A week after the royal gala, the Mensah Circus was the talk of every street and salon in Accra. Newspapers called Naki the pride of Ghanaian art, and the palace declared that her performance would forever mark "the golden age of entertainment."
But inside the circus grounds, peace was slipping away like sand through fingers.
Jealousy brewed among the performers—some whispering that Naki's fame came from Prince Malik's favor, others that she had stolen the spotlight meant for them.
And beneath the shining banners of the royal lion, something far more personal was about to break.
Naki was rehearsing alone one afternoon when a messenger galloped into camp. His royal insignia gleamed in the sun.
"Message from the Zubari Palace!" he announced. "By royal decree—Prince Malik extends his sponsorship to the newly formed Royal Sky Circus!"
The troupe froze. Kwesi dropped his torch mid-polish. Grandpa Ofori looked up slowly. "Royal Sky Circus?" he repeated. "There's only one 'sky' I know of…"
And then she saw him.
Ayoa "Sky" Boateng stepped down from the messenger's carriage, his blue and silver uniform catching the light. His smile was calm, confident—and heartbreakingly familiar.
"Naki," he said, bowing slightly. "It's been a while."
Her chest tightened. "You?"
He nodded. "The prince is founding a new royal troupe—one that tours across the continent. He asked me to lead the aerial division."
Naki's fingers clenched around the rope beside her. "You're joining him? After everything we've been through? After we fought side by side to prove ourselves?"
Sky's voice softened, but his eyes held ambition. "This is bigger than us, Naki. We both dreamed of flying higher. This is the chance."
"Higher," she echoed bitterly. "Or further away."
Kwesi stepped between them, his temper flaring. "You're just another pawn of the prince. You think he'll treat you like an equal? You'll be his puppet like Bianca!"
Sky's jaw tightened. "Watch your tongue, fire-breather."
Naki's voice cut through their argument. "Enough! Both of you."
She turned to Sky, her eyes bright with anger and hurt. "I thought we were rivals who respected each other—not enemies chasing the same crown."
Sky hesitated, his voice low. "You taught me how to fall, Naki. But you never taught me how to stop reaching."
With that, he turned and walked away, the royal insignia glinting at his shoulder as the carriage carried him off.
That evening, the circus grounds were quiet except for the soft crackle of torches. Naki sat outside the tent, staring at the stars.
Kwesi approached, his voice gentle for once. "You okay?"
She shook her head. "No. I can handle rivals, critics—even Ma's anger. But betrayal? That cuts different."
He sat beside her, lighting a small flame that flickered between them. "Maybe this is what fame really is—fire that burns everything close to it."
Naki watched the flame dance, her reflection flickering in its light. "Then I'll have to burn brighter. Brighter than the prince, brighter than the shadows, brighter than Sky."
The torches flared around them as if answering her vow.
The Flying Star would not be forgotten. Not by the prince. Not by her rival. Not by the world.