The Tembo estate at night was a masterpiece of intimidation. Floodlights bathed the white pillars in a cold, celestial glow, and the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming Queen of the Night.
Leya sat in the back of the Tembos' black Mercedes, her cello case wedged between her and her Aunt Beatrice. Beatrice looked remarkably calm, her hands folded over a beaded handbag, but Leya could see the tightness around her eyes.
"Remember, Leya," Beatrice whispered as the car smoothed to a halt. "You are not a beggar in this house. You are a Kapiri. They owe you the truth, even if they only pay you in secrets."
The front door was opened by a steward in a crisp white tunic. They were led not to the dining room, but to the music salon—a rotunda of glass and marble that overlooked the darkened gardens.
Chileshe Tembo was already there. She was standing by a grand piano, a glass of amber liquid in her hand. She wore a kaftan of deep emerald silk that made her look like a forest deity. Beside her, Mwansa Tembo stood with his hands behind his back, looking at a portrait of himself on the far wall.
"Beatrice," Chileshe said, her voice a low, musical greeting. "It has been too long. London hasn't managed to dull your edges."
"And Lusaka hasn't managed to soften yours, Chileshe," Beatrice replied, stepping forward.
The air in the room was brittle. It wasn't the heat of an argument; it was the cold of a deep-freeze. Zazu was standing in the shadows by the balcony, dressed in a charcoal suit. When his eyes met Leya's, the intensity was almost physical—a silent apology for the trap he'd helped set.
"We have a problem," Mwansa said, turning around. His voice was the one that had led a nation, but tonight it sounded tired. "This 'Heritage Society' business. It has stirred up the Board. Musi's father is threatening to leak the 2012 audit details to the press to discredit you, Leya. He thinks if he can prove your mother was a thief, he can invalidate your claim to the scholarship—and the school land."
"But she wasn't a thief," Zazu said, stepping into the light. "And you know it, Dad."
Chileshe silenced him with a single look. She turned to Leya. "The truth is a luxury we cannot afford right now. If the 2012 files are opened, the Consortium will see that the encryption keys are still active. They will finish what they started. They will drain the national reserves before we can blink."
"So I have to disappear again?" Leya asked, her voice trembling. "To keep your 'stability' intact?"
"No," Chileshe said. She set her glass down and pointed to the cello. "Tonight, we are hosting a private dinner for the Chairman of the ZANACO Bank. He is the one who holds the lien on the Academy's debt. If he sees the Kapiri and Tembo children together—not as enemies, but as a united front—he will renew the endowment regardless of what Musi's father says."
"You want me to perform," Leya said, the realization turning her stomach. "You want me to be a prop in your political theater."
"I want you to be a partner," Chileshe corrected. "Play the piece you played at the Jubilee. The one that sounded like the city. Show him that the legacy isn't broken. It's just evolved."
Leya looked at Zazu. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. He wasn't asking her to bow down; he was asking her to take the stage.
The dinner guests arrived shortly after—men in expensive suits who smelled of cigars and power. Leya took her place in the center of the rotunda. As she tightened her bow, she saw Zazu take a seat directly in her line of sight.
She didn't play the city. She played something older. She played a melody her mother used to hum—a song of the Luapula river, deep and mournful, but with a rhythmic pulse that felt like a heartbeat.
As the notes echoed off the marble, the room went silent. The "Dinner of Ghosts" became a funeral for the lies they had all been telling. Leya watched Chileshe's face. For a brief second, the Iron Lady's mask slipped, and Leya saw a flash of the woman who had sat in a police cell in 2012, weeping for a friend she was about to betray.
When the final note faded, the Chairman didn't clap. He simply stood up and walked over to Leya. "Your mother had a saying, Miss Kapiri. She said that music is the only ledger that never lies." He turned to Mwansa. "The endowment is safe. But I want the Heritage Society to oversee the annual audit. I think it's time the children checked our math."
The power shifted. Mwansa looked stunned. Chileshe looked impressed. And Zazu... Zazu looked like he wanted to burn the whole house down and start a new world with Leya in the ashes.
But as the guests began to leave, Beatrice leaned into Leya's ear. "Don't get comfortable, Leya. The Chairman didn't just give you a scholarship. He gave you a target. Musi's father won't stop at the Board anymore. He's going to go for the source."
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