WARNING: CHAPTER CONTENT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING.

"The prince s-s-sent for me?" Ugegbe clutched the hand in hers tighter as a certain trepidation gripped her from the inside out. Her hearing failed as the trilling in her ears cut off whatever Zelunjo's response was.

She had no clue why she was so terrified. Was it the tone with which the message was delivered? She could not account for the sense of foreboding that strangled her heart, crushing it within her ribcage.

"Kwusi! Ahh...my hand..." the child cried out, wrestling out of her hold, which was made almost impenetrable from panic.

"Nwa, gbaghara m." She truly was sorry. Leaning down to his height, she reached to pat his head, feeling remorse at neglecting and, even worse, hurting him. "I have been called, so I have to go very soon. But, Zelu will give you rabbit meat to eat, o?" She turned to Zelunjo, who was completely in on the plan, as confirmed by her sincere smile and eager nod.

"You can wait in the house for me, nwanta. I need to talk to her for a while. Do not worry, I will be there to give you food as soon as I am done, hm? Ndo." She assured him as he trudged slowly from them.

As soon as he was in the hut, Ugegbe linked an arm through Zelunjo's open one, leading her a little away from where they previously stood. "Why does the prince call me, Zelu? How did you find out that he did? Were you told anything specific that I should know?" She immediately drilled her friend when they were at a fairly safe distance from the other servant-huts.

"I was given this information by a messenger from the king's palace, Gegbe, but no other news was allowed to reach my ear as the request from the prince was all that I received and nothing else. I headed for you right after. The messenger was gone, so I could ask nothing else of him."

"Oh..." The disappointment Ugegbe felt leaked into her voice, strongly speaking of her hidden emotions. "So you have no clue what my summoning could be of?"

"Sorry, Gegbe. But no, I know nothing. Though..." she started, and Ugegbe noted the waver in her formerly steady voice. "The guard did say that you need to hurry as the prince does not like to wait."

"Alright." She replied as Zelunjo headed back into the hut. He did not like to wait? She frowned intensely at Zelunjo's statement, her brow squeezing into a deep ridge. She could not fathom what the reason for his hurry was. Did he not speak with her minutes ago? Why did he not say all that he needed then? In fact, to be accurate, he had been mute as if his tongue had failed him or he was never born with the gift of speech.

What then was this frantic rush, for it certainly pinched her wrongly? If she were honest, she had a good sense to loiter and make the man wait for her. That ought to teach him a lesson: though she was a servant, her dignity and pride were still intact.

The prince making her come to him when he'd at first been a coward was slightly humiliating. And if there was a list of things Ugegbe hated, being looked down upon had to rank quite high on the ladder. He'd proven that his interest in her was only fleeting by admitting through his silence of guilt that he did not once have the decency to imagine her as his future partner. There was no stumbling back or recovery from that.

Beforehand, Ugegbe had tried to watch the world spin from his perspective. She'd taken a few steps in his leather wraps. But not anymore. With the annoyance heating her blood to simmer, she could only see through her own eyes.

What right did he have to invite her to the palace solely to meet him? By now, her anger was boiling, but she knew the truth. The prince had no right indeed, but he had the privilege to do so. He was the king's son, well-loved by the people for his great looks and bravery. Naturally, he had enough privileges—none of which she had.

However, his many privileges did not mean she could not be irritated by his uncouth attitude. Even though she could not speak against him, at least she could hold a grudge inside of her. As long as she held that grudge, she would remember her place, his place too, and would not overstep her boundaries. Notwithstanding, the prince would have wait till she had the desire to heed his call.

"Gegbe?" A piercing squeak forced Ugegbe to twirl around to behold a bewildered Zelunjo. The child was with her, balanced on her hip, and her usually wide eyes were agape, not forgetting her mouth. It was as if she'd suddenly lost control of the muscles in her face. "Why are you still here?"

"No reason," Ugegbe shrugged along with the reply she gave.

"What?" Her tone was doused with a thick layer of incredulity. "Did I not reveal that His Highness had called for you? How have you not hurried to him already?"

"I have not done so because I am not pleased with him. He should not ask for me to rush to him when he offended me earlier."

"W-w-what?" She sputtered, shifting the child to her other hip and eventually deciding to place him down on his feet. He seemed satisfied at whatever arrangement he was given as the meat in his hands had his attention captured to the last drop. "When have you—"

"The little one has no name, Zelu. We should come up with one for him. When I return, we can bring up ideas on what his name should be." The tiny head lifted at being referred to in the discussion between adults. He appeared joyed at the plan. But then again, it could just be the food making him smile. Ugegbe took a bet on the latter.

"When did you meet the—"

"Do you hear me, Zelunjo?"

"Stop cutting me off, Ugegbe!" At her outburst, Ugegbe felt the anxiety that had first gripped her at the beginning descend once again. What was going on? Why did Zelunjo appear so alarmed?

"I am sorry. Go ahead, Zelu."

"When did you ever meet the first prince?"

"The first prince?" Ugegbe shook her head in the negative. The crown prince? She had never met him in person. "Never! Why?"

"Then why do you speak of him offending you when you have not met him even once?"

"I..." She faltered when she realised her mistake. "Oh no!" She cried out in dismay. She had made a mistake, and what a big one it was.

"The crown prince was the one who sent for you, not Prince Uzochi," Zelunjo added, gasping as she must have sensed her friend's rising perturbation. "Oh heavens! You must leave now, Gegbe. The first prince does not play with his time. Those who offend him are usually punished beyond measures. God save us. Run and go now!"

"Why did you not tell me, Zelu?" The screeching voice, trembling with fear, could not have been hers. Ugegbe thought, but there was no way it was not as she was quaking in terror, and the question was one she'd asked.

Well, whatever Zelunjo's answer was, she failed to hear it in full as she was already hot on her feet, racing to the main palace like a madwoman. But she was sure she heard her declare that she did tell her that the crown prince was the one who ordered for her presence. And maybe she did. Ugegbe recalled that earlier, at a point, she did miss some of what Zelunjo had said.

What an idiot I have been. She berated herself bitterly. It would be a surprising turn of events if the prince did not order for her head in a beat. What wrong had she done that she was being punished this way? No, she did not do anything for which she was being repaid. It was just a mistake. Only a stupid mistake. One that she hoped would not cost her.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"It is I, Ugegbe." She wobbled on her right foot, trying to relieve her weight from putting pressure on her left. In her panicked hurry, she'd totally forgotten about her hurt foot. Now, it was throbbing so devilishly that she could barely keep herself from groaning in pain.

"What are you here for?" The deep, obviously male voice inquired again from his post behind the gate.

Ugegbe had only been to the king's abode twice in all of her life. The first was when her father was summoned to the palace on account of fraud, an accusation levelled against him by Chief Mmeremikwu. Of course, it was untrue, but it was not an utterly baseless charge. The man did lend her father money, and at the end of the period agreed upon, he could not pay it back. However, it did not mean that it was a purposeful act of duplicity.

The man she'd grown to know as her father was soft and kind-hearted. He could never hurt anyone as he believed in doing to others what he wanted them to do to him. On its own, his trait was one all could agree was good. The only problem was that not only did her father believe in treating others as he'd do himself, he wrongly also assumed others would do the same.

It was a flaw of his that Ugegbe had no idea how to change. No matter what he'd been told or what he'd experienced, he still chose to search for the good in others, sometimes to the point of ignoring their wrongs. An example of this that still rubbed Ugegbe wrongly was him forgiving his brother for duping him even though he never received an apology and was still suffering from the aftermath of the traitor's actions.

She could not be like him. Ugegbe still hated her uncle for his betrayal and was not sure she'd ever come to forgive him wholeheartedly. He ruined her life, destroyed all that formed the foundations of her world. Everything came crashing down that day when she knelt by her father's side before the king and was forced to become a slave.

How could she let go of her animosity so easily when she did not see any sufficient reason to do so? Why should she? This was one of the many aspects in which she and her papa were like night and day. The old man asserted that inner peace came from a free mind that held nothing against others. Ugegbe thought he gave people way too many chances. She knew because he'd given her more than enough too.

If not for him, she would be nowhere and in every sense of the word. Though she had only recently viewed the village annual festival the eighteenth time, she had brought him enough shame to practically last a lifetime.

Her escapade had been with the blacksmith's son. She'd fallen for him, Muoneke, and she'd thought he did so for her as well. Now, she knew that he'd only deceived her and played her for a fool. She hated to think of how gullible she'd been and how easily she'd let him gain access to her heart. Maybe that was why she was so wary of men now.

He courted, no, pursued her for months, showering her with praises and bringing her gifts that she, unfortunately, loved and appreciated. She thought him to be the most generous and considerate man in the world. It was easy to forget that he was seven years older than her thirteen years. With age came knowledge, experience and wisdom. One could become a cunning tortoise with such expertise or use gained erudition to be of good use in society.

Muoneke chose the opposite of goodness. He tricked her into his ploys. It was not until far into their relationship that she realised he was a thief. By then, she loved him too much to let go and was already wholly brainwashed by him. Being an exceedingly intelligent child, she plotted and mapped out strategies for him.

All in the name of love. It was all in the name of love. Whenever she tried to speak up about what they were doing, he reminded her that he loved her, and if she loved him too, she would support him. Without knowing, she was manipulated into doing all that he demanded until the venture came to her father's doorstep. She broke out of his hold only when she discerned whose farm was to be ransacked next.

She could no longer keep mute at this. It did not matter how deep her love for Muoneke was; she could no longer keep his secret. Even in her hazy view of reality, she knew that family came first. What kind of daughter would she be if she allowed all of her father's work to be destroyed. With this mindset, she confessed all to the man who she was of descent. Till today, that was the saddest she had ever seen her papa.

Heavy grunts from the men tackling the massive, wooden bar out of its lock over the gate snatched Ugegbe out of her reverie. She'd given the reason for her visit, and after confirmation, the guards were opening the entrance to her. "You are late. The prince has been waiting for you." One of the men said gruffly, but she paid him no mind and instead followed the direction in which she'd been pointed by the guard who'd initially questioned her and also had proved to be nicer.

The crown prince's hut was the second-largest building and the farthest, situated at the tail end of the king's compound. Ugegbe sighed miserably, knowing that she had to hasten again. It was only at the door leading to Prince Nnofo's home that she paused to wonder what he wanted from her.

They had never met before. The closest she'd come to meet him was on days of the king's parade when he accompanied his father to greet the people. Even then, she was stuck in the back, behind the king's mount, with other maidservants, preparing what would be drunk and eaten by the monarch.

He had never paid her any mind until today. Until today. Did something happen today? She wondered as she knocked twice on the door, announcing who she was afterwards. The door cracked open, and she peeked into a long, gloomy corridor.

"The prince is waiting. Come with me." The guard who opened the door announced before leading the way. Clutched in his left hand was a burning torch to combat the darkness, which Ugegbe found to be bizarrely weird.

Night had not come yet; the day was still bright and fair. Yet, the inside of the prince's home was ill-lit as if dusk had arrived already. Wouldn't it be better if the windows were open and the black curtains shielding the outside light were peeled back? It would surely save fuel and supplies, for she knew no one who wasted resources, burning a torch while the sun shone.

Twice, she sneezed in a row. The passage was not only pitch black but also smelt mouldy. Ugegbe wished she could stop herself from breathing in the damp, spoilt air, but she was not good at holding her breath for long.

Even if she was an expert at sustaining her breath, just how long would she be able to bar oxygen from filtering in through her nose? It was obvious that the hallway was quite long as they had been walking for a while. She would probably pass out if she'd blocked her nostrils from her arrival till now.

Maybe she could breathe using her mouth instead. No, that would be worse. She thought, shaking her head in disagreement. The mouth was not meant for breathing through when the nose was still fully functional. God, who created the two organs to bear different roles, must have designed them specifically for what they were to do. The nose was meant for inspiration, not the mouth, and she would be leaving them both the way they were.

A sharp cough from the guard leading her brought the reminder that she should not be getting lost in her thoughts when she was to visit someone so important. Luckily for her, they still had not reached where she was to meet Prince Nnofo. It was to her relief that her journey down the hooded passage with her escort had not come to an end, as she was not ready to come face to face with the crown prince.

She wondered what he had to say to her. Would he want her to become his personal maid? She prayed not. Firstly she did not want to leave Zelunjo. She also was not ready to leave her post at the queen's palace. For the entirety of her service as a slave, she had been situated in the smaller palace. As of now, she was used to all its nuances, advantages and disadvantages.

It was almost like a home to her with the way she knew its nooks and crannies. She knew all around the queen's palace and even hidden rooms and exits that very few had discovered.  What would she do if the advantages of her knowledge were taken away from her? She did not want to start again from scratch. There was little worse than not being able to hold one's ground without soliciting others' help. She did not want to be the green one all over again.

But, what was with the many doors they were cutting through? Did it take all who met the prince this much stress to get to him? She wasn't sure it did. She also wasn't sure why she was so nervous. And no, her anxiety did not have the most to do with the meeting itself. It rather was, if she was honest, centred on the fact that she had not taken note of the paths they'd taken.

It would have been impossible for her to do so regardless of whether she was attentive or not. The main reason was that she could not have crammed all of the mappings of the building in a single visit.

Her second appearance at the king's abode was less than a month ago under Daa Aghughalam. She and eight servants were made to help tidy the many huts in the compound as several maids had been fired due to their involvement with the prince, which, apparently, led to them neglecting their duties.

Of course, Ugegbe had and still cradled her doubts about the dismissal of the maids. It made virtually no sense that ten maids were sent packing as punishment for developing romantic relationships with the crown prince. All in the same time interval. It definitely was suspicious, but she had no power to investigate an issue that was none of her business.

That aside, the visit was of no help to her current situation as Prince Nnofo's home was the only building that no one was allowed to step a foot into. Therefore, she could as well say that this was her first contact with the prince's mansion. Unless invited by one of a high ranking, slaves from the lesser palace never crossed the threshold straddling the novel world behind the king's gates.

As Ugegbe hobbled forward, for a moment shortly lagging behind the agile feet ahead of her, she found that the atmosphere turned into one that was dehydrated. She wrinkled her nose and hurriedly glanced about her. There was nothing to see, and her eyes were back on the torch blazing down a lit path with its flames. At the very least, the dry air was better than the mustiness that had since fastened to the walls on the inside of her nose. The urge to hack and sneeze was gone, and she could now give heed to her surroundings.

If only the fear churning her stomach like akamu could disappear as well. Rather than her insides being squeezed and stirred around, she would prefer if she had the said pap in her hands and was allowed to eat it. It was a shame that she was not in any place to do so; she could not afford to prepare such for herself when she had no access to a farm full of cobs or the money needed to purchase the very much expensive maize from the market. Also, her freedom was being impeded upon by this random meeting.

"Why do you wear that?" Her interrogator had slowed down his pace and was staring down at her.

"What? This?" Ugegbe gestured at the white dress she still had on from her baptism. She was quite surprised that the guard was trying to make conversation. He'd been reserved all through, and she did not think she would hear a word out of him that was not formal or ordered by the prince.

"Yes. That."

"Oh, I was at a very important event." She replied, contemplating whether to specifically say what it was she'd partook in. She was itching to do so, but there was a good chance that he would not know what it was she was speaking of. Moreover, she was not sure what the general sentiments of those in the central palace were towards the white men and their mission. It would be unfortunate if she got into trouble for something she could have avoided by keeping her mouth shut.

He glanced again at the white wrapper, which had short sleeves attached to it and was as unfitted as if she wore a bag as a cloth, then nodded. "Understood."

Were the royal guards always this imperturbable? If so, she wondered why and if they all were also this domineering in statue and looks, to the point of being intimidating. Although he held up a lamp, she could not espy his face completely. Most of his features were eclipsed by shoddy shadows, which made him more menacing than she'd earlier deemed him.

"Here!" He jerked open a door and shoved her inside.

"Aaargh!" She tripped over her afflicted foot, landing on the floor with a yowl of distress. The current twinge in her heel was a stabbing pain that left her in cruel agony. She was uncertain why the guard had been so rude, kicking her into another dark room without caring for how she was to land.

Before her eyes could adjust to the room's murk, she scrambled to be back on her feet. On her right was a hard, smooth surface that was likely a table. She felt around it and figured out that it had a sharp, pointed edge that hurt when she pressed her finger against it.

It wasn't as dark in the room as it had been down the corridor. She could see more than what was within arms reach quickly enough. And she was not alone. "Heavens!" She cried in alarm. Had he always been there? How did she not notice him when she'd been in the room for a while? She'd been so focused on nursing her wound that she did not stop consider if the prince was already waiting for her.

"Your Highness," she dropped to her knees to offer her greetings.

"Finally, you have acknowledged my existence." His voice was a rumble, bouncing off the walls of the room, indirectly informing her that the room was chiefly empty. She did not expect his voice to have such strength. It was common knowledge that the crown prince was weaker than most men. However, the power with which he talked was decidedly no supporting evidence. But then again, she was not confident that the deepness of one's voice matched their physical strength. What if it didn't?

"I did not mean to, Your Highness. I am sorry that—"

"Keep shut," he said tiredly. "You talk too much." Actually, Ugegbe was not sure that she did. She was not exactly warm or outgoing, especially towards strangers. But she would not tell the prince this. It was her first time meeting him, after all; it was not so much of a surprise that he was mistaken.

"Yes, my lord."

"Come here," he beckoned on her with an open hand. He was seated on a chair covered with the fur of an animal Ugegbe could not make out. She lifted herself upwards from her knees and headed to him. He simpered, and in the obscurations of the room, she thought his smile to be sinister.

"My lord?" She tripped backwards shakily as he had suddenly sprung out of his chair. If she was baffled at the nature of their meeting before, now she was utterly befuddled.

The crown prince seemed to grin even wider at her discomposure as if revelling in her disorientation. To her relief, he stood still, not advancing in her direction. She expected him to say a word or two, but he did not and merely threw an object at her feet.

Ugegbe bent to pick it up, wincing at the throb in her foot. It was a waist bead and not just any random string of coral beads; her mother's last jewelry was clutched in her closed palm. She could tell by the huge globules that formed the bead. Counting six beads from the strings' knot, she met the tiny slash her mother made with a heated knife in her youth, and three beads further, she found the one she made herself for extra identification.

"Thank you so much, Your Highness. I am speechless. This means the world to me. Thank you!" She gushed happily. Maybe the prince was right, and she did talk too much. But she did not care. Her cherished treasure had been returned back to her, and she was beyond grateful.

For how long had she searched for the beads? It felt like it had been years since she held it in her hands like she was now. Oh, how she wanted to shed tears of joy. But this was not the time or place for such sentiments. She still needed to know why she was here, why the prince was in possession of that which belonged to a servant and what it was that he wanted from her.

She could not trust him. The first prince was very clever and cunning, as made clear by his actions. Ugegbe did not want to be caught in any of his traps if he had any laid out. She could not afford to fall for any more tricks. So far, there had been enough of such incidents in her life. Another would send her off the grids.

"I am sure you are wondering why I have your belonging with me," he beamed at her, and she wished he would stop doing so. She found it extremely creepy. It was an action that made her want to race out of the room to never return. It also made her heart pound, and so far, her pulse was already thundering.

"Yes, my lord. If Your Highness so pleases, I-I would like to know." She replied cautiously while avoiding his gaze that somehow had shifted into that of a hungry lion.

"That is because I have been watching you, my sweet Ugegbe. I have craved you since the first day I set my eyes on you and have wished for you to come to me." There was nothing in the world that would have prepared Ugegbe for his confession. Her mouth jolted open, and she gawked at him with a dumbfounded expression.

The room was not bright enough to view the crown prince's face in all its entirety, but for Ugegbe, there was no need to. From afar, she had seen him numerous times to know that he looked like his brother, swarthy and handsome, though more slender and shorter. She also had caught the cruel, undoubtedly wicked, gleam in his eyes during his habitual storming into the queen's palace to trouble his father's second wife, his stepmother.

Even in the dark, that same vileness shone in his eyes. She marked the evil glint when he smiled, no, smirked at her. His intent and purpose for calling on her were probably ungodly. Her hands were clammy. Cold sweat formed on the back of her neck and rolled down her back. She needed to leave. Now!

"I am honoured by your recognition, Your Highness. But I do not deserve your affections. I am only an insignificant servant," she declared, slowly inching towards the door while keeping her face to the prince. "There is nothing I can do for Your Highness. My family is not one with power, and neither do I have no title to give you in marriage—"

His boisterous laughter cut her off. He was clearly mocking her with the raucous sound that irritated her ears. It was unnecessarily noisy and grated on her nerves. "When did I ever mention that I wanted to marry you?" He cackled loudly again, and Ugegbe pressed her lips into a thin line. She was still a good foot from the door.

"I assumed and was ahead of myself, Your Highness. Please forgive me."

"Should I? Should I forgive you, dear Ugegbe? Do you really desire my forgiveness?"

"Y-yes, o-of course, my lord." She stuttered, panic forming lead in her stomach as the prince strode towards her, wearing a determined expression that should not but did frighten her. Protect me, Lord. Please. She prayed, stepping away from him. He was close to her. Too close. He could touch her if he wanted. She prayed that he wouldn't.

"Then you should pay me for my forgiveness,"

"P-p-pay you?" No, this would not do.  She needed to be calm and collected. Stammering through her replies would not help and would be detrimental in contrast as it would alert the prince of her fright. She took in a deep breath. The air was warm in this room. She hadn't noticed. "But I am poor and have no money to give you, my prince."

He tilted his head back and barked out a laugh. "I never said I needed money, dear one." She knew what was coming. What he would say. She could not stay any longer. Her skin crawled with each second she spent with him. He was one of those men. Men who should never be left alone with women and little children. "You can pay me with what you have," his outstretched hand stroked her jawline then dragged down to her cleavage.

Ugegbe was glad she had on cloth that covered all vital planes. If not, she probably would have thrown up at him touching her bare skin, specifically at such a delicate portion of her body. She smiled at him when she wanted to brush him off with a slap. The door was so close. She could just reach out and—

"I am not stupid, little one." He spat, seizing her by the shoulders. She screamed, flailing and tearing at him. His grasp was too tight. She was captured within his arms. "Shout. All. You. Like." He huffed with the efforts it took him to hold onto her. "They will not hear you. Moreover," he chuckled as he fastened onto the hem of her dress and began to pull it upwards. He continued at his successful mission, "this is not the first time this has happened. No one cares. I am the crown prince!"

"No!" She shrieked, shoving at him. It could not be. This could not be her fate. No! She was losing to him. Tears streamed down her face as she heard the gown rip. No! No! No! It split farther. He was too strong. She was pinned to the floor, her breath escaping her. His hands were reaching in. But she would not give in. Her fight would not end so easily. Lord, give me strength.

In her eyes, the man was not human. The shadows that initially covered his body had slithered over his face. He was wrapped up, concealed in the darkness. The door was now behind him. She could see it. Her cry went up through the roof. Give me strength!

A blunt rush of power exploded inside of her. She felt stronger. Far stronger than the grunting man whose left hand had latched onto her breast, crushing her down, and his right was tearing apart all that she wore. With a deafening scream and all that she had, she forced him off her, flinging him away with Herculean strength.

It happened so quickly. She could finally breathe. The enormous gulp of air she lugged into her lungs did not sit well with her system as she choked on her breath, starting a fresh stream of tears. But she had plenty enough time to drag in oxygen. The prince was silent. He would not be disturbing her.

When she could hold up her weight, she did. The crown prince had not come after her again. He was quiet. Mute. She stared in the direction she'd thrown him and walked up to his motionless body.

"Your Highness?" She called. He did not answer. With her limb prompting a fiendish pang in protest, she crouched to check on the prince. She did not remember pushing him that hard. It seemed he had hit his head or something else on the sharp edge of the table.

There was blood. She trembled, her breathing turning rapid. It hung around her. An impending sense of doom. It pervaded her consciousness, suffusing her entire being. There was no escaping its sweeping tendrils. It plugged her nose, her ears, her eyes.

Too much blood. Way too much blood. It flowed towards her. Her chest ached, ringing with palpitations. Where was the blood coming from? Her senses were flooded by an influx of sensations. She was acutely aware of her breath bounding out in spates.

There was one thing she had to do to be sure. She rested her head on the right side of his chest but switched to his left when she registered her mistake. Nothing. It was quiet. She heard no pulse. Her pulse skyrocketed.

He was...
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A/N: Thank you all for your feedback, loves. Your comments make me really happy. What do you all think will happen next?