Her gaze burns into mine for several seconds as if she can brand her words into my brain; then she releases me and, pivoting on her heel, stalks toward my bedroom door. The sharp, hurried movements snap me from my temporary paralysis, and I turn back to the closet to snatch down the pants. Swiftly, I drag them over my sleep shorts.
You’re going to be a gotdamn force to be reckoned with and a better oba than me and your grandmother.
Her words rev and race in my head like the engine of her favorite Dodge Challenger. I can’t believe or accept that promise in this moment. Mainly because it would mean losing my mother. For me to be oba, she would have to die.
I want no parts of that shit.
“No, Eshe. I meant what I said. You’re not coming with me. Not this time,” Ma snaps.
“Okay,” I say, my voice even while I zip my pants and fasten the button.
I’m not arguing. Since I was fourteen, I’ve been right by her side as she ran our family. She hasn’t excluded me from anything—not a meeting with the family kapteni or a negotiation with an arms dealer, not a killing of a betrayer to the Mwuaji.
Blood before belief.
The Mwuaji creed.
Meaning family before everything, including faith.
I’ve been spoon-fed that creed since before I was old enough to understand its power. And though I love this family, I’d slit every one of their throats and watch them slowly bleed out while eating a bag of Funyuns before turning my back on Aisha Diallo. She’s not just my queen; she’s my mom—my everything.
Which is why if she thinks I’m letting her leave without me, she’s been hitting that good shit we sell. Broken or not, I’m going to be by her side.
Yeah, and you need to prove that you’re not a liability. That you’re still worthy to be by her side.
“Eshe, I’m not telling you this as your mother but as your oba: Stay. Here.”
I freeze again.
Dammit.Gotdammit.
“That’s not fair,” I breathe.
My mother, I could disobey. But my queen? I can’t. And she knows that.
Damn her.
She gives a soft snort. “Pretty much nothing in life is fair, baby girl. You’ll find that out on your own. And, as the future oba of this family, it’s your place,your duty, to make that shit balance out as much as possible. Remember that, Eshe.”
Future oba.There she goes again. What the fuck? Does she know something I don’t? Fear whistles through me. Is she… is she sick and hasn’t told me?
“What’s with this teachable moment, Ma? Where you going?”
“Business meeting.”
“Then why can’t I go?” I demand, frowning. “I’ve been able to before. What’s so different with this one?”
“Because I said so, Eshe. I’m not doing this with you. Now wait here until either I get back or Zuri comes for you. Me or Zuri, baby girl. No one else. And do not go back to the obodo. You understand me?”
She doesn’t want me to go home, to the Mwuaji compound? Why? And why wouldn’tshereturn for me? Yeah, Zuri is her right hand, the person she trusts most besides me. But why…?
An ugly, grimy feeling winds its way up from my churning stomach to coil around my ribs. What the fuck is going on?
“Eshe? Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Ma,” I murmur, my mind whirling.
“Good.” She nods and reaches for the door handle, but she hesitates, her hand hovering above it. For a second, her head bows, her shoulders drop. Shock ripples through me like a tidal wave. I’ve never seen my mother look… tired.
