Women Of Steel | ✔

XV

Prince Zahir is standing in front of my tent when we return and the light of the lantern in his hand flickers in his brown eyes, making them appear almost golden. His lips are a tight line that twist downwards into a frown when Arewa and I reach him.

As he is about to speak, Arewa brushes past him without a word, hobbling stubbornly to her own small tent far away from mine. The look of anger fades, giving way for confusion that makes his brows furrow.

"Is something wrong with her?" He asks me.

Weariness settles deep in my shoulders and I feel the sudden urge to lie down and sleep, maybe for eternity.

"She found her sister."

The look of anger returns.

"The night bazaar is a dangerous place, you don't walk there alone, I told you as much when I first showed it to you." He snaps.

"Next time, I'll think of calling you." I hiss back.

"You do not understand anything, Omolara, you are the adult, you should have kept her in check, because Arewa under this delusion that she can rescue her sister, it will not be easy, it is almost impossible!" Zahir shouts.

A part of me realizes that he is right but the bigger part feels outraged on Arewa's behalf.

"When you've had your own family in the same situation, then you will understand." I snarl, jabbing a finger in the air.

"And you do?" He asks.

"I don't, but I want to. Stop acting like her reaction is an overreaction."

He sighs, and a moment later, he nods. "You are right, but there is something else you don't know. This camp is owned my uncle, he is sheikh to one of the nearest towns here, although this land is not his, this camp has become a refuge for him and the last thing he needs is attention being drawn here for the sake of everybody."

"I am not against your brave rescue mission, I want to help but I don't want trouble either. The night bazaar is not something you can defeat in one night, it will not crumble easily and you should be prepared to be patient for it."

"It is easier said than done to say that to a fifteen year old and expect her to listen, that is why I followed her tonight, she would have gotten into much more trouble without me." I tell Zahir.

He nods again. "Next time, please come for me."

I give him a wary nod, thinking that this is the shortest argument I have ever had. Zahir is every bit the gentleman as he appears, backing down when he is wrong, many men wouldn't.

"Is there something else wrong?" He asks, peering closer at my face when I continue to stare at him.

"What kind of people visit the bazaar?" I ask suddenly, thinking of the knowledge seeking merchant.

"Did you see someone strange?" He asks.

"It seems like the bazaar is an open place for magic, we know magic exists in our world but in the bazaar it is openly displayed not hidden or scorned." I explain, rubbing my scared wrist absently.

"It is." He tells me, jerking his head in a stoic nod.  "Magic is something to be feared,  it is wonderful but it is also dangerous in the most careless hands."

"We met a man," I say hesitantly.  "he asked our names, in exchange for information."

The prince is silent for a long beat, and fear strikes a flame in my chest awaiting his fury but instead, a contemplative look forms.

"You should be ready to deal with the consequences of your actions,  Omolara, if what you say is true, then you have come in contact with a summoner, people who use the power of oath magic to ask favours — as you have told him your name, he can now summon you once, for whenever he wants your help."

I shiver, wondering what a man like that could want from me. He could ask for anything and I have no power to refuse.

"I was foolish." I laugh humorlessly. 

Zahir just cocks his head to the side. "I say certain things merit desperate measures,  was it worth it?"

I think of Remilekun and nod.

"I suppose it was."

"I have the feeling that you aren't quite used to making decisions for yourself." Zahir says wryly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. A startled laugh escaped my lips.

"I have come to think of being royal as having decisions made for you, decisions meant to better you so they say." I tell him.

The smile fades. "I know the feeling."

We share a look and I am certain that the both of us think about our betrothal, a sham of a marriage forced on us but one we will still honor. I wonder if I will come to despise him, or if he will get there first.

I wrap my arms around myself, fighting off a shudder. "I don't know why they forced me of all the noble women upon a prince like you." I say bitterly. Zahir is twice the man my father could have chosen for me,  considering that I was once betrothed to an old merchant before Tadenikawo ascended the throne and put a stop to it.

Zahir lets out sudden scoff. "I think you overrate me, princess, I am not who you think I am, certainly not as honorable."

"I lost my best friend two months ago, we were raised together, and we fought together, yet in the end, I was forced to chose my kingdom over his life, forced to pick duty over staying with him in his final moments — even as he pleaded for it." says Zahir. "I returned to this desert to honor him."

"I am not perfect, neither are you," He tells me, lowering the lantern in his hands.

I smile slightly, offering comfort. Hesitantly, he returns it, the dimple in his cheeks making an appearance.

"Then we are a perfect match made in the heavens."

***

The night had been perfect.

The sheikh was a robust man, beaming smiles left and right in a manner that reminds me of a man truly content with life, but then again, was he not? The sheikh had everything any man could dream of, wealth, heirs left and right and women to warm his bed, judging by the small harem he keeps in the camp. Yet he had gathered his whole camp just to celebrate his pet cat.

But he was also not the usual wealthy man, he smiled at his men, treated the women with respect and earlier when my so called father introduced us, the man had nothing but sweet words to say to me and after his jovial speech to his men, he settled back to make conversation with every one of them. So far, the night was different than I imagined it to be, the smile never left my face and when Zahir casted me several glances throughout the night, it felt like something had changed between us, even though a part of that might have been wishful thinking on my part.

Omolara, Me, still desperate to be loved.

The prophecies of my death had been pushed to the back of my mind as I had eaten Mariam's spiced meat, the one they called kilishi with gusto.

Even Esu hadn't bothered me either his usual teasing statements. The night had been perfect, until now, until it wasn't.

It was a sulking Arewa who caught sight of them first, she had been by the oasis, determined not to be a part of the celebration, she had seen the herd of camels approach, led by several galloping horses.

A regal woman at the helm, devastating in a deep purple flowing kaftan and an equal matching head wrap, she wears it like a crown. She does not look much older than me but there is something in those deep set eyes that are ancient.

Standing right in front of her gaping daughter, a cold smile playing on her lips. Nobody has to tell me her name, I just know it.

Remilekun, scorned queen.

And she has found me.