Dethroned

Nine

The sun was scotching, his sandals burning, the sweat vanquishing off his skin and his voice rasping from his dry throat, "I can't belive it." He stopped, cleared his throat, then shouted, "You were all fooled!! Thinking that the hein will save us. The King made the choices for us. This isn't our war to fight." To prevent himself  from boiling, he walked around, laying the weight of his hard sermon in the audiences' chests. "I'm not proud," he deeply voiced. "I don't want you to regret it when the breath of inferno catches beneath our feet." He looked at Hylbah and snored out, "Call his name!!!"

The crowd rose from their sits with fists up, calling out Hylbah's name, the King's second son. The first child was Mylbah. She was a slender queen with a face of a warrior, dark sninned, tall and ignorant when it comes to her rightiful place as the heir. She would rather spent her years across the Northen parts of Sahel, suppying food to the poor and mostly protecting them from the pirates. In her absense like at this time, Hylbah took a chance to put a piece into his plate.

Starting with a campaign was his strategy. He knew if he put someone everyone would listern to, someone rich, like Kuasba Kepitsi. This was perfect. He shrunk to Kuasba's entrance as he felt nervous. He had some doubt about the whole thing. Everybody loves the hein, his repertition and the heroic stories everyone seem not to forget.

"You think they're going to turn their heads up?" The prince asked, worriedly.

Kuasba answered softly, "Be patient, you will see. I'm sure what I said in the Arc is good enough."

Kuasba stared at a reed basket full of fruits, only two varieties, coconuts and pears. He picked a pear from it,  loudly chewed it, handed another one to Hylbah, but he denied.

He distantly said, "Father is out there being a hero and so as my dear sister. I'm sure the throne is left for me."

"The throne needs someone like you. The one who always stays with his people," he confidently said.

"You think?"

"You have my word!"

Hylbah was not fully satisfied. He needed more assurance and so did this day passed with a burning gut.

The following morning he heard some noice down the streets. It  came to his ears in a distant as if he was dreaming until the door was banged open, then he realised he wasn't dreaming. It was Kuasba.

He said, "Hurry!!"

He heard a soft hand touch on his chest and she reluctantly said, "Stay a little bit longer." She breathed slowly and when she heard him move a little, she grabbed him, tighter, forcing her naked body on him. Her leg over his lower part that he felt the aggression rising in him. She continued by pressing her nipples to his chest and he felt the warm breasts on him. He stretched his body harder trying to resist, but it wasn't enough.

That's it, he forced himself out his warm bed, stumbled to  his  brown robe.

She lay disapointed, kicked the blacket to the surface, then dragged the sheet to her chin. The temperatures were already rising.

Hylbah tightened his robe, stood still up the front of the palace's staircase as he marvelled at the crowd. "Such a quick infall," he uttured in Arabic as his face crankled into a smile.

"A farmer with a hoe dies with it, but the one with a sharp tounge is the same as the swordman. He pierces with it," said Kuasba.