The king was enraged. He sat on his throne, furious, seething at the news he'd recently received. There were few times he'd wanted to hurt a man, and this was one of them. The more he thought about it, the lesser the odds of regaining his composure became. And in the present, keeping calm and collected was his only choice as king.

It was his quandary that both Onochie and the reigning monarch were one. He could not separate himself from the crown he wore. If he could, Ifediaso would have been lying on the floor, outstretched as he rained angry fists on his face.

He'd been wary of the guard, but now, he hated him sincerely. It was well-warranted, as Kamalu had been equally as piqued and hate-driven. There must, had to, be a method to punish that wastrel that was yet in the laws of the kingdom and wouldn't draw attention to his interest in the erred maiden.

Onochie was inclined to not consider the opinions of his cabinet and the entire public, but he knew it was not a good notion. He needed to be bothered about his people, about what they thought of him. It wouldn't do him well to stir up rumours of him and a maiden from a foreign land.

The gossip likely wouldn't be positive. Many would wonder why he was so concerned about a maiden's affairs if he did not have relations with her that a man should not cultivate with an unmarried woman. It could even come to dissent derived from him choosing one who was not from Zoro.

The questions asked in the latter scenario would be centred around why he did not think the women from his kingdom worthy of his attention. That would be problematic since it would hurt his people and give them a thwarted view of their king, who ordinarily loved the women in his land. Ozioma was one of them. He cherished her with all his being and would not trade her for the world. She satisfied his every need.

As for Ugegbe, she was painstakingly beautiful. But she was not his, and despite the thrumming of his heart whenever she was in the same vicinity he was—a most unwelcome event—he stubbornly believed the organ was merely confused. He could admire two women, but the heart was only meant to belong to one. He could love one woman solely and truly. She was Ozioma.

Yet, that acknowledgement did not connote that he could not show concern for the beauty he'd helped save from the death grips of a snake. It was why he detested Ifediaso for her sake. He'd never have imagined the man was a vile, unscrupulous lowlife, and he wanted him to suffer as Ezinwanyi had under his hands. The pain he'd administered to the woman, Onochie wanted him writhing in it and much more.

He imagined her striking face covered with injuries and swollen mounds, and his head grew heavy as rage pumped into its space like air into a pig's bladder, ballooning it, so the skin expanded to the extreme. It was only a beast that would dare hurt a defenceless woman. Or man, for that matter.

It would serve his embittered soul well to ensure that Ifediaso did not glimpse the break of another day till the next market day. But it would be an order misunderstood, the intent behind it misjudged. Onochie wanted none of that. So what in the world could he do to right this wrong?

The room could not contain the pacing feet of the restless lord. Onochie covered the span of his palace a third time before he was conciliated enough to sit on his mounted stool. He'd sent out his men when Kamalu had arrived to give him a report on significant issues. Now that the chief guard was gone, he was alone in his spacious palace, which was fine by him, as he preferred not to have an audience while he laboured over Ezinwanyi and the aberrant Ifediaso.

Onochie had to do something about Ifediaso. He knew he had to, especially now that Ezinwanyi had saved his mother from one of her bouts. Nothing usually worked for the older woman except carefully tying her limbs up so she did not hop into an open fire, collapse on the exposed blade of a knife or fall so hard to the ground that she gained a concussion. The Wise One was then invited in to perform her incantations, after which his mother was prone to losing consciousness, throwing those by her into another round of panic.

Ezinwanyi had changed that. From Kamalu's account, she'd managed to calm his mother. She did not stop the seizing and locking of her muscles or the uncontrollable jerking movements at once. Nonetheless, she'd safely brought the bout to pass more quickly than it had ever done with just the use of palm kernel oil and a wedge that apparently kept the queen mother's teeth from gnashing together.

According to Kamalu, not one new scratch was found on his mother afterwards. Onochie stared at the flickering candles and torches half-burnt through. He knew his eyes were glassy, having entertained a sheet of salty water, but he was so grateful that he did not care. He would not hide if any being walked through the doors of his throne room and found him nursing tears because of his mother.

Why should he care when it was his mother? The woman deserved his tears and more. He knew it was not a masculine act or look on the king, but he wasn't the manliest male in the first place. If he'd had to ascend as ruler over his people on the merits of his bravery or courage, then he would not have stood a chance. He likely would never have smelt the sometimes stale air of the mansion erected for the king of Zoro. Would never have had a reason to exist before the chiefs he detested and was repulsed by.

He supposed that wasn't the worst of deals. Trading his wealth and riches for a peaceful life without the obligation to do the things he gained no pleasure from attending to seemed enticing.

Perhaps he would have been better off. He likely would have lived a merry life entirely different from the broken one he currently battled with. He had good cause to believe that his identity wouldn't have been false or like the facade he had carefully crafted for himself. He wondered how rewarding it could have been to be himself, a man without pretences. To be genuinely Onochie.

It was a perfect fantasy in his mind, an affair without drawbacks or reverberations. He imagined there'd be only pleasurable climaxes and no hurtful denouements. But the world did not work that way. There were gives and takes; one could not simply take all their life. They had to give one way or the other to balance the natural works.

Onochie detected his naïveté and allowed himself to be embarrassed for a thrice. What would he do if he hadn't been born a successor? How would he have taken care of his mother? How would he have afforded everything she needed: all the requirements for the rituals where the gods were implored to give her respite from her suffering.

If he wasn't king, he'd be hard-pressed for the bags of cowries that landed in the native doctor's hands after the ceremonies. He indeed wouldn't have been in the position where the items Ezinwanyi requested for were delivered in a flourish, as his mother would not have been the dowager queen.

From the mouth of a maiden he'd summoned from the queen mother's palace, he'd even learnt that Ezinwanyi convinced her to down a concoction of leaves that lightened her headaches and made bed hunger for food. What a wonderful woman she was. Onochie was yet to meet any as selfless as she was. The same maiden who had been assaulted by one of his men turned around to do him a favour by treating his mother.

Onochie was not confident he'd be so generous if he'd been in her shoes. Resentment and animosity were capable of gnawing into one's cloth of humanity. If he were a visitor in a kingdom searching for refuge and he'd taken a beating from a royal sentry for no offence of his, the bitterness that'd take root in his soul would not permit him to serve the village in any manner. One thing was for sure: Ezinwanyi was an admirable woman. It was why he had to avenge her.

He had not met her in person since she left Bundo's home, particularly not as royalty. She'd loathe him if she found out about his noble blood. In the course of narrating her story and reason for fleeing from her village, Onochie had noted her contempt against those in higher positions. She hinted that the bastard who attempted to defile her had held a place in society above hers.

It was not his wish to be despised by her. As such, he'd refrained from visiting his mother. The queen dowager would not have appreciated his visit either way. He'd be breaching protocols, apparently, by showing his face at her place on a day that was not designed for a social call.

On a standard routine, he was to wait till the end of the week. Today was the only instance he was all too glad to let the stupid rule be his guide, for he would not have to cross paths with Ezinwanyi. However, that did not mean he could not initiate justice from his regal seat of honour. Ifediaso would get what was due to him for his actions, even if that was the last thing he did.

"Guards!" Onochie rumbled from within the room, so his voice reached the men who often dozed off on duty.

"Your Majesty!" Two bald-headed males burst into the room, weapons clenched tightly in white fists.

"What's happened?"

"Calm yourselves." Onochie released them from their fear of the unknown. "Nothing is amiss. I want you to send for Ifediaso. His king requires his presence. Wait." He held them back before they could depart. Holding their gazes captive, he spat on the floor before them. "Tell him that I want him here before that spit dries up. Or else, there will be consequences greater than he can imagine."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

The threat must have worked because Ifediaso was bowing before him some few minutes later; the ground was still wet. "Good evening, my lord. You called for me."

Onochie was not inspired to return the greeting. In fact, he was trying very hard not to walk up to the man and smash the smile off his face. It was an expression perfected to taunt its receiver.

His lips curved in a slant, a smirk, which made the king believe that Ifediaso knew something that he didn't and thus was mocking him for being ignorant. There was nothing he could scrape off the top of his head that the man had the intellect to hold over him. Hence, it was vexing that the guard was bent on riling him up this way. Even more absurd and incredibly infuriating was the fact that he was falling prey to his wiles.

Willing his anger to recede, Onochie pinned the man with a penetrating stare he hoped was intense enough to fool him into considering that he could see through whatever lies he'd planned on swaying him with.

"Your actions today have come to my attention."

Ifediaso's brows drew together in a furrow, his lips bending out of shape as he twisted them to mirror his frown. Onochie found the expression most comical and presumed that the guard was not taking him any seriously. "My actions? Whatever about them could have attracted your great attention, Your Majesty?"

"Do not play the fool. You know what you have done. Your lack of consideration and respect for a certain maiden has reached my ears. Before I say what I have knowledge of, I will allow you to come clean and confess your deeds."

"Ah, my lord." At this juncture, his cast was that of a caricature. "I am most surprised you paid mind to such a trivial issue. I would have thought Your Majesty to be busy with more important matters instead of dabbling in talks with gossipers."

"What do you mean by that!" Onochie gritted his teeth, wholly put off by the guard. Ifediaso was condescending and had not bothered to disguise his insult to the king's face. What gall! Nothing was more written in stone than the fact that onward, there was no way the rascal would go scot-free. Even if the heavens came down.

"Please do not take my words to heart, Your Supremeness. They were not made in jest. I just would like to understand why my glorious king would be involved in such lowly business."

"Shut your mouth!" Onochie growled, on the cusp of shooting to his feet and visiting his fury upon the watchman. But it would speak poorly of him. He needed to hold back.

Determined to control his rage, the monarch leaned into his chair and found another object of attraction. The night sky budding with hazing darkness cried out to him. He studied the outside world through a window with acute keenness. Stars had begun to wink from above, glittering fruits dangling from a gloomy canvass.

Onochie breathed in the air stuffed with the smells of fried food and vegetables. He'd always liked how his court was situated in the path the wind blew in. When the palace kitchen was busy preparing meals, any breeze that crept by paid him a visit before leaving. He enjoyed their stays as he tasted many foods long before they were delivered to him. It was not often that he ate in his throne room, but sometimes he took that liberty only to equally satisfy his palate and sense of smell.

Keeping his focus on food, Onochie noted appreciatively, was ridding him of the bubbling umbrage at Ifediaso's arrogance and discourtesy. Would anyone else dare be this flippant with him? Even Kamalu, whom he considered his closest confidante addressed him with more regard and civility than Ifediaso.

"I am in no mood to listen to rubbish from you. So I will give you a chance to right your offence. Nothing but the truth will come out of your mouth."

"If I may, my lord?"

"May what?"

"I knew my presence would be required of me since Kamalu stumbled upon my relation with the maiden. Because of that—"

"Quit stalling!" Onochie interrupted, severing the sequencing string of meaningless rambling. "I do not want my time wasted."

"Yes, Your Majesty. My apologies. The point I was to make is that I took great lengths to convince you of my innocence despite whatever the chief guard might have apprised you of."

"How do you conceive of doing that?"

"Just outside this door is my explanation. I..." Ifediaso broke off with a chuckle. "I have brought the maiden before you."

"What?"
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