Deities of Deceit

Chapter Eighteen

"Your younger sisters will continue with the family name, and history will remember," Mama stated.

"What if I don't love her, eh? What if she abuses me!"

"I met your father on my wedding day because I was too sick to do Igbankwu. And yet, here we are, thirty-nine years later happier than the singing birds. Love will come and if she abuses you, move to another floor in the palace."

"Mama–"

"Listen," Papa rested his hand on my shoulder. "Yarima, there has not been a single royal family in this kingdom in three hundred years, do you know what this means?"

"What this means for us!" Fatimah said. "The parties, the society, people wondering what the next fashion will be, ugh! Arjanians need the distraction."

My family were so eagerly trying to convince me. If only they knew what it truly meant. They won't be the only royal family, and the woman whom they once hated, but now worshiped, was a white sympathizer. In any other case she'd be looked down upon in society.

"This is my decision," I said.

"No it is not! Go into that room right now, accept that marriage proposal! Now!" Mama warned.

"I am already engaged!" I protested. Mama grabbed my hand and ripped out the gold ring. "Stop it!"

"Go now!"

"Mama!"

"Now!"

Fumming, I stormed away, rushing to my room. I couldn't believe how low my family would sink for higher status and name. A power hungry, status obsessed bunch. They had now taken it too far, and I couldn't wait to see their faces after finding out I had truly ended it once and for all with Hareti. I was certain I would, the words were right on my lips when I bursted into my bedroom and found Hareti curled up under my sheets. In my bed.

I froze. Never in a million years did I ever believe I'd one day see the sight.

Many nights, on the days I spent away from her, I imagined she was lying next to me as my life partner bounded in marriage. To protect and to love. I wrapped her scarf on my pillow so I could hold onto her scent as long as possible and dream of her in my bed.

This was not a dream. She was in my bed. Her little form cuddled up like a puppy, safe and sound. I remained still, not wanting to wake her up, not wanting to ruin it.

"My beloved," she called faintly.

With a sigh, my gaze fell to my feet. "Don't call me that."

She sat up and for more than a few minutes, the air between us was silent.

"How was your date?"

I scoffed. "Wonderful, if you must know."

"Enough of this madness, Yarima. It's time for you to return to the palace."

"It's time for you to leave."

"Yarima Abubakar."

"Hareti Jaja!"

"You will do as you're told." She sprung from the bed.

"I will not! I want you gone! You broke that bond when you chose to bring another into this!" I gestured at both of us. "Did you ever stop to think about me? Did you ever stop to wonder how I might feel? You broke our vows! You took my heart and crushed it to dust! All this time I believed myself enough for you!"

"You are."

"Don't lie to me!" My voice was deep and haunting.

"Yari, listen to me–"