Women Of Steel | ✔

XVIII

"You have a bit of stubble on your chin." I blurt the first thing that comes out of my lips when Zahir reaches my side. I suppose there a number of things I could have said to him first, the safest is muttering a squeaky good morning greeting and the worst of them is telling him how good he looks in the sea blue with a patterned gold neckline dashiki he wears proudly. His trousers are the same sea blue print.

There is something different about the prince this morning, his smile is a little wider and his dimples pop, he is not wearing the depressing kaftan he usually wears and his hair is freshly oiled and smells sweet and is braided into four big ones that hang down to his shoulders. He is prettier than me, I realize with a little envy.

But when he turns that smile on me, I cannot help but smile back, wanting to reach up to touch that bronze grin.

He raises a self conscious hand up to his chin and his grin dims a little.

"You don't like it?" He asks.

I startle, surprised that he is asking me. There is no denying that the prince and I have become somewhat comrades and maybe even friends, but with the barrier of our pending marriage between us, we are not quite close.

I swallow, torn between telling him that the sun makes his brown skin shine and making myself sound unaffected, like my governess would have whispered in my ears.

Good women don't chase men, men do the chasing, she used to say.

"I like it." I tell him, my voice small.

He removes his hand and let it hang by his side.

"Do you have something to do, Omolara?" He asks, noticing my straying eyes to the men who have already begun sparing near the oasis, but my father is not among them, strangely. I haven't seen him since last night's meeting in Jagun, the small village we met in, I found out yesterday that this barren desert was first settled in by weary Yoruba travelers.

"No," I say ruefully, embarrassed to have been caught, when Zahir sent a maid to tell me he wanted my company for the morning, the biggest part of myself had been scared, afraid he wanted to talk about our betrothal, I was afraid he suddenly wanted to end it, I was afraid he wanted to suddenly get married. That fear isn't what fills me now, it is a strange excitement instead.

"Good," Zahir says, offering me a sheepish smile that makes him look boyish. "I have somebody who brings in news from my father's kingdom, he arrives this morning."

I nod but he is not done talking.

"There might be news that will interest you about Ile Wura, I sent out a missive after you arrived here." He continues, my own smile drops.

A childish fear fills me, Demilade must know now where I am, and yet she hasn't sent an army after me, do I matter even less or has she finally decided to leave me to my decisions?

A nagging voice whispers in my ears, you still want her attention, like a plaything you do not want to give up.

I steel my spine and force a nod. I am not sure I want to hear news of how Ile Wura thrives on without me.

Unknowing, Zahir touches a hand to my shoulder and I fight the urge to relax under his gentle touch.

What is wrong with me?

"Shall we?" He asks. A sudden annoyance fills me and I retort without thinking.

"You're in a chipper mood today, is there something to celebrate?" I ask snidely.

His flinch is almost unnoticeable, I wouldn't have seen it if I hadn't been peering at his face.

Zahir's voice is cold when he speaks, choosing his words carefully. "I dedicated a month of simple living in honor of the death of my old friend, it was a grieving process, the last day was yesterday."

"I suppose it is too soon." He adds bitterly and begins walking. I flinch at the jab, as realization dawns.

I trail behind him, numb.

The last day, he swore to marry me after the end, the last day was yesterday. With resolved determination, I break into a sprint to match his steps.

"You do not have to marry me if it such a horrible option, there must be a hundred noble girls from your kingdom you can take as a wife, or wives if you wish." I say fiercely. "I will never be tied down to a man who covets another secretly."

He pauses and turns slowly to look at me. There is an intensity that burns in his eyes.

"You think I don't want to marry you?" He asks, there is an incredulity in his voice that takes me aback.

"Yes!" I all but scream in his face, uncaring that we aren't far away camp, uncaring that they could be watching.

Uncaring, uncaring, my governess would have called me a fool.

Zahir laughs, there is nothing cold in it. He throws back his head an laughs until I begin to doubt my words.

"I think the opposite, Omolara." He tells me, his hand reach out to touch my cheek. The gesture is so foreign, so tender that I stand, gaping at him.

"You act sometimes like you cannot stand my presence." I point out.

"I reach out, Lara," The use of my nickname sends a shudder through me.

"I talk to you, I invite you to walk with me, I am honest with you. I would never do any of that if I despised you."

"You patronize me." I argue.

He shakes his head. "I tell you the truth." He affirms.

Zahir reaches for my wrist, I close my eyes, cringing and waiting for his touch on my branded wrist but instead, he wraps his hand around my other one.

I open my eyes just as a gust of wind blows past us, he does not notice.

He draws me closer until I am flush against him, I lean on tiptoes, heart thudding.

When his lips meet mine, it is bliss.

I was fifteen when I snuck out once with friends to a revel in the village square, we danced and drank palmwine, and in the heat of the night, one of the boys I had been giggling with reached over and kissed me, it only lasted a second or two but I ran as soon as it was over, laughing to myself because it had been stupid.

This time, I make the move, he lets me take control and I kiss him back on instinct, my lips moving urgently against his, like a human encountering water in the middle of this desert. As I break the kiss to bite down gently on his bottom lip, he pulls away too quickly and shakes his head at me, a knowing look in his eyes.

"I wouldn't touch you like that if I didn't want to marry you." He simply says when I gape at him. "Whatever you want to do with what I just said is up to you."

"Everything has always been your decision, Omolara."

Zahir lets go of my hand.

"Now, shall we?"

I follow silently.

***

Pleassseee, tell me you loved this chapter. I almost didn't want to write this, but I'll drink to writing my first kissing scene, like ever.