Women Of Steel | ✔

XXII

The looks of awe that welcomed me a few moments ago suddenly make sense. I'd expected the guards to gaze at me with the hate they'd stared at me with only few months ago, but instead, they eyes never quite met mine. I stare incredulously at Demilade in the darkness, then a hysterical sound escapes my lips.

It takes a startling second for the both of us to realize that it was a laugh. I just laughed at the king.

"It is impossible." I say at once, sharply. 

Demilade steps closer into the light of the lantern in my room. There is no cruelty on her face, just a patience that sends a shiver down my spine, whatever folly her plan is, she has thought it out well and her mind will not be changed.

"Nothing is impossible," She says, she raised her brows in question. "Are you afraid?"

I grit my teeth but fall for the taunt.

"I am not!" I snap. There is still a part of me that craved approval from the king.

"Are you not the daughter of a god?" She asks.

"I am, but —"

"Does that not make you a god?"

I want to laugh, because her words might be true, but I have never thought of myself as a god. Up until several months ago, the gods were distant entities in my life, humans that once existed and now live on with their power transfered into physical things, like the river Osun, or Sango mountain.

"That doesn't matter, gods have power, as you can see, I have none," I say firmly. "I do not have my father's wit, nor can I wield thunder."

"There is nothing about me that will convince the rulers of the Yoruba kingdoms of my supposed god status." I hiss. "You might as well send a common slave girl in my stead."

I draw in a sharp breath and see that Demilade does not look the least bit fazed, in fact, she doesn't listen, rather she rubs her stomach soothingly.

"Do you know what your blood does?"

I stiffen, unsure of what she means.

"My mother once claimed to have duelled a god, she told me this a long time ago." She says warily.

"The orisha as you know, rarely take the form of humans, even when they do, no one with eyes ever think of them as ordinary. You have heard the whispers of the healing waters of River Osun, now imagine what a drop of her blood could do."

"Come with me." Demilade says, she shuffles out of the room and I follow her silently. I startle at the sight of the guards outside my door and for a moment, I think they are meant to keep me in.

Demilade waves off every soldier's attempt to walk us with a snarl.

"Men, they always think of pregnant women as helpless, I can still tear them to shreds as easy." She grumbles. I smile in the dark, for the first time, Demilade sounds remotely human to me and not unfeeling.

She walks to the kitchen shed outside and returns with a blunt knife in her hand. Seeing my startled look, a muffled laugh escapes her lips.

"I did not bring you out to kill you, Omolara."

"Forgive me if I do not trust you."

At that, her smile fades and I freeze. It is in moments like that I think that Demilade deliberately distanced herself from me. I don't even grudge her for it, I wonder what she sees when she looks into my face, I wonder if she sees my brother.

"Give me your hand." She commands. The moon above casts a regal glow on her, she looks nothing like the king they sing praises of in songs or the beautiful goddesses in folklores, her braids are new but they are not adorned by any beads, her Ankara agbada is ruffled and pools at her feet, kissing the sand. Yet, she wears her confidence unfailingly.

I look from her face to the knife and then back to the challenge in her eyes.

I offer my hand and close my eyes. Her callous palm takes mine and I feel a sharp stab of pain. I jerk my hand away instinctively.

I wince at the sight of my blood, shaking foolishly but Demilade is not looking at me, she is looking at the sand, the blood stained sand where several strands of weed stand stubbornly.

I catch the last drip of blood from her fingers and my heart sinks at the sight, as the blood slicks down to the weeds, they shrivel before my eyes, shrinking in a manner that reminds me of plants on fire.

I stagger back. Demilade stands still, nothing seems to faze her anymore.

"This should tell you enough, should tell you what Remilekun wants with your blood."

"Will you let her use it, or will you wield your own weapon?"

I swallow. "When do we leave?"

* * *

I find Zahir the next morning packing up his mat after his prayers. He offers me a smile that doesn't meet his eyes, I pretend not to see the stubble on his chin.

"Ekaaro," I greet, then remember that Zahir is not Yoruba. He purses his lips and his dimples pop, giving away the smile he tries to hide.

"Good morning, princess." He says.

I wanted that title just weeks ago, I wanted Ile Wura to love me and now, maybe they do — now that I have something they might need.

"Please don't call me that, Prince Zahir." I tease.

His smile falls and I know he has the same words to tell me that I want to tell him. I say them first.

"You are leaving." I say.

He grimaces and tucks his mat under his arm. The kitchen shed was turned briefly into a place he could pray but as I step into the shed to block the prince's path, I still catch a whiff of this morning's meal.

Zahir could easily brush past me, push if he wanted to even. But he takes my interruption as what I intended it, an offer to talk honestly.

"Yes, I am leaving." He sighs. "I need to warn my father, our kingdom is nearest to the desert, Remilekun might strike there first."

I nod, although I want to ask him to stay. My desire is selfish so I purse my lips and ignore the nagging in my head.

"I am leaving Ile Wura," I tell him, I explain Demilade's plan to him and wait for his scoff. I wait for him to tell me that I cannot be trusted with something of such gravity. Maybe I want him to tell me that he wants me with him too, that he wants me to stay because he cares.

Zahir only nods, that distant look back in his eyes. I feel foolish suddenly, seeking love in the middle of a war.

"Will you return after?" I ask him still.

His eyes seem to soften for a moment. "My sister might be heir but I also serve in my father's army. I have a responsibility to them."

I force myself to smile. "I understand."

"We will see each other on the battlefield soon then."

***

From now on, updates on this book might come sporadically. I want to finish it as soon as I can so I'll be writing much of it offline.