THE FACE OF A SLEEPING KING-4

THE FACE OF A SLEEPING KING-4

The princess did not sleep a wink that evening. Not because of the insects that plagued her, not because she was chained and exposed to the elements and definitely not because her back was scourged with whips but because she had failed.

She had failed because of a moment’s hesitation. Her mind tortured her with the scenes of the night before. It took her straight back to the room and her heart jarred. It jarred because all her mind could think about was how intimate the setting was; the dim light, the huge mat covered with soft clothes and the massive king; dressed down and vulnerable.

As though her failure was not enough, she dared to think about him that way! She whimpered. What kind of a foolish creature was she? Why would she… How could she…

Her mind, almost as a response to her desperation, took her through how the king was much enraged and how much he spewed death and destruction when he had gathered his warriors in the black of the night to go and recapture the slaves.

Three nights and three days she was left to rot and constant was the insult of the people in the kingdom but even worse were her own insults.

It was almost dawn when she heard the sounds of the approaching horses. The king got to the palace in record time. The princess was livid at the sight that greeted her.

Less than half of the slaves had returned. The others who returned were running to keep up with the king’s horse. Some of the warriors on their horses had surrounded the slaves, keeping them running within a tight space. The rest, with their whips, ensured that the slaves knew no respite. One young adult who tripped and fell was immediately speared.

The grand entrance stirred the sleeping kingdom awake.

Then she saw her mother, the queen, at the back of one of the last surviving warriors, her friend, Bempah. It broke the princess’s heart to a several million pieces

“Is this what you want?!” The King’s boom silenced the crowd and hanged heavy in the air. Even from quite a distance his gaze pierced into the Princess’s eyes.

The princess though frail, met his gaze, and if looks could kill, levelled a deadly gaze at the king. She did not speak a word. No! She will not condescend and speak to such a swine.

By then the people of the kingdom had started to gather at the palace.

“Ha! She dares keep silent when the king of this great nation speaks.” The king’s anger boiled.

A warrior struck the insolence out of the princess’s face. The King charged. For a moment it looked like he was charging at the princess. She prayed that the ancestors accept her soul. But in the wink of an eye the king had pinned the warrior to the ground and smoothly stabbed his hand with a knife that seem to have been conjured in his hand.

“You only act at my command. Stupid boy! I fight my own battles.” Then he looked up at the Princess. The murderous vein popping at the top of his head suddenly vanished as his face melted into a smile, “This battle may seem daunting. But I will conquer.”

Someone came to carry the wounded soldier away as the King moved to where the slaves had huddled in fear for dear life. He dragged the Queen by the hair and tossed her at the princess’s feet.

“Maybe this would cause you to crack.” The king taunted. The princess watched as her mother’s eyes filled with fear then glaze over with resignation. The King lifted up the Queen from the ground and held a blade to her neck. He drew blood.

“Yaba.”The Queen yelled as the sharp blade dug into her flesh.

“Beautiful name.” The king taunted further.

“Stop!” The princess yelled at the King. He dug even deeper causing her mother to yell louder. A murderous grin spread across his face.

“Kill me. Send me my ancestors. But please spare my mother. Spare the Queen. I’ll do anything.” The Princess yelled in desperation. “Don’t do this.” Her voice seemed foreign in her own ears. Was she, Princess Yaba, begging for mercy?

“Anything?” The King circled around her. Desire for her was now driving his actions. He was crazed for the crazy princess, clothed ever so lightly that even the gods could not help but also desire her. He played with his knife for a while before he cut her loose.

“Kiss my feet.” He commanded.

The Princess’s eyes spewed venom. But one look at her bleeding mother, and she could not help but crawl to the king’s feet. Her cheeks lightly brushed his feet before she kissed it. It sent waves through the king. He had expected anything else; hate, spite, whatever darkness he could conjure, just not waves after waves of desire.

He immediately drew her to her feet. He had never seen any girl this tall, this proud and this stubborn;  either that or just stupid. Yet he definitely wanted to have her. The last thing he wanted was to kill her. Although he knew that for the crowd that had gathered in his palace, someone had to die.

“Still, someone has to die.” He said as he moved away from the princess. He feared that if he stood by her one more second he’ll be forced to carry her into his room and have his way with the fiery thing.

“I said I’ll do anything.” She roared like a wounded lioness.

“Yes you did,” A superior tone had replaced his raw tone, “but for all the possibilities of things I could do to your people, anything doesn’t seem like much at all. I could sell them as slaves to the white man. I could even kill them all for the sheer fun of it. Really, anything seems more like nothing.”

“I will die.” The whole crowd lifted their eyes to the warrior.

“Bempah.” The Princess moaned in pain. This was the man who had taught her everything she knew. This was the man she had had anything close to feelings for. And this animal of a king was taking him away from her.

“Take me. Take me instead. This is all my fault, punish me instead.”

The king saw the Princess’s reaction and was moved to jealousy. Here was a Princess who was stone cold towards him yet filled with so much spirit for this nobody.

“O, you would get your punishment!”

He stood in front of the warrior sizing him up. He had to admire this one. He snickered and in a moment he was on the ground clutching his neck with blood spraying all over where he laid.

“And for your punishment,” The king turned his bloodied face to the princess, “how do you feel about making some blue-blooded babies for this lonely king?” The king’s managed to arrange his face in mock humility.

The slaves from Sebokrom gasped in disgust. His people burst into cheers. What a way to reduce a proud princess!

“You want me to become your concubine?”

He just sneered.

“How dare …” The King’s eyebrows raised, daring the Princess to finish her words. The princess could only dream of the dire consequences a wrong word from her would invoke.

Her eyes met his. Hers brown and almost broken his black and triumphant.

“Anything means anything.”