Ozioma forgave him all too easily. She'd let him off the hook after he confessed that he'd thought of kissing another woman. But this happened only after making him promise that he loved her, not the other woman, that he would never cheat her by going to that same woman, and that he would not marry any other woman but herself who he had already promised union.

Onochie meant his pledges to every single word that had trickled out of his mouth. He adored Ozioma, and his affections for her were very much authentic. Something he was not so confident about the emotions Ezinwanyi had drawn from him.

He would not be going back to the dark beauty either. She'd sent him away from her, making it evident that she would not entertain his presence if he were to ever seek her. It was her warning that rang in his head, a threat for him to never come near her again. Did the thought cross his mind to do what she had disapproved regardless? It might have.

Onochie vowed to not risk nearing the maiden since his lust for her was considerably strong to the point that he'd contemplated cheating on Ozioma, a woman he'd known and loved for an extensively longer period. Yet before dawn, he'd made it past his courtyard, halfway down the pathway that led to the dowager queen's palace.

Fortunately, Kamalu found him, a cloud of worry the chief guard's faithful companion amid the interception. Onochie knew he should have felt shame at his actions, but he'd been troubled by nothing, only sorely disappointed to not have at least caught a glimpse of her. Ozioma would have had his head if she'd heard his thoughts.

The former chief's granddaughter was not a patient or especially considerate woman. It was why Onochie found it weird that she'd forgiven him without further conditions, requests or threats. He had discovered through his old, errant ways and the consequences he'd received that it was not in her nature to be so merciful.

He'd assumed that she'd raise hell upon hearing his unfaithfulness that had almost turned physical, but she'd simply listened and demanded his assurances afterward. He had to admit that he'd experienced relief at her leniency. Ozioma could destroy a man, wipe him out of existence with her blazing anger.

Onochie had not yet learnt how to control her rage. He barely succeeded in tampering it down and usually regressed into himself whenever there was a case of her tumultuous upset. In her states, her irate gazes perpetually threatened to slit him open and spill his blood with its lethal force. To say the king was daunted by it was an understatement. The passion he carried for her was all that gave him the courage to not lose himself to the deadly flame she carried.

Still on his bed mimicking the silence of sleep, Onochie readjusted himself to be more comfortable. These were the perks of being a king. All that was required of him was attending to the matters of his kingdom. There were professionals for everything else, which meant on a special day like this, he was permitted to sleep in.

But not for too long. Onochie's eyes popped open as he realised his door was being assaulted with thunderous bangs. He frowned, glaring at the distance that spanned from his bed to the end of his chambers. It was clear whoever it was calling on him had been doing so for a while, as a myriad of voices howled in concern when the strikes on the wood were clipped. 

How had he missed the knocks? He wondered as he sat up, lowered his feet to the cool floor and unfurled to his full height. Contemplating the outlooks of the women in his life had sucked him into a void, concealed from reality, so much that he'd missed the signals floating in the present.

Onochie could hear the voices better, less muffled than before, upon reaching the sturdy barrier. "Let us break the door down!" A yell sounded, and a throng of voices, scattered and disorganised, shouted their acquiescence.

Onochie flung the door open. "You will do no such thing." He rebuked them, and an animalistic whoop sprung through the air at his emergence.

"My king!" He stared intently and abruptly recognised the tall guard who usually held his base at the doorpost as one of the few select who directly protected the monarch. If he remembered correctly, then his name was Iben. Onochie bit back a smile as the men all dropped to their knees, following Iben's lead, wails of relief rising higher, breaking through the roof.

"We were so scared." Another said, and Onochie counted eight other heads that sombrely nodded and added their earnest support in jumbled-up phrases and exertions. Some feet from the circle of men, a maiden knelt, and he made a quick deduction that she must have been sent to prepare him for the day but could not see to finishing her job since he'd been half-aware of the world in his daze.

"Thank you for coming to us, my lord!" Iben cried out, summoning an echo of his gratitude from his comrades. Onochie thought them all a noisy lot, but he was touched. To know he was cherished was an uplifting experience. He nearly shed a tear on the spot. Waving them to their feet before turning on the slight female was all he could do to not sell himself out.

"What is the problem?"

"There is none, Your Majesty," Iben answered, beckoning on the woman who was left standing behind him since the other men had journeyed back to their posts. "She is the maid sent for your services. We are to get you ready for the festival, my lord."

Onochie was surprised to feel his pulse speed up in excitement. He was positively thrilled to see the performers he'd handpicked for the celebration in action. In the rounds of elimination, he'd been absolutely entertained by the many enactments, to the point that he'd been unable to decide between options.

The settlement had been to retain an extended line of showings. One thing was now for certain, and that was the fact that he had a lot in store for them. All that was left to do was hope that his people be satisfied by the delights to come.

"Is the water for my bath in place?"

"Of course, Your Majesty. I have prepared a bath for you. It is freshly drawn water, allowed to warm to the temperature you prefer. I have made provisions for all that you require, my lord. And I will be here at your service for anything else you might desire."

Onochie raised a brow at her competence. For a tiny woman with a voice barely heard over the roaring palace, bustling with activities for the evening, she was outspoken. He was pleased by her competence. She knew what she was doing, and that was a trait he preferred in those who served him.

"Good." He smiled slightly at her, giving himself the chance to admire her Nri scarifications, a permanent homage to the sun god. Hers were most beautiful, three carved lines running from her left cheek to the right.

Onochie could tell from her lovely engravements and the several bands of beads on her waist that her service in the palace was not so much of necessity but of choice. In addition to those, he also noted that this was his first seeing her. The reality that she could speak straightforwardly without any difficulties also led him to infer that this was likely an additional source of income and not one she needed to live on.

It brought him strange contentment to register that not all of his people suffered under hard labour. Hopefully, there were more of her to be found. He knew he had not done enough for his subjects who were so loyal to him that it was unnerving. He hadn't removed their fears or alleviated their poverties. Yet, they clung to him with sincere genuineness. It never failed to touch his heart.

During the course of scrubbing himself, Onochie made the promise to be even better than he already was. To do more and more. And more. He did not ask the clever woman her name but was glad she was assigned to him. She took charge of his grooming while he amassed his reflections in a towering pile. It would take much effort from him, perhaps, even more time to pass, but he was repledging to himself to become a king worthy and deserving of those who loved him.

"Thank you," he said after she'd shaded the arches of the left plane of his chest. Today was for honouring the great Anyanwu who sustained life. Little decorations were needed as one was to appear before the god in their true nature, no pretences to be found.

Embellishments and excess adornments were not necessary. "I am satisfied with your work. It does my heart good." He praised her, and he could tell he brought her happiness, as she offered him a shy albeit tentative smile. It was the only instance he'd seen her dyed teeth.

"I am joyed that you have found delight in the works of my hands, Your Majesty. It is an honour to serve you." She curtsied then exited the room.

Onochie was left alone with his thoughts, which were prone to wander at any opportunity they got. And wander they did, to the maiden who had not vacated his head. Ezinwanyi.

He traced her likeness in his memory, savouring each curl of her semblance. Oh, she was beautiful. Fiercely and agonisingly so. He coveted her like an ignorant fool. His lust for her could neither be quenched nor consumed in a thousand fires. And he hated that it was so.

"Stop this insanity!" He bellowed at himself, shaky hands digging into his outgrown hair. It was all so wrong. So incredibly wrong. At dusk, the festivities would begin, a prelude to the second half that was to be held in some months' time. Onochie had the duty to lead his people in worshipping the god of sustenance. Yet, here he was fighting to rid himself of a woman who was not his. It was a shame indeed.

But before Onochie could devise schemes to free his mind of her, a knock on his door sounded, followed by an announcing of the dowager queen's presence. "Mother?" He sketched a bow quickly before she could object, then stood back to gape at his visitor.

The woman adequately adorned with a crown of cowries and coral beads regarded him with a peaceful and steady disposition. However, something was off. Onochie studied her keenly and found her dark brown eyes sparkling as they darted here and there.

The king backed away from the dowager queen, wary and suspicious of her motives. It was never a good notion for him when his mother was exuberant about something. It normally involved him in uncomfortable situations or being left to fight for his lucidity. Both, as of the present, were equally unpleasant options.

"It is I, and I have come to pay you a visit." She entered his room on his go-ahead and perched on a padded chair, her bright image at odds with the dark decor in his room. "Ah, this room is almost identical to how it was in your father's days." She remarked with a blank expression that could not be read.

Unable to tell whether she was agitated by the state of his residence, Onochie chose to give her a straight response instead. "Indeed, Mother." Onochie took a look around the enclosure, choosing not to dwell much on the details of which facets belonged to him or his late father. "Not much has changed. How is your health, Nne'm?"

"It is fine. My health is fine." She shook off his concern before it could billow into a greater issue than it was. Onochie caught her cue and reluctantly resolved to let her go this once. He opted on not pressing her further no mt"I am hale and hearty, as you see. You need not bother about me when there are more important matters at hand."

"Like what?" He countered, trying to not sound as exasperated as he felt. It tired him to hear his mother speak so lowly of herself. She hadn't been the most available parent in existence, but she had cared for him when she could and had not abandoned him even though he'd grown up to be his own man. For those logics alone, he believed that she deserved more than she was receiving.

"You know what I mean, Onochie!" She spoke sharply, and the king beamed despite the seriousness of the conversation they were having, for this was one of the few occasions that his mother had called him by name. He was going to cherish and keep the moment locked in his heart forever.

"You are also important, Mother. Very much so. To me, and the kingdom. You mean so much to me. How can you not see it?" He fisted his hands as he pondered on what could have caused his mother to become as she was. Was it the illness? Or was it someone? What could have made the woman who ruled Zoro with an iron hand as Queen regent when her son was too young to ascend the throne turn into a shrinking, diffident person? It wounded him to watch.

"There are moments where I do not want my illness to be discussed. So, forgive me, my son, for fleeing from your questions, but I do not think there is enough dry ground for me to land on just yet."

Onochie mottled with shame. He had never weighed the issue on such an unerring scale. He'd been blind to his mother's needs, expecting her to yield to him when he had not done the least of observing and meditating on his mother's illness from her perspective.

"Please forgive me, Mother." He went to her, staggering and pitching himself into a squat before he clutched her hand in his. The soft, gently wrinkled fist grasped him with comparable zeal.

"I cannot forgive you," she said, and Onochie's neck acquired a crick as his head snapped up to behold her in shock.

"Why can you not pardon me, Nne?" He swallowed, finding it impossible to breathe properly as those weathered eyes peered down at him.

For a beat, her wrinkles faded, and he glimpsed a beauty that had once shone without creases and puckers to shade it. Now, it was more a subdued physical beauty since most of what was formerly outward were on the inside. Yet, her good light had not dimmed one bit. Onochie wanted every human to hear of his mighty mother someday. But first, he needed to find a way to appease her. 

"If you want me to forgive you, then you will do my will."

"Anything. I will do anything, Nne'm!" He asserted vigorously, eager to right his wrongs.

"I want you to give your approval to begin the process to find your wife, beginning from the next Afor market day."

"What?"
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