The Lord Regent slammed his hand on the edge of his seat and the metal head hovering over him vibrated with the sound of his voice, ‘Don’t you dare say a word.’
Àlùfáà-Àgbà recoiled under Lord Regent Babátúndé’s anger.
‘It was all the Àlùfáà-Àgbà’s doing, my Lord. He forced me to lie to you,’ Aya’ba Oyíndà said quickly. ‘That night, Mremí had her child before me – but only mere moments before me, my husband. The timing was so close they could’ve been twins.’
‘This woman is a lia—’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà said, and before he could finish saying the word, the metal head hovering over the throne shrunk to the size of a long needle and went right through his arm and into one of the doors at the far end of the room. The old man shrieked in pain and slumped to the ground, and Ìyá-Ayé ran to him. Holding the old man in her arms, she summoned her agbára and hovered her glowing palms over the wound. Her eyes shot daggers at the Lord Regent, but she dared not say anything.
‘Father, what’s going on? Stop this, please,’ Tofa begged.
‘Not another word!’ the Lord Regent shouted at him, then turned to his mother and said, ‘Continue,’ in a voice so calm it was scarier than his outbursts.
When she spoke, her voice was filled with fear, trembling with every syllable. ‘It was a strange night, my Lord. One moment Àlùfáà-Àgbà was taking our son from my arms, and the next, Mremí had disappeared into the night. I didn’t know what to think. Àlùfáà-Àgbà had sent maidens after her, but they didn’t find her. That night, he returned to tell me what Mremí had done to the midwife. He said he knew from the marks she left that she had the cursed agbára – the abomination. He said that she was part of the scourge once removed from our blessed lands, and they threatened a return that could destroy our kingdom, and I believed him. So when he asked me where she might have gone, I told him about Mremí’s relationship with ?niìtàn, the coward priest. And Àlùfáà-Àgbà hunted her down and killed her. Until now, my Lord, he made us all believe the child was dead too.’
‘What?’ the Lord Regent said.
What?Tofa thought as he listened to his mother say things he couldn’t quite grasp. Oh gods, did his mother have a hand in the murder of a rival wife? He turned to Àlùfáà-Àgbà,whose wound was healing under Ìyá-Ayé’s flame. Did Àlùfáà-Àgbà kill an innocent girl?
The Lord Regent’s eyes burned with fury. ‘This man told you that he killed my wife and child and you kept this from me for eighteen first suns? Ah, Oyíndà?!’
‘My Lord husband, I had to consider that the child might not even be yours. Mremí was not faithful to you, my Lord, and you deserved more than to be forced to raise a bastard as your own.’
The Lord Regent shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and she moved back promptly but continued to speak. ‘We all know that Mremí was sleeping around. It’s no secret in this palace that she bedded ?niìtàn, your best friend at the time, I might add. I figured if she was innocent, why would she run? Even if she had broken her marriage vows why would she not come to you, our husband, and beg for mercy, even as I do now. After all, she was your favourite.’
‘This girl is my daughter!’ he cried.
Tofa’s eyes widened. In shock at his mother’s audacity, in horror at the secrets she spilled. He stepped onto the dais, shielding her with his body, and keeping her away from his father’s crimson gaze. He was done being kept in the dark. Done being silent. ‘Someone needs to tell me what’s happening right now,’ Tofa said. His booming voice filled the room, bringing a sudden hush of stillness.
‘Your mother conspired to kill the mother of my firstborn child,’ the Lord Regent said. ‘L’?r? – the girl who broke Alawani out of the temple, was my Mremí’s daughter. The one Àlùfáà-Àgbà, Ìyá-Ayé and even your mother have been urging me to hunt down and kill. Just like they killed my Mremí.’
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 thesecret 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 naïvety. 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?’
