It was impossible to take one's eyes off the chirpy maiden. She was—quite literally—stunning. Ugegbe sat at the back of the gathering, her feet deep and set to bake in a pile of sand. Her gaze, however, was on her. Ozioma.

Ugegbe could see why the king fell for her. She was taller than most maidens, with a full-figured build that would put goddesses to shame. Her fair complexion gleamed as the sun caressed her with its rays. It was as if the ordinarily angry ball was scared to hurt her soft-seeming and apparently fragile skin.

There were bruises all over her body. Most swam upstream from the base of her ankle to at least the midpoint of her knee. Some were sprinkled here and there on her arms and shoulders. They didn't seem to have been generated on purpose, like from a beating. Instead, Ugegbe thought them to be from simple carelessness.

She could relate to it, having observed it firsthand from watching Zelunjo: her childhood friend was fond of bumping and knocking her limbs into a sharp or hard object in the way.

Contemplating further on this, Ugegbe concluded that in addition to how Zelu and Ozioma were quite similar in that manner, they also resembled each other in some of their physical traits. Though Zelunjo was more on the shorter side, they both were light in complexion and had pillowy curves in the right places; Zelu stood on the more buxom side.

While they did not share similar features in their facial attributes, Ugegbe could not help but be drawn to Ozioma. She reminded her all too intensely of her dear friend.

It was pathetic, really. This was the same woman who was to become wife to the man she'd fallen for. Yet, she could not find it in her to summon up hate for the chosen one.

Ugegbe reasoned that it was no use to expend her energy loathing an innocent woman. Ozioma knew Onochie first, and he'd given her his heart accordingly. She could not change this by baring her teeth or keeping malice with the queen-to-be.

Moreover, Ugegbe could not find anything wrong with her, no matter how hard she tried. And she did try. All she did notice was Ozioma seemed to be an open book. Her expressions were boldly written on her face, and her tongue was quite loose. She'd made a few brow-raising comments that Ugegbe never would have dared, but again, reservedness had always been her call compared to most other people.

As no one gave the impression of picking out her slight misgivings, it was difficult to tell whether or not any had taken offence at one or two of Ozioma's statements. Thus, Ugegbe had conceded it was probably her observational skills that allowed her to note the utterances that weren't appropriate for the situation.

Not wanting to seem too suspicious for staring at one person for too long, Ugegbe turned her eyes downward to the wrappers she had on. It was a two-piece, as expected of a day dress, but she'd cut the skirt to be incessantly long to the point that it made no sense.

It swept low, some inches above her ankle, yet at an awkward length that could not be counted as a three-quarter wrap. She had also tied the top half to cover her bosom and stomach so that not even a sliver of skin showed. From afar, one could be tricked into assuming she was garbed in a single one-piece garment, tightly secured on her chest.

The mistress in charge of herding the huddle of animated and chipper maidens had looked upon her with an expression akin to disgust. Ugegbe had beamed in return, pleased that her measure was paying off. She hoped the officials who were to judge would also share the same view. It was even most critical that the king was one of them.

"Lady Ozioma, a word, please." Ugegbe's head snapped upward at once as if it were her name that was called. She was bound to evoke suspicion if she carried on in this manner. But it wasn't her fault that her curiosity was getting the better of her.

Ozioma's sweet, feminine giggle susurrated in every ear. The sound seized the minds of the guards nearby and the maidens about; some whispered viperous words to their companions. Ugegbe kept to herself, awed by the effect Ozioma had on men and women alike.

"Lady?" The lovely woman repeated after the mistress, a hand to her chest. "Please, by all means, call me Ozioma. Let us do away with the formalities for the duration of this competition. We are all equal as we vie for the king's attention."

Ugegbe humphed, unsure of how to feel about her statement. Ozioma hadn't said anything wrong. She was benevolent in insisting that her status be suspended while participating in the competition. Not many of noble blood would agree to such.

Yet, it seemed as if she was putting on a show. There was a strain in her speech and behind her actions that allowed the presumption of her being forced to play the role of the perfect bride for the king.

Nonetheless, it was none of Ugegbe's business. Ozioma was proving her worth so she could become queen. Ugegbe was reasonably convinced of her sincerity. It was hard not to believe the fair maiden when her emotions were so plainly etched on her face.

Gliding her palms against each other to rid grains of sand, Ugegbe rose, breaking the mound over her feet. She quietly mused that Ozioma still had a long way to go in mastering how to conceal her emotions.

Even while the mistress spoke to her, Ugegbe could read every stutter of the brow, each flare of the nose or twitch of the lip that conveyed irritation and the almost imperceptible fall of her face for boredom. If Zoro was anything like Osisi, then learning to be discreet and unrevealing was vital as royalty. It would do her good to learn the art once she was queen.

"Ezinwanyi!" Ugegbe felt her heart gasp in fear as a hand descended on her shoulder.

"Ah, you scared me, Akuada!" She grumbled, frowning at the grinning maiden standing beside her. She was pristine in two red wrappers and matching coral beads atop her head, girding her arms and waist. Around her ankle was a band of cowries. Ugegbe might have felt like she hadn't done enough with no accessories donning her body if that hadn't been intentional on her part. "Do not do that again!"

Akuada's evil chuckle told Ugegbe she was totally unrepentant. "I did not mean to raise the hairs on your neck. Might I interest you in some company?"

"Whose?" Ugegbe asked as if she did not comprehend what she was proposing.

"Mine, of course." Akuada sat on the mat Ugegbe had spread for herself.

"That spot is not for you," She chided, arms crossed underneath her bosom.

Akuada only made herself more at home. "Well, I do not see you sitting on it, so I have claimed it for myself." She stroked her hair, which was plaited into a tall cone-like shape, and then readjusted her beads.

Ugegbe groaned, not pleased to have her spying session broken and intruded upon by someone she wasn't even sure could count as a friend to her.

Uninterested in entertaining or encouraging Akuada in any form, her gaze slid back to Ozioma, sitting alone, her torso draped over her knee as she applied a smooth brown substance that evidently was Shea butter on her legs. The mistress had left her. A sigh shimmied past Ugegbe's lips. Thanks to Akuada, she had missed their conversation.

"What are you looking at?" Akuada followed her line of sight and made a piglike grunt sound that swirled deep in her chest. "Oh, you have seen the kingdom's most eligible maiden. Our dear Lady Ozioma." She hissed, and Ugegbe peered at her, puzzled by the acridness she'd sensed. Jealousy was buried in the depths of Akuada's nature, and it was saddening to witness.

"Why do you hate her so?"

Akuada was sullen as she ran cups of sand through her fingers. "Why, she is full of herself. All because she comes from a lineage of past chiefs, everyone must bow to her and worship the very ground she walks on." She groused angrily while Ugegbe listened intently.

"It sickens me to see how men sway in her favour all because she stands slightly over average in her looks. If I were as rich as she was, and could afford her extravagant wrappers, I would be just as stunning." That was clearly a false claim, but Ugegbe thought it prudent to keep her mouth shut instead of pointing the falsity out.

"Has she wronged you in any other way?" Ugegbe inquired, hoping to hear a reason that would hand her a deeper understanding of how Akuada's mind worked. It was also her giving the maidservant the benefit of the doubt that maybe her negative sentiments towards Ozioma weren't only because of her envy.

Unfortunately, she'd been right as Akuada mumbled under her breath, "No...not really. She simply is unlikeable." Ugegbe nodded, though even a blind person could see that Oziona was actually quite amiable and sweet; overall, a likeable woman.

Ugegbe wondered if it had ever been rumoured that Ozioma was whom the king was in love with. "Do you think she might be favoured by the king?"

Akuada pinned her with flashing eyes. "Do I think so?" She tutted as if Ugegbe was an ignorant child who had come to her for a morsel of wisdom. "I know so! Far too many rumours about the king and her being lovers have risen in years.

"Recently, it has died down. But every now and then, something happens between them; once again, we are reminded of the many presumptions regarding the king's womanising tendencies—a trait of his that had initially rocked the peace of the palace. Any who does not believe that Ozioma has the upper hand in this competition is a fool."

"Is that so?" Ugegbe returned once again to rubbernecking the fair-skinned woman gesturing to an enraptured guard. Ugegbe expected spittle to trickle down his chin if his mouth remained as wide as it was.

"Of course!" Akuada motioned vigorously, not seeming to notice her audience's attention had long crept away. "First of all, she has noble blood, though one might contest this on the basis that her grandfather nearly had his title ripped away from him because of an incident with the former king years ago."

"Oh?" Now, Ugegbe's curiosity was heightened. "Was it a grave incident?"

"Somewhat, I believe. I wasn't born then, but I do recall my mother reminiscing about how the late King Anozie nearly lost his life at the time because of the selfish plots of two of his most trusted chiefs—Chief Nkeji and Chief Nwakaozo. Both men had lusted after the throne."

Ugegbe felt her heart grow heavy with sorrow. It was upsetting to imagine the king alone without any to lean on after realising his most loyal officials had been traitors from the beginning, only wanting the throne for themselves.

King Anozie must have had a most difficult time dealing with the betrayals of those he'd trusted. Ugegbe hoped this was not the case for Onochie. She silently prayed that he had good people about him to rely on. People who would support him however he needed and help prepare whoever he married for ruling as queen beside him. Otherwise—sadness oozed out of every orifice on Ugegbe at this—the king's rule would be one riddled with loneliness and solitude.

"Do not hang your face in dismay, Ezinwanyi," Akuada sought to dissuade her from the depressed state she'd been headed for. "The king was avenged by the god of thunder. Iwegbuna lost his life to a strange illness after swearing at the shrine as the Eye of the gods mandated. Nkeji, by some stroke of faith, was spared and was allowed to keep his title. However, there were many talks and speculations about his innocence."

Ugegbe was lost in thought as she mulled over Akuada's tales. If that was he truth, then it was most peculiar that Ozioma had ended up tangled with the king. Fate must have been determined for her family to be inducted into royalty. Her grandfather had once coveted the king's position for himself. It was most intriguing to note that Onochie's lover was his granddaughter.

"Well, I must say—" Ugegbe started but was cut off by a booming voice.

"You there!" The mistress called loudly, drawing the attention of too many heads to count. She'd planted her feet apart from each other, squarely centred in front of the gathering.

Ugegbe ambled to her, albeit unsurely, while keenly aware of Ozioma's scrutiny. "Good day, Agbala. You called for me."

"Yes, I did." The middle-aged woman scoffed audibly. Her chin was upraised, and her head tilted so backward that Ugegbe half-expected the scarf loosely coiled on her head to fall off.

"Is there any problem?" She asked respectfully.

Ugegbe watched charily as the woman went fish-eyed with patent suspicion and manifest distrust. "What family might you belong to?"

༄༄༄

Onochie was squeamish as he sat in the caravan, waiting for his chiefs to arrive. It was early noon. The sun was soaring higher in the sky, splashing its bright glow on all beneath its reach, including the many maidens camped in the queen mother's palace.

If his skin weren't so bronzed, Onochie might have been a pale, ghostly white that attested to the nauseated state he was struggling to manage. Every palm frond, Uli decoration or string of cowries signified the momentous occasion, and the king was beside himself with pure, undiluted terror.

This moment was one he'd pushed into the future for years, and now, finally, it was here. Oh, how time flew. If only he could postpone today for another year—or three. The pressure on him was as high as the heavens, and it was the gods' providence that he hadn't collapsed yet under its weight.

Furthermore, the event was unnecessary. It was up to the king in the end to choose his bride. And Onochie already knew who was going to be his wife. The past few days had made solid the choice in his heart. It was a deal as sealed as a contract made with an oath before the sacred ofo.

Going through this process was only a waste of energy and resources. Onochie was sorry for the maidens who would return home heartbroken after he made his decision at the end of the day. It wasn't his fault that he'd been captured soul and body by one woman. No other would come between him and his bride.

Inconsequentially, Onochie wondered if Ezinwanyi would grace him with her presence. He had not seen her since she last abandoned him in the middle of the market, which had been as busy and thrumming as a bee hive; he'd hurriedly surmised running after her would be a waste of his energy. She'd disappeared into the restless throng in a blink.

Her words stuck with him even after she was gone. Onochie recognised the wisdom behind her advice. She was right to shun him for all he'd relayed to her. No one desired the burden of being the person who caused an irreversible change in another's life. She was right.

Perhaps he needed to start living for himself. All he'd done so far was for others. This was most particular in his rule. He was ever appraising the emotions and actions of others.

Onochie yearned to uphold his reputation as favourable before his people. Ironically, this was the same reputation he'd initially built on facades and false pretences. It all turned into a mess eventually.

As king, he no longer had a conviction for his actions. He rarely even understood the whys for his practices—apart from the fact that he needed to please his people. This trickled into prominent events.

Though his feelings for his chiefs were real and expressed with bona fide genuineness, each meeting with Zoro's officials called for bravery and firmness—both attributes he strumbled with when they were required of him.

As a result, his performances were drenched in fears of incompetence, which constantly perforated his self-confidence and esteem. Every mistake he made was magnified by his own lenses.

Slowly, yet surely, he began to doubt every praise and compliment given to him. Onochie became more inclined to judge himself and labour over what others saw in him than to accept their tributes or eulogies.

It possibly was because he knew who he was on the inside. He wasn't as bold as they thought he was. He quivered and was on the verge of upchucking his insides whenever he had to make a decision as king.

He wasn't as eloquent as they believed he was. Ezinwanyi would bear testimony to this. He stammered and skipped syllables when his nerves got the best of him. He wasn't as good a decision-maker or ruler as they commended him for being. Most of his accomplishments boiled down to luck, and there was that horrid terror choking him up, reminding him that someday, his luck might run out, leaving him bereft.

For Onochie was profoundly scared of failure.

He had so much to live up to. His father had been a just and well-loved king. Onochie could not compare to him in any way. He needed to force himself into a thousand moulds to even be a mere quarter of the monarch Eze Anozie had been.

It was one of the foremost reasons Onochie had turned to womanising. He'd wanted to prove to himself that he was good at something. If he could charm women into liking him, it meant he was worth something—a woman could regard and desire to be with him. That had to count for something, didn't it?

Onochie flirted with virtually every palace maid at every prospect he chanced. It fed his ego and esteem for a while until he realised there was a high chance these women only paid him any heed because he was the heir apparent.

By then, he was in too deep to stop himself. That was, until Ozioma. She saved him. The kind yet demanding beauty of Zoro had offered him a hand and given him cause to desist from his appalling ways. He had no clue where he would be without her.

Before she came along, he'd been headed for a path of no return; the scandals he'd racked up could paint a shrine red. Ozioma had reminded him of who he was. For that, he was grateful. He would never betray her. He would toss aside anything else he felt. He would dismiss his treacherous passions that weren't for her. And forget the one who incited them.

The only woman the king was going to marry was Ozioma.
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