Dingani's pov
"A festival is a celebration of life which brings peace and joy to us all. It brings family and friends together, and sometimes even turns enemies into friends. A festival allows us respite from the hard monotony of life. Above many more, a festival commemorates the sacred bond we have with our land and culture. Thus why we are gathered here today. We are here to celebrate our achievements, the harvest, the rains, and the protection from our Gods. So, my people of the mighty Kingdom of N'Jovu, eat, drink and dance! Enjoy yourselves to the fullest!"
The crowds of people cheer to my speech, vibrating the very air with their whoops, claps, shouts and whistles of glee and excitement.
The festival takes place within the palace grounds, for it is the only place large and vast enough to accommodate more than 5000 people. It is bustling with spectators and attendees, normal for such occasions.
The men are dressed in formal attire. Some in charismatic suits, and others in varying styles of regal agbada. The women are flawless in their graceful traditional dresses and remarkable hairstyles. It is a great sight to behold, with many musicians of multiple and exquisite instruments, all eager to perform.
I have been here for more than three hours, watching their dances and observing their plays. Despite all of this entertainment, my mind is on one particular girl. Yet I have not had the chance to see her. I even asked the Mc to call all the maidens to perform, but I still do not see her among them.
I walked around, pretending to mingle with my subjects just in the hopes I may lay a single glance at her. But to no avail. To say I am upset is an understatement. I am livid. I cannot believe I did this all for nothing.
What's the point? I cannot stay here a minute longer, I think bitterly. Therefore I stand, my robes rustling from the movement. I bid farewell to my father and the other Royals, then stride out.
******
"I cannot believe this," I mutter to myself under my breath.
I stand from my desk chair abruptly, after having spent the last five minutes pacing around my office with frustration. My face turns skyward, and I stare up at the ceiling.
It feels like she stood me up. Thought I hate to admit it to myself, I feel hurt and betrayed.
I was expecting to meet her there. I went through with the damn festival just to be able to see her again. I am angry, angry at myself for feeling this way.
I am angry for letting myself become this stupid and agitated over a girl I only met once.
But it ends now. "Whatever this is, it ends now," I promise myself with resolve.
A knock taps at the door, and I exhale, releasing my clenched fists. "Come in," I grumble.
A familiar face strolls in. "What do you want?" I ask my best friend bluntly as he takes a seat opposite my desk.
Thulani (Tu-la-ni) raises an amused eyebrow, unfazed by my blunt question and tone. "Well someone is in a sour mood," Thulani mused. "I came to check on you, seeing as you left the celebration early. That isn't like you. What's going on?"
Thulani is the one man who is not afraid to question or joke around with me. We have been friends since childhood, and has lived with us since his father died. He is like a brother to me, my brother-in-arms and spirit. He is the only person I trust. And unlike me, he is easy going and views women with a different perspective.
I frown at his mild teasing. "I'm not in the mood for jokes, Thulani, and nothing is wrong," I say coldly.
Thulani just smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I know you very well, brother. I know something is going on in that head of yours. You've been acting weird lately and I'm going to find out why, whether you tell me or not."
Sneaky bastard. If there is one thing Thulani is good at, it is at obtaining information. I used him to spy on the Kingdoms I conquered before, and he never failed me, not once. He does his job quickly and efficiently, and leave no evidence behind. Thulani is grudgingly smart. Intelligent beyond compare. But never will I ever say it to his face. Might boost his ego too much.
"Don't forget who you're talking to, Thulani. You should not spy on your King," I reprimand him.
"Oh I most certainly do know who I'm talking to – very well, I might add. If you do not want me to sneak on you, just tell me," he says simply with unabashed confidence in his mischievous grin. His eyes are unwavering as he regards me.
My eyes narrow. Definitely a sneaky, clever bastard. "Fine. But I'll tell you later," I answer in defeat, because if I do not tell him, Thulani will still investigate and discover my interest in Misozi. At least if I tell him myself, I can choose what details to share and what to keep private.
Sighing Thulani rises from his seat. "Very well then. I shall see you later, and I'll hold you to that promise." He winks.
I glare at him. "Who ever said it's a promise?" I demand.
"It's a promise," he sings.
"No, it is not."
"Whatever makes you sleep at night, Dinga," he exclaims with a near boyish giggle of mischief. He walks out of the office and slams the door before I can say anything else.
I hate it when he shortens my name and slams my door.
*****
I am now sitting in the dining room with the Royal Family and rulers, making small talk and chit-chatting here and there while the servants are bringing in our breakfast. Once they are done, they bow their heads with reverence.
My eyes survey the meal spread across the table; scrambled eggs, dotted with certain cheese, Belgian waffles drizzled with Vermont fresh maple, some fruits and vegetables. I did not know nor realised the cooks we have were taught to prepare these types of meals by the chefs I hired from overseas. They do cook very well, but they never get too deep into it, if you know what I mean? So I make a mental note to meet and promote the individual who prepared this bountiful and exotic meal.
As if reading my mind, Thulani compliments aloud, "Wow, this meal looks more delicious than usual. I wonder who prepared it?"
"Whoever made this is really very good," my father adds. I glance at him and nod with agreement.
"Dingani, my personal guard brought back the map I sent him to give to you. May I know why?" My father asks. His words were cultured and well-mannered, but the tone was very different.
Internally I roll my eyes with exasperation. Can he not just let it go? He just does not give up.
"Because I am not interested," I reluctantly respond, paying more attention to my food, which is by far more interesting than the topic he had to bring up at the table. Could I not enjoy this marvellous and rare breakfast in peace?
"If you don't do anything about it, then I will," he threatens, voice like steel and all manners gone.
My dark gaze flickers up and matches his glare without a waver. "You will do no such thing. You are not King anymore, or have you forgotten? I am your King. And my word is final." A cruel smirk touches my features. "I dare you to go against me," I challenge him.
Flustered anger rises in my father's face. "Tell me why you don't want to take over that Kingdom? Is it because of that bastard brother of yours? Or the whore you call your mother? Are you scared? Afraid of finding out why she chose him over you? Why she abandoned you?" He presses, his voice rising higher in volume and temper with each venomous question.
Everyone at the table is now silent, listening nervously – but intently – at our conversation. I clench my jaw and grip my fork in my fist.
"Do not speak of things you don't know, Father," I say harshly. "You are the one who has yet to move on, still thinking about a woman who left you for another man. You obviously weren't good enough!" I almost laugh mockingly. "You are clearly angry at her and you seek revenge. So why did you not do it while you still ruled, huh? Why now?" If my glare were a blade, it would have pinned him to the wall beneath my rising fury. "You want me to do it for you, because you are a coward!" I boom.
Before my father responds, I hear noise from the front doors of the palace.
"I want to see the King, and I won't leave until I give him a piece of my mind!" I hear a female voice shout. I'm too furious at my father to realise the new voice sounds familiar.
What now? I think, my anger coiling like snake. What woman dare come and cause a commotion at my palace?
I get up from my seat and stride to where the shouting babble of incessant noise is coming from. My anger mounts with each stride.
I am greeted by a sight; five pathetic guards trying to hold back one woman.
"What is the meaning of this?" My voice cracks out with unbendable authority.
Upon hearing my voice, the guards spin around while still holding the woman. They bow, preparing to explain. But before they do, my eyes land on the woman who is the cause of such a commotion. What I see, shocks me.
"Misozi?"