CHAPTER TWO

Her four bentas escorted her down the ivory corridor, hieroglyphs of the battle of Hesai (many years ago, her father had lured Ooko, the leader of Mezuka, into battle on a great grassland in Hesai. Ooko thought he had the greater numbers only to end up surrounded on all sides and then defeated by her father's cavalry) on its walls, to the dining hall. It felt as if they were ohari shuns escorting her to her execution, ready to restrain her should she try to run. They were taking her to her betrothed, Ean, so they could walk in together as the guests of honor at the new-family feast: a dinner to celebrate the merging of her family and her betrothed's to create a new family. It was a family-only event and the last one before the wedding.

The only family she had coming were her father and brother. Oceania had asked her mother on many occasions what had happened to her side of the family, but she would never talk about it, only saying they had transcended into eternity with the supreme creator before turning the conversation to something else. Even at her mother's transcendence festival, which was to celebrate her life and her transcendence into eternity, the only family anyone had mentioned had been Oceania and her father. She didn't know what had happened to her father's side of the family either. Her mother had never met them, her father never mentioned them, and the one time Oceania had asked him about them, she had received a welt for her troubles.

There he was. Ean: tall. Beautiful dark skin. Smooth face. The sinewy muscles of a lion. Hazel eyes. An easy smile, like a river after miles of desert. She wondered what had made Ukachutwu hide such a hideous creature inside such a beautiful shell. He wore a black silk shirt, opened enough so you could see his powerfully built chest and a hint of his equally powerfully built abdomen, and matching pants and sandals. Around his waist was an itu: a blue-and-yellow-striped linen belt with two gold rings hanging on the end to indicate he was first in line in the royal succession of his ashaland, Teba. It was a country to the far south of Kanai that was so hot and arid they had to ride camels—which, she'd been told were delicious, especially salted—instead of horses. And they had an entirely different belief system. Oceania didn't understand how someone couldn't believe in Ukachutwu and the ta'ajus. They were as real to her as the air she breathed and the water she drank to stay alive, as they should be, because they created them. Once she was married, however, she would have to give up her faith and convert to her betrothed's religion.

Her breath caught as she got closer to Ean. He was often crude and rough with her. During one of the times he had visited her during their courtship, he tried to avail himself of her while they were walking through the royal gardens. Her bentas were nearby and came running when they heard her distress. Ean threatened them; they threatened to tell Kalla, and that had been the end of that.

Oceania supposed she should feel grateful for them rescuing her, but she knew her bentas hadn't done it for her. They hated her, and they hated her father. The bentas were prisoners her father had captured from other countries in Zizouaye he had conquered. They had been young, beautiful women and girls of high birth, like her, in their ashalands, and her father had turned them into the personal slaves of the wealthy and royal families of Kanai (the female eiikus that they had with oharis and komeris would take their place once their youth and beauty were gone). Their sole purpose was to cater to their master's whims, and Kalla had given Oceania's bentas some unusual orders. Her father had nothing but utter contempt for her and expected the worst from her, so he had her bentas make sure she kept her legs together until her wedding night. If the peace treaty didn't go according to plan with the ruler of Teba, he could then have Oceania and her brother marry into other royal families. Ean had originally presented himself as a gentleman, so her bentas had thought nothing of leaving him alone with her. Now when she and Ean met, they accompanied her as if their lives depended on it, because they did. They also watched Oceania to make sure she didn't do anything else to ruin her father's plans. It was bad enough she had been born a girl.

"You look beautiful, Oceania," Ean said with a heavy southern accent.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes down and her hands together at her waist.

He sighed, annoyed, and roughly took her hand. He gave a light knock on the feelka double hall doors, and the dain bentas on the other side opened them.

Asir, the agaba, in a floor-length black robe with purple stripes, announced, "Kalla, uzakwa of Kanai, and his unqwi, Quelsa; Ioaniko, tooksa of Teba, and his te'ata, Uya, I present Ean, the urii and future tooksa of of Teba, and his betrothed, Oceania, the onqwi of Kanai, soon to be eyasi of Teba, and the future te'ata of Teba." Thunderous applause followed.

The spacious ivory dining hall had over two dozen long feelka benches and was capable of sitting twenty thousand, but tonight only two of its tables were filled. A dain benta took Ean and Oceania to their seats at the main table on the dais where their immediately family members sat. Kalla Qwaa rose, and he and Ean clasped hands like old friends. While she and Ean remained strangers during their betrothal, he and Kalla Qwaa had become so close you'd think they were the ones to be married.

She and Ean sat across from their parents. Her father, dressed in a black silk agbada with purple accents and his luako, already had his cold, dark, menacing eyes set on her, threatening her without saying a word. She shuddered to think what would happen if they hadn't had guests. She took a sip of wine to calm herself. When she set her golden amethyst-encrusted chalice down, she saw Quelsa, in her luako, a silk black-and-purple gown with a zig-zag design that accentuated her large breasts and wide hips, and tubular silver-and-diamond bracelets on her wrists Oceania's father had bought for her as a wedding present, looking at her, judging her with her eyes. She'd never liked Oceania and never made any attempts to hide it. To be fair, Oceania had never liked her either. She was her mother's replacement, and a poor one at that. She sounded like a screeching spotted hyena, especially when she laughed, and had the face of one too; she frequently used coarse language and was knowledgeable only when it came to cooking and gossip, which wasn't surprising, given that she used to be one of the Mas Asha cooks before her father, Kalla, had married her. Her most egregious offense, however, was when she'd insisted that her father remove her mother from the hieroglyphs of Mas Asha.

"This is our asha, Kalla," she'd said, "and I am your unqwi, and unlike Solma, I will be your lasting unqwi. It should be me on these historical monuments, not her." And her father obliged! What next? Would her father allow her mother to be erased from all the libraries too? Oceania fought for her mother, telling her father he couldn't do this, that it would dishonor her mother was as well as himself; her father's retort was a strike to her jaw that knocked her on the floor, ending the debate: Solma would be removed from the Mas Asha hieroglyphs, and Quelsa would replace her. Her mother had been the unqwi during her father's greatest successes, supporting him, for better or worse—and in Oceania's opinion, it had definitely been worse—and all Quelsa had done was give birth to a boy.

Sadly, that was a woman's only worth in the world. That and looking beautiful. It didn't matter how smart or how talented you were, just how beautiful you looked and how many heirs you could give your husband. Not that long ago, her father had told her brother, "We must take great care in choosing your wife. The desirability of a man's wife was a reflection of that man's power and status in the world, and her providing sons for him ensured him a lasting dynasty, as well as proved his virility." If having a beautiful wife was so important, she didn't understand why her father had chosen to marry Quelsa after her mother had died.

Oceania looked around the hall and saw all the wives with their sweet, docile smiles, laughing coquettishly at all the men's jokes but especially their husband's; not speaking unless spoken to, and always only after a confirming look from their husbands before doing so; proudly showing off the heir-filled swollen bellies their husbands had gifted them with; knowing their place as women. It was a sobering thought that this was to be her future.

"Don't look so sad, half-sister. After all, Ean's the one who has to marry you," chuckled Kalla Qwaa. Her little brother, the living miracle, according to the stories about him. He was dressed exactly like their father, but with a smaller amethyst on his luako. He looked like their father too, before time had added lines and hair to his face. He always called her half-sister, as if to say they weren't really family, a taunt he had probably learned from his vile mother. Or their father. The boy had never had a single original thought, so he had to have learned it from somebody. The insult hurt her more than she cared to admit, but she didn't know why. In all the years they had lived together, they had never been close. Oceania would've loved to strike Kalla Qwaa back, but she knew their father would never allow it. Her brother could be indulged anything. She could not. He sat next to his betrothed, Jalia. A beautiful, ebullient girl of thirteen and Ean's sister, dressed in a pink feathery dress to show off her blossoming figure, with makeup and nails to match. She was very sweet and kind, nothing at all like her brother.

Ean stood up, golden chalice in hand. "I'd like to make a toast. I've been a man for four years now. I fought in the war that divided our families. When my father told me that I was to marry the daughter of our former enemy, I thought him a fool. Of course I didn't dare speak my thoughts to him"—much laughter from the crowd—"but I thought it was madness to marry the daughter of our scourge. And then I came here, and I met Oceania." He took her hand in his, much more gentle than he had been before. "Stand up, oti."

Oceania felt her pulse quicken as she followed his command. What was he doing?

"She is the most beautiful, graceful, elegant creature I have ever laid eyes on. And after spending much time with her"—he turned to look at her father—"all very chaste, I assure you"—more laughter from everyone—"I discovered that her beauty was surpassed only by the magnificence of her heart. She will do me a great honor tomorrow by becoming my wife. And I can only hope I do the same when I become her husband." He looked at her, a lascivious smirk on his face disguised as a warm and loving smile. "I love you, oti." He pressed his lips against hers and forced his tongue inside her mouth. Ean had planned this, foisting intimacy upon her at a time when he knew she couldn't resist; if she did, worse than a kiss would await her. Her father would make sure of it if she embarrassed him in front of their honored guests. She wanted to scream, to bite him, to push him off, but since she couldn't, she did the only thing she could do: nothing. She might have been an onqwi, but she might as well have been a benta.

Everyone gave them another round of applause.

They sat back down. The smell of roasted ostrich and bush pig and egusi stew filled Oceania's nostrils. She also saw sliced cucumbers and roasted yams. All of them among her favorite foods, but she didn't want any of it. She wanted to end her engagement. After what had transpired tonight, she knew she could not go through with this marriage, but she didn't have the power to stop it. Only one of the fathers, a komeri, or the uzakwa could, with the uzakwa having the final word. She knew only someone with the mind of a fooso or the insane would try what she was intending to try, but she didn't know what else to do. She was desperate, and desperate people do insane and foolish things.

After the feast, she steeled herself and approached her father in his confidential chamber, where he met in private to work with his inner circle of advisors, the walls painted with hieroglyphs of how he had saved Kanai from the previous uzakwa. Her bentas waited in the hallway with her and her father's ohari shuns.

Her father was working at his feelka desk. It was lined with gold and spotted with amethysts. Free of his luako, his shiny bald head reflected the light coming from the torches in the walls.

"It was a wonderful feast, Father," she said. "I am humbled by your generosity."

"Which is why you only had a few sips of wine tonight?" He was being sarcastic, but his voice sounded warm, charming, inviting. It always did. Until it didn't. She had the terrible memories and the faded bruises associated with them to prove it, and so had her mother. It had taken her years of living with him to learn what would make him angry, and what signs to look for that he was about to become angry.

"Forgive me if I have offended you, Father. I meant no harm."

"I've forgiven far worse from you, Daughter, of course I can forgive this. Just make sure you perform all of your duties, tomorrow. Your reticence with Ean tonight did not go unnoticed. An heir is needed from this union, Oceania. You've already been a disappointment in so many ways, you don't want to be a disappointment in this way like your mother, do you? All she could produce was you."

He never missed an opportunity to slight her mother, even seven years after her passing. She pushed his insult to the back of her mind, something she had gotten used to since her mother had transcended, and pressed a smile onto her face. She was on a mission. "I . . . that was what I came to speak to you about, Father. I probably should have said something earlier. I . . ."

"What is it, girl?"

"I . . ."

"What!"

"I can't do this, Father, marry Ean. Please don't require it of me. I never ask you for anything. Please, Father."

Since she'd been there, her father had not looked up once, paying far more attention to the stack of papyrus on his desk than to her. Now, she had his attention, and by the way his beard twitched, she would soon have his wrath. He moved toward her, and she moved back, his imposing, strongly built body eclipsing hers like the moon eclipsing the sun.

"This alliance is a year in the making. Your and your brother's marriages to the children of Teba are the lynchpin to that alliance. Your wedding will go on tomorrow as planned."

"He hurts me. I am terrified of what will happen if our union is confirmed and I have to move to Teba with him."

"Your wedding will go on tomorrow as planned."

He wouldn't even listen to her. It was making her angry, and she could feel herself showing it, something she hadn't done in ages. "You do so much for Quelsa and Kalla Qwaa, it won't hurt you to do this one thing for me—ah!" The back of her father's hand sent her to the floor, her luako landing a few feet away, her box braids splayed like octopus tentacles, the amethysts beaded into the ends like little drops of ink. Her father was on his haunches now. He took her by the nape of the neck to pull her closer to him.

"I am the leader of the Kanaian empire and I am your father. You will do what I say, when I say it, no questioning, no arguing, do you understand, little girl?" His voice rang with rage, and droplets of spittle landed on her face. He always spat when he was truly angry.

"Yes, I understand, Father," she said, her voice cracking, her eyes doing their best not to meet his, those eyes that were always so dark, menacing, and full of terror whenever they laid upon her. They were the eyes of true evil.

He dropped her back to the floor as he stood back up. "Good," he said, heading back toward his desk, his voice back to being suave and charming. "Don't forget your luako. And tell your bentas to see to your face. It needs to be exceptional tomorrow."