7: HABIBAH

The dining room was silent as the three people ate, there were no sounds asides from the occasional clang of spoons as they hit the plate.

The room remained silent until the Queen cleared her throat.

"Thank you for joining us today, my Prince." She dropped her spoon on the empty plate and dabbed her glossy lips with the serviette.

"It's always a pleasure whenever you are with us."  She smiled.

Murewa looked up, his head tilted as he silently observed her face

"Son?"

He looked away from Queen Habibah to his father.

"Yes?" he answered tersely, raising a glass of water to his lips.

"Habibah is right," the King said, tearing into the fried chicken in his hands. "You hardly come over to see us."

Murewa narrowed his eyes at his Father.

"See us? Who?"

The King stopped chewing. "Murewa..."

"Bankole," Queen Habibah interrupted, reaching across the table to pat the King's arm gently.

Murewa pushed his chair back. "We see each other enough in the Great Throne Room during meetings. I don't think we have any other thing to talk about other than what we talk about in that room." He rose, slipping his hands into the pocket of his sweats. "Thank you for the food."

"Aren't you staying for dessert?" Queen Habibah blinked up at him. Murewa turned to her again, watching her antics quietly.

"Well, aren't you?" His father echoed, wiping his oily fingers on the napkin lying on the table.

"No," Murewa replied and turned to leave.

"It's because of me." He heard Queen Habibah cry as he got closer to the door. "I don't know what I ever did to him. As long as I am here, you can't ever be close to your son. Just let me go!" She wailed.

Murewa rolled his eyes and turned the knob, the door slipped open.

"Murewa!" He paused at his father's call. "Please have dessert with us. It won't take too much of your time. You can train after that."

Murewa shook his head; his eyes on the hallway leading away from the room and its frustrating occupants.

"Hard pass," he said coolly, unable to feel any iota of remorse. "Sorry."

"Please." His father pleaded, and Murewa sighed. He shouldn't let his dislike for the Queen affect his already rocky relationship with his father. He backtracked into the room, conscious of the Queen's eyes on him as he took his seat at the dining table. He deliberately turned his hard gaze on her and she looked away.

"Desserts," the King said and servants materialized from nowhere, setting covered dome dishes on the table.

The Queen uncovered the first dish and took a bite from the doughnuts. She spat it back with a snarl and the mushy bolus landed on the table between them. Murewa scooted back in irritation.

"Habibah, what is...?" Before the King could complete his sentence, the Queen surged to her feet and landed a slap across the servant's face.

"What is this nonsense?" She asked with annoyance.

Murewa watched the servant cower before the Queen, silent tears streaming down her face.

"Habibah, tell me what's wrong?" The King asked and she turned to him.

"The doughnut is too sweet. It was sprinkled with too much sugar. And they know I have a risk of diabetes!"

The King drew the open dish closer to himself and took a bite of the doughnut. The servant took several steps away from him in fear of his reaction. He swallowed and took another hearty bite before remembering he was supposed to comment on the taste. After swallowing quickly, he turned to the Queen with grave eyes.

"It's sweet, truly," he said. "But I don't think you should take it out on this poor girl. She didn't make the food." He glanced at Murewa for support, but his son just stared blankly at the scene.

Murewa didn't care who the Queen took out her anger on, as long as they ate their dessert and he was free to leave.

"True." Queen Habibah turned to the servant.

"Who made this?" She snapped and the girl hesitated before supplying the name of the culprit.

"Go and call that fool." The Queen watched the girl scurry out of the room with the others before taking her seat.

She took a deep breath and raised her gaze to the ceiling before meeting their eyes again.

"These people hate me so much," she complained, her eyes filling up. "They just want to hurt me."

Murewa sat silently with his finger under his chin, hating every moment he spent with them. He didn't think the servants had any personal vendetta against their Queen, but he had no doubt they hated her, he wouldn't blame them. He did too.

"It's okay darling." The King patted her hands. "But I think I'd eat these." He pulled the dish close. "It's sweet."

The Queen glared at him but was cut short by the door sliding open followed by the sounds of hasty footfalls.

"I am so sorry, my Queen." A middle-aged woman scurried into the dining area; her face a picture of despair. "Shola told me what happened, my Queen. I —" she stumbled back from the weight of the slap meted on her and her mouth fell open in shock.

"I already told you kitchen people that I don't take sugar. Why did you put so much sugar in the doughnuts?" The Queen shouted.

"I'm sorry," the woman answered quietly.

"Better be. The Prince also doesn't like sugar and he isn't happy with you. Look how angry he is for this stupid thing you've done—" The woman glanced at the Prince and quickly turned away from the blank expression on his face.

"Apologize to him this instant."

"I am sorry, My Prince."

"Now, get out."

The woman scampered away.

"Sorry," the King cooed at his wife. "Don't let these people give you wrinkles."

"Can we eat now?" Murewa asked impatiently and the Queen turned to him with a blooming smile.

She opened the other dishes and served some snacks to the Prince and King, before taking some for herself.

They ate in silence again and Murewa rushed down his food. As he took the last bite, the Queen opened her mouth to speak. He sent her a hard glare and she snapped her mouth shut; he noticed his father didn't miss the exchange.

"Thank you for the food," he said and was out before anyone could stop him again.

                                         ***

"Don't cry anymore, Jummy."

"The Prince and the Queen are such spoilt bastards."

"The doughnuts were not even that sweet, she just wanted to cause trouble."

While she washed dishes, Abike kept her ears trained on the discussion the chefs were having. 

Moments ago, Chef Jummy had run into the kitchen crying. Based on the conversation they were having, it seemed the Prince and the Queen didn't like the doughnuts she made and the Prince had hit her. Was there a limit to what the Prince could do?

Chef Jummy was probably twice his age!

Abike shook her head in pity for the woman. The embarrassment she must have felt, standing there in their presence, being insulted and unable to do anything.

She caught movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to see Fatima limp into the kitchen. Abike smiled. "Hi."

"Hi." Fatima placed a tray of food on the sink in front of Abike and leaned on the marble counter. "I am exhausted."

Abike uncovered the plates so she could wash them, but there was still food in them. "The Prince told me to return it," Fatima explained.

Abike turned the food into the bin and soaked the plate in the soapy water. "So you saw him?" She asked Fatima. "You are serving the Prince?"

"Hmm hmm," the girl answered and Abike threw her a pitiful glance. The girl had to be cursed or something.

"He didn't even look at me, so there was no issue. He just came in, saw me dusting the bookshelf, and told me to get out with the tray." The girl shrugged.

"He had breakfast with his parents." Abike filled her in. "Maybe that's why he wasn't hungry."

"Hmmm," Fatima said offhandedly and they lapsed into silence again.

"Are you going to return to his room?" Abike finished the dishes and dried her hands on a napkin.

"I don't know. I don't want to be in the same room with him. He scares me, Abike."

"Me too." Abike leaned on the sink opposite Fatima and crossed her arms. "But I don't think he would be in his room right now. He is supposed to be training. He doesn't miss it. So maybe now that breakfast is over, he would go join his army."

Fatima shook her head. "Possibly. But I highly doubt that. I saw Awelewa go into the room as I was leaving. I think they have an appointment."

Abike frowned. The thought of Awelewa with the Balogun upset her and it was confusing.

"Are you okay?" Fatima asked.

"Yes," she answered. "I think I am free now, so I'll go rest in the room. Are you coming?"

Fatima looped her arms around Abike and pulled her out of the kitchen. Again, Abike was shocked by the action.

"I think I would go check the Prince's room first," Fatima sighed. "I don't want to get into any more trouble with him. I'll see you later."

Abike nodded and watched the girl limp away before turning down the hall towards the room.

***

The Minister scurried through the dark streets, pulling his coat closer and hunching his back against the cold. He walked briskly towards his destination, tamping down excitement at having his two-year plan on its way to being executed.

He couldn't wait to finally be rid of the Prince. At the thought of the rude, spoiled bastard, he spat on the ground and gritted his teeth.

How could one person hold so much power? How could one person have such rigid command? And Murewa for that matter? He still remembered that cursed day when they birthed the bastard!

If he knew that tiny, pink baby born on that rainy morning would turn out to be like this, he would have strangled him while he still had the chance.

He increased his pace and stopped in front of an abandoned building, making sure to glance around before slipping through the door.

He wasn't too bothered about being found out because no one would expect him to be here, especially when he was dressed in a shirt, pants, and a long coat. It was a far cry from the native dresses he was always wearing.

As he walked up the dark hallway, he didn't put on a light. He knew his way around. He crouched and slipped the cover away from its spot and went down the stairs into the basement.

It was darker here than it was upstairs and as he tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness, a bright light flooded his senses. He quickly closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them slowly.

The three people present were the only ones he could trust with this project for now. They were also Ministers and were part of the cabinet.

He would need more people, but he couldn't recruit now because he didn't know who he could rely on.

The Prince might be a jerk, but he was respected by a lot of people because they felt that as long as he was alive, Ore would be safe. But Ore would be safe with or without him and when he finally killed the Prince, the people would be forced out of their comfort zone and be made to appoint a new Balogun. The only opposing force might be the Ore army.

He fought down another bout of jealousy at the thought of Murewa having the most powerful army of the seven lines at his disposal.

Everyone knew the army was first the Balogun's army and they would do anything to protect their head.

But He was not in this alone. He had help from the top. And his help had assured him there would be no problem coming from the army. As soon as Murewa was out of the way, the soldiers in the army would adjust. He had been assured of that.

His job was to get Murewa out of the way.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the occupants of the room calling his name. He frowned and cleared his throat. "First, let's give each other code names, for security purposes. You know who we are dealing with. The Prince has eyes and ears everywhere."

"So what do you suggest?" One of them asked.

"Call me One. I'd call you Two." he looked at the other two in the room.

"That makes you Three and you, Four."

The Ministers echoed their new names while nodding their consent.

"You all know why we are here. This isn't an official meeting, it is just a briefing. But subsequent meetings would also take place here and would be more serious."

"Look —" Two started. "I don't mean to be pessimistic, but what is the plan?" He turned his beady eyes on everyone in the room.

"We all hate the Prince and I even more so, but I don't want to be part of this if there is no infallible plan. And even though the Prince is a pain in our asses and all of that, we still get paid in bags of gold at the end of each month and our families are okay. Getting the Prince out of the way, would it be more beneficial?" He paused for a second, his eyes finally resting on One. "And I don't want to get caught because you know how it would be if we get caught by the Prince— The Balogun," he added for the final effect.

One rolled his eyes as he saw the others contemplating what the idiot just said.

"Trust me, I also don't want to get caught because you know how close I am to the King. My punishment would be dire than yours, so I want to save my head too," he stated. "Plus I have help from the top."

"You have mentioned that. Who is this help?"

"I would tell you soon. I would tell you when we have the plan in motion and I am certain you are with me. I trust you all but I can still see fear in your eyes."

The three looked at each other, then finally at One.

"We are in this."

"Good. Amu is also a part of our plans. That's why in the next Throne Room meeting, we have to push for the fate of Amu to be left in the hands of the Ministers. You know if it's left in our hands, we would have total control over it."

The three remained silent. "Do we have a problem?" One asked impatiently.

"The Prince is set against that idea," Three said, shaking his head. "I can't get into an argument with him, man. Let's just do this behind the scene."

"He is just a man, for Christ's sake," One snapped at the cowards in front of him.

"What can he do?"

"The question should be what can he not do?" Four argued hotly. "Have you forgotten last year when he slammed me against the wall, and almost choked me to death? In the presence of the King and every single one of you," he accused and they turned their eyes away from him in embarrassment.

"Which one of you spoke up for me? Hmm? I would have been dead, buried, and forgotten if not for the Grandfather."

The room remained silent for a while.

"Well..." One cleared his throat. "That was last year," he said weakly. "See? That's one of the many reasons why we have to eliminate him. He is a tyrant. And enough is enough."

The men exchanged glances and shrugged.

"We are in this," they repeated.

"I would relay this to my help from the top and would get in touch with details of the next meeting. Be very alert because I would be very subtle about it. We do not want to leave any tracks behind."

                                      ***

Murewa trudged into his room after his evening workout, sweaty and tired. He had exerted himself this evening since he missed this morning's workout because of the stupid breakfast, and then his tryst with Awelewa.

He threw his workout bag on the bed and then headed straight for the bathroom. The cold water relaxed his taut muscles and he sighed as the tension left his shoulders. Maybe he should send for Awelewa again; she would provide a good end to such a stressful evening.

Still contemplating the thought, he wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the bathroom.

A girl limped in at that moment with a tray of food. She saw him and froze.

So now it wasn't virgins serving his food but cripples. He shook his head to dispel the dull feeling of anger as he remembered the virgin girl of days ago. He should have known she was a virgin. If he had not been so angered by the attitude and the disdain he had seen in her eyes, he would have noticed her innocence.

"I'm sorry, m-my Prince. There was a problem in the kitchen, that's why the f-food w-was delayed," the crippled girl said.

Murewa walked towards his wardrobe and shuffled through it before pulling out sweats and a shirt. He let the towel drop as he slipped the clothes on. When he turned, the girl's mouth was hanging open. He had forgotten she was still standing there.

"You haven't seen a naked man before?" He asked. The girl gasped. "N-no. I-I —"

"Leave." He pointed to the door and watched her limp quickly away. He was already stressed as it is, he didn't need any more drama.

There was a white envelope on the food tray, and Murewa reached for it. It was a dinner invitation from his Grandfather. He smiled at that. He hadn't seen the man in a long time, Awelewa would have to wait.

A few minutes later, Murewa was in his Grandfather's wing. When he reached the dining, he almost turned back at the sight of his father and stepmother.

"Balogun," his Grandfather called fondly.

"Come, come."

Murewa walked towards the dining table, his accusing eyes on the Grandfather. The man knew what he was doing.

"Good to see you, Murewa," Queen Habibah piped.

Murewa kept his glare on the Grandfather as he sank onto the only seat left on the dining table.

"I am sorry." The Grandfather reached across to pat his hands. "This dinner was supposed to be just me and you, I know."

"My son. So nice of you to join us." Murewa turned to his father and nodded. The man nodded back at him.

"Main dish," the Grandfather said and servants appeared from the shadows with different trays of food. "Serve yourself," the Grandfather said, serving himself a plate.

"Here, let me help you." Queen Habibah grabbed Murewa's plate and heaped rice onto it with a big chunk of fried turkey. Murewa took the filled plate quietly and began to eat. He couldn't help but feel offended. He had hoped to have a quiet time with his Grandfather, not with these two people sitting across the table from him. Twice in one day was two times too much. Plus, he didn't like to eat heavy in the evenings, so he picked at his food.

"Why aren't you eating?" Queen Habibah asked, her eyes wide. The other occupants of the table looked up from their plates.

"Is there something wrong with the food?" His father asked. Murewa rolled his eyes and took another small bite of his food.

"Balogun," his Grandfather called. "Is the food too heavy for you?"

"It's fine," Murewa answered gruffly and the room went silent again as they went back to eating.

He forced down the last morsel of his food with a glass of water, then pushed his chair back.

"Thank you for the food," he said and prepared to leave.

"Murewa, I wanted to tell you something," the Grandfather said, and Murewa sat back down, his elbows on the table. "My men on the field discovered a new gold site."

"What?" Murewa and the King echoed in unison.

"Yes."

"How come I haven't heard of this?" The King sat up, suddenly very serious.

"You would hear tomorrow. My birds just told me, so it's still new information. That was where I went today. I just got back." The Grandfather smiled widely. "I already set my men on it. They started extraction today."

King Bankole glared at the old man. "You need to stop making decisions like that without informing me first."

"You would have ordered them to do the same thing." The Grandfather chuckled. "Maybe we can go there together tomorrow, Balogun. You always have a good eye when it comes to mining."

Murewa nodded and surged to his feet. He could already feel tension brewing between his father and grandfather. He didn't want to be here when it blows over. "Thank you for dinner," he said to the men. "Goodnight."

Thankfully, Awelewa was already waiting by the time he arrived at his room. He liked this girl for a reason.