Deities of Deceit

Chapter Seventeen

Yarima Abubakar | Seventeen
BLONDE & BROWN
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"G... general... Jookwah," he greeted in a high pitched surprised tone shaking me out of my stare.

I sprung up from the floor, fisting my palm tight. "Jookwah," I replied speedily, leaving my gaze on him as the words of comfort and reassurance that he was safe, died in my throat.

I walked past him, shaking off the fuzziness in my head and flexing my palm. Somehow the sight of him made me want to stretch my fingers, an attempt to relieve the tension that grew in my shoulders. I kept my steps steady, traveling to the other end of the third floor, moving quickly enough to get away from him as fast as possible. It was a while before I realized he was following me, his footsteps coming after mine just as fast.

"Can I help you?" I asked, turning around sharply. He shuddered backwards, dropping his head.

He appeared more frail and pale than I remember. The third floor was dimmer than the rest of the temple, hence the reason I had not yet taken notice of the scars on his feet and arms until then. They were not there the first time I had seen him, neither was the fear. My forehead creased with concern I knew was not mine. He was the same, but so different. The man that dared steal a glance at me in the colosseum now appeared small and cowardly.

"Are you mute?" I asked, when his answer did not come.

He shook his head in a rush, his palms intertwined together. He was nervous. So nervous his toes curled into the stone floor.

"Up here," I commanded again, pointing at my face.

He raised his gaze to mine and my heart sank. He was breathtakingly beautiful. The kind of beauty that came soft to the eyes but striking to the heart. His now thin figure and watery eyes did little to hide it. He bit his lower lip and released it, making it redder. I swallowed. His blonde hair was a pretty bushy mess falling over his forehead in a fringe.

"Young man, how can I help you?" I hastened my words this time. I wanted to be away from his presence and return to my thoughts. I sensed if I lingered any longer, he would be my only thought.

"Umm..." his voice came faintly. Barely audible.

"What?" I leaned in.

"Are you going to report me?" he asked in a quivering tone.

"Report you?"

He nodded. "To Obi Udume."

I leaned back, now recollecting he was Udume's servant. That night at the colosseum, he was with Udume. That part of the picture never fractionated into my memory. I hadn't seen him at Udume's corner the day I brought wine, nor on my engagement day.

"No," I answered and began to turn away.

"Are you going to discipline me instead?" he asked sharply.

I smirked. "I guess the daring young man I remember is still in there somewhere."

His eyes grew a little large. "You remember me?"

"You aren't a difficult man to remember, young fellow."

It was silent for a moment as his gaze retreated to the floor and mine stayed on him. "Do you have a name?"

"Nimah," he said simply.

"Just... Nimah?"

"Nimah, Eze," he completed, lifting his gaze back to me.

"Well, Nimah. No harm will come to you. You aren't in the wrong, I wasn't watching where I was going."