Chapter 22: THE MORNING WITHOUT ANSWERS

Morning did not rise gently over the palace.

It arrived with noise.

Not the usual noise of work and movement—but sharper, unsettled, uneven. Voices carried farther than they should. Orders were given twice. Guards moved with a stiffness that did not belong to routine.

Something was wrong.

And everyone knew it.

Abena was already awake before the first call to work sounded. She had not slept long, but her body did not show it. She moved as she always did—slow, measured, controlled.

Ama sat beside her, quieter than usual.

“Stay close to me today,” Abena said as she adjusted the child’s cloth.

Ama nodded.

“I will.”

They stepped out into the morning air.

The compound looked the same.

But it did not feel the same.

Groups of guards stood in places they did not usually stand. Some spoke in low, urgent tones. Others moved back and forth without settling, as if waiting for something that had not yet been explained.

Adwoa approached quickly.

“You have seen it?” she asked under her breath.

Abena nodded once.

“Yes.”

Adwoa glanced around.

“They found him.”

Abena did not react outwardly.

“Where?” she asked calmly.

“Near the outer path,” Adwoa replied. “They say he never made it back to his post.”

Abena adjusted Ama’s hand in hers.

“And do they know what happened?”

Adwoa shook her head.

“No. That is what is making it worse.”

A horn sounded from the inner courtyard.

Not a loud one.

But one that meant attention.

All movement slowed.

Then shifted.

“The king,” someone whispered.

Abena’s eyes lifted slightly toward the inner space.

Ama squeezed her hand.

“What is happening?” the child asked softly.

Abena looked down at her.

“Nothing you need to be afraid of,” she said.

Ama nodded, trusting the answer even if she did not understand it.

They were all gathered closer than usual that morning. Slaves, attendants, and guards stood within listening distance of the raised platform where the king would speak.

The king emerged slowly.

Older now than his posture tried to show.

But still carrying the authority that no one in that place questioned aloud.

His eyes moved across the space.

A man who did not like disorder.

When he spoke his voice carries without effort.

“One of my guards is dead.”

Silence fell completely.

Only listening.

“He was found where he should have been working,” the king continued. “Not in battle, but taken in the night...Stabbed several times "

His gaze moved again, slower this time.

“This is not an accident.”

A pause.

Long enough for the weight of his words to settle into every body present.

“Someone within this place has forgotten what order means.”

The tension thickened.

Abena stood still.

Her face calm.

Her grip on Ama steady.

The king stepped slightly forward.

“I do not tolerate confusion in my house.”

His voice did not rise.

It did not need to.

“Whoever has done this has tested something they do not understand.”

A murmur threatened to rise among the guards, but one look from him silenced it again.

He continued,

“There will be no panic. There will be no foolish accusations.”

Another pause.

Then, more sharply:

“But there will be consequences when truth is uncovered.”

The word when stayed in the air, certain.

The king turned slightly to one of his senior guards.

“Search the grounds again. Question only where necessary. I want clarity—not noise.”

The guard bowed.

“It will be done.”

The king’s gaze returned to the gathered crowd one last time.

“Return to your duties.”

And just like that—

it ended.

But nothing returned to normal.

Not truly.

As the people began to disperse, the silence remained under everything. Conversations were quieter. Movements more careful. Even the air felt heavier, as if the palace itself had begun to listen more closely to its own shadows.

Adwoa exhaled slowly beside Abena.

“He is angry,” she whispered.

Abena replied,

“He is controlled.”

Adwoa shook her head.

“That is worse.”

Ama tugged lightly at Abena’s hand.

“Will they find who did it?” she asked.

Abena looked down at her.

Her voice was calm.

“They will look.”

Ama frowned slightly.

“That is not what I asked.”

Abena held her gaze for a moment.

Then said,

“No.”

Ama seemed satisfied with that answer.

Children accepted certainty more easily than adults.

Adwoa glanced at Abena.

“You said that too quickly,” she murmured.

Abena began walking.

“Then do not repeat it,” she replied.

They moved toward their assigned work area.

Around them, the palace continued—on the surface.

But underneath, something had shifted.

Trust had cracked.

Control had been questioned.

And though no one spoke it aloud, it was there—

A quiet, dangerous thought moving from one mind to another:

Someone inside these walls had acted.

And remained unseen.

Abena worked as she always did.

Ama stayed close.

And the palace, for the first time in a long time, did not feel like a place where everything was known.

Because now, there was something in it that could not be traced.

Something that moved without being seen.

And Abena Korsi carried that knowledge inside her like a secret that was no longer heavy, but sharpening.