Chapter 2: When the Sun Still Shone

 

The riverbanks of eSwatini shimmered in the afternoon heat, the water curling lazily around smooth stones, reflecting the golden sun above. The laughter of village children echoed in the distance, mingling with the rhythmic songs of the women pounding maize into flour. Birds flitted between the reeds, their calls blending into the rustling of the tall grass swaying in the warm breeze. twenty-year-old Zakhona sat on a low rock, her sandals tossed carelessly aside, letting the warmth of the earth seep into her bare feet. The hem of her blue cotton dress fluttered as she dipped her toes into the water, delighting in the coolness against her skin. She felt free here, away from the ever-watchful eyes of her attendants, away from the expectations of being a princess. She had come to the river alone, but she was not alone for long. "You shouldn’t be here by yourself," a voice called from the shallows. Zakhona turned sharply, startled. A young man stood knee-deep in the water, his dark skin glistening with droplets, the sun painting golden streaks along his shoulders. He was tall, his frame lean but strong, his arms marked with the faint scars of a warrior-in-training. His gaze held a quiet amusement, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk that sent a spark of annoyance through her. "I don’t remember asking for your opinion," she shot back, lifting her chin. The man—Sipho—laughed, a deep, warm sound that rippled through the humid air like a drumbeat. "Forgive me, princess, but the river can be dangerous. The current is stronger than it looks.” Zakhona narrowed her eyes. "And you think I can’t handle myself?” Sipho shrugged, stepping forward, the water swirling around his legs. "I don’t doubt you, only the river.” She should have dismissed him then, should have reminded him of his place and her own. But something in his voice—calm, steady, unafraid—intrigued her. Instead of sending him away, she surprised herself. "If the river is so dangerous, then why are you standing in it?” "Because I know its secrets." His smirk deepened as he splashed water toward her, droplets catching the light like scattered diamonds.

Zakhona gasped, her momentary composure forgotten. "You dare?” Sipho took a step back, raising his hands in surrender. "A mere accident, my lady.” "A grave mistake," she corrected before leaping forward, her feet kicking up water as she sent a wave in his direction. He laughed again, dodging, but she was faster than he expected. A well-aimed splash struck his chest, soaking the front of his simple tunic. He gaped at her in mock outrage. "You have declared war," he announced dramatically. "And I do not lose," she countered, standing defiantly in the shallows, the sun painting her brown skin with a golden sheen. The battle lasted only minutes, water flying in all directions as they splashed and dodged, laughing like children unburdened by duty or station. When they finally called a truce, Zakhona was breathless, her dress clinging to her legs, her braids dripping. Sipho, too, was drenched, his smile wide and easy. "You’re not like the other princesses," he murmured, studying her with something new in his gaze—something softer, something that made her pulse quicken. "And you’re not like the other warriors," she replied, feeling an unfamiliar warmth creep into her chest. A moment stretched between them, long and unbroken, filled only with the sound of the river's gentle murmur and their quiet, mingled breaths. Then, as if realizing the intimacy of the moment, Sipho stepped back, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I should go," he said reluctantly. "Before your guards come looking for you.” Zakhona nodded, though a part of her wished he would stay. "Will I see you again?” Sipho hesitated, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Do you want to?” She didn’t answer, not with words. But the smile that curved her lips spoke louder than anything she could have said. From that day on, they met in secret. Beneath the shade of the mango trees, where juice dripped from their fingers as they whispered about dreams too dangerous to say aloud. Behind the royal stables, where Sipho would trace the lines of her palm with reverence, as though he could read the future in her skin. At the river, where they stood together in the golden light, pretending for just a little while that duty did not exist. Neither of them spoke of what they were becoming. They didn’t need to. But even in those stolen moments, the weight of their world loomed ever closer, waiting to claim them.