their connection.The grand feast unfolded like a masterfully orchestrated play, each character moving with precision and purpose. Servants glided between clusters of nobles, bearing trays laden with jewelled goblets and platters of delicacies. The aroma of roasted meats, spiced stews,honeyed confections, and other meals, both traditionals and non traditionals filled the air, weaving a sensory tapestry that heightsplendour of the evening.

Fatima kept her position near the balustrade, a vantage point that allowed her to observe the court without being ensnared in its games. She was no stranger to the subtle dance of power and ambition that played out in every whispered conversation and fleeting glance. Her father, Yusuf Babangida, had often warned her of the dangers of courtly life of how easily one could be consumed by its intrigues. Yet here she was, standing at the heart of it all, a reluctant player in a game she neither sought nor feared.

Ahmad moved through the room with practised ease, his presence an unspoken command that drew the attention of all. The weight of the crown had taught him to mask his thoughts, to shield his true self behind a veil of composure. But tonight, for the first time in years, he found his carefully constructed walls faltering. He had not expected Fatima—not her beauty, not her presence, and certainly not the effect she had on him.

The feast’s opening ceremonies proceeded with the usual pomp and ceremony. Toasts were raised, alliances reaffirmed, and promises of mutual prosperity were exchanged. Yet, amid the speeches and revelry, Ahmad’s focus kept returning to Fatima. She was unlike the other women of the court—unaffected by the superficiality that defined their lives. She seemed to exist in a realm entirely her own, a world of intellect and quiet strength that both intrigued and unsettled him.

Fatima, for her part, was acutely aware of the king’s attention. She had noticed his gaze lingering on her, had felt the intensity of it even across the crowded hall. It was a gaze that held neither entitlement nor condescension, but rather curiosity—a genuine interest that she found disarming.

When the moment finally came, it was as if the universe itself had conspired to bring them together. A servant, carrying a tray of crystal goblets, stumbled near Fatima, and in the chaos that followed, Ahmad was the first to reach her. His hand brushed against hers as he steadied her, and their eyes met once more—this time closer, more intimate.

“Are you okay?” Ahmad’s voice was low, resonant, carrying the weight of authority but softened by concern.

Fatima inclined her head, her voice steady despite the quickening of her heart. “I am, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

The formality of her words belied the tumult of emotions within her. In that moment, the world seemed to shrink, the noise of the feast fading into a distant hum.

Ahmad’s heart beat faster than he cared to admit, his hand lingering slightly longer than it should have. “It is I who should thank you for not allowing the feast to end in disaster,” he said, his voice low, resonant, the weight of authority softened by a hint of amusement.

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the hall muffled around them, the world narrowing to the space they occupied. Neither spoke again, but the silence between them crackled with possibility. Fatima, for the first time in years, felt something stir within her—something both thrilling and terrifying. And for Ahmad, the mask he had so carefully crafted began to slip, just slightly, revealing the man beneath.

They stood there, two strangers bound by a connection they could not yet name, the future of Kanuri kingdom unknowingly poised to shift in their wake.

Wattpad, thank you 🥺You don try 🤧 (I had to re-type😒)

Well, hello there, my pumpkins. Jumma'a Mubarak. How was it? I hope you enjoyed it. No, i will  assume you love it 😁
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(I want to finish this book before December😩)
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