Chapter 10: Blue Eyes and Bloodlines

The cloth dey reveal wound, blood wey don dry, and skin wey tough. The shock hit me; my mind race. No be woman, na man, soldier. I gree close my mouth, dey watch, no wan talk again.

I just dey look am, blinking, no wan let tears fall.

Tears dey gather, but I dey fight am. Mama always warn me say crying na sign of weakness. For my mind, I dey pray say if I hold the tears, maybe e go bring me luck.

Mama always tell me say I dey ugly when I dey cry.

Her words dey ring for my head. I dey remember how she go frown, say 'Why you dey cry like goat?' Even when my own pain heavy, I dey hide am, dey try strong my face.

“You resemble my mama well-well.”

The words come out before I fit stop am. Maybe na wound, maybe na sleep, but the face too familiar. I dey wish say maybe na family wey I find, not more enemies.

The old man and the soldier shock.

The hut quiet, only sound of fire dey burn. Old man stop his hand, soldier eye narrow, as if spirit just waka pass.

The old man quickly explain to the man.

His voice carry respect, but also fear. The kind way wey people dey talk to royal person, even when pain dey ground.

“Fifth Prince, na your guards save this pikin from wild dog mouth last night, arrow still dey her back. Second Prince say, since the child small, e go easy to question am, so make I treat am first, then ask her about the grassland when she wake.”

As the old man dey talk, I dey imagine guards wey strong, soldiers with spear, all of them dey fight for palace. The difference between me and them dey like the distance between rain and sun.

The Fifth Prince nod, then look me again.

His eyes cold, like dry season stream—nothing dey move. He nod like person wey dey plan, not like person wey care.

“You fit speak city people language?”

The question surprise me. My tongue dey twist, but I nod. For our place, city language na power; the person wey sabi am fit survive anywhere.

I nod.

I dey try make myself small, dey hope say my own presence go disappear. The words for my mouth dey hide, fear dey grow.

The old man stare at me for a while.

His eyes soft, not like Fifth Prince own. He dey search my face, as if he fit read my story from my skin. His silence na comfort, not threat.

“You be city pikin? No, your eyes blue... you...”

Dem say anybody with eyes blue like river na spirit pikin—people dey fear, some dey touch ground make sure say no curse dey follow.

He pause, the weight of his thoughts clear. For our land, blue eyes na sign—people go whisper, some go fear, some go wonder if spirit dey involved. I dey wish say I fit hide my eyes.