The town crier's voice rang through the village square before the sun had fully climbed.
"Hear this! Hear this! Three days remain until the Rite of Returning! Let every household prepare offerings, garments, and sacrificial beasts according to the King's decree!"
He struck his staff against the packed earth for emphasis.
"Three days remain!"
Nia, who was balancing on the edge of a market stall with a mango in one hand, rolled her eyes so dramatically Bako nearly laughed himself sick.
"As if we cannot count," she muttered.
"He has shouted it every morning this week. If he says it again tomorrow I may offer him to the spirits."
Asha shot her a look. "Do not joke like that."
Nia smirked. "Why? Afraid the mountain will hear me?"
"Yes," Asha said immediately.
That wiped the grin off Nia's face for half a second.
Bako adjusted the charms tied around his wrist and leaned in eagerly, lowering his voice the way people did when they desperately wanted to be overheard.
"My uncle says the Rite of Returning has not been performed in over thirty years."
"That long?" Tare asked.
Bako nodded, eyes bright.
"Last time was before we were born. He says when the drumming starts, the mountain itself answers."
Nia snorted. "Your uncle says goats can predict rain by sneezing."
"They can," Bako said defensively.
"They cannot."
"They absolutely—"
Asha groaned. "Can we focus on the part where the kingdom apparently thinks we are cursed?"
Tare stood with his arms folded beside them, taller than the others, broad shouldered already despite his youth.
Unlike Bako's constant nervous energy or Nia's restless sarcasm, Tare carried himself with steadiness that made even adults pause when he spoke.
"If they're calling the Rite," he said, "then whatever is happening must be worse than they're telling us."
That silenced them.
Even Nia lost some of her humor.
Bako shifted uneasily. "You think the stories are true? About spirits punishing villages when balance breaks?"
Asha folded her arms tighter around herself.
"Animals are dying. The forest's gone strange. And no one will tell us why."
Nia muttered, "Because no one ever tells villagers anything."
Tare's gaze drifted toward the palace in the distance.
"At least we'll finally see what happens inside those walls."
Bako followed his gaze. "Meaning?"
"The royal family leads the rites," Tare said.
"The King, Queen, elders… and the Princess."
Nia's mouth curled slowly.
"Oh?"
Tare blinked. "What?"
"You said that with unusual interest."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did," Bako said.
Asha grinned now. "Tare wants to see the Princess."
Tare scoffed. "Everyone wants to see the Princess."
"Yes," Nia said. "But not everyone sounds like they've been personally invited."
The others burst into laughter.
Tare shoved Bako lightly when the boy nearly doubled over.
"You're all idiots."
Nia smirked. "Say what you want. If Princess Zaina stood near me, I'd ask if she truly insulted Elder Sogba to his face."
Bako laughed. "I heard she told a warrior his spear stance looked like a drunk goat."
"She did not."
"She did."
Asha faintly. "I heard she said the council was blind."
Tare's expression turned thoughtful.
"They say she warned them first."
The others quieted again.
Nia glanced toward the forest beyond the village.
"Well," she muttered, less joking now, "let's hope being right keeps us alive."
A guard found Zaina in the history room.
"The King and Queen request your presence, Princess."
Zaina looked up from the scroll she had barely been reading.
Her pulse jumped.
Had they found out?
She slid the old text closed too quickly.
"I'm coming."
Her parents waited in the smaller receiving chamber rather than the throne hall.
That alone eased some of her nerves.
The Queen sat with one leg crossed over the other, calm and composed as always. The King stood beside the open window, sunlight outlining his shoulders.
"You sent for me?" Zaina asked.
Her mother studied her.
"We did."
The King turned.
"You have spent more time in the history wing these past days than in all your years before combined."
Zaina forced herself not to stiffen.
"That sounds like praise."
"It is concern," the Queen replied.
Zaina folded her hands behind her back.
"I thought I should better understand the Rite before standing before half the kingdom pretending I know what I'm doing."
The King's brow lifted.
Pretending.
That sounded enough like honesty to be believable.
Her mother exchanged a brief glance with her father.
Then nodded.
"A fair reason," the Queen said.
Zaina resisted the urge to exhale too visibly.
The King gestured for her to sit.
She did.
"You will stand at the forefront of this ritual," he said.
"Beside us. Before the people. Before the elders. This is not merely ceremony—it is leadership."
Her mother added more gently, "The people will watch how you carry yourself."
Zaina lifted her chin.
"Then they will see I carry myself well."
The Queen's mouth twitched faintly.
"There is the confidence we expected."
Zaina leaned back slightly. "Is that all this is? A lecture on posture and smiling?"
"No," said the King. "It is also to ask how you are holding up."
That caught her off guard.
She blinked.
"What?"
The Queen's gaze softened.
"You have been quieter."
"You are preparing for a great responsibility," the King said. "We wished to know if you feared it."
Zaina almost laughed.
Feared it?
She feared many things.
But never being watched.
Never being challenged.
Never standing where she believed she belonged.
"I'll manage," she said.
The King gave her a long look.
Then nodded once.
"As expected."
Zaina hesitated.
Then asked—
"What about security?"
"If our rivals know our boundaries are weakened," she said carefully,
"what stops them from using the ritual as a distraction?"
The King's face darkened.
"Preparations are being made."
"The perimeter around the mountain will be watched day and night," the Queen added.
The King continued, "Warrior patrols have doubled. Scouts will rotate at every outer post."
Zaina nodded slowly.
"Kalu is among those assigned," her mother added casually.
Zaina blinked.
"Kalu?"
The Queen nodded. "He has done well in recent patrols. The commanders trust him."
"Hm," Zaina said, pretending that mattered less than it did.
The King gave her a suspicious look.
"What was that sound for?"
"Nothing."
"It sounded judgmental."
"It was thoughtful."
The Queen hid a smile behind her hand.
The King muttered,
"Gods preserve me from raising two women who think mockery is conversation."
"Three," Zaina corrected.
Her mother laughed aloud.
The King stared at both of them with long suffering patience.
Then finally sighed.
"If all goes well," he said, more seriously now, "by this time next week, the boundaries will be restored."
Silence settled over them.
The Queen rested her hand over his.
"And this fear will end."
Zaina looked between them.
At their certainty and hope.
At the calm they were trying so hard to believe in.
Then beyond them
through the open window
to where the forest stretched dark against the horizon.
A strange unease coiled low in her stomach.
Cold.
Persistent.
Unwanted.
And though she said nothing
she did not believe the danger would end with the ritual.
She thought
with a certainty she could not explain
that it was only beginning.