Ultimatum (3)

Regardless of how much she wanted to reject it, Emeravwe could not deny the connection between what she had read in the records and seen in her visions. The main branch of the Imodu Oghenegba clan had consisted of Prime Minister Ogaga Imodu Oghenegba, Lady Eséme Imodu Omamerhi, and their two children: a son and daughter. Both Eséme and her son had been executed at their home, the daughter, Emeravwe, missing. In her visions, she saw a family of four and a woman holding a lifeless body. And she had somehow entered the palace with the name Emeravwe and no memory of her past or knowledge of her background. It is too uncanny to be a coincidence.

Emeravwe did not know how long she could go on living in the palace without being discovered. The only way she could ensure her identity remained concealed was if she maintained herself in obscurity. She could not stand out in her character or work, and she certainly could never marry the king. She would have to relegate herself to living the paltry lifestyle she fought against since she entered the palace.

Tears choked her. If she had known all her efforts would be futile, she would not have struggled all these years! She would have stayed a Maiden in the Bureau of Halls and Chambers and contented herself with scrubbing floors!

Emeravwe pressed her lips together, blinking away the sting in her eyes as she lifted her brush again and bent to her writing. She would not accept Aslan’s feelings.

For the past nine years, she had done nothing but use him to her own benefit. She used him as a cushion for warmth, a steppingstone to attain a higher position, and a shield to cover her insecurities. She could offer nothing but herself to him in return, but to do so would be to put them both at risk.

Her spirit balked at the thought of breaking her relationship with Aslan. But after all he had done for her, she could not repay him by hanging over him a looming cloud of doom. It was best to break off their connection and put an end to their secret meetings.

Thus resolved, Emeravwe went to inform Aslan of her decision. That night, however, he did not come to the garden, nor did he on the following night. When she still did not see him on the third, she speculated it was because he meant to give her more time to consider her choice. But then a week passed, and she began to worry. Since he gave her such an ultimatum, she expected he would be keener to hear her answer. His unexplained absence upset her, and this agitation compounded as the nights went by and Aslan still did not appear.

She began to wonder if he decided to cut her off even before hearing her answer. Aslan would never do that to me, she thought. Yet she saw already he was capable of such coldness. He treated her with warmth, but that was because of his affections for her. She had repeatedly denied them, though, just as she intended to do again. Maybe he sensed this and decided to spare himself the trouble? He had already wasted much time and energy on her and did not want to expend even a whit more.

He is the Onóturode’s son, after all, she thought. Why should he degrade himself by pining after a nameless Maiden?

The thought dashed Emeravwe’s spirits. But if that were truly the case, then it was for the best. She had grown taut with anxiety since making her decision to part ways with him. Each time she entered the garden to see if he was there, she hesitated, fighting the drumming of her heart and the urge to turn away. She did not know how she would face him, how she would sever a bond that had seen her through the best and worst times of her life.

She came to the palace with nothing, and Aslan lifted her when she was at her lowest and embraced her. He not only held her through the years, but he was her foundation and helped her to stand on her own. On the sixteenth night she went to the garden, Emeravwe sat thinking on this. It was already well past midnight, but Aslan still had not shown up, and she slouched on the bench, her throat tight and eyes stinging.

Aslan had been her everything. He had not only been her friend, but her teacher and guardian. And though she did not completely understand her feelings for him or even when they began, he had also become a man she admired. She knew she loved him, and her heart shattered to pieces because she would never see him again. She was such a colossal fool! All her life she chased a king she could never be with and held Aslan at a distance, refusing to acknowledge his feelings for her. Now she had lost him, too. She hunched over with her face in her hands and wept bitterly.

“Emeravwe.”

She cried, imagining the sound of Aslan’s voice calling her name. He had called her countless times through the years, and though she never paid much mind to it, she realized he always called her with such warmth. Her heart seized with regret, and she wished she could hear him say her name once more.

“Emeravwe.”

Her head snapped up when the voice came again. Aslan stood just beyond the garden’s bench with his lantern, flanked on one side by the purple fountain grass. His eyes were fixed on her, his bearing solemn. As she gazed at him, she saw that was where he stood nine years ago when she first met him. She had been weeping just as she was now, and he had called out to her.

“Aslan!” She sprung from the bench, running to him to fling her arms around his middle and clasp him tightly. She sobbed, “I thought—I thought…” She looked up at him and proclaimed, “I cannot bear to lose you, Aslan, you are everything to me! I adore you!”

He dropped the lantern and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her as he breathed, “I have waited so long to hear these words from you, Eme.”

He pressed her closer and Emeravwe clung to him. She said again, “I adore you, Aslan!”

He pulled her away and, when she lifted her gaze, promptly covered her mouth with his. She melted in his kiss, his warmth wrapping around her, the only audible sound the gallop of his pounding heart beating in sync with hers.