Back to back books??

Well of course. I'm Jannah Mia after all❤️

Welcome aboard! Get ready for this crazy ride!!

Hope you've brought your snack and Pepsi?

Have you burnt your turaren wuta? Yes?

Then sit back, relax, and enjoy💕

Love, Your Favorite writer.

Always and Forever, Jannah Mia❤️

"You are my eldest child, Amir Qasim. You have responsibilities that lies on your shoulders—responsibilities that you cannot ignore." Sultan Muhammad Haroon II stated, his voice firm and his gaze steel like which he fixated on his son, seated in front of his on the Persian rug that decorated the floor of his private chambers.

Amir Qasim kept his head hung low, his lips slanted into a deep frown as a grim line formed between his brows. His heart was raging behind his ribcage, and uneasiness dawned upon him like a shroud. "Baba," He started, his voice low, and foreign to his own ears. He found himself releasing a slightly shaky breath before he then added, "I have never, not once in my twenty-four years of life, disrespected you, or gone against your wishes."

Sultan Muhammad nodded his head in agreement, "That is right," He ascertained, though his tone remained firm, already knowing where this conversation would lead to. "But, Qasim, your responsibility towards me as your father, and that towards your people are two different things. Yanxu, magana nake ma a matsayin Yerima. As the Crown Prince, you should know where your responsibilities lies to your people."

Amir Qasim took in another breath, his heart aching painfully behind his ribcage as he shook his head. "I cannot." He uttered, his voice small.

"Amir Qasim..." Sultan Muhammad warned, his voice becoming colder. "...I am not forcing you to do something out of your reach here." He stated, unable to understand where all these acts and emotions are coming from Qasim. "This is not something new. I went through it with your mother, the other Sultans before me went through it, bawani abu sabo bane."

"Baba, kayi haquri," Amir Qasim shook his head once again, and with every breath he takes, he felt suffocated even more having this conversation with his father. It is not exactly the topic that makes him sick to the core. Rather, it is the people involved in the picture. "Bazan iya ba. I cannot do it."

"Amir--"

"Baba, I am sorry--"

"—QASIM!" Sultan Muhammad's raging voice came, halting the words that were about to escape the lips of the young prince. He has heard those words one too many times, and has tried to understand where those words are coming from but he has come to a realization—it is all futile. It does not matter how soft he is trying to be with the young prince—if he does down that road, he will not be able to get what he wants.

Amir Qasim sealed his lips shut, keeping his head hung low. He could not bear to look up and see the look of disappointment that masks his father's face. He meant what he said earlier—he has never, not once gone against his father's wishes. Whatever his father wanted, he does it, he goes for it. Just this once though, for the first time, his father is asking something from him that he knows he cannot fulfill—he never can.

But, that of course leads to his father becoming disappointed, and he could not bear to see such an emotion in his father's face. To look up and see the disappointment in his eyes? He does not think he can do it.

Sultan Muhammad pushed himself off the Acmes Versailles sofa he was seated on, and Amir Qasim could see from the corner of his eyes as the monarch approached him—his steps slow, but intimidating. With every step he takes, the fragile organ behind Amir Qasim's ribcage thundered, and he found himself holding his breath when the Sultan stood right in front of him, towering his seated figure with his standing one, and all Amir Qasim could see were the handcrafted, high quality leather shoes befitting of the monarch.

"Listen to me well, Qasim," Sultan Muhammad started, his voice low, but commanding. "The marriage alliance between us, and the Kubi Caliphate will still happen whether you want it or not—and I am advising you to accept it. The sooner you do so, the better it is for you and everyone else."

At the mention of those people, the Kubi Caliphate entirely, all Amir Qasim could feel was bubbling, raging anger that threatened to engulf him as a whole. He is not a man who holds grudges, or lets his emotions get the best of him. But, when it comes to these people—hatred is too small a word to describe the emotions that he feels towards them.

Perhaps, if it was any other Caliphate or Emirate, any other woman, he can stomach the thought of it and embrace his so-called responsibility as the Crown Prince and next Sultan. But not from that Caliphate, not a lady from them.

His father, despite aware of his long standing feelings towards the marriage ignored those said feeling, and carried on with his words. "Their Princess, Asma, is of marriageable age as well and will soon return to the country. And as soon as they set the date, the ties will be knot and she will become your wife. That will not change, Qasim."

To the Sultan, he feels Amir Qasim's reaction is normal, and that he will grow to get used to it. When he was arranged to marry the boy's mother, the tantrum he threw was much worse than the little act Amir Qasim is pulling. And though he will not say his mother and he have the best relationship decades into the marriage, but he has grown to accept it, and now they have a better relationship that those who married for the sake of love.

It has been the same way in the family for generations, Amir Qasim is no different. Besides, he personally agreed to this because Kubi Caliphate is the best choice they have—Amir Qasim needs to understand that and let go of his futile hatred.

What the Sultan failed to realize however, is that hatred is an emotion that lasts longer than any other emotion—it is more powerful, and more daunting. And the kind of hatred Amir Qasim has within him for these people—nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever make him accept a woman from them as his woman.

But, he knew his father as well, and the words the man just uttered are basically set to stone. He would not sway, no matter what he says, or do. So, instead of trying to plead otherwise, knowing it is merely a futile attempt, he simply swallowed down the bitter lump that has been stuck in his throat since this conversation started, his expression turning cold as he nodded, accepting his fate.

"If that is what you want, Baba," He started, then nodded his head. "I will do as you wish. I will marry her." It is not like he has a choice after all.

Sultan Muhammad released a relieved breath, upon getting the agreement from the young man, despite it being forced to a certain extent. He then nodded to himself. "That is good, then," He exhaled a breath. "You can go now. You are dismissed. Have a good night."

A good night? Amir Qasim doubts it. But, he did not utter it.

Instead, he released another breath he did not know he was holding, and then got on his feet. "Ka kwana lafiya," He bid his farewell, then turned around to walk out of the chambers.

However, just a few steps in, Sultan Muhammad's voice came, halting his steps. "Qasim?" He called out.

"Na'am?" Amir Qasim stopped, then turned around to look at his father for the first time since he came in.

Sultan Muhammad in that moment could see a side of his son that he has never seen before. It was cold, unrelentingly so. In that moment, he was not the beloved Crown Prince that everyone adored in the palace, but rather, a young man even he could not recognize—and he knew it came from his very actions.

So, in an attempt to subdue the gravity and impact of his actions, he then added. "I will not stop you from marrying another other woman you desire," He stated, his voice softening. "If you wish to marry someone else, you have my blessings."

Amir Qasim could only stare at him with his cold eyes, his words truly meaning little to him no matter how much comfort it should have brought. The damage is done already, and not even such promise would scrape it off. But instead of vocalizing what is truly in his mind, he offered his father a nod. "Nagode." He resorted to saying.

Sultan Muhammad nodded, a silent gesture of dismissal and he need not tell the young prince twice. Because the moment Amir Qasim turned around, he never looked back again as he walked out of the chambers with a deep rooted hatred that was only made to grow a thousand fold more from that very moment.

Anyone that saw him at that moment, every single one of the guards on duty that night that crouched down low to greet him, chanting praises in all directions could feel the coldness off him not just from getting ignored, but from his persona as a whole. He walked straight out of the Sultan's chambers, then made a beeline towards the parking area where he brought out his keys and unlocked his car.

Given how late it is, he is supposed to just head to his chamber and rest for the night—he would need it given the banging headache he has at the moment. But, he knew nothing at that moment would calm him, not aside from the one destination he has in mind. And it is with such destination that he drove out of the Royal Palace, unbothered by the speed at which he is driving far out of the usual, and then onto the streets of Sokoto.

The drive to his destination was about twenty-five minutes away from the royal palace, and by the time he arrived and parked outside the moderate house, for a split second as he sat in his car, he found himself wondering why he would go there that late. He could say he was so blinded by rage that for the past thirty minutes, everything he has done is based on that, but as he sat in his car and stared at the one door entrance of the house, he could feel some of the weight pressing him down dissipating.

He had no idea how long he sat in his car outside the car, but just when he felt his anger has simmered down a notch and was about to rev the car back to life again, the door to the house suddenly opened, and a familiar face stepped out with a rubber kettle in his hand, all dressed up in a grey jellabiya. His ever so present malam tabani kaji hadisi cap rested perched up on his trimmed hair head.

The man's steps came to a halt when he noticed the car outside the house, his lips curling into a frown upon recognizing the car. His eyes squinted slightly as he looked into the car, trying to see if the one he is thinking of is truly the one in the car or not—but the headlights were blinding him. Amir Qasim, upon noticing this, dimmed them down, allowing the man to see clearly. And once the man's gaze fell on Amir Qasim, that frown curled upwards into a confused smile.

That was the moment Amir Qasim decided to turn off the car and step out. The moment he stepped out, he was welcomed by the warm heat of Sokoto, even that late at night. He ignored it, the rounded the car just in time the earlier man approached him.

"Ah ah, Yerima," The man called out in surprise as he extended a hand out for a handshake, which was returned. "What are you doing here this late at night? I hope everything is fine."

"Ibrahim," Amir Qasim offered his childhood friend a slight smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Is Malam inside?" He asked instead, changing the topic as he glanced behind the man, as if the addressed man would show up.

Ibrahim's eyes narrowed slightly at the Prince, not missing how he is trying to evade the topic. It is obvious that there is something wrong with him. They did not grow up their entire life together for him to not be able to tell when something is wrong at the very least.

However, before Ibrahim could voice out his concern and start his small investigation, another familiar voice came, joining the conversation. "Ibrahim? Who is out there? Kai da waye ne naji kuna magana?"

The two turned around just in time the owner of the voice came to sight, and the moment their gaze met, Amir Qasim side stepped his friend and made his way towards the older man, and once close enough, he crouched low in front of him. "Malam, barka da dare."

Malam Tukur, Ibrahim's father and Amir Qasim's teacher since he was a little child stared at the Prince in front of him, his lips curled into a welcoming smile. "Yerima Qasim? Kaine haka da daddare? Come in please, shigo mana." He urged, as he leaned down to hold onto the man's shoulder, so he would guide him to stand upright. He has always tried to dissuade the man from such formalities, reminding him of his position but Amir Qasim could never—not just because he is his teacher, his friend's father, a second father to him as well, but for other reasons.

That was how Amir Qasim found himself seated alongside Malam Tukur and Ibrahim on the mat that was laid out in the small compound of the man's humble abode. Malam Tukur is not exactly a man of a wealthy origin, simply a man that has come from a lineage of teachers that have been blessed enough to teach those in the royal family—specifically, the Sultans in line for generations, but he has enough to live a simple life with his family as he always had.

Amir Qasim has been a student of his for over ten years, and at this point, he sees the young man as not just his student and Prince, but like a son to him since he is about the same age as his son, Ibrahim. Not to mention, how close those two are regardless of their social status and the significant difference between them. A lot of people in the palace could not understand why Amir Qasim would grow familiar with people from such humble origin—he is the Crown Prince for goodness sake, the Sultan in line.

He is supposed to mingle with children and people of high society, yet here he is, his closest confidant being a son of a mere scholar with no real, powerful position in court. For this reason alone, he is being undermined in court but their words never mattered to Amir Qasim, for he knew the peace he finds in being with the Tukurs.

The light conversation he has ongoing with Malam and Ibrahim was halted by the sound of soft footsteps approaching them, and while the two men in the family were the first to turn around, Amir Qasim knew who it is even without turning around. He need not, because soon enough, the owner of those soft footsteps reached where they were, and then crouched beside him as she placed the silver tray with three pure waters on it, along with two bottles of Zobo that was made.

Amir Qasim's gaze fell on her, his expression softening more than ever as he found himself almost holding his breath as she looked up, and then, her lips curled into those beautiful smiles of hers that never fails to leave him flabbergasted.

She blinked, those long lashes visible under the moon up high, and those beautiful black orbs stared right at him for a split second. "Barka da dare, Ya Kasim." She greeted, her head hung low shyly.

Amir Qasim swallowed down a lump, his heart rate spiking behind his ribcage as his lips curled into a small, genuine smile. He was scared for a split second he could not find his voice, but it came after all. "Lafiya..." He breathed out as his smile widened, all his worries dissipating as a warm feeling filled his heart within. Then, he added that fond name that he had peculiar to she alone. "...Fulani."

Fulani. His Fulani.

***

Toh jamaa Barkan mu da tahiya daga Kano zuwa Sokoto, wai mu Mun bi royalty ko😂

Barka barka,

Welcome to Amir Qasim's story!! Are you ready?? There's crazy drama coming up you know. Are you ready????

Thoughts so far? His father? He? The Tukurs? Kubi Caliphate??

What do you think is coming up? Toh Nidai ko ma miye ne, na dawo Yar gidan sarauta. Ehen. I'm not going anywhere.

Na so I enter the booth of Amir Qasim's car. Qafata qafar sa.

And Fulani??? His Fulani???🥹 Urgh!! I love them!!!

Guys tell me who is your favorite writer if not me?! Who sabi finish one book and start another within the same day??

Oya no just allow me to hype myself now. Comment Alajiiii, commenntttttt🥹

Share, share, and share!!

Jannah Mia is at it again...as always❤️

Don't fall my hand abeg, my village people will laugh at me abeg. Just comment kunji🥹 na beg I Dey beg now🥲

Tam, I hope you'll stick with me throughout this journey. Like I said it'll be crazy one so sign up for therapy abeg, you'll need it😂

Until then, stay safe and single,

Love, Jannah Mia❤️