They reached a spot where a mango tree stood, providing shade. There were a few chairs, and Princess Amara led Safiya to the very first seat. There were about three empty seats, and Safiya took one of them.
"Won't you be joining the king?" Safiya asked, her gaze traveling to where the king would be seated. For now, it was empty since the match hadn't started.
"I will," Princess Amara smiled, her gaze fixed on the open circle where the young maidens had just finished dancing and were leaving. "I just wanted to spend some time with you before the king comes out."
"But he will shortly. The wrestling is about to begin," Safiya pointed out. She knew how important it was for the princess to be present beside the king, as she was his only child.
Which was a problem in Dakar - everyone expected the king to have a male child, someone who would take over the throne.
Safiya had heard that the king had tried with other concubines, but he still hadn't been able to father a male heir. It must have troubled him, especially since the council was pressuring him. It was either he bore a male child or the throne would be given to someone else, especially as the king was getting old.
A muscled man entered the circle and started blowing an elephant horn. The sharp sound indicated that the king was coming.
"Okay, I think it's time for me to leave," Amara sighed. She looked at Safiya and asked, "Will you be alright?"
Safiya nodded and replied confidently, "Certainly."
Amara gave Safiya a warm hug before standing up. The guards followed closely behind as she made her way towards the towering building where the throne was kept.
She arrived just in time with the king, and the one who had blown the horn declared, "All hail the king! Long live his highness!"
The king walked elegantly, accompanied by a muscular guard trailing behind him. He wore a shimmering golden skirt and a crown made entirely of gold. Adorning his neck was a long chain, and his chest was left bare.
With utmost regality, he made his way to the center where the grand throne chair awaited him. Beside the king's throne were not the usual three chairs, but six, leaving Safiya curious as to who they belonged to.
Following the king, the queen entered and elegantly took her place on his right side. Safiya then noticed Amara, who had taken a seat beside the king on his left.
Lastly, the king's advisor made his entrance. He was a middle-aged man with a mischievous smile, renowned for his intelligence.
Another figure entered the room — it was the new head warrior of Dakar, known for his impressive physique and strength. He took his place next to the king's advisor as the crowd bowed in respect to the king, who graciously acknowledged their greetings with a raised hand.
As everyone's attention was drawn to the empty seat beside the princess, there was a sense of anticipation as to who would occupy it.
Suddenly, the unexpected person made an entrance, surprising Safiya and captivating the attention of all present.
Of all the people, why him? Safiya gasped, her heart skipping a beat. It was just one person, only him, who could make her heart skip this way.
Malik walked confidently, his skin glowing, his head held high, his muscles well-toned, and his jaw sharp.
He wore his armor with his sword in place as he walked towards where the Princess sat. What the Princess said finally registered in her head. It was necessary for him to come since his kingdom's warriors were also wrestling; he must be the head warrior for Azu.
"Oh, look at that handsome man," one of the maidens behind her whispered.
"Is he the one who will marry the Princess?"
Marry? Safiya almost glared at the maidens who said these words, wondering why she was behaving like this. She frowned, not liking this one bit, and considering the fact that Malik was betrothed to Nia.
She could still see the way Nia looked at her, as if she were snatching what was hers. So, there was no way for Malik to marry Amara.
She ignored the maidens' chatter and turned her gaze away. The warriors were now emerging, and the crowd began to cheer.
There were about twenty of them.
They entered the circle, bowing to the king before moving to where the drums were still beating and sat next to them.
She spotted Dede among them; he looked relaxed. It was good to see him doing what he loved again. Now that she realized it, she had put her own needs in front of his and hadn't thought about him.
A man entered the center and started dancing to the rhythm of the beat, occasionally hailing the king. This was called a warrior's dance before the match would happen.
Her father had briefly told her about wrestling: two opponents would come to the center and battle using bare hands.
They would hold each other's hand where it met the shoulder, with their heads mostly joined or placed on each other's shoulders.
Then they would struggle, and anyone whose back touched the ground would lose. It was in this struggle that their strength was tested. Safiya, at that young age, had always imagined what it would be like. Now that she was in this seat, it felt surreal.
Her gaze slowly returned to where Malik was seated. He was looking at the circle where the warriors sat at one end, waiting to be called.
His eyes wandered slowly among the cheering crowd, until they locked onto hers. She gasped; he had seen her.
She shouldn't have looked his way, but despite this internal conflict, Safiya just couldn't look away.
His eyes gleamed, and she saw him smile slightly, causing all the butterflies in her stomach to dance with joy. They stared at each other, as if time stood still.
The sharp sound of the horn brought Safiya back to reality, and she quickly looked away, focusing fully on the wrestling match about to unfold.