Women Of Steel | ✔

VI

The brightness of the sky is an obvious contrast to the darkness waging war in me. When I was a child, I used to be amazed by the moon and it's beautiful luminous light and even now I still wonder how something so beautiful could shine down on this cruel, evil world.

I used to sit outside with my family every night when the moon came out and we would watch for hours before going to bed. We would tell each other tales of the day's events and folktales under the moon - my father was fond of stories and so was my mother. We were a mundane family but we used to be happy but now I know nothing of the family I used to have.
Even now, I still keep the tradition alive, except that I sit alone and count my woes. I sit outside the horse stables; a shed that displays only the best of the king's horses, Tadenikawo has a thing for displaying and flaunting all his conquests.

The horses are asleep now and only my low murmurings and the chirping of crickets, mosquitoes and birds are the only sounds I hear. Occasionally, I also catch the ends of a barked command from a guard on the night shift.

In the almost silent moment, my mind begins to wonder slowly to the events of today, after the controversial answer of the hairdresser, the princess had them sent away and demanded new hairdressers at once, Omolara accused me of believing name smearing rumours against her brother; my husband.
She accused me of not being loyal to the throne but in the end all I had to do was pacify her with a fake but saccharine love declaration for her brother.

Sometimes, I feel sorry for her, still stuck under a stupid bubble of innocence, her brother is her hero, her everything and the overwhelming belief that her brother can do no wrong continues to blind her. If Tadenikawo can hurt other women then the gods will come back for his sister. The blood of the innocent ones the king has harmed will haunt him. Truth be told; Omolara will suffer the consequences of her brother's wrongdoings.

What bothers me more isn't the princess and her ignorance, no, I have more pressing issues to think about - like the curse the gossip hairdresser spoke about, a curse that can be twisted to achieve what I desire.

A curse that has been spoken about for years now, a curse that supposedly began with Tadenikawo's reign, a curse that could end him.

My mother used to speak about the curse when I was younger, but I cannot remember the precise details. Something about a crown of thorns and a king who could not love.

There is only one person that can tell me about this curse, or at least what it is. Someone I have not seen in many moons now. Someone I need Tadenikawo's permission to see.
Tadenikawo will make me grovel at him in mercy before he grants my request.

I shake my head and slap a hand to my stinging arm, bloody mosquitoes. My idea is foolish but before I can think any further I am marching towards the king's hut - the king's second chambers, he often sleeps here rather than his designated chambers -- the one that was forbidden to enter unless by invitation.

My feet carry me to the threshold and I swallow bile at the thought of being alone with Tadenikawo. I throw caution to the wind and pray to the gods as I enter the room.

This hut is thrice the size of an average one in the palace compound and it is designed properly as a place to rest, it even has a proper bed.

My eyes adjust to the dimness and are fixed solely on his naked back turned away from me. That same crawling feeling I get when I share the same air with him comes back in full force.

Scars that tell different stories of war line his sturdy back - scars that I have traced with my fingers. Tadenikawo was not always wicked with me.

Scars that show and cement his prowess as a man of war.

Tadenikawo raises his head slightly from whatever he is doing and tilts his head in my direction.
He does not chastise me for entering unannounced, strangely he reminds me of a wounded Kìnìún with the rigid way he stands as if he expects somebody to spring upon him in attack.