Father. She’d never called him father before this moment. Not since they were children. She put aside her rage and pride to save this girl’s life. Tofa glanced at the servant girl and wondered how in the world their lives had collided.
‘Please, Father, she’ll swear an oath, a blood oath, never again to use the magic of the old gods.’
Lord Regent Babátúndé looked at the girl in chains. The servant girl trembled so much that a constant rattling of iron filled the throne room. K?ni had never asked their father for anything before, and Tofa knew that if it was something he could do, he would.
‘The law demands death by beheading and burning,’ the Lord Regent said to the servant girl. ‘But my daughter pleads for you, and while I can’t save your life, you may choose the way you go to meet the gods, and may they welcome you into the city of light with open arms. You may speak your à?írí.’
Àlùfáà-Àgbà grumbled under his breath.
The Lord Regent raised his hand, silencing him.
K?ni embraced Tofa, ‘Please, brother, save her. You were born to be king. It doesn’t matter if you wear the crown today or blood moons from now. Your word stands. Please help me. Save her.’
A heavy, hollow sensation in Tofa’s chest weighed him down. He was without power, without a birthright, without his place in the world. Had she asked this just a day before, even just a few light beads before, he would have climbed the throne and decreed her friend’s release. But who was he fooling? Everyone else in this room knew the throne wasn’t his. His words had no power or authority. Not anymore. So he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, K?ni, I can’t.’
K?ni pulled away, and his stoic sister, who never smiled or cried, crumbled before him. Her eyes, filled with betrayal, pierced his heart like a dagger.
The Lord Regent prompted the servant girl, ‘What will it be, child?’
K?ni shoved Tofa and ran to her friend. They held eachother for a long moment, whispering to each other, and then the servant girl said, ‘Poison herbs, my Lord.’
‘Then you will meet your gods tonight,’ the Lord Regent said.
K?ni hugged the servant girl, squeezing her tight as the girl sobbed her à?írí in whispers.
Lord Regent Babátúndé nodded to Ìyá-Ayé. The mother of maidens stepped forward and leaned over the servant girl crouched on the floor. ‘It’ll be quick,’ she said, pulling out a small pouch from her breasts.
The guards forced K?ni away from the girl as she took the contents of the pouch and lay down on the floor. K?ni screamed at Tofa, ‘You killed her!’
K?ni held on to the girl until she breathed her last, and when she looked into her brother’s eyes, he saw fury. A rage so wild and hot her agbára glimmered from beneath her palms. Tofa had never seen K?ni’s agbára before. It was a condition for her survival. He wasn’t afraid; he knew she’d never hurt him. He took a step forward, hand across his chest, tears in his eyes, hoping she could see his heart breaking. She did not. She crawled off the floor and lunged at him.
The world slowed, paused, and then cracked wide open in the next few moments. How could she forget? She knew the standing order all the guards in the kingdom had. She was Khìndé, Ab’bakú. She knew that her life would be over if she ever attacked him or even looked like she would attack him. She’d known her whole life the terms of her survival. Yet, she lunged at him, and the guard nearest moved quickly. Tofa rushed to K?ni, reaching out to pull her away from the dagger heading for her chest. But he was too late.
Agbára burst out of him. His hands glowed, and heat crawled through every inch of his body, consuming him and turning the brown of his entire arms golden. The blast thatshot out of him didn’t just burn all four guards. It eviscerated them, leaving nothing behind. He ran to K?ni’s slumped body on the ground. ‘K?ni, K?ni, wake up, please. Wake up!’ He looked up to Ìyá-Ayé, ‘Help her!’
Ìyá-Ayé looked to the Lord Regent as if asking his permission.
Tofa’s rage was a scorching fire, searing through him and making every muscle in his body burn. ‘I am your king, and I command you to heal her now!’ He flared his agbára, and Ìyá-Ayé complied.
Tofa held on to K?ni’s body as Ìyá-Ayé worked her healing flame through the wound. ‘I’m sorry, sister,’ he whispered.
K?ni’s breath hitched as she tried to speak, blood pouring from her mouth. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this,’ she coughed, and closed her eyes.
Tofa’s shoulders shook with silent sobs. He’d never forgive himself, either.
Àjùmbí ò kan t’àánú; ?ni orí rán sí’ni ló n ?e’ni lóore
To be related to someone by blood does not guarantee receiving favour from them; help comes only from those divinely sent to one
33
Ìlú-Idán, Fourth Ring, Kingdom of Oru
L’?R?
L’?r? had a hard time deciding her next move. Márùn had gone out for one last patrol before they left the house at nightfall. So while they waited for the sun to set, L’?r? had to decide what to do. The hourglass in her pocket kept her stomach in knots, and she pulled it out to check the time every other heartbeat. She struggled to keep her mind from breaking as anger flared in her chest. Her heart raced, and her mind reeled from the shock of it all. She felt a myriad of feelings, each one blending into the next.
She wanted to free her father. Well, not her father – Baba-Ìtàn.
