Onochie was miserable. Beneath the veil over his head, he was perspiring pot after pot of sweat. Yet, he could not take it off for fear of being found out by Ezinwanyi. It was a conundrum indeed. He could not make himself comfortable by welcoming the tiny currents breeding by every now and then as he was not prepared to take the risk of losing his cover.

With every second that flapped by like a bird racing to its nest, Onochie grew increasingly agitated. The heat was getting to him, and he felt like he was bread being baked to ashes by the sun. Underneath his thick wrapper, his body was slippery with the salty streams secreted from every pore, and he could scarce take it.

His attendants were in hysterics at his sour disposition. They'd been stricken with terror when he snapped at the maiden who had brought palm wine to him. Reflecting on his actions, Onochie could recognise that he'd made a mistake, but this culmination had not been so apparent at the instant he'd needed it most.

It wasn't the girl's fault that the drink had been warm, almost boiling hot. He'd not requested cool refreshments, so he'd had no right to yell at her and hurl the bowl at the wall just over her head when he'd sipped the warm liquid. At the moment, it'd been a reasonable idea to throw a tantrum and scream his head off at the guard who'd stood too close to him; now, he was duly embarrassed.

Onochie would apologise, but he could barely see through his veil and the beaded curtain of his crown. Moreover, he was aware that the servants would have been replaced after their erring. They were nowhere near his throne and would not be allowed at least until the end of the festival to ensure there was smooth sailing of events onward.

Propping a fist under his chin, he contemplated how the events outside his current abode were. He'd received favourable reviews from Kamalu, but that was hours ago before he'd set out to do the task he'd been assigned. He was to keep Ezinwanyi from wandering close to the tent serving as a temporary palace for the king.

If there was one thing he could count on Kamalu to do, it was to do any job he was given flawlessly. However, Onochie could not spring up faith in his chief guard like usual. He was queasy upon conjuring up the scenario that Ezinwanyi broke through the barriers Kamalu set up and ultimately unearthed the truth.

Though he had not eaten anything, Onochie was nauseous. He was ready to cast his guts before his subjects, and he could not settle his upset system. There was a monstrous upheaval inside of him that had no foreseeable end.

The king was tempted to abandon the festival and retreat to his quarters, leaving everything to a fate he had no ruling over. Yet, he had the solid comprehension that this could not be so. Not when the dowager queen was headed for him, a magnificent smile lighting up her face.

Onochie was soldered to his seat in utter terror. Why was his mother here? Her duty was to oversee the festival from her makeshift palace metres from his own. She was not supposed to show up before him until after the sun had set and the celebrations were finally in full swing. But here she was, and he did not have the option of sending her away.

"Eze m!"

"Nne Eze. Ezigbo nne m!" He returned.

"Nwa m nwoke! Omenkeahurunanya!" She ululated, her thick voice resonating through the rippling space around them.

Onochie grinned, trying his best to conceal the actuality that receiving praises often made him incredibly shy. From his mother, it was an honour, but it did not eliminate the bit where he was bashful at the tributes being expressed to his name.

"Omeifeukwu of Zoro!" She sprung forward and wobbled on her feet visibly to worry Onochie. He signalled a guard to go to her if some help would be appreciated on her part. However, she shooed the guard away immediately when he was by her side. Onochie groaned in defeat. His mother was stubborn and headstrong.

It had long become evident that she hated when she wasn't given full autonomy over her actions, even when she ostensibly required help. Onochie supposed they both shared the same character in that aspect. He also hated being pitied and beholden to anyone who showed him kindness.

"What can I do for my dear mother on this fair day of our sun god?" Onochie questioned, hoping his mother would not mention a word about the fact that he was veiled during a festival that did not call for it. In fact, it had never been done in history by his predecessors until him.

His enshrouding was especially unwarranted since he was in a shed with billowing white wrappers tied to the thatched top. Occasionally, they snagged on the coarse edges of the vegetation that formed the roof, and he could see the bustling activities beyond his domain. Other than that, he was in a world that could only be entered from the outside with his permission. He did not need the extra overlay of sheathing over his face.

"Ahụike dị mkpa. Ahụike bụ ego. It is when one is healthy that they are wealthy. Money does not remain in the hand when one is sick. It disappears during such courses because one cannot sit and fold their hands while their body suffers."

She cleared her throat and resumed her speech. "My son, not many have been able to relieve the pain I was born with. Most have dismissed my case as one of being possessed since I was a child. None has cared enough to show me compassion since your father's passing. Not until a remarkable woman who hails from a kingdom that is not ours."

Inside his heat generator, Onochie gulped, audible to his ears. Fortunately, his mother was too far from him, or she would have heard the terror that rolled down in that swallow. He knew there was no other option available to him. From the attentive gazes of his people, he was meant to prompt the next part of her story, and he dreaded where it would lead.

"Who is this woman, Nne'm? I must show her my gratitude for attenuating the effects of my mother's ailing."

"Thank you for your graciousness, my king. The maiden's name is Ezinwanyi. I have sent my servants to retrieve her so she can submit herself in your presence."

Onochie might have fainted if he were not seated.

༄༄༄

Ugegbe could not fathom why they'd rounded the ring where the skilled horseman rode one of the king's older horses to attract amazed viewers for the fourth time. It was a fascinating sight, she had to confess. She'd been drawn to it and had clapped happily when she initially watched the horse perfectly trot through a rope tied to form a circle. Her eyes had widened when the clever creature had leaped over each calabash lined up in a row without breaking or knocking over a single one.

However, the event's novelty had worn off, and it'd lost its appeal after the second performance of the same moves and tricks. Ugegbe could not help it, but she was no longer engrossed by the performance as it did not absorb her as before. Kamalu did not seem to think the same. He was riveted, engaged by the horse cantering over various objects provided by the audience as if he did not observe the same show seconds ago.

Moments ago, she'd delicately suggested that they move on to more exciting displays. Kamalu shockingly had listened and moved two yards from the horse and its show of bounding about to a store where portions of dried meat were sold. He'd bought her four fat pieces, which she now had in the shard of a broken calabash.

Munching on the delicious treats, she did not feel that flare of annoyance at the amount of time they were wasting in one place when they could be exploring farther, enjoying the grandeur of the festival in every way she could. Yet, she still would not have minded if they did move.

As if he heard her thoughts, Kamalu gestured for her to come with him. "Where do we go?" Was the first thing she asked. The chief guard grinned as if he was up to something. Ugegbe eyed him suspiciously but followed meekly.

There would be no complaints from her when this new trip entailed that they parted from the stable. Finally, she would grasp the scents of a fresher air, not sunken by the odours of the animal's dung, which she wouldn't have minded if they hadn't spent eons near it.

They were headed deeper South, away from the festival's crux to its outskirts. He pointed out any phenomenon she did not understand or had not encountered before. Though there weren't many, Ugegbe enjoyed learning about the kingdom's culture and how some aspects differed from Osisi's.

She noted with a smile that it was a place she could imagine herself living in years from now. If fate was kind to her, she envisioned herself married to a good man, birthing children, and making her father happy.

For an unfathomable reason, when her mind latched onto the concept of a husband's presence in her life, the picture that whirled in her head was a dazzling shot of Onochie. The man who'd saved her. The man who she longed for. The man who did not belong to her.

Vibrating her head energetically, Ugegbe banished the thought from her mind entirely. Only for it to return more fiercely than it'd first pierced her web of reflections. It got worse with every effort she made to forget him. Kamalu pointed out a wrapper made from silky fur, and the sole notion that had popped into her consciousness was that it would be perfect on Onochie.

She conceived the fine material from a dead feline wrapped around his waist with matching thin strips on his ankles and wrists and wondered why he wasn't present at the festival. Shouldn't he be present, partaking in the splendour that the event did not lack? Everywhere the eye turned, a kaleidoscope of colours erupted, inundating and saturating the mind with exquisite hues. It was literally breathtaking.

Ugegbe wished he was there with her. No, that wasn't possible. She had ended all opportunities of retaining a relationship with him. It'd been the right choice at the moment, after learning that he had not been true to her. Yet, she could not cast off this feeling of misery clawing at her bones to reflect on the finality of her behest to him.

Even though she could not be his lover or friend, at least catching a glimpse of him amid the vast sea of swaying heads, moving up and down without rest. Perhaps she should ask Kamalu about him. Maybe, just, maybe. But she could not and did not ask.

What if the king hadn't given Onochie permission to attend? He did work in the bigger palace, after all. It might be embarrassing if she inquired about his absence. If it were so, Ugegbe hated the king more now than ever.

First, he had not given her an audience when she'd asked for it. Now, he was thwarting her plans by keeping away the man she earnestly wished to see. If only she could give him a piece of her mind. But alas, she was a commoner, and he was nobility. She had to seal her lips and bite her tongue to preserve her life. Monarchs were not the most forgiving of people.

Thumbing the smooth cloth again, Ugegbe set it back down. She'd done enough admiring at the particular stall. The market seller, a chubby woman with a round face perpetually fixed to display wariness, was casting surreptitious glances at her. Any customer could tell they were no longer welcome to ogle the display if they had no intent to buy from it.

Slipping into the waving throng, Ugegbe surged forward to catch up with Kamalu. He had his rear to her and was slightly startled when she tapped him on the back. He'd been discussing with a man who had an assortment of blades scattered on a mat.

Ugegbe thought the weapons could be arranged more orderly, in tidy rows, to be a less unpleasant view. There was nothing about knives and cutlasses strewn about without a pattern that compelled her to make a purchase. Then again, she supposed it might have been deliberate that they were so. The darker uses of such weapons, after all, had no order to them. Only chaos.

It was not Kamalu's fault that he had a nearly morbid interest in objects designed to have both the use of inflicting harm on others and doing something as simple as peeling the skin off a yam. He was the chief guard in the palace. If anyone was entitled to wielding a weapon, it was him. His job was to protect the king and the queen mother. But that did not mean she would subject herself to the horror of remaining by his side while he inspected knives and cutters.

Without alerting him to her departure, Ugegbe wandered in the opposite direction Kamalu was, towards the thronging centre of the festival, abuzz and teeming with swaying energy. She cut past a shed, but the fragrances from large bowls drifted on the wind's back to her sharp nose, drawing her back and causing her to forget her voyage.

The scents were the most pleasant aromas she had encountered in a while. They made her forget that her feet were rimed with dust and mud and that her soles were sore from all the exploring she'd done so far. She hopped over the block of stone that barred her way from the smiling woman who had a baby in deep slumber at her back.

Ugegbe peered into the basins and asked what the tinted water was. The woman was all too pleased to reply. "These are a mixture of water and flowers that have been dried and crushed into powder. See, it has a sweet smell." She cupped a scoop and presented it to her visitor to attest to her claim. "It is good in baths and makes the body smell fragrant long after a shower. A little dab on the wrists could charm even the most rakish of hunters."

"It does have a lovely scent," Ugegbe remarked after a brief sniff at the solution. She had no intention to bewitch a rake, but she imagined it incorporated into making soap. Soap produced from plant ash and sometimes animal fat usually did not have a great aroma. She suggested her idea to the seller. "Have you thought of gauging this to making soap?"

"Ah, tis a good idea, but soapmaking requires skills that I do not have. And it is possible that the mixture might not bind to that of the soap materials or that it would make no difference." She rocked softly to soothe the baby who'd fussed in her sleep. "Nonetheless, it is an idea worth to be discussed. I shall bring it up with my friend who is in the business."

Ugegbe nodded. "I am glad to hear that. But I must admit that selling dried petals might also be practical. Some persons might like to put the flowers in their bathwater too." Rich people, of course. "It likely would also make the mixture more appealing."

The woman appeared to consider the idea for a moment before shrugging. "I think about it. But you must buy from me in the end. I cannot eat your advice, you know? That should be obvious even though you are a foreigner." She taunted, though without bile in her tone. Ugegbe grinned in return, studying the woman's curved mouth. Her amused expression had shifted upward the double strips of tribal marks that connected either corner of her lips to her cheekbones by some inches.

"Gbaghara m o." Her plea for forgiveness was half-hearted as she pointed at the mix she wanted. "Here," she fished out a few cowries from the end of her wrapper according to the price she'd been given, shaking her head at the knowledge that a businesswoman was always a businesswoman. She had given the trader ideas that could bring her more customers for no cost, yet she preferred that Ugegbe spend money instead. But it was only expected since the woman had not asked for suggestions in the first place.

She dipped her ware into the sea of red blend and drew out portions. The sound of water being poured into a cone fashioned from the broad leaves of a plantain tree was satisfying, but all Ugegbe could muster up was that most of the liquid would be gone by the time she was at the palace. "Daalụ o." She expressed her gratitude as she placed the carefully wound structure in a bigger boat made from another set of leaves.

Ugegbe reasoned it was her fault for not bringing a basket to store her bought items. "Nsogbu adirọọ! Ka ọmesia!"

"Ka ọmesia o!"

Sensing that she had been gone for quite a while and that Kamalu might have gotten worried about her, Ugegbe set out to retrace her footsteps to where she last left him. She had not made it a good metre away from her starting point when a breathless voice yelled her name from afar.

"Akuada," She blocked out the dissipating rays of the sunlight as the tall figure sprung to her. Ugegbe noted passingly that it was becoming a usual occurrence for the woman to be chasing after her these days. "What is wrong?" She covered some of the span between them by walking to the maiden in fast approach.

"Ezinwanyi! The dowager queen is requesting your presence! Quick! Come with me!" She grabbed her captive by the wrist without giving her a chance to protest, and off they went. Ugegbe had no other choice. Akuada's grasp was like the coil of a boa. One could not escape it.

After a few stops where Ugegbe had to drag her to a standstill so she could catch her breath, they arrived at the giant tent where the king was nestled amongst his select subjects. The guards bobbed their heads, signalling them in after Akuada introduced her to them. They must have received the order from the queen mother to let them through immediately.

"You are to go forward and kneel before the king. Do you hear?" Akuada instructed as she pushed Ugegbe past the flaps of the curtain in their way.

"What should I say?" Ugegbe asked. What am I to do? She wanted to query, but Akuada had already made herself scarce. Ugegbe was alone and unprepared and on her way to see the king.

Her heart pounded against the confines of her chest like a pestle being driven into a mortar. The arranged visit to the monarch, though not entirely unanticipated, was still a spontaneous event for her. She had not braced herself enough for it. And if she were honest, she did not think it would happen. But she could not afford to dawdle. It was an act that could cost her more than she'd bargained for if she wasn't cautious.

The queen mother was seated on the king's left hand on a chair that was planted a few steps below her son's throne. She was ethereal in her simple white wrappers, and Ugegbe basked in the light that her welcoming smile painted the room in. None of the talismans, miniature idols and clay ornamentations in the space kept her attention as she tethered to the warm expression of the older woman who had called for her.

"Your Majesties," She knelt before the surplus of power brimming and overflowing into the open, descending from the mount upon which the crown head sat. Her breath grew shallower with each passing beat till the organ in her left breastbone thrashed madly. It was sincere agony. Her lungs could not inflate fast enough to bear the oxygen her system needed and craved for as if it was wine in the thick of sorrow's cloud.

"Ezinwanyi come closer," the dowager queen held out a hand, and Ugegbe rose as gracefully as she could and walked up to the figure whose face was not concealed, unlike her son's. As she increased her pace, she was surprised to the point of silently praising herself at the poise and natural gait she'd adopted without hesitation despite her wavering.

"I have been speaking to the king about you. He has heard of how you have aided me the past few days."

"Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty." She bowed, and the queen mother beamed at her.

"I am who should thank you for your service to me, Ezinwanyi. You are indeed a good woman." The dowager queen commented on the name which originally belonged to her mother. Ugegbe mused as a shooting pain stifled her, swiping her voice in a single lift, that her mother had been a good person, but she was not.

She had murdered a man, and here she was lying about who she genuinely was and her motives. To make her guilt worse, she was receiving praise that she did not deserve. Her mother would have been disappointed by who she'd become.

"To your right are gifts that the king had prepared for you. You are free to take them with you when you leave."

Her eyes flicked to the pile of goods waiting for her. The shame, which washed over her earlier transformed into a fierce gust, blustery and bitter as it slammed into her. "Thank you so much, Your Majesty. Thank you for all your grace, my king." She regarded the man seated so imposingly on his box festooned with garlands knitted from tiny ribbons of red and white strings. The massive chair was decked with the fur of a leopard, and Ugegbe swallowed at the splendour that did not deny the magnificence of its monarch.

She wasn't sure why the king's face was concealed, as it was not a phenomenon she'd noted to be of the norm at the sun god's festival in Osisi. Maybe it was different in Zoro. She could not judge because she was not accustomed to their traditions and practices. Maybe she would know the many conventions like the back of her hand one day, but that day had not yet come.

Today, the cascade of beads in a fall over the Eze's veil only mesmerised her and would not stir up any suspicions in her mind. Nor did the fact that the king had not uttered a word since her arrival impress on her open mind a lick of distrust.

Concluding that there was nothing else she could do, Ugegbe bowed again in reverence. The queen mother who had done all the talking heretofore spoke again and asked the woman who had received the branch bearing the fruits of her favour to make a bolder approach to the throne.

"Come hither and greet the king at his feet so he can see you, Ezinwanyi." She articulated in that dense voice that suited her, and Ugegbe could have sworn she heard a sharp gasp sweep through the room. There were only two guards present, and they were at the end of the room. She could not have heard them from where she stood. It had to have been a trick on her hearing as there was no how it could have been from the king, who under his mantle—fenced off from the world of commoners and those lesser in power to him—was cold and aloof.

In addition to her prior unfavourable opinion of him, her new judgement of the king was quite harsh. But what else could she surmise from how the monarch had disregarded and shunned her very existence? There was little room for doubt against her sentiment that he was a stony and cruel man, showing neither sympathy nor care for those around him. It was a surprise that he was not hated by his subjects.

"Rise forth, Ezinwanyi." The queen mother repeated, and Ugegbe quickly tendered an incoherent response that even herself did not register. In the moments that had passed, she'd found that she was stuck in place, like she'd been glued to the red clay floor. Her anxiety had gotten the best of her.

Tension, fetid and domineering had begun to swallow up the comfortable atmosphere when she finally overcame her apprehension, easing the pressure drilling into her shoulder pads to make headway. With the swift haul of a cavernous breath, she ascended the four steps before her that led to the king's stool.

As his Nza skimmed her back, her sight pooled at the only part of his oiled legs exposed and snagged on an interesting mark. Across the three foremost toes of the king's left foot was a scar that ran deep enough to raise an eyebrow. Ugegbe had no memory of seeing it, but a tiny voice in her head echoed that she had come across it before.

Upon rising, all she could ponder was where she initially saw it. Where? Where? Where! Her mind rattled as it searched for an answer without its grasp. There was that niggling yet relentless suspicion that would not be upset...

It was that she'd already met the king before.
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Translations
Eze m - My king.
Nne Eze. Ezigbo nne m! - The king's mother. My dear mother!
Ahụike dị mkpa. Ahụike bụ ego. - health is important. Health is money.
Nwa m nwoke! Omenkeahurunanya! - My own son! The one whose deeds are known and seen!
Omeifeukwu - A title meaning 'one who does great things.'
Gbaghara m - Forgive me.
Nsogbu adirọọ! Ka ọmesia! - No problem! Goodbye!
Nza - Horse tail.
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A/N: Hey sweets! While this chapter might seem like it has random events (like at the market), I promise it does tie into the story eventually. Thank you so much for reading lovelies! Your comments always make my day. Loads of love from me to you all!💛