The king was in a daze. Not the shocked kind of daze. No, it was the kind that was brought about by stupefaction. Because tabled right before him was the most ordinary meal he had ever seen: the food more than often reserved for those who were poor because of its easy accessibility.

Cocoyam and palm oil.

Those around him seemed to be equally stunned. Onuora and his son had their eyes fixed on their calabashes, which were as simple as the meal they held. Onochie could not read their expressions. He wasn't keen on doing so either, as more of his attention was spent examining what had been served to him.

"Your Majesty," a guard stepped forward, bowing before the king, as he punctured the round belly of the pregnant silence that had rolled into the room. "Please allow me to remove this disrespect from your presence."

"Leave it be!" Onochie answered sharply. "It is food that was prepared for me. I shall eat it."

The guard seemed to be stunned by the severity with which Onochie ordered him to stand by. But he had no choice but to yield to the king's authority. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

Sat around the newly-carved table, Onuora and his son watched Onochie keenly. Their faces held an expression that was quite unreadable. It was a misfortune to the king, who wanted to know what the men were thinking. Perhaps, they were upset by the meagre display before them. Could that be it?

Onochie was certain that if this meal were served to his chiefs—who were presently silent on his command—they would have cried out in outrage. Neither Onuora nor Okwonkwo appeared to be troubled at the very least. In fact, they could well be pleased. He noted, watching the older Ndukwe try to conceal a smile. It was most unexpected.

"Men of Nmagba, are you amused by what has been laid before you today? Might it be that you count what has been offered to you in my palace as unworthy of your calibre?"

Both men shared a look, and their smiles broke free, growing wild and unrestrained. "Your Majesty," they both bowed their heads, but Onuora persisted further. "Thank you for your kindness. We are grateful for the food we have been given. And to answer your question, my lord, nothing you offer us could be unworthy. Indeed, we are not having a laugh at the food served to us. Our glee actually rises from a place of fondness."

"Fondness?" Onochie's head tilted to a side. "What do you mean?"

Okonkwo reintroduced himself into the conversation with his father's permission. "Your Majesty, my father speaks about his daughter, whom he is incredibly fond of. While my sister is one of the most loving and caring souls I have met, her cooking skills sometimes seem to be wielded to hurt those around her. This was particularly so when she was younger. Nonetheless, the one dish she never cooked wrongly was this." His hand pointed at his food, and a wistfulness visited his uplifted mood. His state might have been dampened.

Onuora continued the story without so much of a hitch in between. "As such, Your Majesty, cocoyam and palm oil became the daily nourishment of my home for a long while; any who voiced their refusal faced her wrath. This reminds me of that time, my lord." He nodded at Okonkwo, who had managed to compose himself.

"It makes me miss my daughter. Though now grown up, she is still the child who forced my entire household into yielding to her whims. Okonkwo and I could never take offence at this, Your Majesty. On the contrary, we are lucky to be reminded of home even though far away from our land."

Onochie chuckled, "Is that so? She sounds like an interesting person to meet." It was a delight hearing about such a strong-willed person—a contrast to who he was most of the time. "Then, we should enjoy what we have before us."

The cocoyam was softer than Onochie had imagined it to be. If he ignored the texture and the less starchy taste, he could trick himself into believing he was eating yam. The oil was spicy and complemented the tuber, allowing for an easy swallow. It was tasteful—a nice, blended repast.

If not for the knowledge that he had many more dishes to judge, Onochie might have finished all on his plate. He held back after too few bites to leave space in his stomach. He still had a long way to go. Nonetheless, one thing was sure: the woman who cooked the cocoyam had passed the test.

For one, she was daring. Onochie wanted to know who she was. How was it that she had no fear for herself when she decided to put the meal together? Had she not a single worry that perhaps the king would be offended by the seeming lack of thoughtfulness in her presentation?

While the king had not shared those notions, it was safe to agree that they were not reactions in the realm of impossibilities. In reality, Onochie was moved. The prompt for the maidens had been to create a meal worthy of Zoro's ruler. This candidate had prepared one that ordinary people enjoyed. That was to say, she viewed the king as any other man.

How many years had Onochie wished to meet one who would not cower before him but rather would meet him as an equal? The years were too many to count. Ezinwanyi had been the only one to do as he wished. However, her reason for doing so was as she did not know his royal status.

Still, it had been divine to deceive oneself into believing it was all real. Onochie had savoured every moment with her. Every moment where he'd felt alive and more like a healthy man than one rotting from within yet functioning mechanistically under the rule of his crown.

If he wasn't so convinced of Ezinwanyi's hatred for nobility, and her vow to stay away from any of such blood, he might have concluded the meal to be of her deeds. Alas, he had no surety that she would even consider auditioning with other maidens.

That aside, Onochie mused that he did have decisions to make. After washing his hands in a bowl of water delivered by a servant, he turned the small calabash upright, indicating that the maiden whose food he'd tasted had passed.

Then, he swivelled away to ease his chiefs from their muteness. "Chiefs of Zoro, you are free to speak now as I make my decision known to the men of Nmagba."

"Your Majesty," the said men were on their feet and stooped low before the king.

"Heed me well, emissaries of Nmagba," he began when he was sure both Ndukwes had their gazes fixed on him. "Today, you visited my kingdom, the land of Zoro, to enlist my help for your realm to stand against the invading bandits of Owodi. Amongst the many witnesses present, this is my answer: I will not only reject whatever alliance Owodi might offer to my kingdom, but I will also fight alongside Nmagba on the condition that one of my people will be made a honorary elder of the realm."

The hush that fell on the room proved that the king of Zoro had struck a fierce deal.

༄༄༄

Ugegbe grinned as she collected a bunch of bananas and stored them in her basket. She was in a good mood. Who wouldn't be when they'd just escaped the shackles of a hellish experience? She counted herself blessed to not have to worry about competing on the morrow. Once her dish reached the king, she had no doubt she would be disqualified from the competition.

No one would dare serve the king the food of the common people. Ugegbe had happily prepared the meal with this knowledge in hand. Now, at least, she could focus on much more consequential issues, like caring for the children she had taken as her siblings.

They were waiting for her. She'd particularly admonished them to await her visit. So far, she'd not disappointed them by failing to show up and didn't plan to any soon. Once the ten maidens were announced the coming morning, and it became clear to the queen mother that none of them included her, she could ask to be freed of her service to the palace. She already knew where she would go and whose help to enlist—a friend she had made at her arrival in Zoro.

Initially, her plan had been to marry the king to gain the power and riches that came with being queen. With that, she would have pulled her father out of Osisi, ensuring he did not come to harm. Furthermore, her debts would be paid, and she would finally be a free woman.

Unfortunately, fate had other schemes. Upon discovering who the king truly was, Ugegbe had given up on her expectations. She'd not imagined the king of Zoro to be a deceiver. More so, she was heartbroken by the revelation. It hurt her that she'd put her complete trust in Onochie, only to realise that he'd had no intention of trusting her with his truths. It was a most gut-wrenching betrayal.

To top it all, Ugegbe was aware of his lover. How could she try to come between them, knowing that his sincerest affections were solely for Ozioma? She had no gut to willingly marry a man whose heart beat for another woman. She wasn't that brave. Not when she'd already fallen for him.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, Ugegbe refocused all her attention on positioning the bananas in a manner that would not allow them to become bruised. The gourds of water and bowls groundnuts followed next. The pieces of dried meat she'd managed to filch from the kitchen claimed a reasonably small portion of the basket, but only a little space was left afterward. Her roasted plantains had to battle for room before the basket filled to the brim.

Ugegbe imagined the joy that would sail over the children's faces to fill their stomachs with food, and her chest thrummed with unbidden anticipation. She could not wait to see them again—even though she'd visited them shortly before the contest began.

Breathing in the lightly brittle air that coyly signalled the bogus entry of the harmattan season, Ugegbe put the finishing touches to her array. Her basket rested on the crook in her arm, and in her hands, she bore the large calabash filled with cocoyam and the vegetable purée she'd contrived to make after the guards had taken away all the meals prepared for the king.

She'd sauntered out of the servants' quarters, turning down the path to her secret route out of the queen's palace, when a deep voice caused her to cease her breath. She didn't want to speak to him. Not now. Not in the foreseeable future.

Her strides were the powerful marches of a horse as she extended the distance between her and the hollering man. "Ezinwanyi!" He called louder, plausibly with the presumption that she did not hear him the first time. She did. She simply did not want to acknowledge that he was there.

Despite her utmost efforts, he caught up with her. His clasp on her shoulder was heavy, forcing her to look up at him. There he was: the one she'd considered her friend and yet, had tossed aside her hand when push had come to shove.

"What do you want from me, Kamalu?"

"Ezinwanyi," he murmured, confusion casting cold shadows over his face. "Why?"

Ugegbe felt terrible at the gentle prodding in that single statement. Even one without eyes could see he was hurt and perplexed by how she was treating him. His arms were limp by his side, no longer sustaining contact with her.

"Why what, Kamalu?"

"Why do you ignore me so, Ezinwanyi? What have I done to be deserving of your anger?"

Ugegbe scoffed, her remorse thinning out. "Perhaps you should ask yourself or your master, King Onochie."

"K-king Onochie?" Kamalu sputtered. "You knew all along?"

A moue of distaste hung high over Ugegbe's features. "I did not know all along!" She snapped. "I did not know anything because you both chose to trick me into believing a lie. Only recently did the truth come to light where I could finally see it."

"Ezinwanyi, please..."

"Do not plead, Kamalu. I beg you to let me keep my fury. If I dare stop raging, I fear I might break down in sorrow with this hurt breaking me in pieces."

Anguish took a hold on the chief guard. "We never meant to cause you hurt, Ezinwanyi—"

"But you did!" Ugegbe interjected vehemently, her emotions riding at a high she was not used to. "You both strung me along like an ignorant creature, and fool that I was, I followed without a second thought. You both cannot fathom the toll your actions took on me. Especially you, Kamalu. I thought you were my friend. I thought you cared for me."

"I do. Of course, I do!" Kamalu iterated with fervour. "I care for you, Ezinwanyi. How could I not? You are one of the few people who have treated me with respect. You did not once flinch nor run from me, while blaming your actions on my misfortune to have been born this way."

He dragged in a deep breath that caused his chest to swell. "I must admit that I was initially wary of you, having never met a single person who showed up at the borders of Zoro before. But then I watched you. I saw how you treated those around you, was awed by how selfless and brave you were, springing into action when the queen mother was ill, and I could not doubt any longer. All of your actions showed me how good a person you were. It was impossible to keep from growing affections—"

It dawned on Ugegbe in a breath-pillaging downpour what Kamalu was about to say. "Chelu, Kamalu." She cut in, preventing him from confessing his feelings to her. He was her friend, and she had come to adore him. Despite how he and Onochie had erred against her, she still cared for him deeply and did not want him to suffer in any manner. It was why she reasoned it fair for him to be the first to know her truth.

"You want me to wait?" he queried, confused. "Why?"

Ugegbe nodded, musing that she'd caused the poor man enough worrying and befuddlement for a century. "Because there is something you must know before anything else."

"What might that be, Ezinwanyi?"

"I am in love with your king."
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