The Mensah Circus had never gleamed so brightly.
Prince Malik's royal sponsorship transformed everything—new tents embroidered in gold, polished platforms, imported silks, even trained lions from Zubari's royal menagerie. For the first time, the once-humble family troupe stood as a symbol of national pride.
The crowds grew tenfold. So did the pressure.
Naki watched as workers hoisted the new crimson banner bearing the prince's crest—a golden lion's head wreathed in stars. It shimmered against the morning sun.
Kwesi whistled low. "From clown paint to royal gold," he said, tossing a torch from hand to hand. "You've outdone yourself, sis."
Naki smiled faintly. "We all have. The Mensah name is flying higher than ever."
But even as she said it, she could feel the tension simmering beneath the applause.
Ama and Kojo were arguing over stage positions. The contortionists demanded higher pay. The animal tamers grumbled about longer rehearsals. Everyone wanted a piece of the new glory—the lion's share.
And at the center of it all, Madam Efua's expression grew darker by the day.
That evening, during rehearsal, Naki swung from the ropes as the lions roared from their cages below. Malik sat in the audience box, watching intently, surrounded by courtiers taking notes on every act.
When Naki landed, Malik rose, clapping slowly. "Exquisite. The Flying Star never disappoints."
Before Naki could reply, Bianca—her old rival from Rosa's troupe, newly arrived under Malik's patronage—stepped forward, her smile sugary sweet. "Your Highness, perhaps the Flying Star shouldn't shine alone. The Royal Circus should have more than one crown jewel."
Whispers rippled through the performers.
Malik chuckled. "Competition breeds excellence, does it not?"
Efua's voice cut through the murmur. "Competition breeds cracks, Your Highness. We are a family, not a court."
Malik's smile thinned. "Then perhaps your family should learn how royalty performs."
Naki felt her stomach twist. The prince's words held both admiration and command. He wasn't just a patron—he was beginning to take ownership.
After rehearsal, the circus grounds buzzed with gossip. Some performers toasted to Malik's generosity. Others whispered that the Mensahs were becoming puppets of the palace.
Kwesi slammed his torch into the dirt. "He's turning this place into a royal circus, not ours."
Ama nodded grimly. "Bianca's already acting like she runs the tent."
Naki stayed silent, watching the golden lion banner flutter above. Her heart was torn—between gratitude for Malik's faith in her and fear of losing what made the circus theirs.
Later that night, as she stood alone beneath the tent, she heard her mother's footsteps.
Efua's voice was low, edged with sorrow. "I told you, Naki. The higher the rope, the harder the fall. Be careful who holds it for you."
Naki turned, meeting her mother's weary eyes. "I just wanted to give us a future."
Efua shook her head. "Then make sure it's our future, not his."
The lanterns flickered, casting the prince's lion crest across the canvas walls. It looked almost alive—watching, waiting.
And in that golden silence, Naki realized that every light cast a shadow.