The man raised his head, straining as the iron around his neck weighed him down. His eyes were bloodshot, and his lips cracked. He matched the Lord Regent’s steel gaze.
‘Tell me everything,’ the Lord Regent said, his voice softer after staring down the man.
Tofa imagined surviving the Red Stone together must have created some bond between them. They could easily have been friends.
Baba-Ìtàn shifted where he stood. ‘Your guards stormed my house, destroyed everything I own, and dragged me here to your dungeons.’
‘You brought that upon yourself,’ the Lord Regent said, agitated. ‘I let you live, and you repay your Order by giving refuge to an enemy of Oru. Where in the world did you find that girl?’
‘Is that what he told you? That she’s your enemy?’ Baba-Ìtàn said and scoffed, his chains rattling as he pointed to Àlùfáà-Àgbà.
‘?niìtàn, I want to help you. You’re my brother. For whatever that is worth, you know more than anyone the position I am in.’
Baba-Ìtàn frowned. ‘We are not brothers, Babátúndé –’
‘È·w! Gods forbid,’ the members of the Holy Order present shouted in unison. They cursed the man for calling the Lord Regent by his first name.
The Lord Regent waved his horsetail again, excusing the blunder. Reluctantly, they quietened.
‘Maybe once, we were something of the sort, but as the dust never settles too long in our land, so also time has shifted whatever we were. We are not brothers. We cannot be. Not while you sit on that throne, and I rot away beneath it,’ Baba-Ìtàn said, stretching his hands and allowing the chains that bound him to shake as he moved.
‘I don’t want you in chains, and you know that. But the evidence of your transgression is permanently imprinted in the memories of those present for the attack from your … daughter. I can’t justify your freedom.’ The Lord Regent paused. ‘Do you have nothing to say for yourself?’
‘If I wanted to answer to you or the Order, I would not have left,’ Baba-Ìtàn said plainly.
‘And why did you leave? Was whatever you left your brothers for worth it?’
Tofa noticed the look that passed between Àlùfáà-Àgbà and Baba-Ìtàn. His father may not know why his friend left the Order, but Tofa could bet the crown that Àlùfáà-Àgbà knew every single detail of the truth.
Baba-Ìtàn, who looked like he was about to speak, withdrew after the glare from Àlùfáà-Àgbà. The Lord Regent must’ve missed it because he said, ‘I remember the night you left. I remember begging you to stay like a child losing a sibling. You were supposed to stay!’
‘Here? To be what? Your prisoner?’ Baba-Ìtàn said.
‘You chose this life. The life of a prisoner was your choice. You could’ve had this crown, you could’ve had it all,’ the Lord Regent shouted.
Baba-Ìtàn scoffed, ‘We’re both prisoners. I’m bound in iron and you in gold. You’re just too blind to see it.’
A guard struck Baba-Ìtàn across the face, and he bent over, groaning in pain.
Tofa looked away as the man spat blood onto the goldenfloor. The morning sun had begun to fill the room, beaming its rays through the skylight above the throne, making the Lord Regent look like a god on his dais. His mouth formed a tight line, and his gaze darkened. ‘Where is the cursed girl of Òtútù? Tell me now, and I’ll spare your life. Lie, and you’ll lose your tongue.’
‘She’s not cursed,’ Baba-Ìtàn said.
Tofa almost gasped. Never in their history had their Àlùfáà been executed, but even then, Baba-Ìtàn did not seem to consider that these days, unprecedented things happened each new dawn.
Àlùfáà-Àgbà rose to his feet. ‘Enough of this,’ he said to Baba-Ìtàn, then turned towards the Lord Regent. ‘My Lord, it is true that the gods forbid the death of an Àlùfáà away from the Red Stone, but this man has done nothing but mock the gods from the moment he joined the Order. With a heavy heart, we, the Holy Order of Oru, call for his execution. The punishment for harbouring an enemy within our walls is death, my Lord.’
Beside him, Ìyá-Ayé and High Priestess À?á nodded in agreement.
‘So you ask permission to kill one of your own?’ the Lord Regent asked.
‘Not permission, Lord Regent. We don’t need the permission of the Regency for this. He is one of us, and we’ll do with him as we please.’
‘He is a child of Oru and under the king’s command. You are under my command.’
‘You are not my king.’
‘È·w,’ the room echoed, passing nervous glances at each other. Abomination.
