Chapter 29 #2
"I have come to discuss the Dowager's position.
" Chukwuemeka pressed on. He was not a man accustomed to waiting.
"The time has come to formalise what we both know to be true.
The Igwe is dead. Borji has been removed.
The only one left is Somadina. Now all you have to do is declare that the gods have chosen her as Divine King—"
"The gods have chosen no one."
Her voice was quiet, but it cut through his words, forcing him to still.
"What?"
Obiageli rose from her position beneath him; he noticed she was not as small as he thought.
"The gods have chosen no one," she repeated. "Not the Dowager. Not Somadina. Not anyone from this family's accursed lineage."
Something cold began to crawl up Chukwuemeka's spine.
"You speak nonsense," he said hastily. "You are the Oracle. You were trained by the priestesses. You have performed the rituals for twelve years—"
"I have performed rituals for twelve years." Obiageli's lips curved. "I do not claim the Dowager as my chosen king. Why did you assume I would allow the woman who formed me into imprisonment to hold power of such magnitudes?"
Chukwuemeka did not answer. He was staring at her face, at those golden eyes that suddenly reminded him of Azul's.
"You made sure you were always on the winning side. I made sure there was no winning side for you, Chukwuemeka."
The cold reached the base of Chukwuemeka's skull.
And a hand struck the girl's cheek. A man raised on the notion of violence would always resort to violent means when challenged. This time was no different. Obiageli choked as he grabbed her by the neck, lifting her off the ground, his nostrils flaring.
"The Dowager believes she was chosen. She has always believed it. The rituals, the offerings, the way she speaks of the gods as if they are her personal council—"
"She believes it because I made her believe it," Obiageli spat, barely breathing. "Every vision she has ever had, every whisper she thought she heard, every sign and portent and divine confirmation—I put them there. She's been eating out of my hand like a well-trained bitch."
"You dare!?" he roared, his hand tightening around her neck.
"I dare. And now, Father, your time is up."
Shouts and footsteps approached the isolated courtyard, and Obiageli was dropped as Chukwuemeka darted outside, heart pounding as he understood what was happening.
Guards surrounded him, spears pointed from all directions.
"By order of the Okpalaeze," one announced. "Chukwuemeka shall be arrested for treason against the sacred Of?!"
The Dowager's chambers were quiet when the servants burst in.
She sat by her tea table, all grief scrubbed from her face and replaced with serenity. At the commotion, irritation flickered across her features.
"What is this?" she demanded. "How dare you enter without—"
"Dowager!" The lead servant fell to her knees, gasping for breath. "Forgive us, but—the Okpalaeze—he's issued orders—"
The Dowager rose, her heart seizing. "What orders?"
"To arrest the Ugoeze and Chukwuemeka—they're being taken to the cells even now." The servant's voice broke. "He's ordered the Akwaugo’s release!”
The Dowager silenced the room. Her face transformed from one of tranquillity to blooming rage. "What?" The word was barely a whisper. "What did you say?"
"The Okpalaeze—he's freed the devil. He's arrested the Ugoeze. They're saying—they're saying he has evidence that the Ugoeze is the one the Oracle spoke of!"
The Dowager pushed past the servants, her white robes flowing behind her, her feet carrying her toward the door with a speed that belied her years. She had to reach Obiageli. Had to warn her.
"Dowager."
A voice stopped her cold.
Somadina stood in the doorway, filling it with his presence.
His voice was polite. "I was just coming to see you."
The Dowager's eyes narrowed. "What have you done?"
"I have done what needed to be done." He stepped into the room, and behind him, guards moved to block the exit. "I have arrested the traitors who murdered my father. I have freed the woman they framed for their crimes. And now I’m here to discuss your retirement."
The Dowager's face went pale. "You dare—"
"Grandmother. It is either that or I persecute you for treason and colluding with the enemy." Noting the shock on her face, he continued. “I know you’re responsible for Orda Naiman’s army closing in on us without warning from the Oracle.”
“Somadina—”
“I know Chukwuemeka is working under you. I should seriously thank you for giving me the throne.”
"You cannot claim anything without proof!"
"The Oracle said there was a devil among us. She did not name names, and yet, someone was signalled and arrested. Dowager. We are past the point of evidence and justice. The people want blood, no matter what flimsy excuse." Somadina's voice hardened. "Be lucky I haven’t killed Obiageli."
The Dowager's face crumbled.
He straightened. "You are a grieving mother, overcome by sorrow, driven mad by loss. Everyone will understand why you must be confined to your chambers for your own safety. For your own protection."
The guards stepped forward.
The Dowager fought them—trying to run past the door, scratching, screaming, her composure completely shattered. But they were stronger and younger. At the threshold, she twisted, fixing Somadina with a look of pure hatred.
"You think you've won?" she spat. "You think freeing that witch will save you? She will destroy you. She will destroy everything. And when she does, I will be there to watch."
Somadina smiled.
"Take her away."
Azul wouldn’t destroy him.
Borji was dead now; he was the only one she could crown king.
In Chidinma's chambers, the afternoon light filtered through gauze curtains, painting the room in shades of gold. She sat by the window, her embroidery frame in her hands, her needle moving in an attempt to capture the storm clouds that haunted the city.
Since the news of her father's arrest, she had not stopped sewing.
It was the only thing that kept her hands from shaking.
The door opened. She did not look up.
"My Lady." A servant's voice, trembling. "An imperial decree has arrived."
Chidinma's needle paused.
"Read it," She ordered.
The servant unrolled the scroll, his hands shaking.
"By order of the Okpalaeze, acting Igwe of the Borjigin tribe: It is with great sorrow that we announce the death of the First Prince, Borji, slain by enemy hands while on a mission of peace.
His body will be returned to the palace for proper rites.
In recognition of his service and sacrifice, his name shall be entered into the scrolls of honour, and his spirit commended to the ancestors. "
The embroidery frame clattered to the floor.
Her legs felt strange as she tried to stand, disconnected, as if they belonged to someone else. She took a step toward the window, toward the light, toward anything that might make this feel real.
Behind her, the servants dropped to their knees.
They bowed low, foreheads touching the floor, and when they spoke, their voices were a chorus of clarity.
"May the Ugoeze experience a thousand suns under Anyanwu's blessing."
Chidinma stopped.
Ugoeze.
She looked out the window at the sky and wondered if her sister was laughing.