The native doctor did not bow before the king. Onochie did not expect her to. It presumably could have been a difficult task since he wasn't sure she could see; only the blood-shot, veiny whites of her eyes were visible. Yet, her long finger located him, dead in the chest, when she pointed his way.

Onochie rattled to the core, unnerved by the haunting rhythm of the drums following the god's messenger. Unlike usual, her mad dance only lasted for a short while. Now, she swayed on her feet, crooked digit pinned over his left ribcage. Although she'd not made any contact with him, it felt as if she was digging into his heart.

"King of Zoro!" Her voice was not that of an ordinary woman. It was as if a foreign power had possessed her by how it reverberated in his ears. Onochie ground his teeth to keep them from chattering. It was abruptly colder in the courtyard as a copse of clouds had eclipsed the sun.

Glancing past the woman decked in strings of cowries and covered from her head to her feet in Nzu, Onochie found Ezinwanyi staring at him. She tipped her chin upward, and he saw the defiance brimming like a rainstorm. He noted, though belatedly, that she contrasted a good number of the maidens present by not appearing to be horrified or on the cusp of melting into a puddle from fright. If he wasn't wrong, she seemed entirely at ease, as if nothing could go wrong.

The Wise One paused her jerky, convulsive dance to emit an order. "The Great Lion of the blessed kingdom of Zoro... Heed what the gods have to say!"

"Speak then! I listen." Onochie said levelly, his voice more powerful than he'd anticipated. He might have been prone to wonder where such strength had come from if he weren't persistently drawing from the source at the instant.

For when he held Ezinwanyi's gaze, his fears vanished into thin air, gently floating away from him. When he buried his focus on her, his cares became soluble in the ocean of her calm, salts losing their nature in a much vaster world. When he sought strength, he found it in abundance to be drawn from her.

And he wasn't ashamed to admit this to himself. That she made him bolder than he had ever dreamt of, or was the reason he'd achieved much he'd not have dared on his own due to her encouragement and faith in him.

She was a woman who deserved the world. She deserved more than him and more than he could offer. He could not let his selfishness take from her more than she would receive from him. It would be unfair to her and Ozioma, the woman he had already promised to marry.

"...you must marry the maiden chosen by the high deities by tomorrow's sunset, or the gods will turn their anger towards you and your kingdom."

"The maiden?" Onochie queried, a brow craned high in askance. "What maiden do you speak of? My wife has not yet to be decided."

The native doctor's neck snapped back, yielding a crunch that Onochie thought sickening. Her voice became the meshing of echoes as she spoke. "The maiden is she who has come from afar, who did not breathe her first on the lands of Zoro. She is the woman whose path has intertwined with the king's on accident."

A murmur of dissent from the maidens collided with the announcement. Onochie stared wide-eyed, as did those serving him. The Wise One was undaunted. "Make no mistake, all ye that hear my voice. The gods have commanded fate to weave the locks of the maiden's destiny, and that of the king's into one. There is purpose in her appearing on the soils of this kingdom. For if not her, no one else can become wife to the king!"

Onochie cleared his throat, and the complaints hushed. "What shall happen if I do not marry this maiden? What if I refuse to favour one foreign over the women of my kingdom? Tell me!" He dared to ask but did not once glance Ezinwanyi's way, fearing that he would find her hurt or wounded by his words. He would hate himself if he discovered her so.

The Wise One sneered in disgust as if repulsed by his audacity, then tilting her face to the sky, gave him a response to that which he'd demanded. "Zoro will be cursed, destined to lie in waste and barrenness. Stand against the gods' will, Your Majesty, then be prepared to be the last of your lineage to sit on this throne. The gods will take away your ability to sire an heir and ensure that your rule ends with you-" That was the last straw, as the crowd erupted in protest.

"Chi'm o! Kedu ihe bụ ihe a?" [My god of destiny! What is this?]

"Amaghị m o! Nke a enweghị ike ịbụ. Nsogbu abiala!" [I don't know o! This cannot be true. Trouble has arrived!]

Another shout came from a blubbering maiden. Tears streaked her dark face, leading Onochie to faintly contemplate why she was so affected by the news to the point of screaming at the top of her lungs. "Ah, alueme! Biko, kedu ihe nke a pụtara?" [Ah, abomination has happened! Please, what is the meaning of this?"]

"Tufia! Anyị agaghị anabata nke a!" [The gods forbid! We will not accept this!]

The lamenting voices were a drowning surge of noise. Amongst the swarm of busy heads, Onochie could not locate Ezinwanyi, which deeply frustrated him. He could not tell when the miniature gathering suddenly grew into a multitude. More servants had come to witness the Great One's prophecy. A few chiefs were also present. They must have made their entry once they heard the drums. Not so removed from his personal circle, they conversed in harsh, incredulous tones, isolated in a small huddle from the commoners.

Even Ozioma was visibly disconcerted. The mistress hosting the competition had her head inclined toward her, conversing in a low tone. But not lowly enough because Onochie heard every word due to their position at the main line before him. "Ȯ dịkwa égwù! Gịnị ka anyị ga-eme? I kwesiri ibu nwunye eze. Ọ dịghị onye ọzọ ma gị, Nwanyi Ozioma!" [Impossible! What are we to do? You are who should be the king's wife. No one else but you, Lady Ozioma!]

Onochie snorted at this. He had had enough. It appeared they all had forgotten he existed and was seated before them. Their insolence was becoming insulting. "Cease your noise, all of you!" Quietude automatically descended on the courtyard, a blanket of utter platitude at the authority in his command. "Have you forgotten in whose presence you stand?"

All heads were bowed instantly, an attempt to pacify the angry king. "Biko mee ebere, eze m! Gbaghara anyị." [Please have mercy, my king. Forgive us."

The king cautioned his subjects to keep the peace. "Achọrọ m ịgbachi nkịtị n'aka unu niile!" [I expect silence from all of you!]

"Ee, onye-nwe-ayi." [Understood, our lord!]

The witch doctor met Onochie's pointed stare with a clear one of her own. The whites of her eyes had returned to normal, and when she spoke, a woman's voice was heard solely. "You want proof of the maiden to be your wife, do you not, my king?"

"Only a fool would not want to confirm the identity of she who is to be his wife and queen over his people," Onochie said tightly. There was a hefty clump of nothing in his throat that he was about to choke on. He was battling with a myriad of emotions and on the verge of losing. It was difficult to order the notions ricocheting in his head.

Weeks ago, and he might have shared joy at this development. He would have silently rejoiced at the freedom to marry Ezinwanyi without breaking Ozioma's heart himself. Not now.

Not since it'd dawned on him that he did not deserve Ezinwanyi. Not since he'd come to the culmination that he could not betray Ozioma in this manner, casting her aside after finding pleasure in her for so long.

It was the height of wickedness for him to be so self-centred. He hated that he was this heartless of a being, lusting and wishing after another woman when he had one devoted to him. He had no excuse for his misdeed and cruelty. He had no excuse for taking notice of the foreign maiden who infiltrated his land and heart.

He had no excuse for falling for Ezinwanyi.

Onochie sighed deeply. He'd known it for long. He'd only done his best to avoid admitting it to himself. He'd employed all the tactics available to fence himself off from her.

At the height of his foolish attempt at deceit, he'd even pointed out that Ezinwanyi hated nobility. That his royal blood would wedge itself between them. His hope had been that if he dwelled long enough on her dislike of his lineage, his feelings would powder into dust. He'd never been more wrong.

Onochie loved Ezinwanyi. He adored every fibre of her being. He loved her bravery. He loved how daring she was. He loved her wisdom. He loved her steadfastness and strong will. He loved that she was true to herself without apology. He loved that she challenged him without caring. He loved that she'd never cowered before him, not now when she held his gaze unfaltering, despite knowing who he was. He loved that underneath her firm exterior was the softest, most precious heart.

The only problem was he knew she did not love him back. Instead, she hated him. She hated him for lying about who he was, for tricking her into dallying with him when he'd not revealed who he honestly was. Ezinwanyi hated him for being exactly who he was.

As awful a person as he was, Onochie would never tie an unwilling woman to himself. He did not know how, but he would ensure Ezinwanyi was free. He would see to it that he married Ozioma, not her. Not the woman who detested him to his very core.

Ozioma would be content joined to him. He would be doing her a favour she desperately wished for by making her queen. Still, he knew he wasn't right to think this way. What man married a woman for the sake of another? What man was as cruel as him to not feel affection or bear nothing but a thread of pity when he regarded his intended? What man was as woeful as he? Onochie decided that if a single one existed, then they must be as miserable as he was.

"...the deities will make certain to you all the maiden they have chosen for the king." The Wise One crooned in a low voice. "I can taste your doubts and fears, and I can assure you that our gods are not pleased that you have no faith in them. However, what must be done will be done. As you wish, I will ease your doubts, but know that nothing good will come out of your faithlessness in the faithfulness of our gods. If you do not show sincere repentance, you will only end up in doom and destruction."

Onochie winced at the harsh words of the messenger of the gods. Perhaps, she was right to be outraged by the dissent that had arisen. It still did not change that her declarations were more of curses on his people. "I am sure the gods will be merciful to us and forgive our human nature." He added to diffuse the tension that had thickened amongst his subjects.

"Only time shall tell." The native doctor sniffed as she pulled out items from her infamous bag. She spread her straw mat on the ground and poured a handful of bones over it. There were six small ones in a circle around a large deformed bone. Onochie could not keep from cringing at the sight. He recalled the skull she had brandished the last time she'd administered in his palace and could not tamper down the adverse reaction to the memory.

The Great One crouched on her knees, signifying that she'd finished her arrangement. However, Onochie was just as confused as he initially was. "How shall we know who is favoured?" He asked with a hand waved in a gesture at the lined remains.

"The right maiden will command these bones to rise, and they will."

"What? That is impossible!" Somebody from the far right of the gathering blurted out. Onochie stirred a finger to shun whoever it was without sparing a glance their way.

The messenger of the gods was unmoved, untouched by the commotion as usual. "As I have said, she will command the bones to rise, and they shall obey her. But even before she does so, the arm of the gods will turn toward her."

Onochie was befuddled. The entire event was flummoxing. "What does that mean, Great One?"

Sharp, brown canines surfaced as the witch doctor bared her teeth in a creepy grin. "What is meant is the fattest bone, in the middle of the ring of death, will spin its head to a single maiden. It will do so as long as she brings life. It is moved by a finger of the gods, representing their will."

It seemed almost too good to be true, but the king was ready to see the gods in action. He harboured the dread that if the gods did prove themselves before the people, he would not be able to defer from marrying Ezinwanyi. However, the bigger picture was his people would experience more harmony, reasoning that the gods weren't so far from them.

Onochie was not the most devoted king to worshipping his gods. He rather found such undertakings of fervour bothersome. Still, he understood the need for honouring them. And he did so during all the festivals dedicated to the deities. He'd never missed a single one of them. Neither had he failed the responsibility of leading them before his people. Nonetheless, he remained quite apathetic about them.

He supposed one could deem him ungrateful. He only ever remembered the existence of the gods when there was a necessity. When he needed them to bless Zoro's soil with rain, make the harvests bountiful or protect his mother from harm. He showed his gratitude occasionally but with less zeal than he ought.

That may be why he was this expectant for the showcase by the Wise One. It was a most abominable thought, but he wished to see the gods in motion to quell his silent thought of them not existing-or at least, not doing so close enough to humans.

"I shall begin now!" The messenger pronounced to the hearing of every ear present.

A round of fearsome incantations commenced instantly. Each foreign word slipped off her tongue with a frigid reverence and hair-raising devotion. Onochie watched with rapt attention as she poured a calabash of fresh blood over the largest stone. The fine, scarlet liquid spread throughout, dripping outward to the premises of the oddly-shaped bones.

Then, she closed her eyes and tied a red cloth over them. The guttural sound that resounded from her cords was less human and more fiendish. "Let the first maiden come and stand before the gods." She howled, and the gathering stilled. The king watched breathlessly, as did his people. It was as if madness had descended on the native doctor. Her fingers twisted alarmingly. Some turned weirdly crooked, distorted at worrisome angles when she began to judder, the result of her body violently thrown into a petrifying spasm.

Onochie felt the warm blood in his veins curdle into lard. But he did not have time to let his dismay repel him from staying seated. A bold maiden, albeit reluctant-rightfully so-stepped forward from her peers.

Her face was familiar. Onochie recognised her from before. She'd been the one who answered the earliest riddle. Though she had not received any points, it had been easy to discern the measure of her gutsiness. Nonye...lum? Was it?

She, however, did not make it too far before a garish screech tore from the Wise One. The young girl immediately fled to her mates, terror, unplumbed and cavernous, consuming her salient features and drawing bitter tears from her eyes.

The bones did not budge an inch.
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