The palace was restless.
That was the first thing Amara noticed as she crossed the upper gallery overlooking the royal court. It was not loud. It was not chaotic. It was worse than that. It was full of quiet expectation, like a crowd holding its breath before lightning strikes.
Something had shifted.
Servants whispered. Courtiers clustered in corners. Ministers avoided her gaze and then stared too long when they thought she was not looking.
And at the heart of it all stood Kofi.
He was near the great map table, one hand resting casually against the polished wood as if the Empire itself belonged to him. Gold-threaded robes draped his tall frame, and his amber eyes moved through the room with unsettling ease. Nobles gathered around him, laughing too loudly, nodding too eagerly.
They were choosing sides.
Amara felt no fear. No jealousy. Only something sharp and cold sliding into place inside her chest.
Challenge.
She descended the marble steps slowly, allowing her presence to ripple outward. Conversations faltered. Backs straightened. Eyes turned. The balance shifted.
Kofi noticed her instantly.
Their gazes locked.
Neither smiled.
"So," Amara said coolly as she approached, "it seems I have missed something interesting."
"We were discussing trade," Kofi replied, voice smooth. "You looked occupied."
"Occupied," she echoed. "Or excluded?"
A few nobles shifted nervously.
"Without invitation," he corrected gently. "A subtle difference."
Amara stepped closer until they were within a breath of one another. "You are gathering influence in my court."
"In your Empire," he replied. "Words matter."
"So do intentions."
Before their exchange could sharpen further, a senior minister cleared his throat. "Princess Amara, Prince Kofi has raised an… intriguing proposal."
Her eyes never left Kofi's. "Speak."
"He suggests that the northern trade reforms be overseen by a neutral authority. One not tied to any local faction."
A murmur spread through the hall.
Neutral.
Foreign.
Kofi.
Amara felt the insult slide beneath her skin.
"So," she said quietly, "you wish to supervise my territory."
"I wish to stabilize it," Kofi replied. "Your northern provinces are volatile. A joint oversight would protect both our interests."
"You are suggesting I am incapable."
"I am suggesting," he said softly, "that you are young, brilliant, and surrounded by predators. Even lions need watchers."
Amara laughed. It was not warm.
"My people do not bow to foreign hands. Not in trade. Not in governance."
"Then perhaps they bow only to you," he said.
Silence fell.
Every courtier felt it.
Amara saw it then. The trap. If she refused him outright, she would appear threatened. If she accepted, she would look weak.
So she chose something far more dangerous.
"Very well," she said calmly. "Let us be neutral."
Heads snapped up.
"A joint council will be formed. Three representatives from my Empire. Three from yours."
Kofi's eyes sharpened.
"But," Amara continued, "the final authority remains mine. And you, Prince Kofi, will have no vote. Only observation."
The nobles inhaled sharply.
Kofi stared at her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, his lips curved.
"Brilliant."
"You wanted influence," she said. "I gave you proximity. Enjoy the view."
Their eyes locked.
Neither blinked.
The war between them had just begun.