Abuchi moved, not with the awkwardness of someone trying to impress, but with the fluid command of someone who owned the very stage he stood on. His dance wasn't flashy, but every motion was deliberate, sharp, clean. Art.
His outfit shimmered under the lights, a tailored fusion of royal and modern, flowing like liquid metal with each step. The symbol of Lionara etched over his chest sparkled each time he turned.
His voice rose again:
đ”"Not for gold, not for throne, not for fame,
But for hearts that dared whisper my name.
I rise not alone, but with every cry,
That dared to dream beneath this sky."đ¶
The hall erupted.
People gasped, clapped, cried out softly. Guests who had been stiff and formal were now gripping their seats, leaning forward, unable to blink.
Some stood.
Obinna's jaw dropped. He actually forgot to breathe. "That's my brotherâŠ" he muttered, blinking fast. "He'sâhe's actuallyâŠ"
Nnenna covered her mouth. Her eyes were wide, glimmering.
Queen Chioma?
