THE CRY OF A PALACE MAID, A MUST WATCH AFRICAN STORY… AFRICAN STORIES BYVEE – Ty

You seduced THE PRINCE AND MADE HIM FALL FOR YOU. ; NO, my king, I DID NOT. ; LIES. YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS. You’re a maid in this palace and have no right to FALL IN LOVE WITH THE PRINCE. ; GODS, TAKE HER AWAY AND LOCK HER UP. Prince Ono was a young man of handsome face and kind heart. He was the only son of King Udoka and Queen Chika, rulers of the kingdom of Achala.

Achala was a vast land dotted with clayworld huts and bustling markets. Though Prince Onoce lived in the grandest hut of all, the royal palace, he never looked down on the common folk. He often wandered the palace grounds and even beyond, greeting villagers kindly and listening to their stories. One bright morning, Ano strolled through the palace courtyard where servants were busy with their chores.

His eyes caught sight of Olido, a maiden who walked in the palace. She was carrying a basket of freshly washed clothes on her head, her slim figure moving gracefully under the weight. Strands of her dark hair escaped her headscarf and danced in the gentle breeze. As she walked, she hummed a soft tune to herself. Once paused.

He had seen Oolaido many times before, but today something was different. The sunlight seemed to crown her with a golden glow, and her simple smile as she walked made his heart skip a beat. He approached her with a friendly grin. “Good morning, Olido,” he said warmly. Startled, Olido almost dropped the basket.

She quickly steadied it and bowed her head slightly. “Good morning, my prince,” she replied, her voice gentle and respectful. She kept her eyes down, for it was not common to look a prince in the face. “Please, you do not need to bow or call me my prince every time,” On Ho said, trying to catch her gaze. “I am honor to you.

” Olido dared to raise her eyes. She saw kindness in his face and felt butterflies in her stomach. She had always admired Prince Onoce from afar. He was known to be kind unlike some royalty who barely noticed their servants. Still, she was shy and unsure how to behave. “I I was just doing the laundry,” she said, her cheeks warming. Once smiled. “You work so hard.

The palace is lucky to have someone as diligent as you.” He reached out and lifted a fallen piece of cloth that had slipped from her basket, handing it back to her. Their fingers brushed for a moment, sending a tingle through both of them. “Thank you, Prince Onoce,” Olido said, heart pounding.

“Never had the prince spoken to her at length, and she felt both joy and fear. What would people say if they saw them chatting like friends?” Over the next days and weeks, Onote found excuses to cross paths with Oido. He would rise early and stroll near the well where Oido fetched water at dawn. He would offer to carry baskets of vegetables when he found her in the market stall sorting produce for the palace kitchen.

At first, was nervous, but easy laughter and gentle ways melted her caution. They began to share small conversations under the shade of a mango tree behind the palace where fewer eyes would pry. They talked about their lives. Olido spoke of her childhood in a nearby village, of how she came to work at the palace to help her family.

Onoce shared his dreams of traveling the land, of being a good leader like his father, but also a different one who listened more to the people. One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of orange, Prince Onoce invited Oola to sit with him by a quiet lotus pond within the palace gardens. The frogs croaked a lazy chorus and fireflies began to twinkle above the water. Olaido was hesitant.

If the queen or king saw them, there would be trouble. But the gentle urging in Onoch’s eyes made her heart ache with a sweet longing, and she followed him to the pond. They sat on a flat rock by the water’s edge. For a moment, both were silent, watching the reflection of the rising moon in the pond. Then, Ono took a deep breath. “Oo,” he said softly.

“I feel at peace when I am with you. These moments away from duties and rules are the best part of my day.” Olao turned to him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. They are, but I am just a maid,” she said quietly. “You are not just anything,” Onoi replied, shaking his head.

“You are wise and strong, and you understand people’s struggles. You treat everyone with kindness. I see how you helped old Neca, the cook, when her back pained her, or how you share your own mega food with the new servants when they are hungry. Your heart is made of gold, Oido, he paused, then added in almost a whisper.

Your name itself means gold, and it suits you perfectly. Olido’s eyes widened. She had no idea the prince noticed her so closely. A warmth bloomed in her chest like a bright flower. She lowered her eyes, not knowing what to say. Prince Onoce gently reached out and lifted her chain with two fingers so she would look at him. I mean it, he said.

In my life of luxury, I often feel alone. People surround me, but they are there because of my title. With you, I feel understood for who I am, not what I am. Onoce’s touch was tender, and Olido forgot herself for a moment, lost in his earnest dark eyes. I feel the same, Onoe, she confessed softly. When I speak to you, I forget you are a prince.

You listen to me like I matter. I I cherish these moments, too. The frog croakkes and evening crickets seemed to hush as Onoce slowly leaned closer. His heart pounded. He had never fallen in love before, and here he was, a prince in love with a palace maid. He knew it was risky, but at that instant he did not care. “Oido,” he murmured, “you matter to me more than you know.

” She felt his breath warm and gentle, and it sent a pleasant shiver through her. “And you matter to me,” she replied, her voice trembling with emotion. Under the silver light of the moon, Olao and Onoce shed a sweet, timid kiss. It was as soft as the touch of a butterflyy’s wings. Yet, it sent a wave of joy through them both.

Ola’s eyes closed as tears of happiness slipped down her cheeks. For a moment, they forgot every role and every consequence. They were just a man and a woman in love with the night sky bearing witness. But beyond the garden, behind the thick leaves of a plantain tree, someone else was watching. Queen Chica had been taking an evening walk when she noticed her son sleeping away towards the gardens.

Curious, she had quietly followed at a distance. Now seeing the prince, her son, kissing a mere servant girl, the queen’s heart hardened in anger and disbelief. Her hands clenched into fists and her lips pressed into a thin, furious line. Without confronting them, Queen Chica turned and marched back to the palace. Her fine silk rapper swishing angrily about her fate. She had seen enough.

This was unacceptable, an insult to the royal family. A maid, she hissed under her breath as she stroed through the corridors. How dare she and snare the prince’s heart. I will put an end to this at once. Inside the garden, Onoche and Oloido pulled apart, both shy and smiling, unaware of the storm they had just unleashed.

Onoce gently wiped the tears from Oido’s cheek with his thumb and promised, “No matter what happens, I will always be by your side, Olido.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, trusting him completely. In that beautiful moment under the moon and stars, they believed love would find a way. But dark clouds of trouble were already gathering and soon their secret would shake the entire kingdom of Achala.

Early the next morning, Queen Chica stormed into King Udoka’s private chambers. The king was seated on a wooden stool, a half-finish breakfast of yams and spicy stew before him. He looked up in surprise as his wife burst in unannounced. One glance at her face and he knew something was very wrong. Chica, my queen,” Kingodoka said, wiping his hands.

“What troubles you so early?” Queen Chica’s face was flushed with anger. She quickly dismissed the servants in the room, waiting until they had all scurried out and shut the door. Then, in a trembling voice, brimming with outrage, she said, “It’s Ono. Our son is making a mockery of us.” Kingdoka frowned deeply. He was a middle-aged man with a commanding presence, broad shoulders, and a stern face that rarely showed softness.

“How dare he dishonor our family like this?” he growled. “He is a prince, betrothed to no one yet, but destined to marry royalty, not a commoner.” Queen Shika nodded vigorously. “Exactly. We have raised him better. I do not know what spell that maiden has cast on him, but we must break it. Imagine the scandal. If people find out the prince is darling with his servant, it will make us the laughingstock of the neighboring kingdoms.

King Udoka stood up abruptly, his chest scraping the floor. He paced with quick angry strides. This is entirely unacceptable. Where is Onoce now? I have not seen him this morning, your majesty, Queen said, folding her arms. Likely sneaking around or dreaming of her. We must act before this goes any further.

King Udoka marched to the door and flung it open, barking an order to a guard outside. Summon Prince Ono at once. The guard bowed and ran off to fetch the prince. Moments later, Prince Onoce arrived at his father’s chambers. A curious yet weary expression on his face. He had a feeling this was about last night. Behind him trailed two palace guards who had clearly escorted him their hastily. Once thumped.

He had hoped to speak to his parents gently about Oido when the time was right, but it seemed that time had exploded upon him. Once stepped inside and bowed slightly, out of habit. Father, mother, you sent for me. King Odoka’s face was like thunder. Queen Chika stood beside the king, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes blazing.

“We did,” the king said coldly. “I think you know why.” The prince lifted his chin trying to remain calm. I can guess, he said cautiously. Queen Chika stepped forward, voice sharp. How could you, Onoce? Frolicking with the maid, kissing her under our noses. Her tone was cutting with disbelief. What were you thinking? Prince Onoce felt a surge of protectiveness for Lido.

He met his mother’s fierce gaze and said, “I love her, mother.” his voice steady, though his insight churned. “Oo is the woman I love.” The queen made a scandalized sound, as if he had uttered something profane. King Gudoka’s eyes widened in shock at his son’s boldness. “Have you lost your mind, boy?” The king thundered. “You are a prince of Achala.

You cannot love a servant girl.” “Why not?” Once retorted, feeling heat flooding his face. He had always been respectful, but this was too important to back down. My heart does not know titles or wealth. Olido is kind and good, and I love her truly. She loves me for who I am, not what I am. Enough. Kingduca’s voice boomed, echoing off the chamber walls.

One of the clay cups on the table trembled at the force. You will stop this nonsense at once. I forbid you to see her again. Oni’s hands curled into fists at his side. Father, with all respect, I cannot obey that command. Olido and I have done nothing wrong. We love each other. I intend to make her my wife. Queen Chica nearly screamed in frustration, “Wife! This is outrageous. She’s not of royal blood.

” Kingdoka’s face had turned a deep shade of crimson. “You will marry a princess or a lady of noble birth, as is your duty. Have you forgotten that we have been in talks with King A of the North? His daughter, Princess Ourma, is of age. We had hoped to arrange a marriage between you two to strengthen our alliance.

Prince Onoi shook his head firmly. I do not want Princess Oma or any other. I want Oido, I will marry no one but her. The king’s eyes narrowed dangerously. You dare defy me, Ono? I am not just your feather. I am your king. The prince’s heart pounded, but he stood his ground. and I am your son. A man who has the right to choose his own happiness.

If being a prince means I cannot marry the woman I love, then what is the worth of this title? Queen Chica screamed in frustration. The worth? It’s your birthright, your honor, everything. Have we not given you everything and you repay us with this humiliation? Kingdoka raised a hand to silence his wife. His anger now ice cold.

He pointed at his son. Listen well, Ono. You will never marry that girl. This affair ends today. Guards. At the king’s shout, two guards stepped forward from just outside the door. King Gudoka pointed a rigid finger at his son. Escort the prince to his chambers. He’s not to set foot outside until he comes to his senses.

One guard gently took Onoi’s arm. Your highness, please come with us, the guard said, clearly uncomfortable. The prince was beloved by many, and this was a duty the guards did not relish. Oni jacked his arm free. I can walk myself, he hissed, shooting his father a resentful look. Locking me away will not change my mind, father.

As the guards followed Prince Ono out to ensure, he complied. He added fiercely over his shoulder. I love Oolido and nothing you do can make me forget her. The door slammed behind. Kingdoka stood breathing hard, chest heaving with rage. Queen stepped forward, voice low and urgent. What about the girl, Oido? As long as she is here, Onoi will not relent.

He could find a way to see her. We must send her away from the palace, far from our son. The king’s jaw tightened. You are right. We will remove the temptation. Guards, he backed again. Two different guards appeared at the threshold. Your majesty, they answered in unison. King Udoka fixed them with a steely glare.

Find the maiden named Oido. She walks in the palace household. Arrest her at once and throw her into the dungeon. The guards bowed and hurried off. Queen Chica allowed herself a tight, grim smile of satisfaction. Meanwhile, Oleo had been anxiously walking in the laundry courtyard, tears of worry in her eyes.

She had seen the guards fetch Onoce earlier and heard angry voices echoing from the direction of the king’s chambers. She feared the worst. Rumors among the servants flew quickly. Someone had seen the queen’s furious face that morning, and Olido’s heart pounded with dread. She tried to continue her chores, scrubbing a garment against the washing stone with trembling hands, whispering to herself, “Please let him be safe.

Please let everything be okay.” Suddenly, two palace guards marched into the courtyard, scattering the other servants, who quickly moved aside. Oido’s blood turned to ice. The guards, stern-faced, walked straight toward her. “You are Alido?” one guard asked bruskly, though it was clear he knew exactly who she was. “Yes,” she answered in a small voice, rising to her feet, her knees felt weak.

By order of King Udoka, you are under wrist. Before she could process his words, he grabbed her arm. Olido gasped, nearly dropping the wet cloth in her hands. “Why? What have I done?” she cried, panic rising in her throats. The guards did not answer. Each took one of her arms firmly. Alido’s basket of laundry toppled over, spilling clothes onto the dusty ground as they began to drag Highway.

Please, there must be a mistake, Alido begged, struggling against their hold. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I swear.” Her please fell on deaf ears. The other servants looked on helplessly, some with tears in their eyes for Alido’s plight, but none dared to interfere with the king’s orders.

The guards pulled Oido through the courtyard and into the dim corridors of the palace. They headed toward the stone steps leading down to the dungeon. Alido’s heart pounded wildly. She had heard terrible stories of prisoners thrown in those dark cells. As they descended toward the dungeon, footsteps echoed in the narrow passage.

Suddenly, Prince appeared at the far end of the corridor, flanked by the guards who were supposed to keep him confined. He must have broken away upon hearing the commotion. His eyes widened when he saw Lido being dragged. “Oido!” he shouted, voice laced with fear and anger. Oido turned her head at the sound of his voice.

Ono, she cried, tears streaming as relief and terror collided in her heart. Onoce wrenched Belle free from one of his escorting guards, shoving the man aside. The other guard tried to hold him back, but Onoce’s desperation gave him strength. He rushed towards Oido and the guards restraining her. The two guards halted, unsure as the furious prince positioned himself in front of Oido, shielding her behind his back.

Let her go, Onucho commanded, standing like a protective lion. She clung to the back of his tunic, trembling but comforted by his presence. Your highness, one guard began nervously. We have orders from the king. I am the prince. On handh that is an order. He reached behind gently finding Olido’s hand and squeezing reassuringly.

For a moment, all the sound was everyone’s heavy breathing in the tight stone hallway. The guards looked at each other, cut between the king’s command and the princes. Before anyone could move, a commanding voice sliced through the tension. Onoce, stand down. Kingdoka’s imposing figure appeared at the top of the dungeon stairway, Quintika just behind him.

They had followed the shouts to this scene. Father, please, Ono implored, keeping himself firmly between Oido and the guards. Do not hurt her. If you must punish someone, punish me. Oido has done nothing wrong. King Odora’s face was carved from stone. Son, step away from that girl. Now shook his head, determination blazing in his eyes.

No, I will not let you throw her in a cell like a criminal. She has served our family faithfully. She has my heart. If you want me to ever be happy, do not do this. Queen Chica’s voice rang out cold and sharp. She bewitched you and made you forget your duty. She deserves no mercy for that. Once felt Oido’s fingers tighten around his.

He raised his voice, desperate. Mother, you know me. No one bewitched me. I love her by my own will. Kingodoka had heard enough. He gestured quickly to the two guards who had followed Ono. They seized the prince from behind, each locking an arm in a firm grip. Onoce struggled violently.

“No, let me go,” he roared, muscles burning as he tried to shrug off the guards. The other two guards pulled Olo forward. She cried out, reaching for Onoce as she was torn from his grasp. “Onoce, please!” she sobbed. The prince used all his strength and managed to yank one arm free, elbowing a guard in the face.

But the second guard held tight and the first recovered, grappling him again. King Goda stepped forward and for the first time in Ono’s life, struck him hard across the face. The crack of the king’s palm against Ono’s cheek echoed through the corridor. Onoce stopped fighting, stunned less by pain and more by the shock of his father’s blow.

He stared at King Odoka with a mixture of hurt and fury in his eyes. Kingodoka’s voice was deathly quiet. You will not defy me again, Onoe. Onoe’s chest heaved. Tears of anger brimmed in his eyes. Father, he rasped. If you hurt her. But the king turned away from his son to the guards. Take Prince Ono back to his chambers and lock him in.

P sent centuries at his door. He is not to come out until I say so. The guards dragged Onoce away. This time he was too dazed to resist. a bruise already reening on his face where his father had struck him. His eyes never left Olo’s distraught face as she was pulled in the opposite direction. “Oo,” he shouted one last time, voice cracking with sorrow.

“Oh no!” she cried back, struggling uselessly against the men holding her. Her voice faded into a whale as she was hauled down the stairs. The heavy wooden door to Oucho’s chamber slammed shut and a bolt clanged into place, sealing the prince in. He pounded on the door, shouting in vain, “Let me out, Olo!” But only silence answered.

In the dungeon below, Olido was thrust into a small damp cell. The door clanged shut, the lock turning with a decisive thud. Darkness closed around her. She sank to the cold stone floor, sobbing until no more sound came, only silent tears. She had never felt so frightened and alone. Curled up in that lonely cell, Olido whispered a broken prayer into the darkness. Great spirits, protect us.

Please save our love. That night, King Udoka could not sleep. He tossed on his woven mat bed in the royal hut, mind racing. His wife, Queen Chica, lay beside him, awake as well, both of them staring at the thatched roof overhead. They had separated Prince Onoce from the maiden, but the prince’s final words echoed in the king’s ears, “If you hurt her, I will never forgive you.

” Queen Chica turned her head towards her husband and spoke in a low, firm voice, “We have to end this, Sudoka. As long as that girl is alive and in this palace, our son’s heart will never be free. You saw how he defied you. He even raised a hand to fight your guards. This is dangerous. He could throw away everything for her.

Kingdoka sighed deeply. In the dim light of an oil lamp, his face looked older than his years. I know, he murmured. Once is stubborn. He has never stood against me like that before. His love for her must be very strong. He spoke the last words with a touch of frustration and disbelief, as if love were an unruly horse that needed taming. The queen’s eyes flashed.

You must be stronger. Show him that this romance will not be tolerated. Remove her and he will have no choice but to forget. The king’s voice dropped to a grim whisper. Remove her permanently. Is that what we have come to? Queen Chica closed her eyes and nodded once. Her heart was cold but heavy. It is for the good of our son and our kingdom.

A prince cannot marry a maid. If we allow it, we will be scorned by our own people and our allies. We might even invite rebellion or ridicule. Sometimes hard decisions must be made by a king. King Udoka remained silent for a long moment. He thought of his son’s face, the raw pain and anger when the guards dragged Olido away.

It pained him more than he expected. But he stealed himself with resolve. He believed he was doing this for the future of Achala and for Ono’s own good. “One day his son would understand,” he told himself. At last the king rose from the bed. “It will be done by morning,” he said quietly. Queen Chica watched him go, her expression unreadable in the gloom.

She felt a pang of guilt but pushed it aside. “Better a broken heart than a broken kingdom,” she whispered to herself, trying to believe it. King Gudoka summoned his most trusted guard, the captain of the palace guards, whose name was Ikena. “Ikenga was a tall, muscular man with a long scar across his left forearm, a scar ended defending the king in battle years ago.

He was known for his loyalty and bravery. Ikena knelt before the king in the empty throne room lit only by a single torch on the wall. “Your majesty, you called for me,” Iga asked. The king looked down at the kneeling guard. Speaking in a low, firm tone, he said. “I have a task for you, Iga. One of utmost importance and secrecy.” Iga bowed his head.

“I am your sword and shield, my king. Command me. The king’s voice hardened as he gave the order that made Ikena’s stomach lutch. The maiden Olido who lies in our dungeon. She is to be removed from this world by dawn. Ikena lifted his head slightly, eyes widening in surprise. He had heard whispers in the palace of the prince’s romance with the maiden and how furious the king was.

But kill her, the girl who washed clothes and smiled kindly to everyone. He felt a slight chill. Still, he was a soldier first. “Your majesty,” he said carefully. “If that is your command, I will carry it out. How would you have it done?” The king stepped closer, lowering his voice as if the shadows themselves might overhear. “Take her to the evil forest beyond the northern hills.

Do you know of the spot I speak of?” Ikena nodded slowly. Everyone knew of the evil forest, a place where wrongdoers were cast out and where spirits were said to roam. It was a forbidden place where even brave men feared to tread at night. The king’s plan was clear. Not only would Ola be killed, but her body would be left in a place no one would dare retrieve it, ensuring no proper burial, a frightening fate in their culture.

I know it, your majesty, Iga replied. Good. Take her there and end her life. Make sure wild beasts or the forest itself will hide any trace of her. We will tell the court and the people that she was banished for her offense and died in exile or say nothing at all. Only you and I and the queen know the truth of this. Understood? Aga swallowed hard.

He was a hardened warrior, but the thought of executing a young woman who, as far as he knew, had committed no real crime, aside from the prince loving her, made his chest tighten. But disobeying the king was unthinkable. He kept his face emotionless and nodded, “Yes, your majesty, it will be done.” King Udoka placed a hand on the guard captain’s shoulder.

I chose you because I trust your loyalty. Do this and you will not go unrewarded. Iga achala must be protected from weakness and my son must be saved from his own folly. Ikena bowed deeply. I serve faithfully my king. The king’s voice dropped even lower cold and determined. Leave before first light. I want the deed done in darkness and silence.

Report back to me when it is finished. With a heavy heart, masked by a loyal expression, Ikena arose and departed to prepare for the grim task. In the pre-dawn hours, when the night was at its darkest, Iga came to the dungeon with two other guards. A single torch lit the damp narrow corridor outside the cells. Oido was curled in a corner of her cell, having cried herself into exhaustion.

She looked up in fear as the men stopped in front of her cell. Ikena unlocked the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. “Get up,” he ordered quietly. Alido pressed herself against the stone wall, terrified. “Where are you taking me?” she stammered. The other two guards stood at the doorway, spears in hand. Ikena avoided meeting her eyes.

He didn’t want to see the plea in them. “It would only make this harder.” “By order of the king, you are to be banished from Achala,” he said, sticking to the story the king wanted. We’re taking you away. Banished. Olay’s voice shook. It was better than death, she thought. But being banished meant she will never see Onoi again.

Never return to the only world she knew. Still, if it meant her life, she clung to that small relief. Perhaps Onochi could find her someday outside Achala, she dreamed for a second. She stood on unsteady legs. Ikena took a rope and tied her wrists together. Not crually tight, but secure. Please, I’ll go willingly.

There’s no need to bind me. The rope burned her skin and tears of despair gathered in her eyes and knew. Akena’s face remained stony. It’s the king’s order, he replied simply. In truth, he tied her because he feared she might run in panic when she learned the truth of what awaited her. They led Oido out of the dungeon.

The palace was quiet. Most people were asleep. Olido, shivering in the cool night air and thin dress, looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Onoi, but he was nowhere. She did not know he was locked in his chamber under guard. She had prayed he might come for her, but now she realized he could not. Olido’s heart sank as they guided her through the palace gates.

In the east, the first faint line of gray dawn was beginning to light in the sky. The world was silent except for the distant cheer up of crickets and the hoot of an owl returning home. The three men and their prisoner took a narrow path leading away from the main road. Olido noticed they weren’t heading toward the village outskirts where banished people were usually escorted out.

Instead, they were going north toward wilder lands. A sense of dread filled her. She had heard tales of the evil forest, a cost expanse of ancient trees where it was said dark spirits lingered. No one banished was ever taken that way. Why were they leading her there? She glanced at a stern profile ahead of her and the two guards flanking her.

The two other guards looked grim but followed orders without a word. Step by step, the palace and village of Achala receded behind them. Olido’s feet were bare and aching from stumbling over rocks and roots, but fear kept her moving. Finally, they reached the edge of the evil forest. Just as the sky above was turning a paler gray, though beneath the dense canopy of twisted trees, it was still as black as midnight.

Here at the border of the forbidden forest, the two accompanying guards halted. One of them looked at Iena uneasily. Captain, do you need us to go with you? IA shook his head. No, I will take her from here alone. The king trusts me with this task. You both wait here. I will be back shortly. The guards exchanged glances.

They were clearly nervous about even entering the forest. Perhaps they were relieved not to enter it. They nodded and stepped back, allowing Akena to lead Oido onward alone into the woods. As soon as the other guards were out of earshot, Iga tightened his grip on Oido’s arm and pushed forward through the thick underbrush.

The forest swallowed them in darkness. Twisted tree trunks loomed around them like silent giants, and the air was heavy with the smell of damp earth. A distant animal cry echoed through the trees, sending a chill through Oido’s body. Fear overwhelmed her and she pulled back, resisting. “Captain Iga,” she begged, her voice shaking. “Please have mercy.

Don’t do this. I have served the king and queen faithfully. I have harmed no one. Igga’s jaw clenched. Quiet, he whispered urgently. We must go deeper. Tears streamed down Oido’s face as he half dragged her forward. She could barely see now, only the outline of his broad shoulders ahead. Sharp leaves scratched her ankles, and she stumbled once over a hidden route.

After what felt like endless moments, Iga stopped in a small clearing. A faint trace of dawn light filtered through the thick canopy above, casting long, uneasy shadows. The ground was covered in dry leaves, and the place felt abandoned and cold. Alido collapsed to her knees when he released her arm. She was sobbing softly, struggling for breath.

“Please,” she cried, “I beg you, spare me. I love Prince once with all my heart. Is love a crime worthy of this fate?” Iga’s jaw clenched. In that moment, her thoughts rushed to her parents in her home village, to the pride in their smiles when she had gone to serve at the palace. She thought of Uno’s gentle voice, the way he spoke her name as if it mattered. Tears burned her eyes.

If this was the end, she wished only to see him once more. Ikena lifted his hand, his heart pounding. He had followed orders all his life, but this moment felt heavier than any before. Suddenly, Olo cried out, her voice breaking, “Please spare me. If not for my life, then for the life of your prince’s child,” Ikena froze.

His hand stopped midair. “What did you say?” he asked quietly, shock thick in his voice. Olido swallowed, hope flickering through her fear. I am carrying Prince Onoce’s child, she said, her bound hands moving protectively to her stomach. It is still early, but I know I felt it. I was going to tell him before everything fell apart. Agga’s thoughts raced.

If she spoke the truth, her laugh was tied to the future of the royal bloodline itself. His hand lowered slowly. How can I believe you? Tears strey cheeks as she looked up at him. I swear by my life, she said earnestly, by the spirits of my ancestors and the gods of our land. I am not lying.

If you end me here, you end an innocent future as well. Please do not let that happen.” A Kenga’s resolution wavered. He thought of the young prince he had trained and protected, the kindness in the boy’s heart. A long breath escaped him. Finally, he lowered his weapon and secured it away. Oido watched, hardly daring to breathe.

Oido, she whispered, trembling. What will you do? He pulled out a dagger from his belt and Olido flinched, but I stepped past her to one of the trees. With quick, forceful slashes, he cut a long strip of back off a trunk and then sliced into his own palm. Blood dripped onto the blade and ground. He hissed at the self-inflicted wound.

He then smeared some of his blood on the strip of Ali’s dress that was torn at the hem. Next, he cut off a small lock of her hair with the dagger. Allo realized he was gathering evidence to make it seem like he had killed her. Blood, a piece of her dress, a lock of hair as proof. Hope surged in her chest. Ikanga’s voice was gruff, but quieter than before.

I will tell the king I have done as he asked. I will show him these as proof and say that a wild animal in the forest took care of the rest. Ola nearly sobbed in relief, bringing her tied hands up to cover her mouth. Bless you, Iga. I don’t know how to thank you, she wept. He stepped close and caught the rope binding her wrists.

Her skin was chafed and red, and she rubbed them absently, still looking at him with astonishment and gratitude. Ikanga looked around the dark forest, his eyes sharp. “You must run,” he urged. Run far away from Achala. Go to some distant village and start a new life. You cannot return ever.

If the king even suspects you live, both you and I are doomed. Do you understand? Allo nodded vigorously. I understand. I will never return to Achala. I promise. Aa hesitated then put a hand on her shoulder. He looked into her eyes, his face stern but not unkind. Take care of that child. If it is a boy, maybe one day.

But no, it’s better he never knows for all our sakes. He sighed. I do this because my loyalty to the throne is matched by my loyalty to the prince. I pray I am making the right choice. You are assured him, tears still wet on her face, but a new determination in her voice. One day, if the gods will it, you will see that you did right and saved more than just my life.

I managed a tight nod. There was no more time. Dawn was coming quickly now. faint man in light was creeping through the trees and the other guards would grow suspicious if he took too long. “Go,” he said urgently, pointing further north through the trees. “Keep off the main parts. Find shelter beyond the old hills.

The kingdom of Udo lies in that direction, though it’s far. The people there are humble. You might find refuge. Now go, run, and do not look back.” Olido gave Ikena one last grateful look. Then gathering her remaining strength, she turned and fled into the depths of the forest. Heading away from the life she had known, tears of sorrow and relief mingling on her cheeks.

She did not look back, just as he ordered. Ikanga watched her until her figure vanished between the dark trunks. In the quiet that followed, he whispered a small prayer for her safety and for the unborn child’s future. Then he stealed himself and began his return. He rubbed more of his blood on his forearm and tore his own uniform to appear as if there had been a struggle with the girl or an animal.

When I emerged from the forest’s edge, dawn had broken. The two guards waiting looked expectantly, noting his disheveled state, the blood, the torn clothing. Ikena held up the blooded scrap of Ali’s dress and a small lock of her hair. “It is done,” he said solemnly. “The deed is finished.” She tried to flee deeper into the forest and the evil spirits or beasts took her.

There’s nothing left of her to bring back. The guards looked uneasy and scared at the mention of the forest spirits. They nodded hurriedly, not wishing to know details. In truth, they were just relieved the task was over. Back at the palace, King Gudoka awaited the Kena’s report in tense silence. Queen Chica sat beside him, her face drawn.

Prince Onoce was still locked in his chambers. They had not yet informed him of anything. Ikena entered the throne room looking suitably grim. He knelt and placed the scrap of stained cloth and cut her before the king. Your majesty, I carried out your orders. Olido is no more. I left her in the evil forest as instructed. This is all that remains as proof.

King Gudoka picked up the piece of cloth, examining the dark red blood stain that had now soaked in. He nodded, accepting it as evidence enough. The queen looked away, a flicker of regret crossing her face before she hardened her heart once more. “You have done well, Iga,” King Udoka said quietly. Though a heaviness hung in his voice, he felt relief that the deed was done.

No loose ends, no more made to distract his son. “You may rise. This task will not be forgotten. You have my thanks,” the king continued. Ikenga stood, keeping his eyes low in a gesture of respect, hiding any emotion. I live to serve my king. King Gurudoka signaled him to leave and then turned to Queen Chica with a somber nod. “It is done.

Finally, this shameful chapter is closed.” Queen Chica released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Yes,” she said, but her voice was oddly quiet. She thought removing the girl would bring her satisfaction, but instead she felt a strange emptiness and guilt knowing at her. She dismissed it, telling herself it was for the best.

None in Achala knew that fate had intervened differently far beyond the palace walls. Oido still lived, carrying the prince’s unborn child into an uncertain future. Prince Onoi remained locked in his chambers for days after Oledo’s disappearance. When King Udoka finally came to inform him of her fate, the news crushed Onoi’s spirit.

The king told him curtly, “Oldo is dead. She has been executed for her disobedience.” At first, Honori refused to believe it. “No, you are lying,” he shouted, eyes wild with anguish. But the grave look on his father’s face and the blood stained scrap of cloth King Udoka showed him forced Onochi to accept the horrifying truth.

In that moment, something inside the prince broke. He fell to his knees, sobbing so fiercely, it was as if his soul were shattering. He cried out Olo’s name until his voice grew. “You killed her. You killed my heart along with her.” Oni wailed at his father. King Gudoka stood stiffly by, insisting it was for the best, that one day Onoi would understand.

But the prince crawled away from him, curling in a corner like a wounded lion, licking its wounds. “Leave me,” he whispered in a raw voice. “I have nothing to say to you.” King Gudoka left Noi’s chambers troubled by his son’s devastation, but he held firm that duty must come first. In the weeks that followed, Prince Onoi was a shell of himself. He refused to eat or speak.

Trays of food left at his door went cold. Concerned servants sometimes heard him weeping softly in the night. Queen Chica visited once, standing outside his locked door to plead, “My son, please come out. You must go on. Olo is gone. But you are alive. Please, Onoi. Her only answer was silence punctuated by quiet grief.

At last, Kingoka decided that enough time had passed. He would shake his son out of this state by proceeding with the plan he had long intended, securing a royal marriage for Onui. The alliance with the Northern Kingdom through Princess Remma was too important to delay. One morning, the king entered Onoi’s chambers, accompanied by two guards and a royal adviser.

They found the prince sitting by his window, gazing blankly at the morning sun. His once bright eyes were dull with sorrow, and his clothes hung loosely on him from weeks of barely eating. “My son,” Kingodoka said as gently as his stern voice could manage. “You cannot continue like this.” Oni did not turn to look at him.

“Why not? What reason do I have to live? Father, you took the one person I cared for? The king suppressed a flare of irritation. You have your duty to this kingdom. You have your family. You have your future to consider. A prince does not have the luxury of giving up. Oni closed his eyes. My future died with her, he murmured.

Kingodoka’s patience thinned. He signaled the guards to open the windows fully and let sunlight flood the dim room. Listen to me, Onoi. You will get up, wash, and prepare yourself. In 3 days, you are going to marry Princess Urema of Nelby Kingdom. The arrangements are already made. Those words finally made Onochi turn his head in disbelief.

You can’t be serious, he croked. Not now. Not like this. Yes, now, the king replied, arms folded. The world does not stop for grief. We have delayed too long already. Princess Remma is arriving tomorrow with her entourage. The wedding will be held as soon as she arrives and the rights are prepared. That is final.

Onoi felt a fresh wave of despair wash over him. How could his father expect him to marry someone when his heart was in ashes? “Father, I beg you,” he started, voice shaking. “I cannot do this.” Queen Chica stepped out from behind the king. She had followed and been listening at the doorway. You will do this, Onochi, she said firmly, though her eyes were softer now as she looked at her broken son.

It is for your own good. You will be a king one day and must have a queen of proper standing. Life must go on. This marriage will help you heal if you let it. Onochi said nothing more. He realized any protest would fall on deaf ears. His parents left, ordering servants to bathe and dress him properly. Numbly, Onochi allowed himself to be prepared like a door for a wedding he did not want to a princess he did not love.

The very next day, Princess Orma arrived at Achala’s palace with fanfare. She was a graceful young woman adorned in fine silk wrappers and heavy coral bead necklaces befitting a princess. She had a warm smile and luminous dark eyes. When she was presented to Prince Onuhi in the great hall, she offered a respectful bow and a shy smile, clearly trying to make a good impression.

Oni managed a polite nod, but his eyes did not light up. He greeted her with courtesy, but little enthusiasm. “Welcome, Princess Urma,” he said dully. “I hope your journey was pleasant.” “It was your highness,” Urma replied gently. She had heard rumors that the prince had recently suffered some heartbreak, but she did not know details.

All she saw was a very handsome yet sad man before her. In her heart, Urema resolved to be a good wife and perhaps win his love with time. The wedding was a grand affair by Achala’s standards, though the groom wore a forced smile throughout and spoke his vows in a flat tone. Drummers beat the royal drums and flutes sang as the people of Achala gathered to celebrate.

King Udoka and Queen Chica put on bright faces for the public declaring their joy. Princess’s father, King Ez, sent lavish gifts and his blessings, though he could not attend in person. As tradition dictated, the bride and groom shared a cup of palm wine. An Onoce had to formally present his bride with gifts of cloth and jewels as part of the ceremony.

He did all that was required, but anyone close enough could see the distant look in his eyes. When it was done, Prince Onoce and Princess Ura were pronounced husband and wife. The crowd cheered and ulated, but the prince barely headed. In his mind, he was picturing how this moment might have been if it were Oido by his side instead.

The thought was too painful to bear, and so he simply shut his heart down. That night, in their new chamber, Princess Urma approached her husband slowly. The room was lit with dozens of oil lamps casting a warm glow on the painted walls. A soft bed awaited them, strawn with flower petals by the maidens to bless their first night.

Urama’s hands trembled slightly with nervousness. She had never been with a man before. She sat next to Onoi on the edge of the bed. He was staring at the floor. Summoning her courage, URA reached out and gently touched his hand. “My prince,” she whispered. I know you do not smile, but I hope I can make you happy in time.

Onoce withdrew his hand slowly, not meeting her hopeful gaze. You are kind, princess, he said quietly. But my heart is unwell. I cannot give you what you wish for. I am sorry. Princess Ura bit her lip, hurt by his words. At least let us try, she pleaded softly. We are husband and wife now. Perhaps we can be friends. I will do all I can to be a good wife to you.

Onoce looked at her finally, seeing the earnest tears in her eyes. She was trying so hard. He felt a pang of guilt. None of this was her fault. “You have done nothing wrong,” he said gently. “Yes, we can try to be friends.” But even as he said it, there was no conviction in his voice. Weeks passed, then months.

Princess Urma truly gave her all to win Ono’s affection. She learned what foods he liked and personally cooked spicy fish stew and pounded yam for him, surprising him in his chambers. “I made this for you, my husband,” she would say with a hopeful smile. Thank you. Onoce would respond politely. He would eat a few bites, praise her cooking out of politeness, but he never finished a full meal.

Often, as soon as he could, he excused himself to be alone. The food lost its taste in his mouth, for every dish reminded him of how used to bring him roasted plantains sneaked from the kitchen as a treat during their secret meetings. Those memories soured any joy he might find in Uruma’s thoughtful gestures. Princess Urma also tried to brighten his days by arranging entertainment.

She invited skilled drummers and dancers to the courtyard, hoping the lively music might cheer him. On one such day, Onoce stepped out to see the performers leaping and twirling, drums echoing against the palace walls. Urma approached him eagerly. “Aren’t they wonderful? I thought it might lighten your heart.” Once forced a smile.

“It is pleasant,” he said quietly. But after only a short while watching, he slipped away, leaving Uurma standing alone among the dancers, her smile fading. Every attempt she made, Ono met with polite distance. He did not yell at her or mistreat her. He simply kept a wall around his heart and never let her in. At night, he often slept on a mat on the floor, leaving Urma alone in the large bed.

She would cry softly sometimes, feeling unwanted and lonely, a princess married to a man who behaved like a ghost. Their relationship grew strained. Urma’s disappointment began to turn to frustration and anger. One evening, nearly a year into their marriage, URA confronted Onoi. He had just returned from a solitary horseback ride through the fields, one of the few activities that gave him a semblance of peace.

“Urma met him in their chamber, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You barely speak to me,” she said, voice trembling between anger and sorrow. I have tried everything to be a good wife to you, yet you act as if I do not exist. Onoce removed his riding cloak, avoiding her eyes. I am sorry, he said, which had become his refrain.

I do not mean to hurt you. But you are hurting me, Urma burst out, tears gathering. Do you know how it feels to be so unwanted? Am I so unworthy of love that you can’t even try? I may not be the woman you wanted, but I am your wife, Ono. Onoce finally looked at her, seeing her face red and wet with tears. He felt heavy remorse, but also a stab of pain because he truly did not have love to give.

“I do not mean to hurt you,” he said softly. “You are right. You are alive and all I do is gone. But I also know I will never love Urma, no matter how kind she was. My heart was buried with Oido, or so he believed. Their marriage limped on increasingly joyless. Urma grew cold in return. If being sweet and loving earned her nothing but heartache, then she would harden her heart as well.

In public, she still played the gracious princess, but in private, husband and wife lived almost as strangers passing in the halls. King Udoka and King Chika noticed that the union was not producing the happiness or air they had hoped for. After 2 years, there was still no child. The king summoned Onoi and Urma to the throne room one day and scolded them both. You are husband and wife.

The kingdom expects an heir, King Odoka said sternly, looking pointedly at Onoce. Once bowed his head, “Father, we it will happen in time,” he said, though he sounded unconvincing. Queen Shika gently tried to encourage you. “My dear, perhaps spend more time together, just you two. Take a trip to the royal retreat or the lake, rekindle your bond.” Orma forced a tight smile.

Yes, your majesty, we will try. But nothing improved. Once heart remained distant, and Rema’s heart was now wounded and closing off. As more time passed, whisper started among a few servants. Perhaps the prince was cursed to never be happy. Or maybe the gods disapproved of the marriage. The queen brought in a priest at one point to bless the couple’s chamber, hoping to bring fertility and harmony.

But still no pregnancy and no joy resulted. Constant frustration wore down. She felt humiliated, undesired, and miserable. In her loneliness, her eyes eventually fell on someone who did pay attention, a young guard in the palace named Obina. He was kind to her, offering a listening air when he found her crying in the garden one afternoon.

One forbidden comfort led to another, and Urma, starved for affection, found solace in the guard’s arms. It was a secret betrayal, one driven by despair and need rather than malice. For a time, felt a guilty kind of happiness, sneaking off to meet Obina in quiet corners of the palace grounds at night. He would whisper that she was beautiful, that she deserved love.

In those stolen moments, she felt wanted. But secrets have a way of coming to light. About 3 years into the marriage, Princess Remma realized she was with child. Her monthly courses had stopped and the midwife confirmed her pregnancy. Fear and panic gripped Remma. She knew at once the child could not be prince.

They had barely shared a bed at all and certainly not in the time frame that could lead to this. For a short time, she tried to hide it, draping herself in loose robes. But soon, it became obvious as her belly began to swell. Servants whispered, then caught tears. King Odoka and Queen Chika were initially overjoyed to hear the princess might be pregnant.

Thinking their prayers for an heir were finally answered. However, Prince Ono was perplexed when he heard the news. He confronted Rimma privately, his voice low and tinged with accusation. They say you are expecting a child. Orma stood by the window, hands cradling her belly unconsciously. She lifted her chin. Yes, she replied. Onoea felt anger staring.

How can that be? He said, “You and I, we have hardly.” He trailed off, unable to complete the thought that the child could be his. It was possible. There were a few occasions early on he had tried to fulfill his duty, though without passion. But deep down he knew the timing was wrong. He had kept to himself for many months now.

Orama turned tears in her eyes. She was tired of lies. We both know how, Ono. This baby is not yours. Ono’s face went pale. Even though he expected her words, the confirmation still caught him. Who? He asked in a strained voice. Who is the father? Or pressed her lips together, silent.

She would not give up Obina’s name. She knew he would be killed for it, but her silence was answer enough. Once raked a hand through his hair, trying to control his rising fury and humiliation. How could you? I know I failed you as a husband, but to betray our marriage vows with a guard under my own roof. Princess sadness flared into anger.

And what of your vows to me? You vowed to love and cherish me, yet you never even tried. I was alone once, wretchedly alone and longing for a touch of kindness. I reached out to you over and over and you pushed me away every time. What did you expect would happen to a heart so starved for love? Once clenched his fists.

Part of him felt she was not entirely wrong. He had driven her to despair, but the betrayal still stung deeply. You could have sought a divorce, gone back to your father, everything but this shame. Or laughed bitterly, wiping her tears. Divorce, return in disgrace to my father with nothing. No, I was foolish. I hoped perhaps this child might even make you happy somehow.

That you’d claim it and we’d pretend. I don’t know what I hoped. Her shoulders sagged. It seems hope left our marriage long ago. Ono closed his eyes, heart heavy with a mixture of guilt, anger, and sorrow. This cannot remain secret, he said quietly. The king and queen will know. Everyone will know. or Emma lowered her head, fresh tears falling. I know, she whispered.

And indeed, news soon reached Kingdoka that the unborn child was not the princes. Perhaps a servant over heard the couple’s quarrel, or Rema herself confessed in a moment of agony. Either way, the truth came out. Fury unlike any before fell upon the palace. Kingodoka was enraged at the dishonor. He summoned the captain of the guard at once to find the man responsible.

It did not take long to identify Obina, the young guard who had shown too much friendliness to the princess. Obina was dragged before the king in chains. The guard, shaking with fear, confessed under duress that he had indeed llay with Princess Rema. Queen Chica covered her face in shame as gasps echoed through the throne room.

Prince Ono stood off to the side, silent and stone-faced, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes. “You treacherous wretch!” King Odoka roared at Obina. How dare you defile my son’s marriage and stay in the royal family’s honor. You will pay dearly. The king ordered Obina to be whipped in the courtyard for all to see and then banished from Achala under pain of death if he ever returned.

The guard cries rang out as the punishment was carried out. Princess watching from a balcony wept bitterly knowing the suffering was because of their mutual mistake. After the flogging, Obina, bloodied and broken, was exiled beyond the kingdom’s borders. King Udoka then turned his wrath upon Princess Urma. Though she was a princess of another kingdom, her actions were unforgivable in his eyes.

“You will be sent back to your father,” he declared with disgust. I will inform King Az that you are no longer welcome in Achala and your child if it survives will never set foot in my lands. Princess Orma cradling her swollen belly bowed her head in disgrace. She had no defense. She only requested through tears. Please have mercy. Do not harm my baby.

Queen Chica, though embarrassed and angry, had enough pity to speak up. The child is innocent, my king. Let her return home safely. King Gudoka gave a stiff nod. Take whatever belongings you brought with you, he told Remma coldly. You leave at first light. Before she departed, Princess Remma sought out Prince Onoce one last time.

He met her in the empty garden courtyard at dusk. She looked at him through reened eyes. I am sorry, she whispered. I know I hurt you and I hurt this kingdom’s honor. I was so lonely and desperate. I lost my way. Onoce looked down at the woman who was briefly his wife. He felt only sadness and pity now. I shared the blame, he replied quietly.

I was a poor husband. You did not deserve the pain you went through, I hope your father’s house will welcome you kindly and that your child brings you some happiness. Emma managed a small sorrowful smile. Perhaps in another life we could both find happiness. She hesitated then added, “I truly wish you find joy someday, Onoe, even if it’s not with me.

No heart can survive on emptiness forever.” Prince Onoce had no answer to that. He watched as Princess Remma left Achala the next day in a small caravan, her head covered in a veil of shame. The people of Achala were told an official story. The princess had proven unfaithful and was returned to her homeland.

It was a scandal that took months, even years, for the gossip to die down. King Udoka was livid over the humiliation. Though he reprimanded Ono for failing to keep his wife’s loyalty, “You drove her away with your neglect,” he accused one day. The king was mostly concerned with salvaging the royal reputation.

He wrote a carefully worded apology to King Azy blaming entirely as a fateless woman to preserve the alliance as best as possible. Within the palace after Arma’s departure, silence filled the void. Pzonoce was once again alone with his grief and now a layer of guilt for the part he played in yet another ruined life.

Queen Chika quietly comforted her son one evening. We all make mistakes, she said, stroking her hair as if he were a child. Your father is hard on you. But I know your heart was wounded. Perhaps we pushed you into that marriage too soon. Onoce said in a hollow voice. All I bring is misery to others. Motheredo then maybe father is right to be angry.

Hush, the queen chided softly. What’s done is done. We must look ahead. And looking ahead, King Gudoka had only one thing on his mind. Finding yet another bride for the prince. One who could give Achala an air and he hoped finally break Onoce free from the past. A few months passed.

Prince Ono, nearing 30 now, dutifully carried out his princely tasks, overseeing village disputes, training with the warriors, attending council meetings. But he was joyless. King Gudoka issued an ultimatum. By the next harvest, you will choose a woman of noble birth to marry or I will choose for you. Onoce gave no response to this. In his heart, he felt nothing but weariness at the thought of another marriage.

He knew he would never love anyone else, and he did not want to condemn another woman to the empty life Orma had suffered. So he quietly refused to seek a new bride, hoping perhaps his father would relent in time or forget the matter. But King Gudoka did not forget. When the deadline came and passed with Onoce still on wed, the king acted.

One of his loyal chiefs had a daughter of marriageable age, a quiet girl named Adaku. King Gudoka announced that Prince Onoce would marry Adaku at once to finally set the royal household in order. Upon hearing this command, Prince Onoce flatly refused. “I will not,” he stated firmly in the council hall where the king announced it. King Gudoka’s face darkened with rage.

He had indulged his son’s melancholi for too long, and now publicly the prince was defying him again. “You will,” he growled. “Or you cease to be my son.” Once stood his ground, looking his father in the eye. Then I suppose I am no longer your son, he said quietly. Gas echoed in the hall at the prince’s words. King Udoka’s nostrils fled.

Guards, he shouted, voice cracking like thunder. Seize him. At once, royal guards closed in. Prince Onoce did not resist as they took hold of his arms. King Gudoka’s face was livid. Take him to the old storage room, he commanded, naming a study building that could act as a cell.

Tie him and flog him until he sees reason. I will not tolerate this defiance. Queen Chica screamed, “No, Udoka, please.” But the king silenced her with a glare. The guards dragged on way as the council looked on in stunned silence. Some of the older chiefs shifted uneasily. It was not a sight they ever expected. The prince being hauled off like a criminal, but none dared oppose the king in his fury.

In the dim, dusty storage room, Prince Onoce’s wrists were bound with rope to a wooden pillar. A burly guard, eyes full of apology, but bound by duty, lashed the prince’s back with a whip. The first strike of leather on flesh made Onoce gasp in pain. He clenched his jaw, determined not to cry out.

The whip fell again and again. Fiery pain seared Onoachi’s back, cutting through his thin tunic, drawing blood. He bit down on a cry, sweat beading on his forehead. After the first 10 lashes, his resolve began to break. This agony inflicted by his own father’s order, it was a torment both of body and soul.

Queen Chica ran to King Gudoka, tears streaming down her face. Stop this. You will kill him,” she begged. The king, though shaking with anger, signaled the guard to pause after perhaps a dozen lashes. He stepped into the store room where Onoce hung limply against his bones, breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Onoce,” King Udoka said, “End this madness. Swear you will marry Adaku and this stops.” The prince raised his head with difficulty, sweat and tears mingling on his cheeks. His back felt a fire and wetness of blood trickled down. In a strained voice, he answered, “I will not marry anyone against my will.” Kingdoka’s face contorted with grief and rage.

He motioned for the guard to continue. The whip cracked again. At the 15th lash, Onoi screamed, a raw horse sound of pain that tore from his throat unwillingly. Queen Chica covered her ears, sobbing. The king himself winced. He loved his son despite all, and this hurt to witness, but he hardened his heart, thinking it’s necessary.

Finally, as lash after lash fell, Prince Onoce’s world began to go black at the edges. He hung by his wrists, semi-conscious. The guard hesitated seeing the prince slump. “Your majesty, he may not survive more,” the guard said in a trembling voice. Kingdoka raised a hand. “Enough.” He stepped forward and personally cut the ropes binding Onoce.

“The prince collapsed into his father’s arms, barely awake.” “Have you had enough, my son?” King Udoka whispered urgently. “Will you obey now?” Ono’s lips moved, a faint whisper escaping. Yes, father. Whether he truly meant it or only said it to stop the torture, only he knew. But King Udoka took it as submission.

Thank the gods, Kingdoka murmured, suddenly overcome with relief and sorrow. He hadn’t realized until that moment how close he came to breaking his own heart as well as his son’s body. They carried Prince Ono to his chambers. Royal healers treated the bleeding cuts on his back with healing herbs and ointments. For days, Onoce lay face down, feverish and weak.

Queen Chika stayed by his side, weeping quietly and praying for his recovery. When Onoce finally regained his strength, the first thing King Gudoka did was press the matter of the marriage. This time, Onoce did not fight. With hollow eyes and a bowed head, he agreed to marry Chief Adako’s daughter as ordered.

The wedding that followed was a subdued affair, nothing like the grand celebration with Urma. Adako was a gentle, soft-spoken young woman who tried her best to not show her fear as she married the prince, who was said to have a cursed love life. She had heard whispers of what happened to his first wife and was determined to be a dutiful spouse to avoid a similar fate.

Prince Onoce stood at the wedding next to Adako, his face expressionless, his wounds still achd beneath his robes. He recited the vows obediently. King Gudoka looked on with a satisfied nod and Queen Chica with a resigned sadness. As expected, the marriage produced children, though not out of love, but duty.

Within a few years, Adaku bore Prince Ono two daughters. The little girls were the light of Queen Chica’s life and even King Udoka softened in their presence. Onoce treated his daughters with gentle affection. They were innocent and he felt love for them, a tender fatherly love that surprised him. He found a small measure of joy in telling them stories or carrying them on his back in the gardens.

Yet with Adaku, he remained distant, though not as cold as he had been with Urema. Perhaps he was too tired to fight, or perhaps the mutual understanding was clear. They would be partners in raising their children, but the spark of romance would never exist. Adaku endured the lack of passion with quiet grace for many years.

She poured her heart into her daughters and her domestic duties. But as time passed and she realized Onoche’s heart was truly locked away, she too grew bitter. One day when their daughters were about 8 and 5 years old, Adaku had a heated argument with Ono. She had heard from a visiting cousin that Prince Onoce still sometimes went to the old lotus pond at night, the place where it was said he used to meet the maid he loved.

It infuriated Adaku that even after all these years, a dead woman’s memory was her rival. In their chamber, she finally snapped. “I am done living like this,” Adaku shouted, tears in her eyes. “I have been a faithful wife. I have given you children, and still your heart is not with me. You barely speak more than a few words to me in a day.

” Once lowered his head. I’m sorry, he said the words empty from repetition. Keep your sorry, Adaku hissed. I deserve a life of my own, not to waste away hoping one day you might care. I’m leaving, Ono. I am going back to my father’s compound. You and your father can raise the girls however you like. But I cannot remain here as a living ghost.

Prince Onoce looked stricken, but he did not stop her. Perhaps he felt she would indeed be happier away from him. What about the children? He asked softly. Adaku wiped her eyes. They should stay. They are princesses of Achala. This is their home. I would not take them from their heritage or from their father who despite everything is good to them.

I will visit them if I’m allowed, but I cannot remain in this palace another day. True to her word, Adaku left that very week. King Udoka did not stop her. He was disappointed but also knew forcing her to stay would likely cause more trouble. The story told to outsiders was that she had fallen ill and went away to recover. Privately, everyone understood the marriage had effectively ended.

So now Prince Onoce found himself in his 40s, having weathered one tragedy and two failed marriages. Left with two young daughters to care for and an aging father still pushing him to fulfill his princely role. He devoted himself to his daughters and to the kingdom’s affairs. But he remained largely joyless, a man living out of obligation rather than passion.

Little did he know that far away in a village called Udo, the woman he thought dead long ago had raised a son. A son who was nearing manhood and whose path was about to cross with Achalas in a storm of events none could foresee. Fate was not yet done with Prince Onoce or the love he had lost. A new chapter was coming, one that would shake the kingdoms to their core and perhaps finally offer redemption and reunion.

Many years ago, many miles from Achala, Oleedo stumbled into a small village called Udo. After fleeing through the evil forest, it was midm morning when, exhausted and hungry, she reached the outskirts of Udo. The village was peaceful. Clusters of round huts with thatched roofs, fields of yams and cassava stretching out under the sun, and children chasing a rag ball down a dead path.

Oleo’s legs nearly gave way as she approached a well at the village entrance. Her dress was torn and dirty, her once neat hair disheveled. She had been walking for days, hiding by day and moving at night, surviving on wild fruits and water from streams. Now her strength was at its end. She collapsed to her knees by the well.

A farmer’s wife named Ini, who had come to fetch water, noticed the stranger slumped by the well. Dropping her clay pot, the kind woman rushed to Olayedo’s side. My dear, are you all right? In asked, gently supporting Oleo’s shoulders. Oledo tried to speak, but her throat was dry and her voice only a croak. “Please, water,” she managed.

Ini quickly filled a cup from her pot and held it to Olayo’s lips. Oledo drank gratefully, the cool water reviving her parched mouth. Tears of relief filled her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “What happened to you? You look like you’ve been through a war,” I said softly, noticing the fear and sorrow in the young woman’s eyes.

Olaedo tensed at the word war. She shook her headly. “I I traveled a long way. I have no home now.” In saw that Oleedo was with child. Her belly, though not large yet, showed the gentle curve of early pregnancy. The older woman’s face softened even more. “Oh, you poor thing. Come, you will stay with me, at least for tonight.

You need rest and food. This is Udo village. You are safe here.” “Safe?” Uledo hadn’t heard that word in what felt like a lifetime. She allowed Inwi to help her to her feet. The farmer’s wife led her slowly through the village. Curious villagers picked from their doorways at the unfamiliar woman being half carried down the path.

Immoi broughto into her own family hut, a modest, warm space smelling of smoked fish and herbs. She laid on a woven mat. His husband, a kind man named Okkeake, looked on with concern as his wife covered the visitor with a light cloth. That evening, after Oleo had bathed and eaten some thin porridge, she finally found her voice to answer their gentle questions.

She gave a simple explanation. Her name was Oedo. She was alone and expecting a baby. She had traveled far to escape troubles in her previous home, and she sought only a peaceful place to live and raise her child. She avoided mention of princes or kingdoms. In this new life, those titles had no meaning.

Okke and Iwani exchanged sympathetic glances. They could tell she was running from something painful, and they did not press her for details. Udo village was a place of simple folk, farmers, potters, weavers, and they respected a person’s privacy. You can stay here as long as you need, in offered patting’s hand. There is a small empty hut at the edge of our compound.

It’s not much, but we can help you fix it up. Udo is a good place, and we take care of each other. Oleo’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude. I don’t know how to thank you. I will walk. I can farm or weave. I just need a fresh start, she said, her voice trembling with emotion. And so, Oleedo began her new life in Udo.

With the help of Okke and she cleaned out the little mud brick hut and touched its roof a new. The neighbors, curious but friendly, donated a sleeping mat, a cooking pot, and some calabashes for water. In a matter of days, the hut became a humble but cozy home. The months passed and Olao’s belly grew with her unborn child.

She walked in the cassava fields alongside other women of the village, determined to pull her weight despite their protest that she should rest in her condition. Walk kept her mind busy and her heart from drowning in loneliness. Still at night, under the broad sky of Udo, Oleedo often lay awake on her mat, a palm on her rounded stomach, whispering softly to the baby within.

“Your father was a great man,” she would murmur. “To the unborn child, tears glistening in her eyes in the darkness.” “Prince Onoi, strong and kind. You will have his eyes. I know it. And I will tell you about him when you’re older. He would have loved you so much.” Sometimes her voice broke because she pictured Onachi’s smile or the way he promised to be by her side.

She imagined he must think her truly dead. Perhaps he had moved on. Or perhaps he mourned. She had no way of knowing. All she could do was hope that one day fate might allow father and child to meet. But until then, she vowed to devote herself to giving their baby a good life. One warm night under a full moon that hung like a lantern in the sky, Olad went into labor, and a village midwife named Obia Delhi came to her hut to help.

It was a long labor through the night. Olad gripped hand tightly, sweat pouring down her face as wave after wave of pain hit her. “You’re strong, Oladdo. Almost there. Obiagelia encouraged as Olado cried out. In the deepest part of her struggle, Oladdo silently called out in her heart for Onoi, as if somehow he might hear her across the distance.

Give me strength. At the first light of dawn, her child came into the world with a lusty cry. Obia laughed as she cleaned the babe and laid him on Olad’s chest. It’s a boy,” she announced cheerfully. Oladdo let out a sob of relief and joy as she held her son for the first time. Tiny and perfect with a strong cry and curious eyes blinking up at her.

The baby was everything, felt a surge of love so powerful it took her breath away. “My son,” she whispered, kissing his forehead. Wani wiped Olad’s brow and smiled. You did well, child. He’s beautiful. Indeed, the infant had a handsome face, and as he opened his eyes, Oladdo saw a glimmer of something familiar. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but she imagined he had Prince Onachi’s warm eyes.

She named him Ikenna, meaning strength of the father. For even though his father wasn’t there, she wanted him to carry a part of Onoachi’s identity. And he was strong. His tiny fists waved in the air and howled mightily when hungry. Motherhood gave Oladd a renewed sense of purpose. She poured her days into caring for Hikenna.

The people of Udo accepted her fully now. She was no longer a stranger, but one of them. The women taught her how to tie the baby to her back with a cloth so she could tend the fields or sell vegetables at the market with her hands free. The men greeted her kindly, often stopping to cool at little Ikenna, who became a sort of village darling.

As the seasons turned, Ikenna grew from a chubby infant into a steady toddler with boundless energy. He took his first steps on a sunny afternoon outside their hut, stumbling forward into Aladd’s arms while she laughed and cried proud tears. “That’s my brave boy!” she cheered, hugging him tightly.

Her heart swelled with love every time he learned something new or flashed a grin. Ikenna’s childhood was simple but happy. He played in the dusty paths of Udoor with other children, rolling hoops made of old basket rims and chasing lizards by the riverside. Olado worked hard, cultivating a small plot of land Oki at the edge of his farm.

She grew yams, peppers, and greens. What she didn’t consume, she traded in the village market for fish or millet. Even as she labored, Olad always kept an eye on Ikenna, who often toddled after Ok in the fields, imitating the farmer’s every move with a tiny wooden hole that children had carved for him. He’ll be a great farmer one day, Okd.

But Olados saw something in her son’s eyes, a spark of curiosity and courage that went beyond farming. At nights around the communal fires, villagers would tell folk tales to the children. Ikenna loved the tales of heroes and warriors best. He would sit eyes wide as the elders recounted the adventures of mighty hunters who slew lions or ancient kings who defended their people from enemies.

He’d run back to Allador afterwards and babble excitedly, swinging a little stick as if it were a sword. Mama, did you see? I’m the brave king of the story, he’d declare. Olo would laugh and scoop him up, but inside her heart, she wondered if destiny was calling her son. After all, he had royal blood, even if he didn’t know it.

She kept that truth secret, waiting for the right time. Sometimes she feared telling him at all. Would it make him yearn for a life he couldn’t have? Would it make him resent the father who wasn’t there? So she kept her silence and simply raised him as a normal boy of Udo. Years rolled by like clouds across the sky. Ikenna grew tall and lean.

By the time he was 12 years old, he was already helping head goats and strong enough to climb the tallest palm trees to fetch down ripe fruits, much to the amazement of older boys. That boy is as nimble as a monkey and as brave as a leopard, the villagers would remark when he cannot did something daring like rescue a smaller child from the swift part of the river or stand up to an aggressive stray dog that wandered into the market.

Oladdo watched him with pride and a hint of worry. He was indeed fearless and had a natural sense of justice. If he saw someone being bullied, he stepped in without hesitation, even if the offender was bigger. More than once, Olador had to tend to his scratches after he got into scuffles defending a friend. But she also saw how the village adored him for it.

One evening when I was about 12, he came home with a torn shirt and a bruise on his cheek. Oladdo gasped and fussed over him. “What happened, my son?” Ikenna winced as she dabbed his cheek with a wet cloth. It’s nothing, mama. Some older boys were picking on Eenna because he’s small. They took his toy and pushed him down. I only told them to stop.

Olados sighed half in disapproval, half in admiration. Pulling him into a gentle hug, she said, “You have a brave heart, Ia, but promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t bear to see you hurt.” He nodded, hugging her. I promise, mama. I’m not afraid of them or anyone. Felt a pang of anxiety at those words. Fearless boy, she murmured.

Sometimes a little fear keeps us safe. But Ia, there is greatness in you. I see it. Just remember to use your strength to protect, not to bully. That is what makes a true man. He looked up at her with serious eyes and nodded. Though young, he absorbed her words. By the time Ika turned 16, he was already taller than Oido with strong shoulders from farm work and a quick stride.

His childhood friends followed his lead naturally, whether it was in games or tasks. If something needed doing in the village, Ikenna was often first to volunteer. Repairing fences, clearing new fields, carrying heavy sacks for an elder. His good nature and energy were infectious. One day, the chief of Udo, an elderly man named Daiki, called a meeting of all able-bodied young men.

The kingdom of Achala, which was not far to the east, had begun to flex its might in the region. Travelers and traders brought news that Achala’s king Udoka was expanding his territory aggressively, demanding tribute from smaller villages and occasionally sending warriors to bully outlying settlements. Udo had not yet faced direct aggression, but everyone knew it might only be a matter of time.

At the meeting under the great tree, Chief Daik spoke gravely. We must be prepared to defend our land and our people. I call upon our young men to train as warriors of Udo. We have lived in peace for many years, but we cannot be caught unready if trouble comes. The village trainer, a former warrior named Agunicha, stood forth and explained he would start daily training for any youth willing to fight. He eyed the crowd.

Many of the boys were hesitant. Udo was a farming village after all. not known for fighters. Ikenna who had listened with a fire lighting in his chest stepped forward without a second thought. I am willing chief, he declared. He was the first to volunteer and his voice was strong. One by one, inspired by Akenna’s bravery, other young men stepped forward too.

In the end, a dozen or so recruits were decided. From the next day, the clearing by the riverbank rang out with the sounds of wooden staffs clacking and young men grunting as Agunichoba drilled them in combat. Ola watched from afar sometimes, her heart fluttering with worry and pride when she saw a kenna training.

He took to combat drills like a fish to water. His reflexes were quick, horned by his youthful tree climbing and youthful exploits. His strength built from years of manual work gave power to his blows. And he had an intensity, a drive that Agunichoba soon noticed. After a mock sparring session where he can disarmed two boys at once with a clever faint, Agunicha clapped him on the shoulder. Well done, lad.

You fight as though Oun, the god of war, guides your arm. Ikenna beamed under the praise. He pushed himself harder with each passing week. Sweat became his companion. Bruises, badges of honor. In the evenings, he would return home to Oido with aching muscles, but bright eyes, demonstrating to her how he learned to block his strike or thrust his spear.

She would smile and nod, masking her apprehension. “That’s very good,” she’d say, handing him a god of water. Then she’d gently add, “But remember, my son, that violence is a last resort. A true warrior fights to protect, not to conquer. Yes, mama. He agreed earnestly. If only she knew how her words echoed those of Agunichoba, who also taught the young men the code of honor. Never start a fight unjustly.

Never harm the innocent. Be loyal to your people. One night, as Ola and Ia sat outside their hut under the stars, he sensed a sadness in her. “You worried about the Achala king, aren’t you?” he asked quietly. Olido looked at her son so perceptive. She nodded slowly. I have heard the stories from traders.

King Udoka is known to be ruthless in expanding his kingdom. Udo is small. If they come with force, it will be hard. It can straightened. An unyielding look in his eyes. If they come, we will fight. Achala has no right to take what is ours. This is our home. Ido gazed at him, seeing in him the reflection of another young man who had once spoken of justice and kindness to her under the moonlight.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. Just promise me you will be careful. You carry my whole world with you, Ikenna. He covered her hand with his own reassuringly. I promise I will make you proud and keep Udo safe. Oido’s heart swelled with both pride and trepidation. Inwardly she prayed, “Spirits, protect my son from harm and protect his heart from hatred.

For now life continued peacefully with training and farming in balance. But the clouds of conflict were slowly gathering on the horizon. Achala’s ambitions would not be contained forever. And the day was drawing near when Ikenna’s metal as a warrior would be tested in a way that not only Udo’s fate, but also his own heritage would be dramatically revealed.