Balogun

THE HAREM

"Sometimes, a warrior fights some battles, not with swords or arrows, but with his head."
- King Bankole

Abike trudged to the door the next morning with the Prince's glass of milk; feeling tired and sad.
She didn't sleep a wink during the night because she kept thinking about the Prince.

He was a toxic, confused man and if she knew what was good for her, she would run for the hills, but no. She was in love with him. Yes, she had come to terms with it last night.

She didn't know how or when or why, but she had.
It wasn't his fault, even the heavens knew he was doing all he could to make a sane girl run and never return, but no, she fell in love. She already knew where she stood with him. He just wanted her for sex and he had been brutally honest about it. And she had agreed. So no, she wasn't complaining.

She stepped into his room to find him asleep; his back to the door, the sheets pulled up to his neck.
She instantly grew worried. He was usually up by this time, dressed and prepared for training.

She shut the door behind her and quickly walked to his side of the bed. Asleep, he looked so peaceful that she almost bent to kiss his cheek.
The worry came gnawing at her again and she set the glass of milk on the bedside table and shuffled closer to him, bending to feel his forehead with the back of her hand.

It was cool, she thought. No fever. Should she wake him?
"Is there a reason you are touching my head?"
Abike jumped back in fright, hitting the bedside table as she did.

His arm quickly shot out from beneath the sheet to grab something and she turned to see the glass in his hands, milk sloshing around the rim and splashing on his hand.

"I'm so sorry." She moved towards him as he raised the glass to his lips and gulped it down before setting it down. He reached for the shirt lying beside him and dabbed his hand.
"I was worried when I saw you laying like that. It's past five."

He climbed down from the bed without a word and padded towards the bathroom. She stood idly in the room as he brushed his teeth and dabbed water on his face.

"Is that why you touched my head?" He appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, his shoulders leaning on it.

Abike was suddenly pressed with an image of her brother lying on his sick bed. She had felt his temperature that particular morning too and it hadn't been hot, so she felt he was in the clear. She lost him that day.

She tried to push the image away from her head so she could focus on this man who didn't like to repeat himself. He had left the doorway and was walking towards the bed.

"You may leave now." He stood by the edge of the bed, nodding at the door.

Abike was suddenly swamped with a great wave of sadness. No, she didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay.

"No." Surprisingly, her voice was clear but when he looked at her with that "bitch what?" face, her eyes filled up with tears. Here she was, alone, in a strange land. Her young brother was dead. Her parents were probably dead too. And the man she loved didn't love her back.

"What are you talking about?" He questioned, oblivious to the tempest brewing inside her.
"I said you should leave. Right..."

She flung herself at him, her arms surrounding him and her head pressing into his chest as she sobbed.

"No, no. I don't want to leave," she cried.

She felt this arm immediately wrap around her, one large hand coming to rest on the back of her head. She realized how quickly and instinctively his arms surrounded her and wept harder.
Did she dare hope? Did this man feel an iota of anything at all for her?