Chapter 11: Traps and Threats

The old man think something, pause, then look back at the Fifth Prince.

His eyes dey flicker with recognition, but mouth tight. For our culture, to say person resemble royalty fit bring trouble if you no sure.

“You know, this girl resemble you small, but dem say dem don find the Oba’s daughter already, so...”

His words dey hang for air. For our side, resemblance fit bring blessing or curse. For this moment, I dey wonder which one go reach me.

The Fifth Prince eye for me come cold.

His mouth tight, eyes dey squeeze like person wey dey suspect something. Royalty no dey like wahala, especially one wey fit bring disgrace.

“Who be your mama?”

His voice dey heavy, full of warning. For my heart, fear dey knock like drum for festival. This kind question fit change person life for good or for bad.

I look his cold face, press my lips, swallow the word ‘Oba’s daughter.’

The secret dey heavy for my tongue. For our place, to call your mother princess when enemy dey, na to invite death. I dey hope say silence go save me.

“You fit go see for yourself. Her eyes blind, dem lock her for sheep pen. Dem wan use her to threaten you when wahala start.”

My voice small, almost whisper. I dey hope say the truth go make him pity her, even if e mean trouble go reach me. I dey pray say maybe royal blood go move him heart.

“Threaten?” Fifth Prince touch his spear, eyes flash cold. “How woman life go change the fate of nation? If she really be Oba’s daughter, she suppose die for her people, make e no affect our soldiers.”

His words cold, hard. For his mind, war na only number, not people. My own pain dey small for his own calculation. For my chest, anger dey grow, but fear dey swallow am.