The palace quieted in a way that only came when decisions were nearly finished.
No drums echoed that night. No councils gathered. Only lanterns burned low as both delegations withdrew to their chambers, each side poring over the weight of what had been agreed and what still lingered unspoken.
Juma sat by the open window of his room, the night breeze carrying distant sounds of the city settling into sleep. Scrolls lay spread across the table, terms of alliance, military clauses, trade limitations, cultural protections. He read each line slowly, again and again.
Achieng leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in thought.
"We gave them much," she said quietly. "Training. Trade access. Roads. A future currency."
Juma nodded. "And they gave us something harder to earn. Trust."
She walked over, tapping one of the scrolls. "The merchant council will protect their culture. That was important to them. If we'd dismissed that fear, resentment would've followed."
