With the trickle of the Uzomiri River as background music, Zurielle serenaded Nwaeze with a scintillating love song that made him long for her with each note. The only problem with his desire was that he was restricted from touching her for many reasons. 

Many times, he wanted to ravish her and express his love for her. After all, he was the crown prince and he could do as he wished. But it was forbidden. No offspring of royal blood in the Amaezike Kingdom could dare to commit fornication. The gods would strike such an unfortunate person dead before a full moon was over, even if the crime had been committed in secret. 

Besides, the modalities of his secret relationship with Zurielle were complicated. In the eyes of everyone else, she was a mere royal maid, the personal maid of the queen, to be specific. But to him, Zurielle was his centre of gravity.

She intrigued him right from the moment her frail self had been brought back as a war spoil from a victorious battle against Obolokpu, a rival neighbouring kingdom. Then, she had been a wimpish teenage girl and he had been in his late teens. 

As his feelings for her grew while he watched her from afar, likewise did her silent fascination for him. He facilitated her steady ascent up the palatial pyramid until she reached the peak of the food chain long before he gathered the courage to approach her.

Zurielle was the prettiest in her set. Innocent-looking, intelligent, and adaptive as the years went by, she grew into a captivating, young lady, highly favoured by  the gods in terms of physical beauty. From  the snippets he had so far gathered about her past life, she was somewhat distantly related to the royal bloodline in her kingdom.

 

Another plus for her was that, by all indications, the queen was pleased with her. In fact, Nwaeze suspected his mother knew of their secret relationship though she never confronted either of them about it. 

There he was, vulnerable and seated on a rock overlooking the Uzomiri River, his hand entwined with hers as he basked in her song. The sun began to set and  Nwaeze wished he could make the glowing orange ball freeze in the sky.  

Just as the wish crossed his mind, his trusted guard—the closest thing to a friend he had, Ezeala, burst out through the bushes that surrounded the path leading to their secret rendezvous spot, panting like a frightened impala.

Startled, Zurielle stopped her singing and looked warily at the guard.  Ezeala’s countenance bespoke that of a bearer of bad  news. 

"What is it?" Nwaeze asked, frowning at the disruption to his rare moment of bliss. 

"Nwa- eze... Your- your Highness. The king... The king is dead. Eze  is dead!" The emotion and trauma seeping through Ezeala's voice were  tangible.

Nwaeze sprang up as though he had been seated on hot coals. He shook his head vigorously and scowled so much that his brows began to ache. 

"What? No! What are you telling me? That's impossible! Father was hale and hearty when I saw him this morning. Tell me this is an expensive prank, Ezeala," Nwaeze said in a low, tentative tone. 

His friend looked at him with sad eyes, not knowing what words to say to mellow the effect of the news. 

 

Tears began to fall from Zurielle's eyes and she whimpered through her hand which covered her quivering lips.

 

Ezeala eyed Zurielle warily. He had warned Prince Nwaeze about his affair  with the slave girl, telling him the bitter truth that they could never be. Although he wanted his friend's happiness, he was never in support of the secrecy attached to their relationship. Plus, he never did trust Zurielle. He had a hunch that beneath her alluring beauty and innocent stance, she was capable of so much more. 

"It's true. I confirmed things before rushing here. From the look of it, he must have been assassinated. I'm sorry, Nwaeze," Ezeala whispered as he drew closer to the prince and held him by his shoulders, looking into his eyes. 

Realisation sunk in slowly and Nwaeze gritted his teeth to keep himself from crying. He let out a groan of anguish and held his head in his hands. He barely managed to hold back his tears. He had to be strong. A prince wasn't meant to weep like an abandoned baby. Yet in his chest, he felt like he had just been ripped apart by tiny shredders after a huge boulder was dumped on his neck. He turned and held the now-bawling Zurielle to his chest.

"Don't worry. Everything will be fine," he said to her though he sounded unconvincing even to himself.

He drew back, looked at her, and wiped off a tear from her face. Ezeala watched the duo in pity. 

"I will  get to the root of this  matter," Nwaeze said. "Wash your pretty face and stay a while before you come back to the palace. Lay low. We don't want wagging tongues, okay?" 

She nodded shakily and  whispered, "Will you be okay?"

He nodded grimly. It was a lie. He wasn't the least bit okay.

Nwaeze straddled the royal horse that Ezeala brought to fetch him and rode like the wind to the palace, his friend beside him on another horse. 

By the time they arrived at the palace, the entire arena was in disarray. As the royal mourners crooned their dirge, Nwaeze’s mother wailed and had to be held back from rolling on the dusty floor as she expressed her anguish at the king’s untimely demise. Nwaeze noticed when Zurielle quietly slid into the royal compound and went over to help in consoling his mother. 

An hour later, as the shadows in the palace lengthened, the entire council gathered and the royal Dibia was summoned to conduct the Igba Nkwu ritual. 

"He was poisoned," the Dibia announced as he emerged from the late king's chambers some minutes after he had hobbled in. The Dibia had strange artefacts tied to the palm fronds that he wore on his wrists,  ankles, and waist—bones, horns, tiny dead and mummified animals, and unrecognisable items.

Nwaeze stood straight, his heart heavy as he eyed the Dibia. He had never liked the crooked man, perhaps because of the stench that always heralded the man's presence.

Beside him, Ujunwa, his half-sister, who despite her tear-blotched face was doing her best to rein in her grief, gasped in horror.  

"Poisoned?" Nwaeze queried.

Only one speck of relief reared itself from the Dibia’s declaration—Eze Chimiguo III had transitioned to the afterlife quietly, not by gruesome means like strangulation or stabbing. 

"How did that happen?" Nwaeze continued, his scowl deepening, "What was the last thing my father ate before his afternoon nap? Is there a traitor in our midst? We'll need to scrutinise the kitchen workers, especially the king's butler."

Even as he said it, Nwaeze knew it was pointless. His birth met each one of these workers already active in the palace. Their loyalty to the king had been tried and tested through time. Unless they had a new-found strong motive fueling their latent hate or had been brainwashed by an enemy, there was no way they would have conspired to murder the king. 

The Dibia cleared his throat of the perpetual phlegm that resided there. Not that it helped his cracked, hoarse voice. Whenever he spoke, it was like what Nwaeze imagined a rattlesnake trapped in a metal container must sound like. 

"From my analysis, I'm  afraid the king's poisoning was not by physical means but by a spiritual projection, through the king's dream..." the Dibia continued. 

Muffled exclamations of alarm, and sounds of palms clapping and murmurs filled the space. 

Nwaeze squirmed. If this was a spiritual attack, then what chance did he, or the rest of this council even, stand?

The chief advisor, a sage with a generous tuft of hair on his chin whose name was Umule, asked the Dibia, "Was it from the gods or an enemy?" 

"I am afraid the king has many enemies, my lord," the Dibia replied curtly. 

Terse silence reigned over the gathering. 

Finally, the grief-stricken and befuddled Prince Nwaeze spoke up. There was a question that had nagged at the back of his mind from the time he began to understand the pronouncements of this so-called mouthpiece of the gods.

"What then is the explanation why you, our most trusted spiritual guide, were unable to detect and foretell the impending doom before it happened?" Nwaeze asked, carefully picking his words.

The Dibia recoiled as though stung by an adder. He quickly recovered and gave Nwaeze a long, probing stare with his feline eyes. 

"I did see it, Your Highness. A long time ago when you were young. The gods revealed to me that you would take on the mantle of rulership sooner than you will be ready. I had no premonition that it would be fulfilled anymore because you had already grown past your teenage years. I thought the gods had rewritten your destiny. I didn't know it implied the late king's early death. Forgive my nonchalance."

Nwaeze paced the breadth of the throne room, the ceremonial red beads on his neck and wrists dangling in rhythm to his movements. Inside him, a drive to find the perpetrator of this crime against his father who had been a just king bubbled—a cry for vengeance. What if the enemy was not outside but within, right here in this council? What then?

Ujunwa sat back on her assigned royal stool with a shuddering breath. He had to give her credit for not breaking down completely despite the disturbing news they had just been hit with. But Nwaeze had other pressing worries. 

Nwaeze had enjoyed a relatively warm relationship with his father even though very sparse close interactions ensued between them. His father was the only person he looked up to. The king, in Nwaeze's opinion, had the most amazing prowess with the sword in battle and the best administrative skills the kingdom had ever seen. Notwithstanding, there was this communication gap between them. Nwaeze had never told his father of his secret love relationship with Zurielle; the king, Eze Chimiguo III of Amaezike Kingdom, had not told his crown prince the ultimate royal secret that was most important. 

"There is a major issue," Nwaeze addressed the Dibia with a heavy sigh, "Unfortunately, the king had not yet confided in me about the location of the ancient amulet of kings before his death."

The council let out exclamations of dismay and their whispers and murmurs rose in a frenzy. Ujunwa took that as her cue to leave the gathering. She excused herself saying she had to go check on the queen. 

"Hmmm," Umule, the most trusted advisor of the king, began, rubbing his chin. "It seems the gods have placed us in a fix. Yes, you are the only son of the king and the rightful heir to the throne, but without the amulet, you are as good as nobody. Aside from that, you are yet to marry. The Amaezike Kingdom cannot have an unmarried king." 

Nwaeze blinked. He suspected this would be the direction this discussion would take but he wasn't sure he was prepared for it. 

The rest of the council nodded in concession like obedient sheep as Umule reeled off his advice. 

"Here is what I suggest should be done. While we dig deep to uncover the entities behind Eze's unfortunate death to prevent a repetition of this evil, we will fortify our dear crown prince in a series of rituals to undergo a reconnaissance of all the things your father has ever discussed with you. I am sure Eze must have dropped some hints here and there about the location of the royal amulet.  

"In a case where there is no headway, I believe you shall be mandated to go through the more rigorous rituals, the alternative means for you to secure the throne.

"After that, we will select an eligible candidate for your marriage which shall be done in tandem with your coronation."

The remaining members of the council kept nodding their heads like Agama lizards, admiring the timely wisdom of Umule.  

Nwaeze cringed, inconspicuously he hoped. A flash of Zurielle's beautiful features crossed his mind. Now would be a horrible time to bring up his involvement with her. It would only shatter everything. He had to think fast of a smart way to override this last suggestion.

"All things in good time. For now, all I want to focus on is a regal Ikwa Ozu for my father and if possible, finding out the culprit behind this treacherous act,” Nwaeze said. 

"We have no time to waste, Your Highness, and  we understand your perspective. The perpetrator of this evil might want to launch an attack against this kingdom now that they are aware of our vulnerability. We have to act fast and crown you king as soon as possible or else this conspiracy could lead to your death, I am afraid," the Dibia gravely announced. 

Prince Nwaeze gulped and hid the tremor that passed through his heart from showing in his facial expression. 

~~~

Two weeks passed in a painful blur. Everyone expected Nwaeze to have recovered by now. Everyone looked up to him. But Nwaeze had never felt so disoriented in his life. 

For one, being the only male child of the king translated to carrying the bulk of the burden of arranging a befitting burial, Ikwa Ozu. Of course, Princess Ujunwa was a constant support, but her involvement was restrained, thanks to tradition’s insistence. Besides, leadership was her natural forte. It was something Nwaeze envied her for, an unspoken craving he could sense lurking behind her keen eyes each time the royal court was in session and the king sought his children's opinion on a matter. When their father was alive, Nwaeze tried his best to hide from the spotlight, but Ujunwa was like a beacon, always eager to please the king and showcase her prowess in apt decision-making. 

In the heat of all the upheaval, Nwaeze had gotten no chance to sneak out to meet Zurielle and reassure her that he would do anything to fight for their love, once his coronation was over. 

But that would prove to be a major issue because, without the royal amulet that conferred full power of decision solely to the king, he was subjected to the whims and caprices of the aged men of the council. 

Currently, he was kneeling half-naked amid a semi-circular ring of sacred iroko trees in the heart of Ọhịa Ndiokwu, the Forest of the Ancients.

The frenzied Dibia was chanting some incantations and circling him as though possessed. This was the alternative way out of the fix since he had been unable to unravel where the royal amulet was hidden. 

Nwaeze dreaded the gruesome climax of the sacrificial procedure that no one had summoned the courage to divulge to him. Ezeala had advised him to take heart—the best he could do was to shut his senses if the procedure became more than he could handle.

It was close to midnight. The dim silvery glow of the crescent moon hardly penetrated the thick canopy of forest leaves. Only the flame of the bonfire lit his face. 

The air was nipping cold. All of Nwaeze's exposed flesh was covered in goosebumps. Two of the Dibia's apprentices stationed themselves farther back at the fringe of the ring of trees.

 

At the Dibia's signal, they retreated into the darkness to fetch something. When they came back, Nwaeze realised that it was not a thing they'd gone to get. It was a person. A bound female. 

He could hear her muffled shrieks from underneath the black cloth they'd used to cover her entire head. He frowned. The bodily form and bronze complexion seemed familiar but he reassured himself that it wasn't who he thought it was. Bruised welts dotted her otherwise fresh skin where they had rough-handled her. 

What was going on? Was this the 'next and final level' the Dibia had assured him would be the key to his kingship?

The Dibia, still in his 'spiritually elevated' state, was spewing mumbo jumbo with speckles of spit flying faster than a galloping horse. He fetched a machete, the handle wrapped in red cloth, and began sharpening it against a makeshift stone altar.   

Nwaeze could go through whatever nauseating and rigorous activity entailed his transition to kingship. But he wasn't cut out for more bloodshed, not after losing his father to a mysterious death. How could he sit on the throne when he knew some innocent girl was being mourned by her parents because of him?

The Dibia secured the ropes that bound the lady to a tree and removed her blindfold. Nwaeze's eyes expanded five times their original size as he looked into the alarmed face of… Zurielle?

How could a royal servant girl be chosen as the prime sacrifice by the gods, a non-indigene at that?

On sighting him, Zurielle began to weep and beg for her life, her voice ringing loud, full of terror. He could not bear to watch the love of his life being gruesomely slaughtered because of him. He would never forgive himself. 

"What is going on here? Why is the queen's personal maid here?" Nwaeze asked in a frantic tone. 

"Your Highness, she qualifies. She is an eligible virgin from an alien kingdom and also has royal blood running in her veins. I confirmed all this after appraising all the options I had at my disposal."

"And you intend to do what? Kill her?" Nwaeze’s voice wobbled. 

"You need untainted blood to have the equivalent power of the royal amulet, Your Highness," the Dibia said sternly. "We do not have time to waste. It is almost midnight."

"Nwaeze, please… Save me!" Zurielle cried. 

Nwaeze's heart clenched. He had to risk it all or else he would lose this angel forever.

 

"I’ll have nothing to do with the death of an innocent maiden. Release her at once!" he ordered.

The Dibia stiffened and stared, a steely light entering his eyes.  "So, my hunch was correct. You do love her. This slave… this betrayer!" He spat and muttered some curses. 

Past her tears and snot, Zurielle snapped back at the Dibia, her voice bearing an uncharacteristic courage.

"Don't think your sins will remain hidden forever, you traitor!" she snarled. "I know your secrets. How you've always coveted the throne. I know you were the one behind the king's death. You tortured him in his dream till he revealed the location of the coveted royal amulet. You intend to eventually kill Prince Nwaeze in the course of this pseudo-ritual stage and then return with the amulet, the legitimate right to rule this kingdom. Would you be cowardly enough to deny that this has been your scheme all along and you were simply waiting for the perfect timing?"

Nwaeze gaped in shock as all the gears clicked in place. He had no idea how Zurielle knew all she had said, nor any doubt that she was absolutely correct. 

The Dibia let out a roar of rage and charged at Zurielle. Before Nwaeze could blink twice, the Dibia raised the sharp machete, aiming to slice through Zurielle's slender neck.

With no time to process everything, Nwaeze sprung into action, swift as a deer.

"Nooooo!" he hollered as he sprang on the unsuspecting Dibia from behind.  

The Dibia fell unceremoniously to the damp forest ground with his weapon. Nwaeze took the chance to wrestle the machete away from the man's hand. 

The two stooges of the Dibia tried to intervene, but Nwaeze used his speed and experience as a trained warrior to stop them before they could apprehend him. He sliced them both through their abdomen with one arched swing of the machete. They fell, dead.

The Dibia, realising that his life was in danger, began feverishly spewing incantations. Nwaeze pinned him to the ground with both knees and pointed the tip of the machete at the man's chest, anger boiling in his veins. Through gritted teeth, he yelled, "Why? Why did you do it?”

The Dibia cackled mirthlessly before turning stoic once more.

"You believe that little witch over me? Don't you get it?" the Dibia spluttered. "The amulet will never be found because it has been stolen. And not by me, as she claims, but by her. She is a spy for the Obolokpu Kingdom, purposely sent to seek revenge for the war. She seeks to bring division amid us and then take back the royal amulet to her people because they know without it our kingdom will be in disarray. I see better now why the gods insisted on having her as the sacrifice. She has bewitched you with her black magic, Your Highness."

Nwaeze was confused for a split second, not knowing who to believe. His head pounded as nausea engulfed him. 

"Nwaeze, please I beg you," Zurielle said, "You know in your heart who is really the culprit here. If I wanted evil for you or your kingdom, I would have simply seduced you to sleep with me and you would be dead by the new moon. My prince, my love for you is pure and I know your love for me will testify of the truth." 

"And how can you prove your allegations against me, eh?" the Dibia screeched. "Your accusations are baseless!"

Zurielle sighed as if she didn't want to resort to whatever she was about to do, then she closed her eyes and opened her mouth, releasing a single hypnotic note. To Nwaeze’s shock, her siren-like melody pierced through the air like an arrow. The magical tension was palpable in the air. Nwaeze gaped at Zurielle who seemed to be growing luminescent, her skin glowing a golden hue as she sang. 

Meanwhile, the Dibia began to scream and squirm uncomfortably as if his skin had just come in contact with the Ukpochi plant. Nwaeze watched in stunned silence as the Dibia doubled over and retched. Out of his mouth came a small medal-like object that Nwaeze recognised immediately for it bore the ancient insignia of the Amaeizike Kingdom. This was no doubt the royal amulet passed down the royal bloodline from generation to generation. 

"That would be your evidence," Zurielle said as she stopped singing. 

The Dibia looked shocked and flustered that he had been found out. His bloodshot eyes suddenly  snapped up at Zurielle and he scrambled to his feet, his intent clearly to kill her with his bare hands. 

 

Angered by the Dibia’s blatant betrayal, Nwaeze swung the matchet at the Dibia who was by then inches away from the cowering Zurielle in fluid motion. The matchet sunk deeper into his chest as he fell face first, dripping blood as thick as sap. So much for being the oracle of the gods. What good were the gods if they couldn't protect their priest from a death worse than a commoner's?

Nwaeze's upper torso was splattered with blood. Red splashes were all over Zurielle too. Nwaeze trembled. What had he done? What had he become? How would he explain his rationale for murdering the royal Dibia? Neither the gods nor the royal council would ever  accept him as king over the Amaeizike  Kingdom now that his hands were stained with the blood of their ‘faithful’ priest. 

He untied Zurielle’s restrains and together they began to run. When they had run for about twenty minutes into the forest, Zurielle begged him to stop, wheezing hard from exhaustion. 

"I'm sorry," Nwaeze said some minutes after they had caught their breaths as they leaned against the bark of a large tree.  "I'm so sorry, my love. It's all my fault for allowing you to go through that trauma. For not looking out for you all these while. I'm sorry, Zurielle. Can you please forgive me?"

Zurielle burst into a fresh wave of tears. Nwaeze felt she was still hurt and emotionally raw from the shocking events of a few minutes so he drew her nearer to his chest and tried to pet her. He had so many questions for her, especially concerning her ability. But Zurielle pushed him back and shifted away from him.

"Zurielle?" he said, hurt, "Did I scare you? I'm not a monster. I had to kill the real monster in the picture. I did it to protect you. I'll do anything, kill a thousand men, damn the throne, just for you. You are my everything."

"No," came her soft whimper. "Oh, Nwaeze, no! I'm not."

"But... but why?" He was beginning to get scared by her reaction.

"Because... Because the Dibia was right." Zurielle's face was contorted  in pain. 

Nwaeze scrunched his brows. "What do you mean?"

"He told the truth. I'm not who you think I am. Being an illegitimate child and the youngest surviving daughter of the late king of the Obolokpu Kingdom, I was sent on a mission to this kingdom. Our secret native magic bestowed me with beauty and a compelling magical voice. The Obolokpu Kingdom had heard legends of your royal amulet and wanted the power it possessed for themselves."

Silence reigned for a while as he tried to absorb her baffling confession. He was stalling, waiting for her to just burst into laughter and say, "Fooled you!" But she didn't look at him with her usual amusement. She continued sobbing hard.

When she realised he was finding it hard to believe her, she conjured up the amulet by letting out a short harmonious note from her mouth. In the haste and commotion of the moment, he had forgotten to pick it up after the Dibia vomited it. His eyes widened as she unveiled the amulet from the hem of her skirt, and placed it in his palm.

He looked at the amulet, looked at her and scoffed, in pain. "Zurielle... You lied to me. All this while… you were a spy, and you had magic!"

"I- I'm truly sorry. It was the only way I could prove my worth and reclaim my dignity, being an illegitimate child. Besides, at the time, I was revenge-thirsty. My mother, the only real family I'd ever known, was killed in the war."

Nwaeze stood up and tapped his feet, gesticulating to emphasise  his point. "How do I know this whole love thing is not faux, that I am not under your enchantment?" he asked, shaking.

She sniffed, shifted closer, groped on her knees and held him by his waist. "Nwaeze, believe me when I say that what happened between us was real. I completely stopped using my compelling charm early on but you kept chasing me and my heart kept yearning for you.”

Nwaeze didn't know what to feel. His mind was in turmoil. But, he gauged his heart, and deep down, he knew he loved Zurielle despite all she had revealed to him about her identity and mission. He held his head in his hands for a long time. 

"Zurielle, I forgive you," he said, finally and took her hands in his. 

Shock and relief flooded her features. 

“I understand your plight. I'm no better. I would have been forced to watch an innocent girl slaughtered before my eyes and would probably have done nothing about it if it had not been you. We'll stick together, Zurielle. We'll start a new life far away from here."

"But, but... Once they find the Dibia dead and both of us gone, they'll send out a search party. They'll find us sooner or later."

Nwaeze smiled and lifted the royal amulet. "Not while we have this. Did I tell you I have been going through deeper royal orientation this past week and it included learning the rudiments of how to use the royal amulet?"

Her face lit up as she smiled back. "You just did."

All things had indeed worked in their favour, Nwaeze realised. They were free. The endorsement of the gods, the royal amulet, was in their custody. He could finally do what he had been wishing for a long time. 

He took Zurielle in his arms and kissed her, pouring his love into her, assuring her that both their pasts were wiped off for good. When they parted, breathless, he swiped a strand of her braided hair away from her face and gazed at her with unadulterated passion brimming in his eyes.

Then, he said, "I love you so much, Zurielle, my princess. Let's get married now." 

"Really? Can we?"

"Yes. With the royal amulet as our witness, we can say our vows and have a fresh start from tonight."

"But where will we go after this? And what will happen to the Amaezike Kingdom and all you are responsible for?"

He sighed, hugged her and said into her hair, "Anywhere in the world will be bliss with you. Anywhere but here. The kingdom can survive without me, I'm sure. I wasn't exactly excited by the prospect of filling my father's shoes. My sister is more suited for the role of leadership. Everything will be fine." 

Nwaeze smiled ruefully as he imagined Ujunwa’s delight once she got the chance to rule. The girl had grand ideas for the progress of the Amaezike Kingdom. He was confident that she would make a great leader. Hopefully, once the council elders realised that he was gone for good, they would have no choice but to crown her as queen. It wouldn't be the first time the kingdom would have a female ruler, after all.  

It was time to spread his wings and soar to new peaks with the love of his life securely beside him.