Onochie was the king. The king was Onochie. Onochie and the king were one and the same.

Ugegbe could scarcely wrap her head around her new discovery. Well, not so new anymore since she found out over a day ago. She'd spent the rest of the day wandering through the market like a mad woman, asking any and everyone she met what name the king of Zoro was given at birth.

Most were reluctant to give her an answer. Perhaps, they suspected she was a spy planning to wreak havoc in their lives by reporting that they'd been insolent, disrespecting the Eze's name. Ugegbe nearly broke down and sobbed at the number of refusals she received.

She had not imagined that saying the king's name could be a crime. It was not so in Osisi, and it flummoxed her that she needed to entreat people to disclose the appellation their king was blessed to grow with.

Eventually, she ran into the same woman who'd sold dried flowers to her more than a week before. Nnenna had spotted Ugegbe in her muddled state, immediately perceiving that she was emotionally strained.

It'd taken all of Ugegbe's self-control not to dissolve in a puddle of tears and confide in her. There was too much at stake for her to throw away all she'd worked for. And so, she only permitted herself to inquire after the woman and her family.

She learnt that the mother of one was a widow who'd lost her older husband to cold hands of death in his sleep. At long last, she made a roundabout call to the query weighing on her. She was given the confirmation she needed. The king's name was Onochie.

Ugegbe was not as stricken as she'd imagined she would be. She instead was angry. No, furious. She was choleric, and all her resentment was directed at Onochie. She hated the king. She didn't, really, but she was going to convince herself she could.

It was true that there'd been little headway in transforming her pique to a real and tangible form, but Ugegbe was determined to keep her rage alive and burning.

It was difficult to genuinely abhor Onochie-no, King Onochie-when she had secrets of her own she'd kept from him. The reality was they'd both fooled each other. And quite well. Ugegbe scowled as she realised she might never have known the truth if not for the unique marking on the king's feet.

Kneeling before him at the sun god's festival, she'd spend a prolonged while staring at the healed scar that deformed his toes. She'd wondered and wondered for long what could have been the cause of an injury that certainly must have been severe at the point when it'd been fresh.

A day ago, she'd squatted on the ground when the same mark demanded her concentration. Ugegbe was shocked to recount the wide line that ran from both of his toes down to the middle of his feet. The smaller of the two toes was missing almost half of what it should have been.

It would have been a bizarre coincidence that the king and a guard who worked at the palace had gone through the exact same life-threatening effect.

Cuts like that were inclined to become infected quickly and could claim the life of a child or adult alike. No coincidence could explain the unbelievable phenomenon Ugegbe had watched unfold.

She'd gone as far as examining his other foot. As expected, the smallest toe of his left leg had a nail that had turned black. When Onochie had offered her a hand, she'd crawled backward, flailing across the ground, kicking dust up in flurries.

Ugegbe's heart had pounded hard without stopping. Thousands of thoughts ran through her head, physically zapping at her as they arrived. Was that the reason for his disguise? To ensure no one else knew their king was frolicking with a servant in the market square?

There was no other choice but for her to run away. She was fraught and beside herself with anguish as she sought to confirm that her surmises were not a mere product of her going insane. Nnenna had supplied the answer eventually and all her plans of marriage had come crashing to a halt.

When Ugegbe thought about the king lying to her, heated rage rushed through her veins. However, it was not the same for Kamalu. She couldn't believe he'd been a henchman in the king's business. She'd considered him a friend and, thus, was disheartened to realise he'd also fooled her. A spool of sadness had spun in the depths of her stomach at the betrayal.

She pondered if he'd only defended and protected her because of the king. Was his close relations with her only because he was pandering to his master? Making these hypotheses hauled in a wave of despondency. Ugegbe was crestfallen as she mulled over the fact that she had no friend as she'd earlier thought. It was enough to leave her disconsolate.

All the same, she was glad this was revealed before the contest to find the king's bride. She had no greater conviction than that which she used in culminating she would not be marrying the king.

Of her own volition, she'd abandoned her plan to wear the crown of a queen, thus, shirking off her slave status and ambition of gaining the power and riches needed to save her father. She would make do some other way.

Ugegbe knew she would return home with the money to pay off his debts and break herself free from a life of bondage. She wasn't yet sure how it would happen with the menial labour she was engaging in, but she had faith.

Unfortunately, she wasn't confident about whom to put her faith in. Actually, that was a lie. She did know who she needed to trust and look up to, but she was ashamed to do that much. She'd forsaken Him in every manner.

First, she'd committed the worst crime of taking another's life. She'd been taught that it was unpardonable to destroy what the Creator had made with His own hands.

Though, Ugegbe had to wonder why a good being would fashion into existence a creature as Prince Nnofo. She supposed he was not made that way initially. Humans started out as babies and transformed into adults. People chose to be who they were. It wasn't forced on them by a higher force. Nnofo's cruelty and vileness were of his own accord.

Shivering to the depths of her bones, Ugegbe vanquished thoughts of the late prince. She did not want to recall the too many details of what she'd done a month before. Nothing could change the verity of her bringing demise upon the crown prince of Osisi. It was permanent, and she'd have to wake every day and remember she was a murderer.

While she'd been smitten with Onochie, lost in the fog of the deceits he'd carefully crafted, it'd been easy to ignore the past. At present, it was back to eating at her. At every turn, it pointed out that she was enjoying herself and living a life free of worries when she did not deserve it. How could a murderer live with such ease? It wasn't found anywhere, and it certainly wasn't ideal.

Unrest had crept back into Ugegbe's life. The night before was riddled with nightmares she'd not experienced before. It was so terrible she had jolted to wake in a pool of sweat, on the verge of hyperventilating. Yet, for all her panic, she could not recall a single detail of the awful dream.

Even now, while she pounded the soft palm nut to force out its juice, her brain did not have any details about her nightmare to spare. It instead was more concerned with rehashing the situation between her and the king. Each hard smash of the pestle splashed tiny drops of oily liquid on the mud floor.

Ugegbe groaned at the mess. She really had to stop acting as if the palm fruits were her enemy or had blatantly betrayed her like Onochie had. Still, the more she lingered over that fact, the angrier she got. Her aggressive knocks at the palm fruits only got increasingly louder.

By the time she'd released her deathly grip on the pestle, the floor was covered with globs of yellowish-orange and...tears? The colourless droplets were from her eyes. Ugegbe felt her cheeks, and they were wet to the touch.

"Why am I crying?" She asked, only to receive her answer in the form of a sob. Now, she was sobbing.

Ugegbe pressed the swells of her palms to her shut eyes as the teardrops rushed and gushed out of unsealed ducts. She didn't know why she was wailing outside the palace kitchen, but it felt like she had to. She needed an avenue to vent her emotions, and crying was perfect for it.

Moments later, when exhaustion had set in, Ugegbe sorted herself together, wiping off her tears with a corner of her wrapper. She was grateful no one had shown up in the interval she'd cried her eyes into dryness. What would she have said was her cause for lamenting?

She very well couldn't say she was angry that she'd been tricked by the king into believing he was an ordinary man. She also couldn't confess that she felt lonely and missed her father so much that it hurt. She additionally couldn't utter that she was in misery whenever she remembered she was a slave who still had debts to pay. Or that she hated that the king had a lover he was promised to.

Or that she'd fallen in love with him and wished it was her he'd chosen. None of those blasphemies could ever make their way out of her mouth unless she wished to face grave repercussions. It was as clear as day that Ugegbe was all alone, and she had no desire but to wallow in pity for herself.

But, of course, she couldn't. "Ezinwanyi!" Akuada shouted from the rim of the yard. "Ezinwanyi!" She called again more urgently.

Ugegbe cleared her throat to guarantee no signs of her earlier breakdown existed. "What is it?" She questioned, irritated at the disturbance. Why couldn't she be left alone to lick her wounds? No, Akuada had to show up with her nosy and annoying attitude.

Hopping over the small wood pile near the kitchen's entrance, Akuada emerged before Ugegbe. "You are still pounding the seeds?" She returned, ignoring the query she'd received. "Why are you so slow? You should have finished by now!"

Ugegbe rolled her eyes. "Why are you calling me? I have no time to waste."

"I agree," Akuada articulated sarcastically. "You have none to fritter since you have spent most of it achieving nothing. By the time the Ofe Akwu soup is done today, the next morning would have dawned."

"If you are here to start trouble, then you should leave, Akuada." Ugegbe itched rigorously at a spot on her leg. A mosquito had stolen a pint of her blood, and the skin had adopted a red hue. If she scratched at it any further, she would leave behind a sore. That was if Akuada gave her the space to breathe.

"The queen mother has requested that I pass a message to you. She orders that you send your reply through me."

Ugegbe stiffened, dread washing over her. There were a million possible motives for the dowager queen sending her a message. At the top of her list was what if the query would be about her progress in preparing for the event every maiden was looking forward to tomorrow. What would she respond with, if so? Should she lie or tell the truth?

"I was ordered to inquire how far you have gone with learning about the history of our great kingdom, Zoro? The queen mother also wants to know if you have purchased or prepared attire for the event. She says she looks forward to seeing you at the gathering and will not take a refusal for an answer.

"The very words of Her Majesty were, "if you disappoint me by not showing up at the contest tomorrow, then I will take this as insolence, which is an inexcusable offence for which one can be punished. I expect you will consider this as you make your choice, Ezinwanyi."

Ugegbe's mouth was wide open as she stared at Akuada's forehead, which was shiny with Udeaku. The palm-kernel oil complemented her complexion and made her cheeks seem rounder. Ugegbe might have complimented her, but her jaw was still slacked, and its hinges were yet worn out.

She couldn't believe that the dowager queen had threatened her. She very well could not withdraw as she'd planned to. She needed an alternative. And swiftly. Ugegbe's legs shook listlessly as she contemplated what to do.

The idea struck her with a decisive blow as if hit by a lightning bolt. To Akuada, she implored, "Please tell the queen that I am ready as ever for tomorrow. My wrapper is in order, and I shall make sure I do not miss a single phase of the contest."

Ugegbe had a new prerogative: making herself undesirable to the king of Zoro.
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