Tofa led his mother down the dais and away from the throne. Away from his father, and the council. He held her face in his palms. ‘Tell me this isn’t true. Please tell me you didn’t do this?’ His voice broke, tears filling his eyes. ‘Tell me that all this is a lie. Tell me I am the Àkbí Oru. Màámi, please tell me this isn’t true.’
His mother only frowned and sighed, unable to meet his gaze. That broke his heart more than the truth itself. This was his mother. His everything. She breathed life into him. She moulded him into what he was. Into the king he would be. The king he was born to be. It was her voice he heard in his head when he saw the crown. And all of it was a lie?
The Lord Regent shot a menacing stare at Àlùfáà-Àgbà. ‘You killed my wife. You will die for this.’
The Lord Regent’s face contorted with anger. Ìyá-Ayé stepped in front of her priest, shielding him. ‘Will you kill a priest of the Holy Order, Lord Regent? Will you do what no other before you has done? Are the Àlùfáà not sacred, born and killed only by the will of the gods?’
The Lord Regent walked towards her, ‘I am the High Priest of the Sun Temple, the chosen Àlùfáà of this land, and ruler of this kingdom. I can do and undo as I wish. So don’t test the boundaries of my reach, or I’ll show you just how far it goes.’ He pointed at Àlùfáà-Àgbà. ‘Did you know what he did?’
Ìyá-Ayé nodded. ‘Mremí had to die. You know that. She was an imposter – she took the place of the woman who was to be your wife. This anger you feel is not because she’s dead, but because you were so easily fooled. You fell for this kingdom’s greatest enemy. Your anger cannot erase your guilt.’ She glared at Tofa and said, ‘As far as this kingdom is concerned, Tofaratì is your firstborn, the firstborn of the sun, the one whose agbára rivals the gods, protector of the six rings, light of the continent and Supreme Lord of sun and sands. He is the crown heir. And when the day of the first sun comes, you will yield that crown to him. Whether or not the girl lives is up to you, but you can’t think that a child of Òtútù will ever rule this kingdom.’
Aya’ba Oyíndà’s crown scraped the floor as she pulled it towards her. The Lord Regent turned on her. ‘Do not touch that.’
‘My Lord?’ she asked, confused.
‘I strip you of your crown and title. Get out of my sight. Return to your father’s house. Don’t let my eyes ever fall upon you again.’
‘My Lord! Please. I’m your wife, the mother of your son, your king!’
The Lord Regent turned to his High Priestess À?á, ‘Arrest her.’
Aya’ba Oyíndà unleashed her agbára, eyes burning, palms aglow with a light so bright they all squinted and covered their eyes. ‘Touch me and turn to ash!’ she screamed at the maiden.
‘Try it, Aya’ba. Just try it,’ À?á said, seething.
Ìyá-Ayé joined the fight, using her agbára to heat up the room. ‘Lord Regent, if your wife touches my daughter, she’ll meet her ancestors tonight.’
Tofa flexed his hands. His agbára shone brightest in the room. A moment ago, he’d thought to scare them with the limitless power the gods gave him as his birthright as firstborn, but now, all he could do was hope they couldn’t see through his glassy eyes to the terrified and heartbroken boy he now was. ‘Anyone touches my mother, and I’ll burn this palace to the ground.’ He couldn’t hope to be more skilful with agbára than two maidens of the Holy Order, but he wouldn’t let them hurt his mother – his liar of a mother.
The door to the temple swung open, and K?ni ran screaming through. Four guards on her tail. They caught up with her as she approached the throne, pulling her by her hair and torn clothes. She screamed so loud the glass windows surrounding the throne hall shuddered.
Tofa ran towards his sister. ‘Leave her alone.’ He shoved the guards holding her, and they let go. K?ni ran past him and fell flat before their father.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ the Lord Regent said.
‘Please, Father. I beg you. Spare her life,’ K?ni begged, hands clasped together.
‘Spare who?’
As the Lord Regent asked, the room echoed with the sound of chains rattling against the floor and the shufflingof feet. In came a servant girl dressed in the white robes of those heading to the grave. Bound from neck to ankles in heavy black chains. She was the girl Tofa had seen K?ni talking to the other day.
The Lord Regent edged forward. ‘What is her crime?’
‘Old magic, my Lord,’ said a guard.
Tofa’s heart sank as K?ni sobbed louder, ‘Father, please.’
Tofa realized, looking around, that his mother was gone. And so was her crown – she must have used the distraction to sneak out. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. His place on earth had shifted with just a few words.
He rushed to K?ni’s side and picked her off the floor. She wailed into his arms. The one person she’d befriended would die, and Tofa couldn’t do anything about it. And neither could their father.
‘You know the rules, child,’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà said, and Tofa couldn’t believe the venom that laced the old man’s words. ‘The magic of the old gods is not to be played with. It’s forbidden to mix the gifts of our gods with things of old. The decree in this kingdom is death, a law which has been set by every king and queen to sit upon the throne.’
Tofa didn’t miss the emphasis Àlùfáà-Àgbà placed on the wordking. As Regent, his father had no authority to change the laws set by a sovereign, and that included the ban on anyone outside the Holy Order from using old magic.
The Lord Regent glared at Àlùfáà-Àgbà. His gaze warned the old man not to say another word.
‘She is my friend, Father. She didn’t mean to –’ K?ni’s words caught in her throat.
