Say Walah

53: A Damning Truth

The climb left me breathless, each step a reminder of my weakened state. The sun painted Abankiti in hues of gold and amber below, the town sprawling like a scattered collection of clay beads across the valley. Mairo stood at the edge, her silhouette ethereal against the backdrop of endless sky. Her wrapper fluttered in the hill breeze, the same deep blue as the heavens above.

When she turned, those remarkable golden eyes widened, filling with tears that caught the sunlight like gem stones. There was no hesitation – she ran to me with the grace of a gazelle, her feet barely seeming to touch the earth. Her hands, warm and soft, found my face, cradling it as though I were made of the finest clay pot.

"You're real," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You're actually here."

Before I could respond, her lips found mine in a kiss that spoke of weeks of fear and longing. It was passionate yet tender, desperate yet gentle – a kiss that tasted of relief and joy and something deeper, something that felt like destiny. Time seemed to stop, the world narrowing to just this moment, just us.

When we finally parted, my legs betrayed me, and I swayed slightly. Her arms were around me instantly, steady and strong despite her slender frame.

"Careful, farmer," she murmured, guiding me to sit on a smooth rock overlooking the valley. "You're still healing."

I smiled weakly. "Worth the climb though."

She settled beside me, our bodies fitting together as naturally as though we'd done this a thousand times before. "I've been coming here every day," she said, her head finding its place on my shoulder. "Praying to Allah to bring you back to me."

"Every day?"

"Mmm." Her hand found mine, our fingers intertwining. "The old woman in the market said I was mad, that no one could survive such poison. But I knew..." She squeezed my hand. "I knew you wouldn't leave me so easily."

A comfortable silence fell between us, broken only by the whisper of wind through the grass. Then she chuckled softly.

"What's funny?" I asked, enjoying the way her laughter vibrated against my shoulder.

"Do you remember what you said to me that night, at your compound? Before everything happened? About how you'd never seen golden eyes before?"

"I remember everything about you."

She lifted her head to look at me, those extraordinary eyes dancing with mischief. "You said they must be blessed by your gods. Then promptly tripped over your own feet trying to bow."

"I did not!" I protested, but couldn't help laughing. "I was... gracefully adjusting my stance."

"Oh, is that what we're calling it?" Her laughter rang out across the hillside. "The mighty Shadow of Onoka, defeated by my eyes?"

"They are rather dangerous weapons," I admitted, pulling her closer.

She settled back against me, her voice growing softer. "I thought I'd lost you. When they brought you back that day... there was no blood. Which made it all worse." Her hand tightened in mine. "If you make me worry like that again, I would kill you myself."

"I'll do my best," I promised, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Though I have to admit, waking up to you watching over me wasn't terrible."

"Nne Ogwu had to force me to leave to eat and sleep," she said. "I was afraid you'd disappear if I looked away too long."

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured her, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

We sat there as the sun continued its journey across the sky, holding each other, occasionally sharing soft kisses and quiet laughter. Below us, Abankiti continued its daily rhythm, unaware of the depth of love being shared on its sacred hills. The ancestors, if they were indeed watching, must have smiled upon us – two souls finding peace after the storm, healing together under the endless African sky.

The warmth of our earlier moments still lingered, but I felt Mairo's body tense against mine. Her golden eyes, which had been so full of joy moments before, now held shadows I hadn't noticed earlier. She took my hands in hers, her fingers trembling slightly.

"Orji..."

My heart skipped – she had never spoken my name before. The way it fell from her lips, soft yet heavy with meaning, made me understand why she had waited until this moment.

"They found me."

The three words hung in the air like storm clouds. "Who did?"

"My family." Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on our intertwined hands. "A few days ago, while you were still unconscious... my cousin Jibril and Aminu rode into Nne Ogwu's compound with their men."

"What?" I straightened, ignoring the protest from my healing wounds. "How did they—"

"They've been searching for a long time." She finally looked up at me, her eyes glistening. "The emir, the waziri... my father..." Her voice caught. "The sultan had them killed. My running away... it set off a chain of events I never could have imagined."

We sat in heavy silence, the weight of her words settling between us like stones. The breeze that had felt so gentle before now seemed cold against my skin.

"What did your cousin come all this way to do?" I asked, though part of me feared the answer.

"To take me back to Garin Gabas." Her grip on my hands tightened. "The past year has changed everything. The sultan of the Gwari empire... he grew sick and died. His son Rashid now sits on the throne as emperor." She took a shaky breath. "He's been sending bounty hunters across every inch of the northern lands, even down here to the southeast. All looking for his betrothed—me."

"For you? But why—"

"Jibril says I'm the only hope for my kingdom now." Her voice cracked slightly. "The only one who can make things right."

"What does that mean?" I asked, though the sinking feeling in my stomach suggested I already knew.

Mairo stood suddenly, walking a few steps away. Her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out over Abankiti. "My father was the waziri, but he was more than that. He was the true voice of our people. When the sultan had him killed... it fractured our kingdom. Now with the old sultan dead and Rashid in power..." She turned back to me, and I saw tears tracking down her cheeks. "There are whispers of rebellion. The northern houses are divided. Jibril believes that I... that my return could unite them."

"As what?" I managed to ask, though my throat felt tight.

"As their rightful leader." The words seemed to pain her. "The daughter of the martyred waziri, returned to restore justice to the north."

I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. Mairo was at my side instantly, supporting me, even as her own world seemed to be crumbling.

"So you're..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"I'm still me," she said fiercely, pressing her forehead to mine. "I'm still the woman who fell in love with a farmer who couldn't stop staring at her eyes. Who prayed every day for him to wake up. Who dreams of a simple life..." Her voice broke. "But I'm also the daughter of a man who died because I chose freedom over duty. And now... now I don't know if I have the right to choose freedom again."

I pulled her close, feeling her tears soak into my shoulder. Below us, Abankiti continued its peaceful existence, unaware that above it, on its sacred hills, two hearts were being torn between love and duty, between desire and destiny.

"When do they expect an answer?" I asked softly.

"Tomorrow," she whispered. "Jibril gives me until tomorrow."

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