THE FACE OF A SLEEPING KING- 8

`THE FACE OF A SLEEPING KING-8

“My daughter, you have done well to get that scoundrel alone. You know what, you...” Her mother’s voice faded slowly till it was barely audible. “You make sure he pays.”

Yaba felt the stress cramping her shoulders and lower neck. Tears failed her as she watched her dying mother. The wound at her mother’s neck, yes, the same that was inflicted by her master and lover, was infected. Her mother was burning with fever yet shivering as though she was out on some harmattan night. But Yaba frantically bathed her mother with some more cold water.

“I won’t leave your side.”

“O, but you must.” She unwrapped something from her wrapper. “These are powered mushrooms. Just a little over his food or in his water would do the job.”

Yaba slowly unwrapped the leaves and peered suspiciously at the brown powder.

“Also, take this. You can’t stop a man who is blinded by desire. But you won’t be able to snatch his life when he’s got a baby in you, believe me.” She placed some neem leaves in her hands. “Boil this and have the bastard drink it too.”

“No.”

“Yes.” Her mother looked her in the eye, “You don’t say no to a dying old woman who just happens to be your mother.”

Daughter just lowered her head on her mother’s bosom and sang. That was when the tears filled her eyes but never fell.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have to leave.” The king commanded from the entrance of the room.

“I’m not leaving my ma.”

He cleared his throat.

“There’ll be no other time. And I brought our best healer to take care of her.”

She turned to look at him and wondered,

Why was his tone almost soft?

Why was he trying to reason with her?

Why did it make her angry?

Her mother squeezed her hands and it gave her the strength to feign a smile and walk to him. He stretched out his hands and Yaba took it. She held on tight because she wanted so badly to wrap them around his neck.

                                                                      ***

“Did you want to hurt me?” Her eyes were scathing.

After four hours’ ride on his horse back, in the company of ten or so other riders, he brings her to the Pra River?

Down that river, was her kingdom; the very one that he had destroyed, burnt and buried under his fury. Yet of all the places, this was the only place he could bring her.

“You don’t get to speak to me that way.” He grabbed her arm and shook her violently. He looked at the party that had accompanied the ride and boomed, “Leave us, now!”

“Every moment is spent in the remembrance of what you have reduced me and my people to. There is no need to shove it down my throat any further. You bring me here to show how much power you have over me, right? Well done! You’ve succeeded”

“No! No!! NO!!! Can’t you just let it go already? If only you could you’ll see how much effort I’m putting into pleasing you.”  The king let go of her hands to pace. He scratched violently at his beard.

 “No. And if the tables were turned, you wouldn’t be able to let it go either.”

“You want me to regret killing your people? Ha! Maybe you don’t know this princess,” he spat out the word with so much venom, “but in this world the law has been laid down simply. Kill or be killed.” His eyes pierced through hers, “So you can fight me all you want, hate me even, but when you are mine, you are mine.”

He grabbed her arm again and kissed her, no, plundered her. He took ravenously all that was his, even that which she was not willing to give. And as he did, Yaba’s anger churned to desire, and everything she held back, she freely gave.

He broke the kiss suddenly.

“And that,” he pointed at her, “that is your own body betraying you.”

He kissed her again and swept her off the ground. All she could do was clinch to him as the power of what he had said, the sheer truth of it, hit her. He carried her into the brick house and laid her on a soft bed.

There he took her, gave himself to her and loved her; swearing to the gods and ancestors to never let her go.

And yes, there were tears.

Tears blinded them in the heat of their forbidden passion. They gave themselves over to each other, even the parts of themselves that they didn’t have… couldn’t afford to have…

Hearts blended

Bodies twisted

Once passion was tasted

Then devoured,

Time vanished

Seeds spilled

And love bloomed

And at the climax of all the ecstasy, she remembered her promises and her ma’s words. The scream that rose in her throat came out as a strangled moan as she was thrown over the edge.

King Prempeh also remembered his promise to never become like his father. To never give his heart to any woman.

Women were only to be played with.

But it was too late now. He buried a scream in her neck as he gave himself over to the most intense climax he had ever had.

There were no words for that moment. He shifted to her side and held her as she softly cried. That was when he knew he had hurt her.

“I’m sorry. I should have been gentler.”

“No, it was perfect.” She managed to say in between sobs.

Yet still she cried herself to sleep.

She cried for the child, her child, who would never see the light of day.