The grand dining hall was filled with the clinking of goblets and the murmurs of conversation, but beneath the warm glow of oil lamps, tension simmered.
Moremi sat beside her father, her posture straight with her hands delicately placed on the carved wooden table. Before her lay a spread of Mandinga's finest dishes—spiced lamb, steaming yam porridge, fresh fruits glistening with honey. The rich aroma filled the room, but she had no appetite.
Her father had yet to say a word to her since they sat after the incident, but the occasional sharp glare he sent her way was enough to keep her in discomfort.
She could feel his disappointment pressing down on her like a heavy weight and it made her clench her fingers beneath the table, resisting the urge to sigh.
She had promised herself to behave—for Akan's sake but she could tell already that her attitude earlier may have reduced her possibility of making things work. Her father was definitely not happy with her.
Taking a brief glance at Nyala, she saw the regret in the young girl's face as she lowered her head in shame. But that was not what bothered Moremi.
She could feel her heart clench at the thought of what Akan was still passing through in the dungeon because of her.
If she pushed too far, her father would only tighten his grip on the man's suffering and it was going to make life even difficult as she could barely do things right without Akan by her side.
She didn't want to step on his toes again as she had resolved to herself but her inability to stay put when something annoyed her was a great flaw.
Picking her fork, she drooped her head and began to dig into the soft meat, avoiding everyone's gaze as she chewed.
At least, she would behave herself at the meal till the day was over and go have a good rest. Maybe if she didn't give an audience to the prince, he would stop his fanatic behaviour.
Seated across from her however, Yovana had barely touched his meal. Instead, he wore an infuriating smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
He was waiting, scheming, plotting his revenge as he looked at the plate before him.
His eyes grazed Nyala's and she could feel the glare from where she stood behind her princess. She moved back immediately, feeling uncomfortable while completely avoiding his gaze and steadying her trembling hands.
To her, the maid knew she had used her uncanny mouth to dig her grave like always. With the way the young royalty before her had behaved, it was clear to Nyala that he was not going to easily let her off the hook.
Her princess had been right.
Prince Yovana was not the type of man befitting for a King. He was unforgiving and impulsive and that was enough to make a servant girl like her steer clear off him.
If this prince ever did become the King consort to Moremi and Mandinga in the future, she was certainly done for.
"I must say," Yovana finally spoke, his voice loud and dripping with mockery, drawing everyone's attention to him. "This is quite the spread. The food looks... hearty. Though, I must ask, does it always have such a strong... smell?" he poked a sandwich that was laid on his plate, separating the bread and the filling from each other like it was trash.
Moremi stiffened at this action, her eyes narrowed at the food on his plate with annoyance. The conversation around the table lulled slightly with a few elders pausing their bites to exchange glances.
King Jelani, occupied in a deep discussion with King Malawi about trade routes, barely registered the comment. But Moremi? She caught the sneer in Yovana's voice.
And the problem with her was...she was never one to keep shut.
"If the aroma of fresh spices and well-prepared meat is unfamiliar to you, Prince Yovana, I do apologize," she said smoothly, cutting her meat with precise strokes. "Perhaps in Azura, blandness is the preferred taste?"
Some of the elders chuckled quietly, while others suppressed their smiles.
Yovana's smirk twitched. "Ah, yes. Spices," he mused. "A luxury for some, I suppose. Though, I must wonder, with all these 'rich' flavors, why does Mandinga not have finer dining etiquette?"
Moremi's fingers curled tighter around her utensils.
One of the elders, Chief Balogun seated a few places down, furrowed his brows. "What do you mean by that, Prince Yovana?"
Yovana feigned innocence, swirling the wine in his goblet. "Oh, nothing, Elder. Only that in Azura, we are taught to dine with refinement—cutlery handled with grace, posture perfected, conversation... dignified." He took a slow sip. "But here, it seems there is a fondness for eating with hands, speaking over meals, and laughing quite... freely..." his gaze went to Moremi's maid as the last words trailed from his mouth.
Moremi could hear Nyala shifting uncomfortably at the insult, while some of the elders bristled. But her father, too engaged with Malawi, still had not intervened.
She smiled sweetly, dropping her cutlery before fully facing him again, "Forgive us, Prince Yovana," she said, her voice light but edged with steel. "We Mandingans have always believed that food is best enjoyed when savored—when one can truly feel the texture of the meal with their fingers, taste the warmth of a well-cooked dish, and most importantly, eat with those they love, unburdened by stiff manners." She took a deliberate bite of her food before adding, "I suppose that is something Azurans wouldn't understand."
A few murmurs rippled across the table again, and Yovana's jaw ticked. But before he could speak, Moremi leaned forward slightly, her tone still light but dripping with sarcasm.
"Oh, but I am curious, Your Highness. In your kingdom, where everything is so... refined, are the people also taught how to control their tempers when a mere joke is made?"
The entire hall fell silent.
Yovana's eyes darkened with rage, his pride wounded. He knew exactly what Moremi was referring to—his earlier outburst when he tried to punish her maid.
The prince exhaled sharply, gripping his goblet as if to steady himself. But before he could retort, King Jelani clapped his hands together, signaling the end of the meal.
"It is time," Jelani announced, finally rising from his seat as everyone's attention went to him. "King Malawi," he turned to the elderly man, demonstarting with his hands, "Allow me to show you the beauty of Mandinga. I believe everyone here is done with their meals." He said a bit sarcastically, signalling to them that the dinner was over.
The conversation at the table ceased as the elders and queens also rose, following the kings as they exited the hall. Yovana, however, remained seated.
"I shall stay behind," he said, adjusting his tunic. "I need to use the washroom first."
Jelani barely spared him a glance. "Very well." he nodded.
Moremi also stood up quickly as she had longed for this meal to be over so she could get changed out of this horrid dress that had been choking her all day and at least, get to visit Akan before nightfall. Ayanna followed her but Nyala stayed behind to clean up with the other servants.
As the nobles and guests began to leave, the maids excused themselves as well, quietly slipping away to their different posts.
Nyala was among them. Since Ayanna had accompanied the princess to undress, she headed toward the corridor leading to the storage warehouse, where she had work to finish.
But she was not alone.