This was Queen Amina.
She was a beauty impossible to ignore, even without crown or jewels. Her dark skin glowed softly in the firelight, flawless and rich as polished obsidian. Thick curls framed her face before cascading down her back, her afro falling freely to her waist like a living mantle. Her figure was full and graceful, moving with practiced ease as she stirred, tasted, and corrected.
But it was her smile that truly held the room, a bright, genuine warmth that made servants forget their nervousness and remember their pride. She spoke to them not as subjects, but as family, offering praise as freely as instruction.
To any outsider, it would have been strange to see a queen standing in the heat of the kitchen, sleeves stained and hands busy. Yet within the Osita Kingdom, this was simply Amina, beloved ruler, heart of the palace, and a woman who believed that a kingdom was best governed not only from a throne, but from the shared labor and laughter of its people.
