Malachi and I

With a laugh, she pretended t

o whisper but spoke loudly, “So long that she’s heard all that needs to be heard and no longer hears.”

That meant whispering was pointless which was why she was laughing. I enjoyed her laughter. Her face, her…

When I did not speak, she frowned and her big brown eyes looked me over carefully.

“Why do I know you…when I do not know you?” she asked.

I could not answer as the battle cry that came from outside the walls of the hut drew her attention away from me.

“I must go. Stay. Rest.” She got up quickly and took the herbs she’d made with her as she disappeared through the hanging skin that served as the hut’s door. She moved with such great speed it felt as though she was gone in the time it took me to blink.

“To be ruler of Bikjga, you must serve Bikjga.” Mama’s voice was so soft I wondered how I’d heard it over the roaring voices. She’d spoken not to me but to herself, nodding again as she drank. She did not look at me.

Finishing the horrible drink, I pushed myself up from the ground and limped towards the doorway. She did not stop me from leaving. And when I drew the hide door back, the sun was blinding, causing me to shield my eyes but not my ears.

“Rumm…bahk…rumah…bacokka…rumm…” The warriors chanted as they arrived back into the village, many carrying their brothers who could not carry themselves on the backs of their shields. In the midst of it all, Princess Adaeze stood tall with a wall of women behind her. They all held jars in their hands and she commanded over them, telling them where to go as they shared their herbs for all.

I watched as everyone in the village emerged from their homes, from the bushes, from far and close to see them. “Rumm…bahk…rumah…bacokka…rumm…” They chanted loudly.

The biggest of them—a man whose brown skin was torn, bleeding, and covered in sand—looked to the sky and screamed, “VICTORY!” Lifting his shield, everyone lifted their voices as they cheered.

“We shall not go!” He flipped the spear in his hand and drove it into the earth. “I, Prince Banjoko of Ife, will not go! They shall go! THEY SHALL GO!”

The ground shook with their voices. Flipping his shield as he had flipped his spear again he slammed it into the earth. His chest rose and fell in rage, hope, and certainty of purpose. Princess Adaeze, the only one who seemed calm, handed him a cup, but before she could move on to another man he took her hand and lifted it up with his.

Everyone bowed their heads with respect and the words of Mama came to my ears once more...To be ruler of Bikjg,a you must serve Bikjga.

“Adaeze…” I instinctively whispered her name and in the midst of the uproar her eyes snapped to my mine as if she had clearly heard me…no…she had clearly heard me. The longer she stared the stronger I felt it. That rope, that pulse, that ache, which wrapped around my heart and connected to hers.

“I know you.”

***

Blinking, I looked away from the shields above me. I glanced back to her and though she was teary-eyed, she stared at me seriously as she reached up to touch the side of her head. Pushing herself up, her bare feet touched the ground once again.

“Was she married to someone else?”

I shook my head. “If she were married she would’ve been Queen. In Bikjga, the man and woman whom the villagers believed were the most worthy were the prince and princess, when they marry they became king and queen. But Adaeze soon remembered who I was, and from there…everything fell apart.”

“The slavers came.”

I didn’t want to go any deeper into the past…not when I knew she’d be dragged there on her own soon now.

“You’re annoying. You know that, right?” She sniffled.

I raised my eyebrow at her. I was more amused than bothered. “How so?”

“I’m supposed to be mad at you,” she said as she stood directly in front of me. “You lied to me. I didn’t get to say goodbye to my grandfather. You didn’t come to his funeral. You never even called to ask if I was alright. I’m the one who’s been hurt, so why do I keep worrying about you? Why am I always thinking about you?”

“Because,” I reached up to cup her cheek, “that’s how love works, Esther. You think of me before yourself and I think of you before myself.”

She laughed which was the worst response to a confession. Her laughter faded and her smile dropped as she stared at me. “Now I know I’m dreaming! You don’t love me. You’ve loved the same woman nine hundred ninety-nine times—”

“And now one thousand,” I whispered as I placed both my hands on the sides of her face.

She stared up at me in shock.