8: THE MEET

It was her third day working for the Prince and Fatima already knew his schedule. It was almost eleven and he would be around anytime now. She and Abike had plans to go to the gardens after this shift and she couldn't wait. She had never been, but Abike assured her it was a very beautiful place.

She was already exhausted shuffling between the Prince's room and the kitchen every day on legs that felt like lead. It didn't hurt as much and she knew soon, she wouldn't feel anything at all. Until then, she had to drag it along.

She moved the tray of food to her right hand and pushed the door open with her left. As soon as she stepped into the room, the tray dropped from her hands in shock.

At that moment, the Prince was walking out of the bathroom, stark naked, a white towel in his hands. First, she had not been expecting him to be present since it was barely eleven a.m.

Second, she was staring straight at his nakedness. His virility was so...scary. He was breathtaking.

Fatima was forced to look away when he wrapped the towel around his waist. She looked up into his eyes which were like two orbs of fire in a stone-cold face.

"Look who it is," he said in a robotic voice, totally devoid of emotion. "The dumb cripple."

Fatima whimpered, hurt by his words, but unable to move or speak.

"Do I have to tell you to clean up or is there another reason you are standing there gaping at me?" He snapped and Fatima fled the room.

She ran blindly into the kitchen to get a broom and was running back out when she bumped into Abike. "I was just coming to find you. Are you..? Wait, why are you crying?" Abike asked with concern.

Fatima decided then that she had bad luck. She was always crying and injured, while Abike remained calm and collected.

"It's the Prince. Please, I can't go back in there." She shook her head. "I made a mess." She pushed the broom into Abike's hands. "Please."

Abike shook her head and stepped back.

"Is he in there? No, no. I can't go if he is in there."

"Please, Abike. Just help me clean and I'll be so grateful. He hates me. He called me crippled because of my bad leg," Fatima sobbed.

"What?" Abike grew angry. Fatima wouldn't have been crippled if Iroko hadn't hit her. It was all his fault. She tried to protest as Fatima pressed the broom into her hands and hurried down the hallway, shaking with sobs.

Abike walked towards the Prince's room with heavy legs and an angry heart. Was she going to be okay being in the same room with the man who deflowered her?

She stood by the door for several minutes, working up the courage and finally deciding to approach him the way she had the first time. With utter disinterest and disdain. She knocked once and walked in.

He was sitting on the bed in sweats, reading a book. Their gazes met as she walked in and she cleared her throat. "Good morning, my Prince." She bowed slightly before attacking the mess on the floor.

Murewa watched the girl clean with narrowed eyes. It was the virgin girl. She was dressed in a plain black gown, with her hair pinned back at the nape with a plain clip. Nothing extraordinary, but he kept watching her.

His member jumped excitedly in his pants, confirming his suspicions. He wanted her.

She was pretty enough, but that didn't explain his attraction. She didn't have what it took to be a part of his harem: big breasts, curvy hips, and a voluptuous derrière.

She was the opposite.

Though she had nice breasts, perky and a bit large compared to her small size, it didn't match what he was used to. Her curves were soft, he remembered from the last time, but the gown she wore accentuated it, clinging seductively to her body.

He couldn't ignore how tiny she was. So...powerless. One wrong move and he'd break this one into a million pieces.

She looked up again, caught his eyes, and huffed before looking away. Anger stirred alongside his erection. This attitude of hers was going to have her messed up. For real.

What was he going to do with her?

He already knew he wanted to fuck her senseless. That was a given. But what about all the other emotions that were stirring alongside his lust? The insane need in his blood to subdue and possess her till the arrogance and disdain in her eyes were replaced by a need that was far stronger than his own.

He wanted to see her worship him. She presented a challenge and he was never one to back down.

"Come here," he barked and she jumped, dropping the broom. Their gazes clashed and he saw her pupils dilate with anger and her mouth press into a scowl. It amused him.

"Don't make me repeat myself." He forced himself to be calm. She was bound to be scared, especially after the first time. Had she told him she was a virgin, maybe he would have acted differently. Nah, who was he kidding? He would have stopped. Virgins were a no-go.

She trudged slowly towards him. Murewa said nothing. No matter how slow she walked, she'd get to him eventually.

When she was close enough, he reached out to grab her wrist, tugging her to him. She tumbled to the bed, her short dress riding up her smooth thighs. She scooted back and raised angry eyes to him, but wisely said nothing. Good girl.

He held her eyes for a moment, warring with himself, before blurting out the stupid question.

"How are you?"

Her eyes widened momentarily in shock before narrowing in anger again.

"You mean after you deflowered me like an animal? I am good!"

Murewa tamped down another strong wave of anger at her response. She annoyed him. He wanted to slap her mouth clean of that pretty pout but couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

He pressed down on her slim wrist instead and she flinched, trying to pull away, but she was no match for him.

"I am going to repeat that question," he said with steel in his voice. Abike recognized the poorly concealed warning in his tone, and fear crept up her spine. "How are you?"

"Better now. I was sore for days."

"Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?" He flung her wrist away and she scrambled up, her feet taking her several steps from him.

"You didn't give me the chance." She bit back, her temper rising. "Since anything the Prince wants, he gets; regardless of what the other person might feel about it."

Again, he studied her quietly, his penetrative gaze robbing her of any coherent thought.

"How did you feel about it?" he asked very calmly.

"I...I didn't like it," she stammered.

It wasn't a whole lie.

She didn't like it at first, but when he touched her...she had never felt such pleasure before.

"You didn't?" If possible, his voice went a notch lower. He swung his legs off the bed and stood, his large frame looming over her like the giant wall of Jericho.

She took a step back. "I didn't..."

"That wasn't the impression I got." He stalked towards her like a panther and Abike realized there was nowhere she could run. She was trapped between this hard man and a hard wall.

"You were wet and moaning your pleasure." He took slow steps, assessing her as he approached.

"You were moaning too." Abike attacked and he suddenly stopped walking, a frown etched on his face.

"I don't."

She looked away from him, choosing her next words carefully. She didn't want to anger him. At all. "Why don't you like to be touched?" she sneaked a glance at him. Things were going very smoothly that day until she touched him.

He was still standing a few feet away.

"You don't get to ask me questions," he said. "Servant."

Abike's head whipped in his direction, her temper loose and flowing through her veins.

"You think you are all that, don't you?" She spat and his eyes narrowed infinitesimally. She could feel the anger rolling off him in waves but she didn't care. What's the worst he could do?

She had seen it all.

"One more word from you and I will cut out your tongue, so help me God." His voice was barely a whisper but she heard him loud and clear in the large, quiet room.

She had heard too many unpleasant stories about him to call his bluff, so she kept silent, her heart thudding with fear.

"Now come here," he ordered and sat back on the bed. Abike opened her mouth to protest, but his eyes were shooting daggers at her.

"One more word."

The threat hung between them like a cloud and Abike shuffled forward. She stopped a few feet away, her head lowered to avoid his gaze. He didn't attempt to touch her.

"I don't like to be touched," he said. "You can only touch me when I give you the order to. Do you hear me?"

She nodded once, bending her head so he wouldn't see her roll her eyes. They weren't going to have any problem because she wasn't even going to touch him again. What would warrant such intimacy? However, his next words shocked her.

"Then I would like to have another go. It would be alright this time," he said silkily. His face was blank and stony as always, but his eyes held promise and she felt herself being sucked in.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw him motion for her to come closer and like a fool, she did.

She moved until she was standing in between his slightly parted legs.

As he reached behind to unzip her dress, Abike trained her eyes on the wall above his head. She wasn't wearing any undergarments, so as the dress pooled at her feet, she was completely naked before him. For the second time.

She stole a glance at him to see him staring at her body. She couldn't see his eyes, but she remembered the utter contempt with which he had looked at her the first time and immediately tried to cover herself.

He let her.

She wrapped her arms around her bare breasts and snapped her legs shut, her embarrassment fuelled by the fact that he remained still and let her struggle. She stood in front of him, shaking like a leaf.

After an agonizing moment, he grabbed her arms and imprisoned them behind her. He jerked her close, her upturned nipples dangerously close to his mouth. "Relax," he breathed, his warm breath hitting the tight peaks, turning them to pebbles.

Abike bit her lips, already feeling hot.

He bent his head slowly and she wondered what was it about that action that turned her into a wanton mess. She liked seeing him bend his head towards her, taking her nipple into his mouth.

He lapped gently, jerking her upright as she writhed against him. His other hand found her left breast, and knead softly, his fingers brushing the nipple occasionally.

She was thankful for his hold on her hands, stopping her from her running her fingers through the low curls of hair on his head. She could only imagine it would feel soft and silky against her finger, intensifying the feel of his wet mouth on her body.

His hand left her breast, palming her body, her stomach, and down to her wet spot. He tapped her thigh gently and she spread her legs. One finger touched her clit and she moaned, throwing her head back in ecstasy.

The finger slipped into her, moving in and out as her pleasure mounted. Suddenly he let her go and her eyes opened to see him towering above her, slipping the sweatpants down his waist.

Her heart began to slam in its ribcage when he sprung free, his erection threatening to jump at her. Fear gripped her when he held it firmly in his closed fist.

He pulled her closer and swung her over his lap, positioning his organ at the opening of her heat.

She stood rigidly above him, her hands hanging awkwardly by her side.

"Hold my shoulders," he said and Abike shook her head. She didn't want a repeat performance of what happened the other day where she couldn't sit properly for hours.

He jerked her and Abike reflexively grabbed his shoulders to keep her from tumbling forward. He grabbed her waist.

"Sit."

Abike remained poised rigidly above him, fear clouding her senses. She couldn't.

"Sit," he said again and she shook her head this time.

He tightened his arm around her waist, immobilizing her above him as he lifted his hips.

Abike closed her eyes as the tip of his penis slowly parted her sensitive folds. She felt him vibrate beneath her, his eyes shut tightly, his jaw flexing under the force of his clamped teeth.

She ran her hand over his shoulder stylishly. His skin felt like rubber beneath her palm, tight and slippery, it was like she could feel the energy flowing through his blood. It excited her. It made her heady to realize it was her who made him feel this way.

Abike moved her hips and he sucked in a breath.

"Don't move," he grounded out. "Don't move like that."

She went still, her walls adjusting as he filled her slowly. A wave of pleasure burst in her head and she pulsed against him, struggling to be released.

He was moving too slowly.

"Stop moving." He held her against him and her head fell to his shoulders. Her arms slipped to his side, wrapping him in what looked like a hug.

He went still and Abike tried to sit up, afraid because she had touched him. He slammed in and she moaned in pleasure, forgetting herself.

Her head lolled on his shoulder, and he subconsciously tightened his arms around her.

In this position, it was easy for her to imagine she was loved. She felt every stroke like a caress, his touch was gentle. His chest rumbled against her and she felt a finger touch her already sensitive bud.

Abike began to move her hips in response to the immense pleasure. She kept chasing her release and with every touch, it seemed to move farther beyond her reach. Suddenly he tensed beneath her and growled before slamming finally into her.

Abike felt colors explode behind her vision and gave herself away, soaring high with him, touching the sky.

Murewa slipped out of her, completely satiated and drowsy. He felt her stir in his arms and froze, now completely aware of the situation he was currently in.

They were wrapped around each other like flowers and lattice, her head on his shoulder. He pulled away, suddenly agitated at how he felt no irritation with her closeness, with her arms all around him.

As if sensing a change in his demeanor, she looked up at him and scrambled off his lap. He didn't have a chance to say another word before she slipped into her dress and fled the room.

Murewa watched her go, utterly confused and very annoyed. He pulled at his hair and hunched his shoulders to shield himself from the plethora of emotions attacking him. Why was he feeling suddenly unsettled?

***

Abike didn't stop until she was inside the nearest bathroom. She leaned against the door, a smile spreading across her face. What the hell just happened? Was this what Awelewa enjoyed every day?

Her smile was suddenly replaced by a frown as jealousy reared. Awelewa. Did she get to cuddle with the Prince after sex? Unlike her who had to disappear before she could see the disgust in his eyes.

Her fragile bubble of happiness shattered and she began to cry again. This was something she could get used to if she wasn't careful. But how could she be careful when she turned crazy with desire whenever she was around him?

She cleaned herself up and washed her face before heading out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen.

                                       ***

Fatima was frowning the next time Abike saw her.

She was in the kitchen washing the dishes again when Fatima hobbled in, her head lowered.

"Fatima," Abike called as the girl picked up the Prince's tray of food and turned to leave without saying hi.

"Fatima!" The girl turned and eyed Abike with angry eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You should have told me you weren't going to do it," the girl bit back. "Then I would have taken care of it in time. What if I had gotten in trouble? What would have happened? Maybe they would have killed me this time instead of just breaking my leg."

Abike shook her head at the girl as she soaked the plates in clean water. "What are you talking about, Fatima?"

"The Prince's room." Fatima's frown deepened. "The mess. I told you to help me clean it."

Abike's mouth widened in shock as she remembered. It felt like centuries ago when Fatima had begged for her help. "I am so sorry," she apologized. "Please forgive me. I..I..." she shook her head, unable to explain.

Fatima shifted her weight to the other foot, the tray balanced in both hands. "Did he hurt you? Did he say anything?" Abike thirsted for information.

"I don't know. I went there now, but he's out for training. So I don't know if I am in trouble or not," Fatima snapped and turned to go. Abike let her.

                                        ***

The whole kitchen was in chaos. There was an impromptu meeting in the Great Throne Room and the chefs were working their asses trying to whip something up within such short notice.

Mrs. Jamila was bustling in and out of the kitchen, her robe billowing around her like a cape.

"When the bell is rung, Iroko would lead you all to the room. Arrange yourself in the same order you did the last time," she said.

"Please, let's all be careful so as not to spill anything on anybody," she glared pointedly at Fatima who looked away shyly.

Hours later, the bell was finally rung and Abike along with eight others trudged to the Great Throne Room to start their duty. Iroko swung the door open and they filed in with their heads down.

A serious argument was currently ongoing judging from the raised voices and shouts.

Each of the servants dropped their tray on the table in front of their assigned Ministers and stepped back. Abike was still stuck with the troublesome Minister Jolayemi. She wondered why they called for food if they weren't done with their nonsense.

Her gaze crept up to find the Prince and she saw him sitting across from her, handsome as ever.

He was putting on his usual wear; sweat-pant and a casual shirt. The shirt clung to his body so tightly, that it threatened to rent if he moved too suddenly.

A thorough glance told her that although he looked calm and oblivious to the chaos around him, he was about to burst. He had his gaze on the table, both arms folded neatly in front of him, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

"Quiet." The King banged his fist on the wooden stool beside him and the room grew silent.

"Why are you all behaving like a bunch of high school students?" He shouted angrily. "Are you all crazy?"

Asides from grumbling, no one said a word.

"I thought we were done with this meeting, but it's clear that some of you still have something to say. Now, let's talk about it like adults. If you want to say something, stand."

Minister Jolayemi shot to his feet.

"My King." He bowed quickly before launching his attack. "There is an order in which we do things in this dynasty. We have a hierarchy and every one has been working that way for a long time, we thank God for that. Prince Murewa saying the fate of Amu should be left in his hands because he went to battle with them is not something we should exalt."

Murewa's gaze slid from the table to the Minister, and Abike inched backward, shrinking away from a gaze that wasn't even directed at her.

"He is the Balogun..." Minister Jolayemi continued. "And..."

"Keep my name out of your mouth," Murewa said calmly, his folded arms twitching in his lap.

Abike couldn't see the Minister's reaction because she was behind him, but he paused for a second before resuming his heated debate.

"I don't know how else you want me to explain this." The fight had gone out of his voice. "But all I am saying is that the Prince shouldn't..."

In a flash, the Prince was on his feet. He reached out and dragged the Minister by the neck over the desk, upturning the dishes and glasses of wine.

The room went up in chaos again.

Abike's eyes widened in fear and shock as Prince Murewa held the Minister to himself, his face dangerously close to the man's.

"Balogun!"

'"Murewa..."

"Prince Murewa!"

Everyone was shouting for him to put the minister down, but Murewa held the man close, squeezing him by the neck.

"What were you saying? You are all bark," he spat in the man's face, his eyes narrowed in anger. 

"Balogun..." the Grandfather who had been quiet through all the drama suddenly spoke up and Murewa turned to look at him. "Please put him down. You would kill him if you don't release him in another minute."

"He should die." Murewa squeezed harder and the Minister began to cough.

Abike began to fidget with fright. The Prince was going to kill him.

"Murewa..." The Grandfather tried again. "Please."

Murewa slammed the man on the table and pushed him towards the other end. The man scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with fear and hatred.

"You tried to kill me," he sputtered, his fingers touching his neck.

"Believe me if I wanted to, you wouldn't be standing there talking back at me," Murewa answered, sinking back to his seat.

Minister Jolayemi looked to the Kabiyesi.

"My King..." he said expectantly.

"I am sorry, Minister Jolayemi," the King said gravely.  "Please, sit down."

The Minister jerked his shoulders back stubbornly.

"Why, my King? Your son almost killed me."

"Sit down." The Kabiyesi repeated and the man sank onto his seat slowly.

"Clean this place up." The King nodded absently at the servants and one of them rushed outside to get a broom.

Abike moved closer to the Minister, scared to ask, but wondering if she should go get him another dish; since his plate was upturned in the scuffle.

She bit her lips and looked up to see the Prince's eyes on her. There was no mistake. He was staring at her.

"Murewa..." The King called and he looked away from her to stare at his Father.

"You left Amu standing for reasons known to you and we respect that. But now that the matter is on the table, the decision can not be yours alone. This isn't an autocracy; it is a democracy. And everyone's idea is welcome," the King explained.

"Now, what you did to Minister Jolayemi is very wrong. He was just trying to voice his opinion and you could have killed him. We are not animals in here and we hope such doesn't happen again." He paused and continued.

"Now, we would cast our votes. Who should the decision of what happens to Amu rest on? The Ministers or the Army?"

No one moved.

"This vote can only be taken by the six Ministers and the Balogun."

"If you are for the Ministers, raise your hand."

Minister Jolayemi's hand shut up, along with two others. "That's three."

Minister Jolayemi looked like he would burst. He glared at the other Ministers who didn't raise their hands.

"If you are for the Army, raise your hands."

Three hands also shot up, excluding the Prince who just kept his gaze on the table like he was removed from the proceedings.

"Balogun..." the Grandfather called but Murewa remained deaf.

Everyone watched him, wondering why he wasn't raising his hand. If he did, the votes would tip in his favor, and he would win.

"Three hands. Final! And that's a tie," the King said seriously. "That means the decision is unanimously mine to make. I don't want to hear another word concerning this again. Let's eat."

Murewa pushed his chair back and disappeared from the room. Minister Jolayemi followed suit.

                                       ***

The rest of the day went past in a blur and soon, Abike found herself in her room, with the door shut behind her.

She had never made it a point to find Fatima's bunk but she had to talk to the girl tonight. She walked through the rows of bunks, her gaze searching for the girl, and finally found her lying on her side, with her back to the wall.

"Fatima."

"Hey." The girl smiled and sat up. Abike was relieved. She climbed up the bunk and sat on the bed beside her. "I am sorry about earlier. For real, I didn't mean to leave you out in the cold like that," she explained.

"Nah, it's alright. I cleaned it up already."

"Did you see him later?"

"Nope. And I hope I don't till I finish my shift this week."

Abike realized it was the first time she was seeing Fatima laugh. "You seem happy tonight," she voiced and Fatima laughed again.

"I do?"

"Come on. Tell me. What's the good news?"

Fatima shrugged. "I met someone. I think he likes me." The girl beamed like it was a foreign concept.

Abike smiled back. "Wow. Who is he?"

"I don't know. I would be seeing him again tomorrow though. His name is Ahmed."

Abike laughed and slipped down from the bed.

"That's great," she said. "See you tomorrow?"

"Goodnight, Abike. Thanks for checking up," Fatima waved her off.