Chapter 32 The Royal Palace, Royal Island, Kingdom of Oru
The Royal Palace, Royal Island, Kingdom of Oru
TOFA
Tofa felt his twin’s absence as keenly as he would a missing limb.
He surveyed the throne room every other heartbeat, checking over his shoulder for her in the shadows, but she wasn’t there.
He wondered if their father had ordered her to stay away from the meeting.
Earlier that day, the Lord Regent’s mouthpiece had brought a message of whispers summoning Tofa to a private audience with his father.
As he looked around the hall, it seemed he wasn’t the only one to receive the summons.
Next to him, his mother fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.
He noticed she was more dressed up than usual.
He peered at her, trying to figure out why her bejewelled ruby dress looked so familiar.
She turned to him and gave a weak smile.
The dress was made of tulle and lace and embroidered with stones that glittered in the moon’s light.
Her wedding dress. She was wearing her wedding dress.
Next to him, ìyá-Ayé scoffed, ‘Oyíndà, do you really think that flimsy dress will help you?’
His mother’s face twisted into a deep scowl. ‘It’s Aya’ba to you.’
ìyá-Ayé pursed her lips and gave a mocking smirk.
Tofa was confused. Obviously, they knew more about this midnight meeting than he did. What was ìyá-Ayé talking about? Why was his mother dressed in her wedding attire? And where in the godsdamned names was his sister?
‘Enough of that,’ àlùfáà-àgbà’s voice boomed in the empty throne room.
Tofa watched his mother’s face redden with rage. She was about to speak when the Lord Regent stormed into the throne room, his maiden on his heel.
All four of them fell to their knees and bowed before the crown. Lord Regent Babátúndé took his place on the throne, and just as they were about to rise and sit, he spoke in a voice that sent cold shivers down Tofa’s spine. ‘Do not stand up.’
The four of them looked at each other, trying to figure out who the command was for.
Tofa glanced at his father and could hardly recognize the man he saw.
The Lord Regent was shaking with anger, and it burst out of him with the force of a pot boiling over.
His breaths were heavy, his chest rising and falling, rattling the loose gold beads that decorated his crown.
They froze in place as Lord Regent Babátúndé spoke with a roar, his eyes blazing with rage. ‘I’m talking to you all.’
They all bowed with their foreheads to the ground.
‘Tofa, come here,’ the Lord Regent said, his voice still booming through the room.
He walked over to the spot near the edge of the throne where his father had pointed and waited quietly.
The Lord Regent glared at ìyá-Ayé, àlùfáà-àgbà and Aya’ba Oyíndà with bloodshot eyes. ‘Which one of you will say the truth first? And before you think of lying, I’ve spoken with ?niìtàn and sent Command to bring the girl to me. Alive.’
Tofa was still trying to figure out what his father was talking about when a loud screeching sound erupted from the throne.
His father was on his feet, his eyes nearly crimson, his hands shaking uncontrollably, and he spoke in the old tongue.
As the Lord Regent spoke his incantations, the metal bars around the throne ripped apart, turned into sharp points like spearheads, and hurtled towards the three on their knees.
‘No!’ Tofa shouted and ran to stand in front of his mother.
‘Get out of the way!’ the Lord Regent bellowed.
Tofa didn’t realize when his agbára burst out of him, shooting down two of the metal heads with a blast of heat energy. ‘Father, please. What is going on? What’s happened?’
Tofa’s voice seemed to get through to him.
‘Let her tell you herself,’ the Lord Regent said as he returned to his seat, keeping the remaining metal head hovering over the room.
Tofa turned to his mother, but she moved past him. Crawling to the bottom of her husband’s throne, she placed her crown on the floor and fell flat before the Lord Regent, weeping. After a few moments, she dragged herself up the dais, past High Priestess à?á and collapsed into his lap.
‘My Lord,’ she began, wiping away the quick tears that had formed and rolled down her face. ‘Olówó orí mi. Forgive me. I was young, na?ve and stupid, but I had nothing to do with this. I don’t know what that old witch said to you, but you must believe me.’
Tofa looked at ìyá-Ayé, who seemed less afraid than even àlùfáà-àgbà in the face of death. What had she done this time? He’d never seen his mother this way before. Even when she’d vexed his father in the past, she’d never, ever begged for forgiveness.
The Lord Regent seemed unmoved by her tears. ‘I have only one question for you, Oyíndà. Did you know that Mremí’s death was not as a result of childbirth, as you had told me all those first suns ago? Did you lie then or are you lying now about what happened to my wife?’
His mother stopped sobbing immediately and jerked her head from his lap. ‘What? She – I, I – what?’ She turned back, and Tofa noticed her eyes locked on àlùfáà-àgbà’s. He knew that look. It meant, Be quiet.
‘Tell me the truth! Did you kill my Mremí?’ the Lord Regent said, and she flinched back.
‘I beg for mercy, my Lord. Be gracious to the mother of your child.’
‘Oyíndà, I want the next words out of your mouth to be the truth. I want to know what happened to Mremí, and I want to know what happened to my daughter. Both of whom you three told me died from birthing complications.’
‘Daughter?’ Tofa eyed the room looking for some explanation from the group.
No one met his gaze. The story of Mremí was one that had circled the palace when he was a boy.
The bride from ìlú-ìm who won their father’s heart.
The one who died giving birth, along with the child. So what was this about a daughter?
‘Ah – hmmm,’ àlùfáà-àgbà cleared his throat.
The Lord Regent slammed his hand on the edge of his seat and the metal head hovering over him vibrated with the sound of his voice, ‘Don’t you dare say a word.’
àlùfáà-àgbà recoiled under Lord Regent Babátúndé’s anger.
‘It was all the àlùfáà-àgbà’s doing, my Lord. He forced me to lie to you,’ Aya’ba Oyíndà said quickly. ‘That night, Mremí had her child before me – but only mere moments before me, my husband. The timing was so close they could’ve been twins.’
‘This woman is a lia—’ àlùfáà-àgbà said, and before he could finish saying the word, the metal head hovering over the throne shrunk to the size of a long needle and went right through his arm and into one of the doors at the far end of the room.
The old man shrieked in pain and slumped to the ground, and ìyá-Ayé ran to him.
Holding the old man in her arms, she summoned her agbára and hovered her glowing palms over the wound.
Her eyes shot daggers at the Lord Regent, but she dared not say anything.
‘Father, what’s going on? Stop this, please,’ Tofa begged.
‘Not another word!’ the Lord Regent shouted at him, then turned to his mother and said, ‘Continue,’ in a voice so calm it was scarier than his outbursts.
When she spoke, her voice was filled with fear, trembling with every syllable.
‘It was a strange night, my Lord. One moment àlùfáà-àgbà was taking our son from my arms, and the next, Mremí had disappeared into the night. I didn’t know what to think.
àlùfáà-àgbà had sent maidens after her, but they didn’t find her.
That night, he returned to tell me what Mremí had done to the midwife.
He said he knew from the marks she left that she had the cursed agbára – the abomination.
He said that she was part of the scourge once removed from our blessed lands, and they threatened a return that could destroy our kingdom, and I believed him.
So when he asked me where she might have gone, I told him about Mremí’s relationship with ?niìtàn, the coward priest. And àlùfáà-àgbà hunted her down and killed her.
Until now, my Lord, he made us all believe the child was dead too. ’
‘What?’ the Lord Regent said.
What? Tofa thought as he listened to his mother say things he couldn’t quite grasp. Oh gods, did his mother have a hand in the murder of a rival wife? He turned to àlùfáà-àgbà, whose wound was healing under ìyá-Ayé’s flame. Did àlùfáà-àgbà kill an innocent girl?
The Lord Regent’s eyes burned with fury. ‘This man told you that he killed my wife and child and you kept this from me for eighteen first suns? Ah, Oyíndà?!’
‘My Lord husband, I had to consider that the child might not even be yours. Mremí was not faithful to you, my Lord, and you deserved more than to be forced to raise a bastard as your own.’
The Lord Regent shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and she moved back promptly but continued to speak.
‘We all know that Mremí was sleeping around. It’s no secret in this palace that she bedded ?niìtàn, your best friend at the time, I might add.
I figured if she was innocent, why would she run?
Even if she had broken her marriage vows why would she not come to you, our husband, and beg for mercy, even as I do now. After all, she was your favourite.’
‘This girl is my daughter!’ he cried.
Tofa’s eyes widened. In shock at his mother’s audacity, in horror at the secrets she spilled.
He stepped onto the dais, shielding her with his body, and keeping her away from his father’s crimson gaze.
He was done being kept in the dark. Done being silent.
‘Someone needs to tell me what’s happening right now,’ Tofa said.
His booming voice filled the room, bringing a sudden hush of stillness.
‘Your mother conspired to kill the mother of my firstborn child,’ the Lord Regent said. ‘L’?r? – the girl who broke Alawani out of the temple, was my Mremí’s daughter. The one àlùfáà-àgbà, ìyá-Ayé and even your mother have been urging me to hunt down and kill. Just like they killed my Mremí.’