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 aboutthis 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 wastalking 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, naïve 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’sdeath 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.
