Women Of Steel | ✔

II

"I have reinstated you as Queen."

His words echoes in the wide space of the throne room, the walls catch it and whisper it back to the fur tapestries. I let out a bitter giggle that soon turns into a maniac burst of laughter, snorts punctuate my laughter, something I know disgusts him by the deep scowl on his face.

He always did try to make me into the perfect wife, the one that would smile when told to, the one with the graceful laugh that sounds like the tinkling of pretty bells. I will never be that woman, I laugh like a pig and I love it.

I double over in laughter until I'm gasping for air and tears run down my cheeks ruining the powder on my face. When I try to compose myself, his words come ringing my head and my laugh fest continues. This is all a big joke -it has to be.

I see him rise from his throne.

The King's hand wrapping around my throat cuts the air from my lungs. I choke out a breath in amusement and pain. My hands are reaching blindly for him cheek and the sound of the sudden slap echoes in the quiet space.

He lets go immediately. I gulp in air greedily and raise a hand to steady my loose headdress. I watch my husband raise a hand to strike me, I cannot hide my impulsive flinch. He sees this and lowers his hands, bunching them into fists.

"You witch." He mutters dangerously.

I grin fierily.

"Remember that the next time you lay your filthy hands on me, I am your nightmare Oba Tadenikawo."

"I am your husband and your king. Your life remains in my hands ife Mi" He warns. "I will let this defiance slide."

"The only time I will ever be your servant again is in your wildest imaginations. You are a joke, a jester. I am not your queen and will never be. If I be a queen then I am the queen not your queen." I assure him. A muscle ticks in his clean shaven jaw, exposing the anger he tries so hard to conceal.

He hums a laugh and my initial rage returns.

"Is this a game to you? A joke?" I snap, my hands itch to rip his throat apart with the knife hidden in my skirts.

I came prepared. I will never let this bastard control me again.

He toys with the sceptre in his hands in a bored manner as he returns to his throne, a sure gesture of this superiority and as if my presence bores me. It only annoys me further. My fist tighten of their own accord and the corner of my lip twitches.

"Answer me!" I command with venom. "Answer me, you bastard."

"It's a game, call it a game of charade. Play with me, you are the only one who gives me a challenge." He speaks. He rises from his sinful throne again to stand in front of me. "I have indeed missed you, wife." He mutters in that dangerously soft voice.

What kind of sick game is he up to now?

I dare to look him in the eyes, our heights and strengths matching. I have never been so thankful of my unusual tall height than in this moment, my mother's last words to me when I was forcefully taken from my family comes back ringing in my ears.