Inside the royal palace of M'banza-Kongo, power moved like smoke—thick, choking, and impossible to grasp.
Sarai kept her head bowed and her hands busy. She had taken the guise of a young servant girl, one of many tasked with cleaning the outer court and assisting the palace attendants. No one asked questions if you looked like you belonged—and if you kept quiet.
She had been in the palace for almost a week now.
And in that time, she had seen enough to know one thing: Lumingu's shadow stretched further than any of them feared.
Portuguese soldiers came and went with impunity. Not just merchants or advisors—but uniformed men, speaking softly in hallways and handing sealed documents to ministers with faces like stone. They never stayed long. Just long enough to remind everyone that the throne was no longer entirely Kongo's.
