3: OLUMUREWA

According to Mrs. Jamila, a general meeting was held twice a week in the Great Throne Room. Every dignified and titled member of the Ore cabinet would be in attendance and these people required utmost indulgence, so the servants had to keep refreshments rolling in and should always be on call in case any member wanted something that wasn't on the menu.

It was still about two hours to the start of the meeting so Mrs. Jamila decided to take the officiating servants to the Great Throne Room to get them accustomed to the space, and in turn, work faster.

The Great Throne Room was indeed great, Abike realized as they followed Mrs. Jamila into the room.

The vaulted ceilings had great bulbs of light hanging down and to the left —unable to miss, was a giant clock that took up the whole wall.

The Great Throne itself was built on a raised platform that would put the King above everyone else. It wasn't just a chair made from iron or steel like anyone would have imagined. Instead, it was made from broken pieces of colored glass, resulting in a breathtaking and majestic burst of colors. It was so beautiful.

Everyone else had normal-looking, wooden chairs, padded with leather. These chairs were arranged in two horizontal rows facing each other with a large table in between.

"I want to have a servant standing behind every member of the cabinet. That way, it is easier to answer to their every whim," Mrs. Jamila said.

Abike noticed the emphasis she placed on 'every' but decided to ignore it.

"That means..." Mrs. Jamila continued. "I need a total of nine servants."

The woman sent them a condescending look.

"You are only allowed to enter this room whenever you are called. I repeat you are only allowed to enter this room whenever you are called. This is where matters of the dynasty are discussed and anyone who is not a member of the cabinet caught inside or within the vicinity of this room when a meeting is ongoing would be punished."

Abike bit back her anger as the other girls gasped in fear at Mrs. Jamila's words. Since they arrived at the Ore Palace yesterday, this woman and her thug, Iroko had been doing all they could to instill fear in them.

They were doing well because the girls couldn't eat —not that they were given much, to begin with; they also couldn't sleep, because, throughout the night, their whimpers and sobs kept her up.

This morning, the wicked witch had woken them as early as four a.m and they had been working until now; without food, nor rest.

She wished she could see Teju right now. She needed his comfort and knew he needed hers too. After all, he had lost both parents yesterday.

"Are you deaf, mad, or both?" She heard Mrs. Jamilah growl and snapped back to the present.

To her mortification, everyone in the room was staring at her.

"I am sorry, I didn't..."

"Come here," Mrs. Jamila said again, motioning for her to come closer.

Abike noticed the woman had placed servants behind each of the empty chairs and there was only one chair left. "Stand there." The witch pointed and Abike obeyed.

"When the bell for refreshments is rung, I want you all lined up like this. Remember your positions. Food and drinks would be served and your job is to make sure your Master is comfortable. Do not speak until you are being spoken to and when you are asked a question, be direct and audible. These people don't mingle with servants like you, so make the conversation short. Hm?"

"Yes, Mistress," the girls chorused, and Abike suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"You!" Mrs. Jamila pointed and everyone looked in the direction of her pointed finger. The subject of her attention was a tall, young girl in a threadbare gown. The girl trembled with fear, her eyes twitching as Mrs. Jamila walked towards her, Iroko in tow.

"Do you know whose seat you are standing behind?"

"N-no Mistress," the girl stuttered, twisting her fingers furiously in agitation.

"That's Prince Murewa's seat. The Balogun of Ore Dynasty. And I warn you, be very careful when dealing with him. Do not talk to him. Don't do it. For no reason at all. And be sure you are paying close attention to him in case he asks you a question, you should be able to answer immediately. He has a special dish he likes to eat and you would be given that. Stay behind him, but stay away from him."

Abike zoned out as Mrs. Jamila laid down the dos and don'ts on how to deal amicably with the Prince. Certainly, the Prince was a spoilt, rich bastard who had as much power and authority as the King himself.

"Now that we are done here, let's go back to the kitchen. The meeting is in an hour and we don't have time to spare," Mrs. Jamila said and ambled out the door, leaving them to trail after her.

By the time the bell for refreshments was rung several hours later, Abike and the other girls were already overworked and tired. They had been laboring in the kitchen for over three hours, preparing various dishes for the cabinet members.

"All clear. The bell has been rung. The nine servants I picked earlier should go into the Great Throne Room and position themselves in the same order as earlier." Mrs. Jamila hurried into the kitchen, her long gown billowing behind her and her face pinched with stress. Abike wondered why since the woman didn't do any laborious work.

"Are you deaf? Go now!" She pointed to the open door and the nine girls scurried out of the room, Iroko in tow.

"The rest of you, come on," Mrs. Jamila said to the rest of the girls in the kitchen. "All these dishes need to be taken to the Great Throne Room. You! What's...?" Abike couldn't hear her anymore as she rounded the corner into the hallway, at the end of which was the Great Throne Room.

They reached the metal double doors and the guards pushed them open. The girls quickly lowered their heads as they rushed in, each one taking position behind their assigned chair.

Abike raised her head slowly, then after a cryptic —but thorough— examination of the room, she realized the cabinet members weren't paying any attention to them. They were too engrossed in their discussion to notice the servants.

"Amu Kingdom has always been a rebel. There is no debate about that," someone said and Abike turned angry eyes in the direction of the voice, only to be met with a compelling view.

She had admired the Great Thone earlier, but now that the king was sitting on it, she almost bowed at his splendid majesty. He looked powerful and forceful in a flowing robe that was just as colorful as the seat he was on. The King himself was a beautiful, elderly man with soft features.

"My King," a man from the cabinet started. "I agree with you and Minister Jolayemi. The Amu Kingdom has brought sorrow and disaster to us. We must decide what to do with them."

Decide? Abike wondered. Have they not done the worst they could do? Amu was almost dead. Her kingdom was wrecked!

"Murewa," the King called, and Abike's head snapped up.

The Prince of the Ore dynasty was Murewa and with all the tales she had heard, she was so curious to see him. Curiosity won and she looked up to find him.

Although he did not move to respond to his Father's call, Abike knew at once when she saw him. It couldn't have been anyone else.

This was the powerful man on the horse, she was sure of it. He was the Angel of Death who had swept his way into her kingdom with an unbeatable army and destroyed the fragile bubble of safety and happiness in which she had dwelt.

But how could he be so...perfect? How could he be so deadly and still be perfect?

He was thoroughly built, she noticed at once. His great posture folded into a mass of muscles that could hardly fit into the too-small seat. It wasn't anybody's fault, she didn't think any chair could fit him properly.

His eyes were closed, but Abike knew he wasn't sleeping. He was too alert, too aware, and dangerously poised; it was like she could feel the barely controlled strength in his stillness, just waiting to burst out and unleash fury. She felt inexplicably drawn to this...beast of a man.

Suddenly, his eyes slid open and were on her. His gaze pierced her soul, baring her open. The impact was lethal and all she wanted to do was fall at his feet and worship him.

"Murewa," the King called again and his gaze slid from hers to the Great Throne.

"Yes?" His voice resonated through the room.

"What do you say about all these?"

The Prince huffed, clearly displeased with the conversation. "Why is the fate of the Amu Kingdom being discussed in this forum? My men and I risked our heads during the war. We get to decide what should happen next."

"Risked your heads? You've fought more dangerous battles!" One of the Ministers —a bald, slight man— yelled. "And that is why this is a general meeting We should be able to—" the man held his tongue when Murewa sent him a dark look.

"Shut up."

"Murewa!" The King thundered, but the Prince wasn't looking at his Father. His angry eyes were still on the Minister who spoke and Abike wondered why he was so mad.

No wonder Mrs. Jamila warned them about him.

Obviously, the woman wasn't exaggerating.

The Minister withered under the Prince's gaze until he couldn't stand it anymore and looked away. The Prince turned back to his Father.

"We risked our heads fighting that battle," the Prince said calmly like he had not just put down a man two times his age. "My army and I should get to decide what to do with the Amu Kingdom. Not some simpering —"

"Balogun..." someone called slowly and everyone turned to the man who dared interrupt the Prince again.

It was a very handsome man. His eyes were old and he had an ancient aura about him, but he looked very youthful and agile. Abike wondered why the Prince wasn't shutting him up, but it was obvious the Prince respected the man.

Who was he?

"Balogun. Be calm," the old man said with a smile. "This is a meeting and we are just trying to arrive at a conclusion that would benefit us all, that's why everybody's opinion is needed."

"But why?" The Prince fired. "The decision shouldn't be up to these people in the first place."

"These people are the Ministers," the old man answered. "They are in the cabinet for a reason."

"Three years counting and they still haven't proved themselves."

"My King!" Another one of the Ministers shot up from his seat, his face swollen with anger. "Are you going to let your son disrespect us like this?"

"Minister Jolayemi —" the King started, but Prince Murewa interrupted him.

"Don't ever—" the Prince slowly stood and Abike gasped at how huge he was. Sitting down, he looked formidable; but on his feet, he was simply magnificent.

The servant assigned to wait on him went pale as a sheet. She looked scared to death and Abike wished she could reassure her but there was nothing to say. She was scared too.

"Don't ever report me to my father," he thundered, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I am Prince Murewa first, before Balogun and I have every right to say what I just said." He paused, his gaze boring into the other man. "Anyone who has a problem with that should say it now. Or hold their peace."

Minister Jolayemi stared back at the Prince, his eyes bloodshot. Everyone in the room was quiet, waiting for his next words. The tension in the air was palpable. "Jolayemi." His colleague who was sitting beside him pulled at his clothes.

"Minister Jolayemi," the King called and at last the Minister sat, breaking eye contact with the Prince.

"Let's eat, please," the old man who had spoken earlier said calmly and everyone murmured in agreement, gratefully grasping the reprieve with forced cheer.

"Excuse me," Prince Murewa said and left the room before anyone could say another word.

He remained absent till the meeting ended, but he didn't miss much because after eating, the King called for an adjournment and everyone grabbed the respite like a lifeline.

The room had become uncomfortable because the Prince's presence was still felt, even after he had left. As the Great Throne Room emptied, Mrs. Jamila breezed in, her kaftan flowing behind her.

"Good job," she sang. "I didn't receive any complaints concerning anyone. That's a good start seeing as it's your first time." She cleared her throat. "Now, clean up and meet me in the Arena. Iroko, stay here and oversee them."

As they cleaned, Abike kept wondering about the Prince. She had never met anyone like him. He was the scariest person she had ever laid eyes on, and although he had looked at her, Abike knew he didn't see her.

For him, she was nothing memorable; a fly on the wall, you see it but it ultimately doesn't matter. For her, though, he remained vivid. A virile beast of a man. His eyes had promised torment and wonder and Abike knew she would do well to stay away from him.

"To the Arena, all of you. Move, move!" Iroko shouted and everyone hurried out of the Great Throne room.

As they made their way to the arena, Abike sighted the girl who had been appointed to serve the Prince.

"Hello," she whispered, moving closer.

The timid girl looked up, her eyes darting towards Iroko in fear.

"It's okay, he can't hear us," Abike assured. "My name is Abike. You can call me Abi."

"My name is Fatima," the girl murmured.

"It's nice to meet you, Fatima," Abike said, making sure to keep moving so Iroko wouldn't suspect they were talking. It was against the rules.

"It's nice to meet you too Abi."

"It's okay Fatima. We would be okay. You don't have to be afraid."

"I am afraid!" The girl countered like she couldn't believe Abike's audacity to tell her otherwise. "My little brother, they killed him! He was —"

The door to the arena was suddenly flung open and Mrs. Jamila was in there waiting for them, together with the other servants.

As they all rushed into the hall, Abike lost sight of Fatima and sighed in annoyance. She looked around and noticed all the servants in the arena were females. They were about fifty in the room and were all from the Amu Kingdom.

But where were the males? Where was Teju?

"You should count yourself lucky to be part of this great Dynasty," Mrs. Jamila started, when the noise died down.

"To work in the Ore Palace is a great privilege that doesn't come often. The gates of this palace only open twelve times a year to the commoners. The fact that you are here, walking the halls is an opportunity that you have to appreciate by working very hard, without slacking." She cleared her throat.

"I called this meeting to assign you all to your weekly posts. This is where we would meet every Saturday for reassignments."

"First, I will assign some of you to the Royals, then

the rest would be distributed to the kitchen, stables, garden, and each floors. Listen to your names."

Abike listened attentively. It would be nice to know the names of the girls seeing as they only had each other in this cruel place.

"Yetunde Obafemi. You would wait on the Queen. Step out."

The girl stepped out.

"Shola Gbadebo. You would wait on the Grandfather. Step out."

"Abike Kolawole. You would wait on Prince Murewa."

Abike felt all the blood in her body pool down to her feet, then shoot to her head as if drawn by a hose. She looked left and right but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to her.

Stay calm, Abi.

Stay calm, Abi.

She took a deep breath and released it again before she could muster any semblance of control over her raving emotions.

It wasn't the end of the world, she assured herself calmly. She had worked for people with even worse tempers.

There was that hunter back in Amu who used to throw dead animals at her whenever she made any mistake or spoke without cause.

Or the man who shaved all her hair one time because she didn't prepare dinner in time?

Prince Murewa should be a piece of cake and as long as she served him well, he didn't look like the type to bother someone if he wasn't bothered.

She would be fine.

Her breathing returned to normal and she realized Mrs. Jamila was already out of the room and the crowd was drifting away.

"Wait, where are we going?" she asked the girl nearest to her.

"To our room. We were given the rest of the day off," the girl answered and hurried off.

Abike followed the throng back to the room and sighed when the doors were closed again. Today wasn't bad, but she had a feeling it was going to be the best day she would have in a long time. Was she going to have a lot of problems with the Prince?

"Hi." The space beside her dipped and Abike looked up to see Fatima. She smiled warmly at the prospect of making at least one new friend.

"Fatima, hi. How are you?"

The girl shrugged and leaned against the wall. "Should I say I'm fine?"

Abike shrugged and mirrored the girl's actions. They both had their backs to the wall, quietly watching the other girls go about their night activities.

Fatima eventually heaved a sigh and slipped from the bed. "I haven't slept well in three days, I should go. I will catch you later, Abi," she said and was gone before she got any response.

Abike stared after her until she rounded the bend to the other rows of bunk beds. She didn't look up to see which bed belonged to the girl because the room was just slightly bigger than a box. Eventually, she would find out.