15: WANT YOU

Saturday couldn't come fast enough for three people.

The first two were the Minister of Culture, Sir Adekoya, and the Minister Of Information, Sir Jolayemi. They were knee-deep in their preparations for the annual ball and quickly had to see the Prince to address one important section on their list.

It was barely seven a.m and they were already halfway to the Prince's room, their shoes making hollow sounds on the tiles as they walked.

"I don't know...is this a good idea?" Adekoya threw Jolayemi a sideways glance filled with doubt, his earlier excitement ebbing away as the Prince's room loomed closer.

Jolayemi waved his hands dismissively and hissed as they turned into the Prince's hallway. He always acted like he wasn't scared of the Prince but everyone knew he was the one who feared the Prince the most; so Adekoya wasn't at all convinced by his flippancy. They arrived at the Prince's door.

"I am suddenly very thirsty," Jolayemi complained in a throaty voice, his hand curling around his throat and rubbing gently. "Do you think we can go back to the kitchen for a glass of water?"

Adekoya rapped on the door quickly, deliberately ignoring Jolayemi. Suddenly very thirsty, indeed!

They heard no sound from the other end of the room and Adekoya hesitated before knocking again. Nothing.

"Do you think he is not in? Maybe he went for training after all."

"It's probable." Jolayemi jumped at the uncertainty in his friend's voice. "He usually likes to rest on Saturdays, but sometimes he decides to go anyways."

"Hmm." Adekoya nodded. "Maybe we should come back later. You —"

"Who is whispering at my door?"

They both froze as they heard the Prince's cool voice from the other end of the door.

They realized it would be undignified to run and decided to just man up and go in.

The Prince was after all just a man.

"It's Adekoya," the Minister quickly answered. "I am here with..." he looked at Jolayemi and decided against telling the Prince he was here with him.

Everyone knew the Prince hated the man as much as he feared the Prince.

"Come in."

They paused for a split second before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

The room was semi-dark and the curtains were closed, but a single lamp was on. The Prince was lying on the bed with an open book in his hand, the bedcover drawn up over the lower half of his body and chest.

Adekoya saw the Prince narrow his eyes as Jolayemi came in behind him. He remained silent, watching the two Ministers in cool disdain; his eyes telling them all the things he wouldn't say with his mouth.

They both stood before the Prince like errant school kids in front of their scolding Headmaster until Adekoya nudged Jolayemi. He was the one who prompted this visit in the first place, so he should be ready to talk.

"Good morning, my Prince." Jolayemi paused and when the Prince didn't respond, he continued.

"If you remember, in the last meeting, we mentioned that Adekoya and I are the ones in charge of making important preparations for the annual ball that is soon to take place." He paused again, getting increasingly uncomfortable by the unwavering look the Prince was directing at him.

"So, we are here concerning what we talked about in the meeting the other day."

Adekoya nodded in support of what his friend had said. Murewa remained alarmingly silent, his eyes darkening dangerously. The two men huddled closer, their eyes lowering to the ground in response to the sheer force of power emanating from the man in front of them.

They should have stayed away.

***

The third person who was excited about the new day was Abike. She half ran towards the Prince's room, a bubbly feeling in the pit of her stomach.

It was barely eight and she couldn't wait any longer to see him. There was no reason to enjoy working for the Prince because all he did was shout at her. Though sometimes he could be possessed by a spirit and be extremely sweet, and Abike lived for those rare sweet moments because it made everything worthwhile.

She arrived at the Prince's door in record time and knocked, her legs tapping the floor impatiently, waiting for the order to come into the room.

                                        xXx

A knock broke the pregnant silence in the room.

The Prince hadn't said anything for a long while and the Ministers had become so uncomfortable they were prepared to forfeit the reason they came here, just to escape being the target of his sharp gaze.

The knock came again and Adekoya opened his mouth to admit the person into the room before he realized it wasn't his place to do so and kept quiet.

The Prince flicked his hand silently and Adekoya jumped to do as he was bid.

"Come in," he said and the door pushed open slightly to reveal a girl in the regular servants' uniform. When she saw that all eyes were on her, she straightened and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind her.

"Good morning, my Prince." She bowed slightly and then turned to the Ministers.

"Good morning sirs."

No one acknowledged her greetings and she quickly disappeared behind them to start her business for the day.

The Prince was making a fool of them, Jolayemi thought to himself in outrage as the Prince picked up his book again and tilted it towards the lamp, casually dismissing them like mere servants.

He exchanged looks with Adekoya and he could see the man was getting furious with the whole arrangement too. Adekoya stepped forward, ready to stand up to the Prince and Jolayemi suddenly felt thirsty again.

"You!" He turned to the servant girl currently dusting the bookshelf and she jumped, dropping the cloth in shock.

"Go get me a glass of water," he ordered and she nodded, dashing toward the door.

"Stay where you are," the Prince spoke finally and Jolayemi realized he was speaking to the servant girl. The girl froze by the door, her gaze on the Prince.

The Prince dropped the book and sat up. "Go back to what you were doing," he ordered and the girl dashed behind them again.

The two men watched as the Prince prowled towards them, his steps slow and his eyes narrowed into slits. He stopped a few feet away, his arms folded across his chest.

"Why are you two here?" He asked coolly.

The men exchanged glances before clearing their throats and then launching into a barrel of explanations. When they noticed they were talking at the same time, making a fool of themselves, they stopped, lowering their gaze in embarrassment. The Prince did not comment.

"Let me." Adekoya nodded at Jolayemi and cleared his throat again. "We have a list of things we need to prepare before the annual ball, My Prince. And we have checked out most of the things on the list, it's just the last one remaining..." he paused.

"And it's the army parade."

"The army parade." The Prince arched his brow and the man nodded once.

The Prince turned from them and walked towards the window. "That's why you came to my room so early in the morning?"

The men exchanged glances again at the question.

"My Prince, we only needed to make sure we check out all the list before leaving the Palace again."

"Okay." The Prince turned to them again. "My answer is no. My army was created for serious business, not to dance around a party for the entertainment of you and other spoiled, rich bastards."

The men flinched under the attack of such naked disrespect and hate. The Prince sure didn't mince words.

"What?" They cried in outrage, their hands balling into fists.

"Did I stutter?" The Prince countered.

The men couldn't believe the audacity of the Prince. How dare he! He didn't even look in the least bit concerned that they were practically boiling with fury.

Jolayemi turned to leave the room and Adekoya followed, slamming the door behind them.

***

As soon as the door shut behind them, Abike turned on Murewa. She didn't come to play.

What happened yesterday? He had held her and touched her so sweetly. It had to have meant something, right?

She found him with his back to her; illuminated by the single shaft of light from the lamp.

In the dull lighting, he looked ominous; his back slightly hunched as he rummaged through his wardrobe for something.

Even with the distance between them, she could tell the connection they had the previous day was lost. Replaced by his usual self. He was back to being a stranger. She knew it would happen. She knew, but still, it hurt.

"Why are you acting like nothing happened between us?" She accused and he visibly froze, his hands stilling in their search, his back as erect as an iron bar.

Abike bravely forged on. "Something happened between us yesterday and now you are cold again. The line is never straight with you!"

He turned slowly, like a wild animal turning on its prey. His hands fell to his sides, clenching and unclenching. She could feel the anger rolling out from him in waves. She met his eyes and flinched back in shock, it was cold as ice.

"Are you mad?"

Abike lowered her eyes. She was no match for the power he was emitting.

Against the sheer force of his will, she was powerless.

"Are you mad?" He asked again and for a moment he sounded so dangerously wild. She looked up and met his gaze. There was something in his eyes that held her arrested. She couldn't look away.

"No, my Prince," she managed to say.

"Then why the hell would you raise your voice at me? Are you out of your mind?"

He is mad because I raised my voice a little?

Abike felt anger rise slowly, choking her.

"You raise your voice at me all the time, what makes you any different?" She fired back furiously.

In a flash, he was across the room; his hands around her neck, pushing her backward until she slammed against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of her lungs and for a shocking second; she couldn't feel, she couldn't breathe.

"What makes me different is this." His voice dipped dangerously low as he tightened his fingers around her neck a fraction.

She held still.

"I can kill you right here, right now and no one would question me."

His breath fanned her cheek, distracting her for one flimsy second until the gravity of what he said pressed down on her and her anger mounted again.

"Kill me then." She pressed against him, straining against his hold. He didn't even budge.

For one dangerous moment, time stilled as they stared into each other's eyes. His usually cold, stony face shifted and his eyes flashed with emotion.

Suddenly, she was out of breath and couldn't keep her eyes open. She felt all the breath whoosh out of her lungs and she was falling. Distantly, she could feel his vise-like grip loosen around her neck.

"Do well to remember that," she heard him say as she sagged against the wall towards the tiled floor.

At the last moment, he caught her before she sank and pulled her roughly against himself.

She melted against his hard body; one powerful thigh wedged between her legs, one arm draped around her waist; holding her to him like a limp porcelain doll.

She caught his eye and was startled by the storm brewing in them. How could his eyes be so hostile, but his arms so warm and pleasant? His arms...

"Don't touch me." Abike pushed against him, struggling to stand to her feet. His arms tightened around her.

"You weren't complaining yesterday." He pressed closer, heating her skin wherever he touched.

Abike felt her body flame in embarrassment at his statement. "You weren't complaining yesterday either. If I remember correctly, you told me to touch you."

He went still again. As still and impenetrable as only he could. He stood —unmoving, for a very long time and Abike held her breath. Suddenly, he pressed her against the wall again.

"Don't make me hurt you," he said dangerously. She recognized the warning but was too far gone to heed it.

"Hurt me?" She pushed his chest but he didn't budge. "You have tried to strangle me twice now," she yelled in his face. "Hurting people is all you do. The hundreds of people you brought back from Amu too, you hurt them." 

"Amu?" He echoed, his voice flat.

"Yes." Abike raised her chin indignantly.

"You and the ninety-nine others should be grateful you are not corpses by now," he said so calmly that it angered Abike afresh.

How could he be so cool and collected about something that had cost her a lot?

"Really? Because you brought us here to be slaves? When we were living perfectly in our land?"

He shook his head and looked down on her like he would a retarded child.

"Amu has been calling for trouble for a decade now. Eight years ago five Ore boys were kidnapped and brutally murdered by people from your land..." he stopped at the shock on her face.

"You didn't know that, did you? How could you? You were fifteen, still running around naked when the world was crumbling around you," he snarled, but that didn't affect her in the slightest bit.

How was his account of her age so accurate?

She racked her brain for any moment she might have let it slip and remembered telling him in the past week that she was twenty-three.

And he remembered that tidbit of information!

He remembered!

The fact that he kept such a minuscule part of her with him reverberated within her and left her breathless.

"... Amu has been stealing our oil for ten years," he was saying and she realized this was the first time she was hearing him rant.

He was always so silent and cold.

"And we let them. We let them take it because we know they are less privileged. We turned blind eyes to it. Well, my father did. Because left to me, the first instance I noticed such an insane act of theft, I would have marched there and cut off Ola's hands."

Abike didn't say anything, she just watched him.

His mouth was so perfect, a bud of perfection in such a hard face. It was like his lips were drawn by an artist. How would it feel to have them on her?

She felt her body strain towards him, her hands stretched to touch him. All the warning bells began to go off, signaling to her the danger she was about to put herself into. But he was standing there looking so perfect. How could she not?

"What are you doing?" He went rock still again, his mouth snapping close.

She touched his bare arm and felt the muscle bunch under her touch. It gave her a heady rush of feeling. He wasn't as immune as he would have her believe.

"Don't touch me." His voice went colder than ice, but he didn't move away. Abike looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

"I don't want anything," she said quietly. "I just want..."

"What?" His voice cut through her silence like a knife.

Abike felt her courage depleting, but her fingers stayed wrapped around his arm.

"I want you," she said finally, lowering her eyes.

For an entire moment, the room was plunged into an impregnable silence. Abike didn't dare to breathe.

"Get back to work," she heard him say and looked up in shock to see him stalking away from her.

From that moment, Abike didn't know what spirit possessed him. He shuffled through his wardrobe, letting clothes fall to the floor and refusing to put them back up.

She watched in shock as he walked about the room, displacing things and turning everywhere into an absolute mess. He stepped in front of his bedside table and removed all the drawers, emptying the contents to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Abike cried in protest as he bunched the bedsheet into a ball and flung it to the ground.

"Giving you something to do? Looks like you've been so idle, you had enough time on your hands to want me." He turned to her, his eyes shooting daggers.

Abike flinched back, her heart ripping into shreds.

Did he hate her that much?

"Is that what this is about? Because I want you?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but from the look on his face, he heard her.

"Who are you to want me?" He growled, flinging the duvet towards her. It fell a few feet away, landing softly on the ground. "You are just a servant."

Her heart split into two and tears sprang to her eyes. What had she been thinking?

"You had sex with me, you touched me." She shook her head accusingly. "I thought you wanted me too."

"In case you haven't noticed, I have fifty women in my corner just for that purpose." He clarified in a cool voice. "Fifty beautiful ladies just for that purpose. Why would I want you?"

Abike turned away from him and began to dust the shelf through a sheen of tears. She would be dammed if she let him see her cry.

"That's right," he said from behind her. "Get back to work. And make sure this place is as neat as it should be when I get back."

She heard the door slam and then he was gone.

                                       ***

Abike didn't even know how she felt. Well, that was a lie. She felt empty. 

The kitchen was very busy, a far cry from how quiet her mind was. She didn't want to THINK.

The Prince had left her in the room almost an hour ago and she had taken that time to put everything back in order.

The only thing left to give him was breakfast.

It was almost eleven and a quick stop in the kitchen told her the food wasn't ready.

She stood there dawdling, until her eyes caught a familiar-looking girl by the sink, washing the dirty dishes.

"Mariam!" She called and the girl looked back. Their eyes met and confusion clouded the girl's eyes before giving way to recognition, then excitement. The girl waved Abike over.

"Abike, isn't it?"

"It is. Hii. Let me help you." Abike began to rinse off the dishes and put them in a soft cloth to soak up the water.

"Thank you. How have you been?"

"I'm okay." Abike turned to smile at the girl. "How come I haven't seen you since that day? We practically sleep in the same quarters and no matter how hard I search, I never see you. Or the other girls, Yetunde and ..."

"Modupe." Mariam laughed as she worked.

"I don't sleep there. We don't sleep there. That's why you never see us."

"For real." Abike turned to the girl in shock.

"You can choose where to sleep?"

Mariam nodded. "There are other servant quarters in the Palace, look at how big this palace is. The other quarters are more comfortable too."

"Wow. I never thought of that. What if someone finds out?" Abike began to dry the dishes.

"Finds out?" Mariam emptied the washing bowl of its content and poured clean water into it.

"Who is going to find out? Abike, we are no longer in Amu. No one cares about us here, you would do well to remember that. No one cares where you sleep or wake, as long as you are available at your post the next morning."

Abike contemplated what Mariam said. It was all true. No one cared. Mariam joined her and soon they were done.

"Do you want to see where we stay currently? It's not very far from here." Mariam smiled at her as they wiped their hands.

"Why not? I'm not busy."

The two walked out of the kitchen and took the stairs. "It's downstairs?" Abike asked.

"All the servant's quarters are downstairs. They only put Amu servants in one quarter upstairs because there was no more room below."  Mariam explained with a tinge of pride and pity, like being downstairs was an achievement.

On entering the large room, Abike could see why.

The space was very large and there were rows and rows of bunks for as far as she could see. Each bed had a soft mattress on it, unlike the one in their room upstairs where you woke up with kinks in your back every morning.

This couldn't be mistaken for a room for royalty, but it was way better than their prison upstairs.

Abike could see why anyone would want to stay here.

The only advantage wasn't the wide space, it was the sense of community present here.

Everyone was talking to each other and since they entered, about five guys had greeted Mariam in passing. Guys and girls lived together in this place too.

"Guys stay here too?"

"Yup. Ore servants are here too. Not like upstairs where we are cooped up with the same faces every day. Here, no one is better than the other. We are all servants." Mariam laughed and bounced off, pulling Abike along with her.

"Come along, I see Modupe."

Modupe recognized Abike instantly and it made her feel so emotional. In this cold and lonely place, everyone seemed to be aloof and mean, it was nice to be remembered by someone.

"Abike." Modupe smiled widely. "Mariam, where did you find her? I have been keeping an eye out for her." Abike warmed at that statement.

"We met in the kitchen," Mariam answered,  looking around at everybody who seemed to be huddled together in groups, whispering to each other.

They were currently in their huddle of three, their heads pooled together; talking and laughing as they sat on Modupe's bed.

"What is everyone whispering about?" Mariam asked, glancing around again.

Modupe laughed. "Well, they are excited about the annual ball."

"Excited?" Abike echoed dully. "Why would they be? The only thing we would do that day is work."

"Work?" Modupe and Mariam yelled. "When you stay cooped up the stairs, how would you hear the right information?" They laughed.

"We heard from other servants that the annual ball is going to be fun." Modupe leaned closer.

"We work in the morning till late afternoon, but after that, everyone is on their own. The servants are free to do whatever they like for that night. The gates open for commoners to come in so no one can tell who is servant and who is commoner." The girls laughed again.

"Maybe by our dresses they could tell? All the servants wear the same type of clothing."

"You really should move down here." Mariam nudged her.

"Down here, we are close to the soldiers so we do some kind of extra work that earn us money. So..."

"Money?" Abike's eyes widened.

"Yes. Money. So we already sent someone to buy us some clothes. We would be wearing that to the ball, after the gates open, that is."

"So you won't be wearing simple service uniforms?" Abike felt a pang of jealousy.

"God forbid." The girls shook their heads.

"As for me, I plan to be on my best behavior, because there have been stories of servant girls who meet good men and fall in love. These men take the girls out of the palace. Can you believe that? How sweet would it be to meet someone like that?"

Abike sighed. "I don't have any money," she said sadly. "But that's okay. I am sure the ball would be fun still."

"It would be fun. Look at you, so pretty; I am sure you would catch someone's eyes regardless of whatever you are putting on." Mariam hugged her and she smiled.

"Plus, how sweet would it be to be chosen by the Prince to join his harem?" Modupe said with dreamy eyes.

Abike was taken back to the events of the last hour again and drew in a sharp breath. How did his name come up everywhere?

"Why would you want to be a part of his harem?" she asked the dreamy-eyed girl.

Modupe and Mariam stared back at her in shock.

"Are you asking this question? Really? To be part of his harem is a big privilege." They shouted.

"Have you seen where they live? The chefs personally prepare whatever food they want to eat. Directly or indirectly, if you have worked in the kitchen, you have prepared food for one of them." Modupe gave her a look that said "see?"

Abike saw. And it annoyed her that it was true.

"The Prince is a hard man to please though," Mariam was saying. "He just doesn't choose anybody. Have you been to his harem?" Her voice rose an octave higher with every inflection.

"If you walk into the place, you would think you have walked into a gathering of angels. They are all so tall and lovely and they sound like birds."

Abike wanted to close her ears and run. She was way out of her league feeling the way she did for the Prince. Mariam's description of the ladies in the harem finally puts things into focus.

The Prince had rejected her because she wasn't up to his standards. Just, look at her.

Tall? No. Abike shook her head.

Lovely? Double no. No wonder he had been so angry when she told him she wanted him.

It reminded her of one time in Amu when the Palace town crier had told her he loved her and wanted to be with her. She had felt disgusted that the guy even dared to approach her.

She wondered how the Prince must have felt. No wonder he was so angry. Where had she even gotten the courage to confess such to him?

"I want you." She wanted to gag.

"... pick another girl." 

"What?" Abike didn't catch what Modupe said. "What girl?"

"At the ball. The rumors say the Prince might pick another girl that night. I can't blame him though. I know there would be so many beauties around. Who wouldn't be tempted? He wouldn't even be bothered to look at me or pick me."

Nor me, Abike thought dejectedly as the clock in the room began to chime.

"Dang, it's eleven. I have to go now." Modupe jumped to her feet as the clock chimed the eleventh time. They even had a grandfather clock in this room.

Abike jumped down beside her.

"I have to be somewhere too." She omitted that she was working for the Prince. She didn't think her experience with him would make the girls go "aww", so she preferred to count her loss in peace and privacy.

"Bye Abi. Come visit when you aren't busy. This is Modupe's bed, I sleep on top of the bunk." Mariam pointed to the bed above and Abike nodded and ran out of the room with Modupe beside her.

She and Modupe parted in the hallway outside, the girl dashing through the main doors while Abike went back up the stairs towards the kitchen.

The Prince's tray of food was already there beside the cooker and Abike took it and headed for the room. She didn't know if she was late or not because the Prince's schedule was very fluid, but she didn't want to be on the wrong side of his temper again.

It was time she knew her place and forgot about the sex and everything. She got a little carried away because he was her first. But to him, she was just another girl. A mistake. She was way out of her league with him.

She remembered how he had looked at her the very first time Mrs. Jamila took her to him and shook her head. How could she have forgotten something so important?

Right from the first moment, she had been a temporary replacement for Awelewa. She desperately wanted to be more, but now she saw where the Prince's agitation was coming from. She was forcing herself on him.

She paused in front of the door and knocked. There was no reply. He wasn't in.

Balancing the tray in her hand, Abike pushed the door open and went in. She was so used to him being so silent, that when she entered and saw him sitting on the bed, she didn't even miss a beat.

She kicked the door shut behind her and walked toward him. "Good morning, my Prince," she said coolly and placed the tray on the bed.

"Took you long enough," he barked.

"I'm sorry, my Prince," she replied calmly, unwilling to give in to his temper.

He uncovered the dish and eyed the food like it was poison. There was nothing to complain about so he took one bite out of his food and chewed.

"As from next week, always bring my breakfast in time. By eleven, it's no longer breakfast." He glared and she smiled coolly at him.

"Yes, my Prince. I would let the next servant know that, my Prince; as I won't be working for you anymore, my Prince." She plastered a wide smile on her face as he jerked his head up to hers.

"You would stop working for me when I say so."

She paused to let the sharp sting of anger go down before answering him. "We change duties every week, my Prince."

"I am not your Prince," he barked at her, his spoon clinking to the tray as it fell. "Your Prince is a teenage brat who doesn't even know how to wear his pants."

Abike narrowed her eyes at him and bit her lips to hold back her retort. "Yes..."

"Master." Prince Murewa's gaze bore into hers. "Because that's what I am to you. Your Master."

"Yes Master," she said without missing a beat and wondered why he looked angrier. She had done nothing to contend with him since she came in.

She stood perfectly still and obedient as he ate; his eyes roaming about the room, looking for what to complain about, but finding none.

As he knocked the glass of water down his throat after rounding up, she reached for the tray.

"Don't touch me," he growled and her hands stilled halfway.

"I wasn't about to touch you, Master. I was only reaching for the tray."

He paused and then pushed the tray roughly into her hands. The empty glass of water tethered dangerously on the tray and her hands reached out to steady it.

"Get out of my room."

She bowed and slipped out of the door; then peeked back in, giving in to the last impish wave of childishness. "If I don't see you in the next hundred years, it would be too soon."

His eyes narrowed dangerously at her words and Abike slammed the door shut and fled.

                                      xXx

I edited this chapter while eating cake so it has to be sweet.

It is, right? RIGHT 🎤 🎤

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