Chapter 7: Entering the Lion’s Den

No matter as my sister beg, three days later I still wear light pink wedding wrapper, enter small keke go Crown Prince Quarters. Sun dey hot, sweat dey my back as people dey look.

Even angry, my sister no fit let me suffer. She pack all her saved naira, wrap with cowries for luck, give me as dowry.

"Amara."

As I wan enter keke, my sister call me, nearly beg as she whisper for my ear.

"Promise me, no do anything dangerous again, abeg. No let me lose you after all this."

Her eyes red, veins stand for neck as she fight tears.

"You be my only hope for this world. If anything happen to you, na die I go die."

My eyes dey wet too. I nod, but my heart no sure if I fit keep that promise. I no wan break her again.

The keke jolt scatter my thoughts, Lagos sun dey roast my back, but I hold my wrapper tight—no room for fear now.

As I sit, I dey think of wetin go happen next. Entering Crown Prince Quarters na just first step. To be low-level wife no reach. Ambition dey burn me, no wan quench.

Musa Yunusa go later get crown princess, other wives, plenty concubines. Soon he fit forget me. Palace full of women, each one dey plan her own.

How I go get higher position, Musa Yunusa favour? The question dey buzz for my head like stubborn mosquito.

My mind dey run. Before long, I doze off as keke dey sway. City sounds—hawkers, drums, pikin dey play—fade turn dream.

Vaguely, I hear my name. Voice soft, familiar, reach that place wey my heart still dey try heal.

"Amara?"

I frown. For memory, only few dey call me that. I once vex for papa and mama for give me that name, no sweet like my sister own. But name na name—once dem give am, e no dey change. Father, mother, sister all call me Amara, as if the name fit protect me.

Later I realise, when I born, kingdom don dey fall. My name carry hope—Amara: grace, peace in wahala. But world give me only war.

When I understand, kingdom don go. Father, mother, sister—all gone. Only memory of love remain.

Now, to hear my name again, e be like dream. The sound shake something inside me.

Keke curtain lift. I open eye, see smiling eyes. Man wear bright red agbada, look calm, beard neat.

He talk softly, "Why you dey sleep? You no sabi say today big day?"

Cold breeze enter my neck. I shiver, kneel to greet. He quick lift me, touch gentle but sure.

He say, "Bring wrapper for new wife. Make she no catch cold."

With wrapper for my body, I stop to shake. Warmth soak enter my bone.

He look my clothes, frown. "Take new wife change to red wedding dress. Today special."

My heart skip. I wake sharp, panic dey my chest.

"Your Highness, this one no be tradition... I no suppose wear red like big madam. E fit cause wahala for my sister."

I fear, soul wan leave body. I wan kneel—my position weak. If I wear red and people hear... I no wan add wahala for my sister. She don suffer reach.

Musa Yunusa see me, sigh, mouth corner drop with regret.

"Forget am. Your peace pass. I no wan add your burden."

He support me, lead me go inner chamber. Hand steady, eyes dey watch me like say I fit disappear.

For inner chamber, I understand why he want me change. The place cover with festive cloth, windows get double happiness sign, long red carpet for ground. E be like proper wedding, every detail set for celebration. The smell of fried meat and hibiscus hang for air. Jollof rice dey bubble for pot, suya pepper hang for nose—everybody dey expect celebration.

Musa Yunusa hold my hand tight.

"Amara, come bow with me." His words soft but firm, and for the first time in long while, I feel the world pause just for us. But I know say palace peace na just smoke—wahala still dey wait for corner.