Women Of Steel | ✔

XV

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I'm on fire.

I jolt awake with the scalding realization that I am not lying on the cold sand or in my chambers, I am lying on Tadenikawo's soft fur bed. My body temperature is burning to the point of pain, and a bolt of shock goes through me as I caress my smooth naked skin, skin that is supposed to be reduced to ashes and burns.

I felt the fire, I saw the fire and yet I remain unhurt.

The anklet on my ankle is missing and I discover too late the pricking presence watching me in a corner of the room -- the king himself, a piece of jewelry dangles from his fingers carelessly, my anklet.

With a snarl, I rise to my feet, naked and unaware.

"Give it back," I snarl.

He steps into the glow of the lanterns with a cruel smile on his face looking like the beasts in tales my father would tell me and my siblings.

"This belonged to my mother, how did you get it?" He says softly, dangerously.

"It belonged to my own mother, forged by her own father, chief wizard!" I hiss, reaching for a cloth discarded on the floor to cover me.

His gaze sweeps lazily and wickedly over my body and I shiver with disgust, he has never looked at me that way, with the intent to claim me, to hurt me in the one way he has not.

"Believe me, wife, I have no intent to touch you - not yet anyway," He drawls at the shining fear and disgust in my own face. "Now, on the matter of this anklet -"

I cut him off mid speech.

"It belonged to my mother and it is now mine," I declare, fighting the pitiful urge to burst into tears.

Tadenikawo will not give it back, not when he knows what power it wields in the hand of a it's rightful owner. Even I was not aware of the extent of it's power until it saved me from magic.

"You lost the duel," He tells me, watching me carefully for any reaction.

I grit my teeth at my own stupidity, the fire did not hurt me obviously but what did was the shock, I fainted out of shock and it cost me.

"Don't worry wife, you lost but you managed to prove your strength to the commoners watching." He says. "Congratulations wife, you are the most feared woman,"

I scoff.

"I know my strength husband,I don't care for strength, I wanted to win."

"Still boastful as always,"

"Give back my anklet, distracting me will not work."

He shrugs a powerful shoulder.

"It was worth trying, you will not get this anklet back from me, you can die trying if you like," I see the way his grip tightens on the piece of jewelry, the glint in his eyes and I can tell it means something to him, maybe as much to me.

"Then I die,"

Again he shrugs, leaning against the wall. The longer he stares, the more my skin crawls. Under this flimsy material I feel vulnerable and frightened at the thoughts that run through his head. He is merely feet away, quick for him to reach for me -

I struggle to banish such thoughts as the smirk on his face grows.

"I wonder If you will scream my name in pleasure or pain when I touch you,"

My grip tightens on the wrapper to the point of pain but I say nothing, he knows what words to say to break me.

He shakes his head and turns away not before he throws his final words to me.

"The morrow is the Orisha festival, after the festival you must see the chief wizard. He has words for you."

-----

Once again, the villagers have gathered in the village square, not to jeer at their queen but to celebrate the gods,the festival lasts all day and it began with a fishing festival at the river Osun in honor of the river goddess.

It ends in the village square where the whole village gathers to eat iyan and gbegiri soup filled with assorted meat and fishes, to dance under the moonlight to the drums and flutes and sing praises of war and praises of the deities. The crowd is considerably smaller than last year's festival and we have the forest people to sing praises to for that.

I notice a few lingering gazes on me as I sit by my husband, I was informed that as soon I was set on fire, the crowd was chased away. I am sure a few of those stares wonder how I still stand in one piece.

I catch a few fearful glances too, I should feel better but I still sulk over my losses. The bitter taste of failure lingers in my tongue.

The chiefs around the king leer lustfully at the dancing girls entertaining the king. They wear clothes that barely cover their bodies and twist their waists skilfully to the beat of the drums in a way that beckons the stares of men and jealous ones of the women.

I wonder how many of them will be sold off to leering men tonight.

To my right, my husband laughs boisterously at a chief's sly suggestion of the king picking a woman for the night, regardless of me - his wife sitting near them.

I feel his eyes on me, gauging my reaction. I give him none, he can build a harem like the kings in the Hausa kingdom for all I care.

"When will his highness take another wife, one that will give him a heir?" Ogundeji, one of the chiefs urges with a  thinly veiled insult towards me.

"Who says this one will not give me a heir?" Tadenikawo asks.

Ogundeji remains quiet, unsure what to say in reply.

"Not in your dreams, dear husband." I mutter under my breath, low enough for him to hear.

I can almost see his smirk.

"We will see dear wife."

The conversation goes on,soon palm wine is brought, the white liquid flowing freely from calabashes into the mouths of the chiefs and the king, there is a certain freeness about him tonight, it is like he has discovered the answers to his problems. His hands even find the waist of one of the dancing girls.

I sit pretty in my bright purple aso oke with my own crown sitting on my head, sulking and wishing with all my heart that I am anywhere but here. Wishing is for the lazy and hopeless, nonetheless I continue.

The mosquitoes and fire flies buzz in mockery of my foolish wishes.

It reaches that part of the night where the chief wizard announces the prophesies of the future and what lies in store for the village.

The chief priest sits on the sand with strange beads, cowries and a calabash of water set out before him, his servant boy stands near him, gripping a long walking stick.

The beats of the drum is non existent and all merriment is faded and forgotten about. All hopeful eyes are on the priest, the people hope for a better future, a future where they do not die of strange sicknesses, a future where they do not live under the fear of the enemies. A future where their children are safe.

A part of me hopes for that future too.

The chief priest shuts his eyes tightly, chanting under his breath. Thunder rumbles in the sky, perhaps a sign from the god of thunder himself.

Suddenly the priest's eyes snap open, gasps resonate in the square, the priest's eyes are a milky white. The word that tumble out of his mouth is not a good one either.

"Eje, eje pupo."

Translations

Iyan and gbegiri - iyan means pounded yam, it is a doughy dish and is eaten as a swallow, gbegiri is soup made from beans.

Eje pupo - Eje means blood. Eje pupo means so much blood.