Chapter 10: A Body in Waiting

When I realise say I don wake up for Crown Prince body, I rush enter Royal Medical House, gather all the doctors.

“Check pulse.”

I point coffin, order them.

All of them just kneel for ground.

“Your Majesty, abeg, hold yourself, take care of your body.”

I just grab one doctor. “I say check pulse. If you no do am, I go sack you.”

Some of them, dey shake, check one by one, all dey shake head.

“Sure say no pulse?”

“Heartbeat nko?”

“Nothing.”

I quiet small, then talk:

“I hear say tortoise-breathing dey make person look like say dem die, but dem still dey alive?”

Doctors look me like say I craze, all kneel, dey knock head. “Your Majesty, abeg, hold yourself.”

I guard coffin all night.

Later, I arrange make dem swap body.

Wetin dem bury for royal tomb na only my cloth and crown—the real body dey lie for agbada-lined chamber, cold like harmattan morning, for my secret room. Old women use burial herbs—leaves and camphor—preserve royal body, say e go keep spirit safe.

Apart from the blue face, I still look like when I die.

Every night, I dey come look.

“Chima, you dey there?”

I dey reason say, as my soul enter Chima body, e fit be say his soul enter my own? So, I no gree bury the body. If Chima wake up nko?

But after so many days, I don find all the famous doctors, no miracle happen.

Still cold like ice.

“Chima, where you go?”

As I close secret room, I think long, sigh deep.

“Somebody, call Palace Prophet.”

The night breeze wey enter window that time just dey blow small, as if ancestors dey whisper for my ear. Kingdom matters deep like river.