We reach Ile Wura on the third midnight.
There is a small party awaiting us, it was my idea to send out somebody ahead of us to tell the king of our pending arrival. I wait for the fear to sink in my weary bones as I draw closer to where a very pregnant Demilade awaits me, but there is nothing but bone crushing exhaustion.
When I ran, I was more afraid of being caught and taken back to Ile Wura, but sometime in the past weeks, that fear is gone, replaced by many others, fear of my own death, of the war that is to come. Demilade will always be intimidating but I do not fear her again.
Our small travelling crowd waits, halts in their step for Zahir to greet the party in front of us. I had doubted the prince's ability to make coherent decisions but it seems that his own way of dealing with the grief is to block it out entirely by busying himself with other thing, he took control of our journey, commanding that we rested during the day and travelled the distance by night, just yesterday, he had the older ones weary from travel make a stop at Abule Agba.
He has not let himself grieve, but I catch cracks of sadness in his mask sometimes, although there is nothing but a steely determination in the set of his shoulders tonight, despite the fact that his kaftan is coated with dirt and his eyes surrounded by weariness, he still stands tall, only bending when he lies to greet the king.
Demilade waves him up a moment later, her eyes never leaving mine.
"See that they all find a place to sleep tonight," She says softly to the tall man besides her, Babatunde, her right hand.
He nods jerkily.
"Ekabo," He announces stiffly.
The crowd chorus a wary reply.
Babatunde turns to the other chiefs besides the king and mutters something to them.
"Split into groups, some of you will spend the night in the palace and the rest of you with us, the oloye." He says.
I stall, hesitant and hurt that I have not yet been acknowledged by any of them. Ile Wura doesn't have a princess anymore, the voice of doubt jeers in my head.
"Princess," the title makes me jerk my head up swift that the action hurts. It is only Zahir and my heart deflates.
He takes my hand and nudges me in front of the king. We stare at each other for what seems like a long time before she turns her head away.
"I am sorry that your arrival was not greeted with the fanfare that you deserve, Prince Zahir." Demilade says flatly, her hands resting on the swell of her stomach. I already know that she has formed an assessment of him and I want to laugh. Demilade might be royalty now, but she continues to treat all royalty with disdain, thinking of all of them nothing more than pompous fools with thirsts for power.
Zahir is nothing like that.
"We are at war, I am sure that a party can wait until an occasion that deserves it." He says easily. Something flashes through the King's eyes and then her gaze slips down to Zahir's hand in mine.
"I see." is all she says. "I take it that you still intend to marry each other?"
I hesitate, unsure of the answer and when her eyes meet mine, a cold smile spreads on her lips. Zahir is quick to answer though.
"Yes, if Omolara still wishes."
She makes a noise in the back of her throat and looks back at the groups that have formed. Satisfied that her command has been carried out, she turns, snapping at a guard that hovers behind her hesitantly.
"I am pregnant, not unwell." She hisses, to us, she says, "Babatunde will see you to the palace, rest well, we shall speak in the morning."
* * *
The sight of my room is unsettling, the familiar cracks in the walls are still there, the flowers I picked out before I left still rest on the window sill, wilted and dried up now. Everything is how I left it, and when I lay down to sleep, the mat is dusty.
Somehow it feels like my place here has been given to another, even as it remains empty. Not one scornful glance from the guards greeted me as we arrived at the palace, it made me wonder what Demilade had said to excuse my absence, they still stared but there was only an awe that made me sick in their eyes.
I unravel the wrapper around my waist and then slip off the clothes on my neck. I shiver as I wrap an old but clean aso oke around my body. My old clothes are equally untouched. I wonder if Demilade even ever bothered to send out a search party for me or did she want me gone.
"I met your father,"
The sudden voice makes me jump in fright with my heart at my throat. I turn, expecting to see the ojuju, the creature in stories that young children were rocked to sleep about but it is only the king standing there by my door, half hooded in the darkness outside.
"What?" I ask incredulously. There is no way she knows who he is, not when I just found out weeks ago.
"It was several days after you left." She continues saying, voice distant. "He came looking for you, and I knew, knew that he was no ordinary man."
I want to tell her that there is no one who sets eyes on Esu and thinks him ordinary.
"Two days after he came, Remilekun came looking for you too, she spoke to me at length about how she suffered in the hands of Kabiyesi Gbadamosi, she wanted her revenge. She offered me her alliance if I handed you over."
My heart skips treacherously.
"You wanted to." I say bitterly.
I cannot see her face but I catch the shaking of her head, it surprises me even more than the story of Remilekun seeking me.
"I do not hate you, neither do I begrudge you of anything." Demilade says. She barks a harsh laugh. "I've seen what revenge does, and it soothes no pain at all."
"What do you want?" I ask.
I am almost certain that she smiles.
"I have a mission for you."
I say nothing, only waiting, waiting for the trick because the Demilade I know would rather kill herself than ask for my help.
"I am sending a small party of messengers to ask for the support of the other Yoruba kingdoms, I want to you warn them of the impending war."
"I have tried to get an audience with them, but most of the kings are old men who will only believe the words of a god," She says, her eyes glinting knowingly because I am the only other god she knows. "They will only ally themselves on the most side likely to win, but if we can make them believe you wield immeasurable power, they will fight at our side."
"You know the way of kings, I want you to win me an army."
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Women Of Steel | ✔
FantasyWomen Of Steel is a tale of two women from two different cultures, told in two different parts. It tells the story of two women seeking for a place bigger than society deems it possible for a woman. One wants revenge, a broken woman tired of swaying...