JAMILA
In the tapestry of my memories, there's a thread that gleams brighter than any other: the shimmering promise of royalty whispered to me by my father when I was just a child. It was a dream woven into the very fabric of my being. I can still feel the weight of his words, as he looked into my eager eyes and pledged to make me the Queen of Egypt when I was ten.
Oh, how those words danced in my mind, filling me with a sense of purpose and destiny. From that moment on, I knew that my path was set, my destiny sealed. And with each passing day, I trained and prepared, honing my skills and refining my grace, all in pursuit of the crown.
Then, like a shooting star streaking across the heavens, my moment seemed to arrive when the late King bestowed upon me the gift of engagement to Khalid. It was as if the heavens themselves had opened up to usher me into my rightful place among the pantheon of royalty, only for Khalid to call it off after his father's death.
I'm not sure how he managed to call off the engagement, considering my father shares the same desire for power as much as I do. I mean, who wouldn't want to be the King's father-in-law?
But even as I nurse the wounds of betrayal and disappointment, the fire within me refuses to be extinguished. For I know that one day, I shall claim my rightful place upon the throne of Egypt, and the world shall tremble at the name of its queen.
"Even now, the Queen dowager has taken an interest in her, although her visit to the King's chamber has reduced over the past few days."
As I stood in the opulent chamber, the palace maid's timid voice shattered the silence, pulling me back from the labyrinth of my thoughts. Her name, a fleeting detail, mattering little to me. She was but a pawn in the grand game of power that consumed the royal court. I had enlisted her not out of camaraderie or trust, but out of necessity. Coins exchanged hands, and in return, she became my eyes and ears within the gilded halls of the palace.
As she relayed the latest tidbits of palace gossip, my patience waned, irritation seeping into my tone like venom. The name Agbé̩kẹ́ lingered in the air like a haunting melody, a constant reminder of the enigma that had captured the king's attention.
"What else do you have to report?" I demanded, my voice sharp with impatience.
"No, I mean, yes, my Lady. That seems to be all that's happening in the palace." Her response was laced with fear, each word tinged with trepidation.
"What was your name again?"
"Akila, my Lady."
"Hmmm… Akila, it would be a shame for that pretty face of yours to go to waste, don't you think?" I toyed with her, testing the boundaries of her loyalty.
"Forgive me, my Lady. Please forgive me." She dropped to her knees instantaneous, her breaths ragged and shallow, clearly fearful of my threat.
In her submission, I found validation of my own authority, a reminder that in the game of thrones, mercy was a luxury reserved for the strong
"Next time, I expect worthwhile information, not about some silly lost princess. Get out of my face."
The echo of coins hitting the floor reverberated in Yusuf's chambers as I tossed them to Akila. I almost forgot he was present.
He lounged in his opulent throne-like chair, a smirk playing upon his lips like a serpent's grin. Clad in a beige tunic that seemed to blend seamlessly with the shadows, he exuded an air of calculated cunning, his dark hair neatly trimmed to frame his handsome features.dressed in a beige tunic with neatly cut dark hair, observing the unfolding situation with a smirk.
YOU ARE READING
Entangled
Historical Fiction"Do you have to only think about yourself? Do you even know how I feel being cramped up in this place? On second thought, you don't know, cause you have no heart. You took me away from my family, my loved ones, you ruined my life. Stripped me of my...
