Separate hearts

The hearts separated

a novel of Atecossi M.

Chapter 1: The Prince and the silence of the throne The sun was slowly rising on the royal village of Sogoya. The golden rays pierced the foliage of the palm trees, stroking the thatched roofs and awakening the roosters still asleep. It was a morning like so many others. At least, in appearance. In the large courtyard of the palace, the servants were already stirring, sweeping the dust, preparing the jars of water and the meals of the day. The uniformed guards took their posts, rights and silencers. And all at the top of this quiet hierarchy, there was the king: Demba Konaté, Supreme Chief of Sogoya, a respected man, sometimes fears, and a father of a single son. This son was Adama. The young prince was not twenty, but his name was already circulating in all the mouths of the village. It was said he was brave, whom he had a frank look and tender heart. But we also said that he dreamed too much. That it spent too much time walking in the fields or to observe the stars from the sacred hill. That he asked too many questions, especially the bad ones. And in a kingdom like Sogoya, ask questions was sometimes more dangerous than brandishing a sword. That morning, Adama was standing in front of the mirror of his room. He wore a Boubou blue king embroidered of gold, his hair carefully capped, his sandals well adjusted. Everything would breathe the nobility, but in his eyes shone a discreet melancholy. He looked elsewhere. A foot noise behind the door came out of his thoughts. It was Sory, his servant of always and his most faithful friend. - My prince, the king awaits you in the throne room. Adama nodded. - Is it already in a bad mood? - I would say ... impatient. "So let's go," said Adama with a corner smile. They crossed the long corridors of the palace. At each step, Adama felt the weight of his position. The eyes who were grouped in his passage, muttered murmur, gestures of respect ... All this did not please him. He did not want to be venerated. He wanted to be understood. The throne room was huge, built in red stone and decorated with sculptures representing the former kings. In the center, on a platform, sat down his father, right like a spear, wearing a black and gold fabric. At his side, Queen Kadidiatou, Mother of Adama, kept his usual calm. Beautiful and sweet, she was often the only one to calm the cools of the king. Adama walked and bowed slightly. - Father. Mother. "Sit down," said the king, without even lifting his eyes. Adama obeys. - I thought, continued the king. It's time for you to take wife. The silence that followed was heavy. Adama slowly raised his eyes. He expected everything except that. - A wife? Why now? - Because it's the moment. You are the heir. The people must see in you a responsible man, ready to govern. And for that, you must have a woman at your side. - And ... it's me who will choose? The king looked at him finally. His gaze was hard, without appeal. - No. You will be marrying Aïssata, the daughter of the chief of Dambala. It's a strategic alliance. Their land will be useful to us. Adama felt his heart squeezing. He knew Aïssata. She was beautiful, educated, respectful. But he did not like it. And even worse: he almost did not know her. - Father ... I do not want a strategy marriage. I want to marry the one I would like. Someone who shares my dreams, my values ... the king got up abruptly. - Your dreams! This is your problem! You dream too, Adama. The crown has only to make your poems and your walks. It requires acts, not feelings. The queen gently put her hand on the king's arm. - Left at least the time to think about it ... but the king shook his head. - There is nothing to think. The marriage will take place in a month. And it's a royal decision. Unchangeable. Adama got up in his turn. - So I refuse. The sentence resonated in the room as a thunderclap. SORY, remained withdrawn, widened his eyes. Kadidiatou froze. The king, him, pale. - You refuse? he repeated, incredulously. - Yes. I am not a pawn that we move on a chessboard. I am your son. And I am a free man. The king advanced towards him, slowly. - As long as you live under this roof, that you wear my name and that you breathe thanks to my kingdom ... you are not free. You are the Prince of Sogoya, and you will obey. Adama felt fire climbing in him. He knew he was going too far. But he could no longer back. - So I will leave. A glazing silence fell on the room. Even the drums outside seemed to have stopped. - If it's the price to pay to stay myself ... so I leave the palace. The king stared at him, open mouth, unable to believe what he had just heard. Kadidiatou, tears in the eyes, murmured: - Adama, please ... But the young prince had already turned the heels. He came out of the room, the heart beating at full speed. He did not know where he would go. But he knew he was leaving to save what he had more precious: his freedom.