Chapter 32 The Royal Palace, Royal Island, Kingdom of Oru #2
Tofa now realized why àlùfáà-àgbà had wanted the girl dead. This L’?r? was his sister and a threat to the kingdom and his throne. He could not help but wonder if this was the secret Alawani had refused to speak when he visited him that morning?
Before Tofa could fully process all that he’d been told, his mother spoke again.
‘My Lord husband, please forgive my na?vety. But how can we be sure L’?r? is your child?
We have no proof. The fact that Mremí kept a lover outside of her covenant to you, Lord Regent, leaves room for speculation to anyone who hears of this. What will the kingdom think?’
‘The kingdom will think what I tell them to think!’
‘That girl may be the firstborn, but she is not born of the sun and sands. That evil power she has is a curse meant to destroy us all,’ she said, pursing her lips.
‘You told me Mremí and her child died. I buried them. I mourned them! Who did I bury, Oyíndà?’
‘I did it for you, my Lord husband.’
‘You did it for yourself. So your son could claim this throne!’
‘He is our son! And this is why we didn’t tell you,’ she spat back.
‘You were so blinded by Mremí’s cheap charms. Following her around like a lovesick puppy.
Even now, her ghost still holds on firmly to you.
Isn’t that why, even now, you don’t want to harm the girl?
Knowing full well that she may not even be of your loins. ’
Tofa felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath him as he pieced together the vague and disorienting confession. You did it so your son could claim the throne. Claim the throne.
He was the son who claimed the throne.
Had the crown rejected him even before he could claim it?
For as long as he could remember, his mother had called him àkbí Oru.
The firstborn of Oru. She taught him who he was before he knew who she was.
His eyes locked on hers. His mother wouldn’t lie to him.
She wouldn’t kill others so that he could be king.
Aya’ba Oyíndà was many things, but she was not a murderer.
He looked at everyone in the room, meeting their eyes.
He could read their side glances and sighs.
ìyá-Ayé stared back at him as àlùfáà-àgbà looked away.
Even High Priestess à?á, who was quiet the whole time, standing behind the Lord Regent, glared at him. They knew. They’d always known.
‘The child is mine. ?niìtàn swore to me by the gods of the sun and sands that he never took Mremí to bed.’
Aya’ba Oyíndà scoffed. ‘Didn’t he forsake his call, his oath and his gods?’ She laughed scornfully. ‘He swore to you in the name of gods he doesn’t serve.’
‘I believe him,’ Lord Regent Babátúndé said.
‘My husband, why would this man risk his life and raise a child that was not of his own loins? He is in the dungeons now because he will not forsake her, even for the crown. Even as you have commanded him as Lord Regent, and he faces the executioner’s axe, yet you think he’s protecting your daughter from you?
To what end? Does it not make sense that he would do all this for his own daughter? ’
Tofa led his mother down the dais and away from the throne.
Away from his father, and the council. He held her face in his palms. ‘Tell me this isn’t true.
Please tell me you didn’t do this?’ His voice broke, tears filling his eyes.
‘Tell me that all this is a lie. Tell me I am the àkbí Oru. Màámi, please tell me this isn’t true. ’
His mother only frowned and sighed, unable to meet his gaze.
That broke his heart more than the truth itself.
This was his mother. His everything. She breathed life into him.
She moulded him into what he was. Into the king he would be.
The king he was born to be. It was her voice he heard in his head when he saw the crown. And all of it was a lie?
The Lord Regent shot a menacing stare at àlùfáà-àgbà. ‘You killed my wife. You will die for this.’
The Lord Regent’s face contorted with anger. ìyá-Ayé stepped in front of her priest, shielding him. ‘Will you kill a priest of the Holy Order, Lord Regent? Will you do what no other before you has done? Are the àlùfáà not sacred, born and killed only by the will of the gods?’
The Lord Regent walked towards her, ‘I am the High Priest of the Sun Temple, the chosen àlùfáà of this land, and ruler of this kingdom. I can do and undo as I wish. So don’t test the boundaries of my reach, or I’ll show you just how far it goes.
’ He pointed at àlùfáà-àgbà. ‘Did you know what he did?’
ìyá-Ayé nodded. ‘Mremí had to die. You know that. She was an imposter – she took the place of the woman who was to be your wife. This anger you feel is not because she’s dead, but because you were so easily fooled.
You fell for this kingdom’s greatest enemy.
Your anger cannot erase your guilt.’ She glared at Tofa and said, ‘As far as this kingdom is concerned, Tofaratì is your firstborn, the firstborn of the sun, the one whose agbára rivals the gods, protector of the six rings, light of the continent and Supreme Lord of sun and sands. He is the crown heir. And when the day of the first sun comes, you will yield that crown to him. Whether or not the girl lives is up to you, but you can’t think that a child of òtútù will ever rule this kingdom. ’
Aya’ba Oyíndà’s crown scraped the floor as she pulled it towards her. The Lord Regent turned on her. ‘Do not touch that.’
‘My Lord?’ she asked, confused.
‘I strip you of your crown and title. Get out of my sight. Return to your father’s house. Don’t let my eyes ever fall upon you again.’
‘My Lord! Please. I’m your wife, the mother of your son, your king!’
The Lord Regent turned to his High Priestess à?á, ‘Arrest her.’
Aya’ba Oyíndà unleashed her agbára, eyes burning, palms aglow with a light so bright they all squinted and covered their eyes. ‘Touch me and turn to ash!’ she screamed at the maiden.
‘Try it, Aya’ba. Just try it,’ à?á said, seething.
ìyá-Ayé joined the fight, using her agbára to heat up the room. ‘Lord Regent, if your wife touches my daughter, she’ll meet her ancestors tonight.’
Tofa flexed his hands. His agbára shone brightest in the room.
A moment ago, he’d thought to scare them with the limitless power the gods gave him as his birthright as firstborn, but now, all he could do was hope they couldn’t see through his glassy eyes to the terrified and heartbroken boy he now was.
‘Anyone touches my mother, and I’ll burn this palace to the ground.
’ He couldn’t hope to be more skilful with agbára than two maidens of the Holy Order, but he wouldn’t let them hurt his mother – his liar of a mother.
The door to the temple swung open, and K?ni ran screaming through. Four guards on her tail. They caught up with her as she approached the throne, pulling her by her hair and torn clothes. She screamed so loud the glass windows surrounding the throne hall shuddered.
Tofa ran towards his sister. ‘Leave her alone.’ He shoved the guards holding her, and they let go. K?ni ran past him and fell flat before their father.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ the Lord Regent said.
‘Please, Father. I beg you. Spare her life,’ K?ni begged, hands clasped together.
‘Spare who?’
As the Lord Regent asked, the room echoed with the sound of chains rattling against the floor and the shuffling of feet.
In came a servant girl dressed in the white robes of those heading to the grave.
Bound from neck to ankles in heavy black chains.
She was the girl Tofa had seen K?ni talking to the other day.
The Lord Regent edged forward. ‘What is her crime?’
‘Old magic, my Lord,’ said a guard.
Tofa’s heart sank as K?ni sobbed louder, ‘Father, please.’
Tofa realized, looking around, that his mother was gone. And so was her crown – she must have used the distraction to sneak out. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. His place on earth had shifted with just a few words.
He rushed to K?ni’s side and picked her off the floor. She wailed into his arms. The one person she’d befriended would die, and Tofa couldn’t do anything about it. And neither could their father.
‘You know the rules, child,’ àlùfáà-àgbà said, and Tofa couldn’t believe the venom that laced the old man’s words.
‘The magic of the old gods is not to be played with. It’s forbidden to mix the gifts of our gods with things of old.
The decree in this kingdom is death, a law which has been set by every king and queen to sit upon the throne. ’
Tofa didn’t miss the emphasis àlùfáà-àgbà placed on the word king. As Regent, his father had no authority to change the laws set by a sovereign, and that included the ban on anyone outside the Holy Order from using old magic.
The Lord Regent glared at àlùfáà-àgbà. His gaze warned the old man not to say another word.
‘She is my friend, Father. She didn’t mean to –’ K?ni’s words caught in her throat.
Father. She’d never called him father before this moment. Not since they were children. She put aside her rage and pride to save this girl’s life. Tofa glanced at the servant girl and wondered how in the world their lives had collided.
‘Please, Father, she’ll swear an oath, a blood oath, never again to use the magic of the old gods.’
Lord Regent Babátúndé looked at the girl in chains. The servant girl trembled so much that a constant rattling of iron filled the throne room. K?ni had never asked their father for anything before, and Tofa knew that if it was something he could do, he would.
‘The law demands death by beheading and burning,’ the Lord Regent said to the servant girl. ‘But my daughter pleads for you, and while I can’t save your life, you may choose the way you go to meet the gods, and may they welcome you into the city of light with open arms. You may speak your à?írí.’
àlùfáà-àgbà grumbled under his breath.
The Lord Regent raised his hand, silencing him.
K?ni embraced Tofa, ‘Please, brother, save her. You were born to be king. It doesn’t matter if you wear the crown today or blood moons from now. Your word stands. Please help me. Save her.’
A heavy, hollow sensation in Tofa’s chest weighed him down.
He was without power, without a birthright, without his place in the world.
Had she asked this just a day before, even just a few light beads before, he would have climbed the throne and decreed her friend’s release.
But who was he fooling? Everyone else in this room knew the throne wasn’t his.
His words had no power or authority. Not anymore.
So he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, K?ni, I can’t. ’
K?ni pulled away, and his stoic sister, who never smiled or cried, crumbled before him. Her eyes, filled with betrayal, pierced his heart like a dagger.
The Lord Regent prompted the servant girl, ‘What will it be, child?’
K?ni shoved Tofa and ran to her friend. They held each other for a long moment, whispering to each other, and then the servant girl said, ‘Poison herbs, my Lord.’
‘Then you will meet your gods tonight,’ the Lord Regent said.
K?ni hugged the servant girl, squeezing her tight as the girl sobbed her à?írí in whispers.
Lord Regent Babátúndé nodded to ìyá-Ayé. The mother of maidens stepped forward and leaned over the servant girl crouched on the floor. ‘It’ll be quick,’ she said, pulling out a small pouch from her breasts.
The guards forced K?ni away from the girl as she took the contents of the pouch and lay down on the floor. K?ni screamed at Tofa, ‘You killed her!’
K?ni held on to the girl until she breathed her last, and when she looked into her brother’s eyes, he saw fury.
A rage so wild and hot her agbára glimmered from beneath her palms. Tofa had never seen K?ni’s agbára before.
It was a condition for her survival. He wasn’t afraid; he knew she’d never hurt him.
He took a step forward, hand across his chest, tears in his eyes, hoping she could see his heart breaking.
She did not. She crawled off the floor and lunged at him.
The world slowed, paused, and then cracked wide open in the next few moments.
How could she forget? She knew the standing order all the guards in the kingdom had.
She was Khìndé, Ab’bakú. She knew that her life would be over if she ever attacked him or even looked like she would attack him.
She’d known her whole life the terms of her survival.
Yet, she lunged at him, and the guard nearest moved quickly.
Tofa rushed to K?ni, reaching out to pull her away from the dagger heading for her chest. But he was too late.
Agbára burst out of him. His hands glowed, and heat crawled through every inch of his body, consuming him and turning the brown of his entire arms golden.
The blast that shot out of him didn’t just burn all four guards.
It eviscerated them, leaving nothing behind.
He ran to K?ni’s slumped body on the ground.
‘K?ni, K?ni, wake up, please. Wake up!’ He looked up to ìyá-Ayé, ‘Help her!’
ìyá-Ayé looked to the Lord Regent as if asking his permission.
Tofa’s rage was a scorching fire, searing through him and making every muscle in his body burn. ‘I am your king, and I command you to heal her now!’ He flared his agbára, and ìyá-Ayé complied.
Tofa held on to K?ni’s body as ìyá-Ayé worked her healing flame through the wound. ‘I’m sorry, sister,’ he whispered.
K?ni’s breath hitched as she tried to speak, blood pouring from her mouth. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this,’ she coughed, and closed her eyes.
Tofa’s shoulders shook with silent sobs. He’d never forgive himself, either.