Women Of Steel | ✔

XIX

There is indeed news from Ile Wura, and not all good.

Zahir's informant, Fatima, a tall willowly woman the darkest skin I have ever seen, had informed me of the good first, Ile Wura was indeed blooming, the king had officially signed a treaty with the forest people; a small village people that rained trouble for Ile Wura several months ago, the whole story is far complicated than that. The news also said that Demilade's pregnancy was going well, and that she had finally revealed Prince Tobiloba as the father.

I had suspected it from his visit but there was still no inkling or sign of the king taking a husband, if there is something I am really certain about Demilade, it is that she will never take another husband, not even for the sake of her reign. Tadenikawo was a lesson enough for her, she would say as much. Or maybe she wouldn't, Demilade will never admit pain.

The bad news is just confirmation of what we already know, girls are missing in Ile Wura, and across several other Yoruba kingdoms, girls running errands and never returning. Only to end up here.

Zahir nods as Fatima relays the last of her report to him, but there is a worried look in his eyes.

"My sister," He hesitates. "Is she truly fine?"

Fatima isn't taken aback by his question, in fact, there is a little smile on her lips. I look from her and to the prince, waiting for the secret.

"She told me to tell you that you worry to much, your Highness, she is staying safe and heeding her lessons." Fatima says in that thick Hausa accent.

Zahir nods again, a little of that worry fading. I smile at his concern but when I mention it after Fatima is gone, Zahir shakes his head, a stressed frown on his face.

"You don't understand, my sister and I are not the conventional siblings, even though we are twins." He tells me as we make a stop in front of an open stall selling dates.

There is no hint of the night bazaar in this normal morning, the giddiness in the air is gone and there is only the smell of meat, sweat and spices.

"Zaria is merely a few minutes older than I am, and because of this, she is entitled to the throne even if she is a woman." He tells me as he hands a small pouch to the waiting merchant and receives several dates in the same pouch.

"She doesn't want the throne." Zahir says as we walk. "And I cannot have it either."

"Do you want it?" I ask him, hearing the slight hesitation in his words.

Zahir pauses and a brief look flashes in his face.

"Do I wish I were the heir? Yes, I wish I were but I am not, it is as simple as that. My sister has my pledge as future queen, if only she wanted it. Zaria has attempted running from the palace several times, hence my worry."

I try to imagine a girl so similar looking to this man by my side but no image comes to mind. Prince Zahir is so duty oriented, a man bound by his words, his twin appears to be the opposite.

"Zaria has an interest in alchemy but in nothing else and I try to keep her in check. I cannot do that forever."

"Your kingdom needs you, it might not need you like it needs Zaria, but you are wanted too." I say the words because I understand his feelings, but unlike Zahir, I am not so sure Ile Wura wants me for anything.

The contemplative look is gone from Zahir's face, there is only a teasing smile playing on his lips, it soon fades as if he thought better of whatever he wanted to say. I bite my lip, wishing he had said it. The prince is still reserved, he still mulls over the words before he speaks them.

"This desert needs me more." is all he says.

***

The rioters wear dried red clay paint on their faces and some of them carry small drums under armpits that they beat, Alabi's voice rises the highest and every now and then, the lantern in his grip flickers as he waves it.

There is a certain tenseness in the night that makes the air appear still.

My father flanks my left side and Zahir is at my right but Zahir feels like a child compared to the former. I glance back at the camp and shudder at how the night hides it as we move farther away from it, then I glance at the star filled night and think about how I used to think that the orisha lived in the stars, tonight I wonder which god looks down on this night.

The sound of our drums blend in with the noise from the night bazaar as we draw close.

Our little party stops suddenly and I startle, and realize that Alabi is only addressing them again with his thunder like voice. I tune out of his speech, looking for Maami in the crowd of merchants.

I don't find her and disappointment fills me.

I look back at Esu, there is a frown on his face and for the briefest moment, his eyes flash a deep gold colour.

"Maami was supposed to send somebody to reach out and send a signal, so we know it is safe to march." Esu says. His frown deepens and his eyes flick over the little crowd.

Safe from Remilekun, he refuses to add. Maybe it is because he is an orisha,  but he refuses to speak of Remilekun as a threat, even if he knows it.

"Alabi doesn't care." Zahir points out, nodding at the small crowd resuming their march with loud war cries. "He has a personal vendetta against the slavers, that is clouding his senses."

Braving a sharp breeze that makes me sneeze, their chants rise.

My heart drops as I glance to the far right, where Jagun is nestled in the sand, there should be nothing but darkness, like it was a moment ago. Not now, with the dim light of flames and thick smoke reaching the stars.

The flames look so far away, so small that it looks like a cooking fire, like I could trap it in my palm and only burn myself and not the village that it takes to ashes on sand.

I glance back at the camp and see the same, Zahir follows my eyes and flinches at the sight and the panic spreads as quickly too, the chants turn into screams of horror, the drums cease and coming down from the dunes of sand ahead is a small army atop black stallions and camels, sticks of flames in their grips.

Remilekun is at their hem.

Something tells me that she hasn't come this time to warn me, she has come for blood. She doesn't shout this time, her army do it for her and one man that I recognize as a slaver leaps down from his stallion as he reaches us.

Sneering, he says, "We've come to claim this land for the new queen."