Chapter 12 #2
"You forget yourself." Somadina's tone was cold, shocking the women watching. "The Akwaugo is a princess of this household, adopted by the Igwe himself. She is not an entertainer for your amusement."
The words landed like slaps.
Chidinma's face went pale beneath her paint. Around her, the wives exchanged glances—some surprised, others calculating. The Okpalaeze defending the Akwaugo? Publicly humiliating his own bride in the earliest days of their marriage?
"But my Lord—" Chidinma started.
"Enough." Somadina's gaze swept the barge. "The celebration may continue. My wife will remember her place."
Azul studied her cup, expression carefully blank. She didn't look at Chidinma, nor did she enjoy her victory. Somadina had just handed her a weapon, whether he meant to or not. In public, before all the wives, he'd chosen Azul's dignity over his bride's.
Chidinma returned to her seat without another word. The music started again, uncertainly at first, then with forced cheerfulness. But the mood was shattered.
Whimpering came from beside her; Azul's eyes shot to the woman by her side. They had exchanged cups, but that was merely a precaution, and it seemed it was a precaution well observed.
The concubine—one of the low-level wives who shared Azul's corner of the boat—was swaying.
Her face had gone from its usual warm brown to an alarming shade of crimson.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, her upper lip, and the exposed curve of her shoulder.
Her breathing was laboured, her eyes glazed, and her hands were moving.
Not intentionally, Azul realised. The girl's fingers twitched against her own thighs, her hips shifting restlessly on the cushion. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, her lips parted.
A moan escaped her lips, and Azul felt her heart sink.
The wives nearest her began to notice. Whispers spread like ripples across the boat.
"What's wrong with her?"
"Is she ill?"
"Look at her—she's—"
The girl’s back arched, her hands flying to her own chest, clawing at the fabric of her wrapper as though it were suffocating her.
"What are you doing?" one of the older concubines hissed. "Stop that! Have you lost your mind?"
But the girl couldn't stop. Whatever had been in that wine—whatever was meant for Azul—had taken full hold. Her movements grew more desperate, more obscene, her moans rising in pitch until they were nearly screams.
"Please," she gasped, her eyes rolling. "Please, I need—someone—"
Chidinma's face had gone white. Then red. Then white again.
"Seize her!" she shrieked, rising from her seat. "Seize that—that animal!"
Two of the larger servant girls moved forward, but the concubine was beyond reason. When they tried to grab her arms, she lunged at them, her body seeking any contact, any touch—
One of the servants yelped as the girl's hands found her breasts.
"Get her off! Get her off!"
Chaos erupted. The dancers scattered. Wives screamed and pressed themselves against the far side of the boat. The musicians stopped playing, instruments falling silent as everyone stared at the writhing, moaning girl in their midst.
Chidinma stood frozen, seething with horror and fury. Then her expression hardened.
"You." She pointed at the largest servant. "Slap her. Slap her until she stops."
The servant hesitated, glancing at the Ugoeze.
The Ugoeze's face was unreadable. She gave the slightest nod.
The first slap cracked across the concubine's cheek like thunder.
The girl's head snapped to the side, but her moaning didn't stop. If anything, it grew louder.
"Again," Chidinma commanded.
Another slap. Another. The concubine's lip split, blood dripping down her chin. Still her body writhed, still her hands reached—
"Bind her." Chidinma's voice was ice. "Bind her hands and feet. I won't have this—this filth defiling my celebration!"
The servants moved quickly; the concubine’s wrists were bound behind her back, her ankles lashed together.
She lay on the deck, heaving, her consciousness still not returned to her.
"Take her off this boat." Chidinma pointed to the shore. "I don't want to see her again."
"But my lady," one of the servants stammered, "what should we do with her?"
Chidinma laughed. She reached into the pile of gifts beside her—the offerings brought by various wives to welcome her—and unwrapped the silk tied around one. She tossed it at the servant's feet.
"A yard of silk." Her eyes swept the boat, daring anyone to speak. "She can use it to hang herself."
Azul watched as the servants dragged the bound girl to the edge of the boat and lowered her into a smaller vessel.
As the small boat pulled away toward shore, the concubine's cries faded slowly.
Azul remained externally unaffected, but inside, her heart hammered against her ribs.
That should have been her.
Why are you scared? You knew of the dangers of the harem.
With that thought, she calmed her racing mind. This was within her expectations, but seeing and theorising were two different things.
Chidinma returned to her seat, her composure restored. She raised her cup as though nothing had happened. In one night she took on the mantle of her newfound status as the Okpalaeze’s only wife, despite being ranked second.
"Well," she said brightly, "where were we?"
The musicians scrambled to resume playing. The wives laughed too loudly, talked too quickly, and did everything possible to pretend they hadn't just lost someone many of them were close with.
Azul’s blood felt like ice.
If one were to be schemed on in the harem, their families might never know, nor would their corpse be allowed to be buried with other members of the royal family.
Their bodies would be thrown out into the wilderness, and they would eventually be forgotten as more wives would arrive, year after year, taking the place of the fallen.
As the sun dipped lower, the wind picked up, gliding across the lake with an unexpected chill. Azul suppressed a shiver, then another. The thin indigo fabric of her robe wasn't meant for the evening.
"Are you cold, Akwaugo?"
The Ugoeze's voice was soft. Azul looked up to find the First Wife watching her with an expression of deep concern that made her skin crawl. Other wives were shivering as well, so why single out Azul?
"I'm fine, Ugoeze. Thank you."
"Nonsense." The Ugoeze gestured to a servant. "Bring my spare wrap—the fur-lined one."
"Ugoeze, that's not necessary—"
"I insist." The smile was immovable. "We can't have you catching ill. The Igwe would never forgive me."
The cloak arrived before Azul could protest. It was beautiful, soft, and lined with what looked like rather expensive rabbit fur. The Ugoeze herself rose and beckoned to Azul, who had no choice but to stand. She draped it over Azul's shoulders.
"Thank you, Ugoeze." The words came automatically. Azul wanted to rip off the cloak before everyone, but she couldn't. This time she couldn’t be sure punishment would just be kneeling.
The barge continued its drift. The wind picked up further, but Azul no longer felt it. The wrap was warm. Heat began to creep up her neck, flushing her cheeks.
She set down her cup. She wasn’t drunk, was she? She'd been careful; she was sure of it. But her head felt strange now. Light. Unsteady.
Across the barge, Somadina's gaze found her. Azul immediately looked away. Focused on staying upright.
The world seemed to tilt slightly. Or maybe that was the boat.
"Akwaugo?" The Fifth Wife's voice seemed distant. "You look pale."
"I'm..." Azul's tongue felt thick. "I'm not feeling well. Ugoeze, I must beg your pardon. It must be the motion. I believe it is time for me to leave."
The Ugoeze's eyes seemed full of undeserved affection. "Of course, my dear. Shall I send a servant with you?"
"No. Thank you."
The barge approached the shore. Azul focused on that—on the wooden dock drawing nearer, on solid ground, on escape.
The moment the boat touched land, she rose. Too quickly. The world spun. She caught herself on the railing and forced her legs to steady.
"Forgive me, Ugoeze. Thank you for your kindness." The words spilled out as she bowed according to etiquette, even as her mind seemed clouded by an impenetrable fog.
She stepped onto the dock and forced herself to walk away from the water as gracefully as she could.
The path to the shrine had never felt so long. Each step required her full concentration. The fur wrap clung to her, too hot, too heavy, but she couldn't remove it. To discard the Ugoeze’s gift publicly would be an insult.
By the time she reached the shrine's courtyard, she was breathing hard, sweat beading on her forehead despite the chill. She reached her doors and stopped as if remembering something.
Nkiru came running.
"Akwaugo! You're back! Would you like—"
"Stay away from my quarters for the night." Azul's voice came out harsher than intended. "Don't come in unless I call for you."
The girl’s face scrunched up in confusion. "But—"
"Do you understand?"
Nkiru stopped, fear flickering across her face. She nodded.
Azul pushed open the door to her room.
As expected.
There was a blade to her neck already.
He had waited.