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My Father’s Palace, My Secret Shame / Chapter 2: Palace Shocks and Royal Confusion
My Father’s Palace, My Secret Shame

My Father’s Palace, My Secret Shame

Author: Ryan Lopez


Chapter 2: Palace Shocks and Royal Confusion

…Wake up, wake up…

One strange voice dey make my head dey pound like say e wan burst.

Like say my village headmaster dey knock sense enter my skull, the way the voice dey vibrate, e dey remind me of early morning bell wey dey wake people for morning prayer.

"Your Highness, Crown Prince, big wahala don happen!"

The way the attendant voice crack, you go think say masquerade just pursue am from shrine. My head still dey heavy, but the title choke me.

"Ehn? Crown Prince?"

As I open eye, na so I see plenty attendants and palace maids wey be like people wey just waka commot from old Nollywood film.

Dem clothes na correct tie-dye and ankara, some dey put gele wey high like mountain. Their faces dey serious, nobody wan laugh. I begin reason whether I dey for dream or na real.

"Wetin una dey do?"

I rub my eyes.

My hands dey tremble small, the skin fairer than normal. Abi dem bleach me overnight? Palace breeze cold, e cut my skin like Jos harmattan—sharp and dry. The air get that old scent, like camphor and palm kernel oil.

Who I be? Where I dey? Wetin I suppose do?

I dey find my phone for bed side—abeg, phone no dey. Only one wooden stool and kolanut bowl dey near me. Na so my mind start to do backflip.

"E be like say His Highness never wake finish, abeg make una no vex."

The attendant wave hand, the palace maids rush come surround me.

Their wrapper dey brush my leg, perfume dey mix with native soap. Dem dey act like say I be egg wey go fall any moment. I try dodge, but dem don block me left and right. One of the maids mutter, "Abeg, hold am well, make e no faint for our hand o!"

"Ah ah, even if na honey trap, una no suppose rough me like this! I no get money o—abeg, make una leave my kidney..."

My mind dey run wild. Na so dem dey do for palace? All this touch-touch, my guy, na only for film I dey see am. But the way dem dey pull my cloth—omo, dem no dey play.

These palace maids no dey play—dem dey drag my cloth with real power, I sef dey struggle.

Their grip get muscle. One aunty for corner dey eye me like say she dey size me for market. I wan use sense slip commot, but dem dey determined. Ehn, if I shout now, dem go talk say na Crown Prince dey misbehave.

"Your Highness, abeg stop dey joke, big thing don happen!"

The attendant dey stomp leg, dey worry. "The Chancellor still dey wait outside!"

I see say the guy sweat don soak e armpit, e voice dey shake. Palace wahala na real. For my mind I dey pray say make no be juju dem wan do.

"Chancellor? Which Chancellor?"

"You..." The attendant eye me, e no happy but e no fit shout for me. E lower im voice: "Your Highness, which Chancellor dey for Okpoko Kingdom again if no be Uncle Kola?"

Attendant voice dey tremble, but the eye wey e give me na like mama wey dey warn pikin for kitchen. For Okpoko, to call person by full name na big matter—respect dey ground.

Okpoko, Chancellor, Uncle Kola?

My head still dey scatter, but before I know, the palace maids don dress me finish.

Dem tie my agbada correct, adjust my fila, even fix one coral bead for my wrist. God, abeg, make dem no tie my wrapper too tight, I still wan chop later. The weight of royalty dey sink into my skin. Na so royalty dey feel? My mind dey clear small.

The attendant open door, na so I see one uncle wey face dey familiar well well.

The uncle get scholar swag, hold feather fan, tie aso-oke scarf, bow for me.

Im bow get dignity—no be anyhow bow. You go know say this man don chop book, e sabi old ways. If to say na modern times, e for wear specs, but now na only wisdom dey shine for im eye.

"Your Highness, time no dey, no fit explain now. Abeg, enter keke quick!"

Before I fit talk, the uncle hold my hand, rush me out like say person die.

My leg nearly trip for palace step, but the uncle grip me well. The urgency for im voice dey loud—palace guards dey clear road, even one old mama for kitchen shout, "Ehn, wetin dey happen!"

By the way, im hand rough small, but e warm... Warm?

The touch dey familiar, like uncle wey dey grip you when trouble dey ground. The palm warm like morning eba—my mind dey turn.

Na dream be this?

I dey look my hand, dey reason say na which kind wahala be this. For my village, if dream clear like this, e mean say ancestor wan send message. I no fit tell whether na good or bad.

Omo—na living Uncle Kola!

The real Uncle Kola, wey dey always advise me for family meeting, dey here dey drag me enter keke. Na wa o. If this na dream, abeg make dem no wake me too soon.

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