‘I was only trying to help,’ he said, laughing.
‘You can do that without eating my fingers.’
‘Okay, fine, come here.’ He took her hands again and wrapped them in his. He awakened his agbára, and a soft glow flowed through his palms, warming her to her core. Even the harsh breeze that had threatened to freeze her nose off now felt like the heat of a midday sun.
She quickly removed her hands again. It felt good. Too good. She couldn’t trust herself not to do something stupid with the way his beautiful brown eyes peered into hers.
They were just friends. Nothing more and thank the sun nothing less.
‘That’s new,’ she said, pointing to the string of white coral beads on his wrist.
His eyes shot to them, and he placed a hand over them. By the next moment, he’d slipped the bracelet off and tucked it away. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘I was trying something new but it doesn’t fit.’
L’?r? wanted to pry further, as she was prone to do, but he spoke first.
‘I want to tell you something,’ Alawani said, slowly reaching for her hand and locking his with hers.
‘About why you skipped training and have been moody all evening?’ L’?r? said, keenly aware of how perfectly their hands fit together like missing pieces of a puzzle.
L’?r? moved to stand and Alawani blurted out, ‘I heard something today. Apparently, someone from Ìlú-p? arrived at the capital gates.’ He paused and swallowed. ‘It was a boy who said he’d been called. He said he was Àlùfáà – one of the chosen.’
L’?r? bent low, closer to the fire and held the crescent pendant that drooped from her neck. It was a gift from Baba-Ìtàn when she was younger, although she didn’t remember receiving it. It had always just been a part of her.
‘What does that mean?’ L’?r? asked.
‘Didn’t your father explain how all this works?’
‘You think my father, who turned his back on the Holy Order and their gods and is still living out his punishment for leaving, will sit under this tree and tell me how the stupid hierarchy of the Order works?’ she scoffed. ‘I’ve had to pick up all I know by myself.’
‘I guess not,’ Alawani sighed. ‘Well, the call is about appointing new priests to the Order and continuing the royal line.’ He paused. ‘To explain this, I need to talk about my grandfather, and I know you don’t like any mention of him or what the Order did to … It’s important, I promise.’
L’?r? nodded, eyeing him cautiously as he went on.
‘My grandfather was no one before his call,’ Alawani said, avoiding her gaze. ‘But then the gods called him and changed his life. And as the lone survivor of the stripping ceremony right before the queen’s death nearly eighty first suns ago now, he was chosen to be the next High Priest. His firstborn son, my father, became the new crown heir and in the eighteen first suns before my father’s coronation, my grandfather ruled as Lord Regent of Oru. The day my father died, the cycle continued, and your father left the Order, so Babátúndé was chosen as the new High Priest and Lord Regent for his firstborn son, crown heir Tofa.’
L’?r? shrugged. ‘So, it’s that time again. When the Holy Order leads boys to their death. Why do you care?’
‘I. I just –’ Alawani sighed. ‘I don’t remember much about my father. I’d only seen four first suns and a few blood moons by the time he died. It’s been so long now that without his statue in the palace to remind me of his face, I might have forgotten what he looked like. What I do remember are his last words to me.’
‘What did he say?’ L’?r? said, closing the gap between them and wiping off the single tear that rolled down his face.
‘He – he –’ Alawani tried speaking, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘I think he wanted me to join the Order.’
‘Gods forbid,’ L’?r? said as quickly as the words could get out of her. ‘It’s against the law. No one’s going to make a prince an Àlùfáà.’
‘They shouldn’t,’ Alawani said, his face grim with fear. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Tofa’s coronation is in a few blood moons, and because he is so young, whoever survives the trials now is unlikely to ever become High Priest. So if there is little risk my bloodline could return to the throne, maybe I could be called up?’
‘Why would you even consider this?’
‘The trials aren’t all about priests and heirs. Without the Red Stone, the people of this kingdom will lose their agbára. What kind of a life would that be? Children of Oru would be born without the blessing of the gods. That’s a fate worse than death. I don’t want to be responsible for such a curse on our land.’
‘Even for the sake of preserving the agbára of future generations, you cannot truly think any of this is worth your life.’ L’?r?’s heart tightened as she spoke. What she wanted to say was,I have no agbára and I can confirm that it is in fact a curse.But that would mean telling him her secret and even after many first suns together, she wasn’t ready for that just yet. So instead, she said, ‘Your father couldn’t have wanted this. What exactly did he say to you?’
Alawani shook his head, the tremor in his voice returning. ‘He scared me. He said the gods would change the rules and I had to yield to their will. It shouldn’t happen, but I’ve justbegun to fear that it might. I am so scared, Tèmi. I don’t want to die. I don’t want the life of a priest.’
L’?r?’s heart skipped a beat every time he called her Tèmi and it hurt now to see him so terrified. ‘Listen to me,’ she said, moving to kneel before him and placing herself between his legs. She held his face in her palms. ‘Your father, may his soul find the city of light, is dead, and the dead cannot decree. He cannot condemn you to a fate worse than death. Forget the sound of his voice, Alawani, and listen to mine,’ she said with a shaky smile, and wiped at his tears. ‘They haven’t called you, have they?’
Alawani stared at her blankly, his eyes glassy with tears.
