Page 140 of Firstborn of the Sun
Terrified, he took several steps back. The further he moved, the closer his grandfather seemed to be to him. ‘My son died so you could claim that throne and you risk it all for a girl? A spawn of your enemy. How dare you?’ The old man’s voice boomed in his mind so loudly, he felt his ears bleed.
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ Alawani said, finding courage within his fear. ‘I’m here, and she’s gone.’
‘You could have killed her and ended this!’
‘I have done everything you’ve asked of me. I accepted your call, I broke my vows to L’?r?, I have chosen your gods and your Order. I have nothing more to give you,’ Alawani said, his voice breaking. ‘I could have died on this stone. I’ve given you my life.’
Àlùfáà-Àgbà’s voice softened, ‘My dear child, I would never have let that happen.’
As he spoke, Alawani felt the shame of knowing that death by stripping was never a risk. His life was never in danger. His soul would never have been forfeited to the Red Stone. L’?r? had done all she did for nothing.
‘The gods have declared that you, my boy, are special beyond words. You will no longer be prince in name alone, without power or authority. You are to be our king,’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà said, holding his face.
‘Once you become High Priest and Lord Regent of this land, you will perform your duties in the marriage ceremonies and have your heirs, but you will not yield until your death, and your firstborn will rule until his death, and every firstborn will rule, and our kingdom will reign forever. Don’t you see the glorious plan the gods have for us, my boy?’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà said, urging his words to convince him.
In the light of all he knew now, even through all the fighting, he felt pity for Tofa, the boy who’d soon meet his end. Now that the crown heir was without agbára oru, that end might come even sooner. Despite everything, Alawani couldn’t deny the appeal of the throne. A chance to redeem his father’s legacy. To keep the oaths his father broke.
He missed L’?r?. He loved her. His Tèmi was his sun. His guiding star. The one who held his heart in a gentle embrace and loved him in ways he’d not thought possible. And without her, he could feel a darkness shroud over him. She’d kept him from sinking into himself more times than he could count, and he needed her. He desperately needed her, and he would love her until his dying breath. In his way, he’d upheld their oath: he had chosen her, chosen life for her, and in his heart, it would always be them against the world for he would always protect her. So as much as it hurt, he knew he’d made the right call. L’?r? could never claim the throne to the kingdom of Oru, not if she wanted to live. Because the throne was already his.
A knock on the door made him jolt up. It took a moment to reorientate himself in the darkness of the cell. He shonehis agbára against the door and his heart ached at the dull orange light that came from his core. ‘Leave me alone, Milúà,’ he shouted at the door.
‘It is me, Márùn,’ the voice called from the other side.
‘Márùn?’ he asked. ‘What are you doing here? Come in!’
The girl walked into the dark cell, and he stood to meet her.
‘How did you get here? Are you okay?’ he said, worried. ‘Did you get Baba-Ìtàn and Kyà? Where are they?’
‘I’m fine,’ Márùn said in a low voice.
She seemed to stand taller. Her clothes were different. If he had met her on the street, he might have thought she was a soldier in her brown leather outfit, nearly matching the tawny colour of her skin.
‘I’ve got a message for you,’ Márùn said as she cupped her hands in front of him and whispered old magic spells. A tongue of flame blossomed inside her palms.
Alawani looked from her to the fire and back. ‘What’s this?’
She stood still, not making a sound. A heartbeat later, a voice boomed from the flame, ‘Come home.’
Àlùfáà-Àgbà. His grandfather’s voice still echoed from his dreams.
He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a confused silence as he looked at Márùn. ‘I don’t understand.’
Márùn let out an exasperated sigh. The flame disappeared as she let her hands fall to her side. ‘Àlùfáà-Àgbà sent me to keep an eye on you since you left the temple,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he didn’t trust you to return, and I was to make sure that you did.’
‘Your life debt,’ Alawani gasped. ‘You’re not bound to my mother, you’re bound to him.’
Márùn nodded, a frown formed across her face. ‘I had no choice. Just like you.’
‘You made us trust you. Were you ever going to free Baba-Ìtàn and Kyà?’
‘No,’ Márùn said plainly. ‘Were you ever going to leave the kingdom with her?’
Alawani glared at her, then said, ‘No,’ his voice raw with shame and guilt.
‘Why did you swear the sovereign oath to L’?r??’ Alawani asked after a moment’s silence.
‘The same reason you did. Everyone bowed, and so I had to.’
