CHAPTER ONE
What would it be like if I never came back up?
She had curled into a ball and let herself sink to the bottom of the vast marble tub, her long box braids protected by her purple silk head wrap, the warm water calming the buzzing on her skin, her mind going as deep as the ocean itself.
She had been under for so long that her breath had started to leave her, and she wondered: What would it be like if I never came back up?
Dismissing the thought, she rose back up to the surface, floating in the disturbed waters, the smell of perfumes and shea butter quickly filling her nostrils. She loved her baths as they were the closest she had gotten to swimming in ages. The last time she had gone was seven years ago, when her mother had still been alive. She had asked her father on many occasions since then to let her go to one of the lakes or rivers or even to the sea, but he had always said no. The answer to everything she asked for was always no.
She rolled over: the water massaged her back as she floated. A moan escaped her lips. She could stay in here all day. She wished she could, given what she had to do tonight and especially given what she had to do tomorrow.
"Onqwi! Onqwi!"
Hearing Piya, one of her bentas, call her made her rise. Once the water had cleared from her eyes, she saw Piya standing there in her uniform of a purple linen dress with a matching head scarf. According to her father, it was a sign of his wealth and generosity as most leaders wouldn't spare the cost of having his slaves clothed.
Her father, Kalla, was the uzakwa, the ruler of their homeland, Kanai, and all the surrounding countries he had defeated to build his empire. Quelsa, his wife, was his unqwi consort. Their son, Kalla Qwaa, was the onqwa, her father's heir apparent. And then there was her, Oceania, the onqwi, the female child, the constant disappointment.
Piya clasped her hands together in a prayer position and bowed her head before speaking again. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Onqwi. I know how much you enjoy your times at the bath, but your father will be very upset if we are late. Forgive me for telling you what you already know, but tonight is very important."
Oceania wanted to look into Piya's beautiful almond-shaped eyes and tell her that she didn't care about how important tonight was or what her father wanted or about tomorrow.
"Yes, of course, Piya," she said, smiling and nodding, "I'll be ready to be dressed in a few moments."
Piya bowed again, hands together, a deferential smile on her face, and returned to the back of the room.
Oceania began cleaning herself with a bar of shea butter. She knew it was wrong to feel this way, but a part of her wished she had died when her mother had.
As she stood in the middle of her bedchamber, Piya and Sati, another one of her bentas, zipped about, dressing her, perfuming her, and applying her makeup. Her father had stressed to them she had to look better than perfect for tonight.
"You look beautiful, Onqwi," Piya said.
Oceania suppressed a grimace. She forced herself to smile sweetly instead. "Thank you." An onqwi was always gracious.
"Yes, Prince Ean shall praise Ukachutwu once he sees you," said Sati as she dotted around Oceania's eyes with purple face paint.
"Don't be silly, Sati," Piya said. "He and the rest of the Tebi don't believe in the supreme creator and the ta'ajus. They have their own religion."
"Well, they'll believe once they see the onqwi. How could they not after beholding such a beautiful vision? Come see for yourself, Onqwi."
Each of her bentas took her by the hand and escorted her to the full-length mirror.
"See? See how beautiful you are? You're perfect, the dress is perfect . . ."
She was in a floor-length, long-sleeved black sheer gown netted with gold and beaded with amethysts.
". . . the earrings are perfect . . ."
On her ears she wore black crisscrossed earrings made from ivory with an amethyst at the overlap.
". . . and everything goes perfectly with your luako."
The royal family wore luakos: black silk egg-shaped headdresses with an amethyst, the jewel for the supreme creator and the royal family, placed in the center-front, the size of the amethyst determined by the order of succession. As onqwi, Oceania had the smallest.
"The necklace doesn't," Piya said, her arms crossed as she looked her up and down. She was referring to the silver chain around Oceania's neck that had three large triangular sapphires hanging from it. "It actually jars with everything." With a smile, she hastily added, "But as always, the onqwi is so beautiful I'm sure no one will notice."
Piya was right. The necklace didn't fit with what she was wearing. It often didn't, but Oceania would never go anywhere without it. It was the last thing her mother had given to her before she had passed. They might've had a checkered relationship, but Oceania still loved her, and the necklace made her feel as though a part of her mother was still with her.
"You must be so excited," Sati said, the freckles on her cheeks rearranging as her smile widened. "I have yet to meet a girl who doesn't dream of her wedding day." She and Piya were looking at her expectantly. She knew what they were looking for, and she knew she had better give it to them. Or else.
She pressed her face into another smile and nodded. "I am, very much so."
She should be excited about getting married. She was fifteen now, a full woman, and that was what women did with their lives, got married and had children. But the truth was Oceania was dreading tomorrow. She had been dreading it for moons.
While she might have mixed emotions concerning her mother, she knew exactly how she felt about her father. She despised him, and tomorrow he would be forcing her to marry Ean, the heir to Teba and a man every inch as bad as him.
When she had been a child, she had often hoped and longed for marriage, for someone, anyone, to come and take her away from life with her father and his new wife and their son, for someone to give her a new family to escape this one. But now, standing here in this beautiful gown, only a day away from her wedding, she realized what she had really hoped and longed for was her freedom and a chance to be happy.
Another of her bentas entered the room. "They're ready for you, Onqwi."
Her words were like death drums to Oceania.
CHAPTER TWO
Her four bentas escorted her down the ivory corridor, hieroglyphs of the battle of Hesai on its walls, to the dining hall. It felt as if they were ohari shuns marching her to her execution, ready to restrain her should she try to run.
She would meet her betrothed, Ean, first so they could walk in together as the guests of honor at the new-family feast: a dinner to celebrate the merging of their two families to create a new family. It was the last event before the wedding and it was exclusive to kin.
The only family members Oceania had coming were her father and her brother. She had asked her mother on many occasions what had happened to her side of the family, but her mother would never talk about it, only saying they had transcended into eternity to be with the supreme creator before turning the conversation to something else. Even at her mother's transcendence festival, 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 her father about them, she had received nothing but pain for her troubles.
There he was, waiting for her at the opposite end of the corridor: Ean. Tall. Beautiful dark skin. Smooth face. The sinewy muscles of a lion. Hazel eyes. An easy smile, like a river after leagues and leagues of desert. She wondered what had made Ukachutwu hide such a hideous creature inside such a beautiful shell. Perhaps he was an ucctu.
Her betrothed wore a black silk shirt, opened enough so you could see his powerfully built chest and a hint of his equally powerfully built abdomen. Around the waist of his black silk pants, he wore a blue-and-yellow-striped linen belt called an itu. It had two gold rings hanging on the end to indicate he was first in line in the royal succession of his homeland, Teba. It was a country in the far north 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 could not believe in Ukachutwu and the ta'ajus. They were as real to her as the air she breathed and the water she drank to survive, as they should be because the ta'ajus had created them. And Ukachutwu had created them. Once she was married, however, Oceania would have to give up her faith and convert to her betrothed's religion. She would have to give up everything, herself included, all because her father had forged an alliance with Ean's father.
It was quite the anomaly: her father wouldn't normally make peace treaties with his enemies. He simply conquered them. But this time they had come to form an alliance because her father couldn't defeat Teba, only being able to battle it to a stalemate. She had learned during her lessons that the country was fortified by mountains, making it impregnable. If only she could say the same for herself.
Her breath caught as she got closer to Ean. He was often crude and rough with her. One such time had been in the royal gardens.
It had been a beautiful day, especially for a wet season: a high sun in the clear, blue sky, a sea of rolling green fields under their feet, a rainbow of sweet-smelling flowers, and high trees with serenading birds surrounding them.
Ean held her hand gently in his big, strong palm as they walked and talked. He was telling her about his homeland. "And that's what we do in Teba to bring the sun back during sandstorms."
"Well, it sounds exciting," Oceania said, "especially the part with the fire breathers and dancers."
"Yes, those are my favorite parts as well. I wish to be true, I wish we had some fire right now." He laughed. "I don't know how you can stomach it here. It's so cold."
"I'm sorry you're not enjoying our weather. But I'm sure you'll appreciate that we don't get the intense sandstorms you get in Teba. And it does get warmer during the dry season."
"Perhaps I'll come back then for another visit. Perhaps you can show me how to ride one of those horses."
He turned toward her. That beautiful, easy smile was on his face, and his hazel eyes dazzled in the sun like diamonds. She wasn't sure if she wanted to marry him, and though she loved his accent, she definitely didn't love him. She didn't even know him, this being only their third meeting. But he was easy to be around, easy to talk to. She hadn't expected that. Most of her interactions with men were with her father, and he inspired most of her nightmares. Just being around him was a nightmare. But it wasn't that way with Ean. It didn't scare her to be in his presence. It was nice. Pleasant. Good.
"Sure, of course," she said, and putting her onqwi training into use, she caressed the great feelka tree masquerading as his upper arm then added, "although I'm sure such an athletic warrior won't need much if any help. I'll probably need a lot more help from you learning how to ride a camel when I visit Teba."
"You will love it. In Teba we have the best food in the world and festivals where exotic performers and animals put on shows." He smiled at her again. But this time there was something different about it. And his eyes. She couldn't quite figure out what had changed. "And it is always warm and full of sun. Most of the time, it's so hot you don't even need clothes."
"Aah!"
He slammed her against a tree; the birds, their beautiful songs now alarmed cries, scattered from the branches.
"What—what are you doing?"
"Shut up!"
He slapped her so hard her head hit the tree.
She screamed again.
He tried to move a hand under her dress. Now she knew what had changed: nothing. He had always been this way, the way her father and the ohari shuns were with the bentas, the way all men were with women perhaps. He had simply hidden it until he had felt free enough to show it.
She tried to push him away. "No! Stop! Sto—"
He brought his other hand against her throat and pushed down hard, stifling her screams, while continuing upward with his other hand.
"Let her go!" Piya ordered. She was joined by Oceania's other bentas.
He scoffed. "I don't take orders from slave girls. I do what I want with slave girls."
"And will you do what you want with the uzakwa after he learns of your treatment of his daughter?"
One hand fell from Oceania's thigh and the other from her throat.
"Are you all right, Onqwi?"
Oceania came out of her memory to find herself back in the corridor, her hand on her neck, and Piya and her other bentas staring at her.
"Are you all right?" Piya asked again. "You looked so disturbed."
Oceania forced a smile upon her face and nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'm all right. I'm just a bit famished. Sorry if I frightened you."
"No worries, Onqwi. We just wanted to make sure you were all right."
They continued walking toward Ean and the dining hall. Oceania supposed she should feel grateful for her bentas being concerned about her, for them rescuing her from Ean, but she knew they hadn't done any of it for her. They hated her because of her father. They had been young, beautiful women and girls of high birth, like her, in their homelands; and her father had turned them into the personal slaves of the ruling families of Kanai. Their sole purpose was to cater to their master's whims, and her father had given her bentas some unusual orders. He had nothing but utter contempt for her and he expected nothing but the worst from her, so he had ordered her bentas to make sure she remained pure and untouched until her wedding night. If the peace treaty didn't go as planned with the ruler of Teba, he could then have Oceania and her brother married 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, her bentas 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 already terrible enough she, his first child, had been born a girl.
"You look beautiful, Oceania," Ean said when she finally reached him. "Breathtakingly beautiful."
And yet sadly he was still breathing.
"Thank you," she said, her eyes down and her hands together at her waist.
He grunted, annoyed, and roughly took her hand. He gave a light knock on the feelka double hall doors, and the servants on the other side opened them.
Asir, the royal announcer, in a floor-length black robe with purple stripes, proclaimed, "Kalla, uzakwa of Kanai, and his unqwi, Quelsa; Ioaniko, king of Teba, and his queen, Uya, I present Ean, the prince and future king of Teba, and his betrothed, Oceania, the onqwi of Kanai."
Thunderous applause followed as Ean and Oceania entered the spacious ivory dining hall, Ean still holding onto Oceania's hand, the two of them smiling as though they were truly in love. The hall held over three dozen long feelka benches and could sit twenty thousand, but tonight only four of its tables were filled. Oceania's bentas took Ean and her to their seats at the main table on the dais where their immediate family members sat. Kalla Qwaa rose, and he and Ean clasped hands as if they had been born brothers. While she and Ean had remained strangers during their betrothal, he and her brother 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, 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. She was wearing her luako and a silk black-and-purple gown with a zig-zag design that accentuated her large breasts and even larger hips; her thick wrists were beautified with tubular silver-and-diamond wedding bracelets. Quelsa was looking at Oceania, 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. Quelsa 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. Not surprising, given that she used to be one of the cooks before Oceania's father had married her. Quelsa's most egregious offense, however, was when she'd insisted that Oceania's father remove her mother from the hieroglyphs of their palace, Mas Asha.
"This is our home, Kalla," Quelsa had 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 Oceania's 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 as well as himself; Oceania's father gave a brutal retort that left her on the floor, crying, ending the debate: Solma would be removed from the Mas Asha hieroglyphs, and Quelsa would replace her as if she had been there all along. Oceania's 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 talented you were, just how beautiful you looked and how many heirs you could give your husband. As her father had recently told her brother: "We must take great care in choosing your wife. The desirability of a man's wife is a reflection of that man's power and status in the world, and her providing sons for him ensures him a lasting dynasty as well as proves 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; proudly showing off the heir-filled swollen bellies their husbands had gifted them; 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. 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.
Kalla Qwaa 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 him back, but she knew their father would never allow it. Her brother could be indulged anything. She could not.
Her little brother was the living miracle according to the stories about him. Her treacherous father had remarried only a few moons after her mother had transcended, and then his new wife gave birth to a boy only two years younger than Oceania a moon after that—a miracle birth, her father had said, granted by Ukachutwu to make up for the terrible and sudden passing of the first unqwi and her inability to produce an heir.
A delicate hand with pink fingernails lightly touched Kalla Qwaa's, drawing his attention away from Oceania. "Kalla Qwaa, are you still going to show me your sword collection after dinner?" Jalia, his betrothed, asked.
"Of course, oti," he said.
Jalia cast an empathetic smile Oceania's way as she and Kalla Qwaa continued talking. It was as radiant as the pink feathery dress she was wearing to show off her developing figure. Oceania returned the smile, grateful for the mercy Jalia had just shown her. Jalia was an ebullient girl of thirteen and Ean's sister and, being very sweet and kind, only resembled him in beauty.
Ean stood up, 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 pitted our families against each other. 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 this thought to him"—a wave of laughter from the crowd—"but yes, 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, 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 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 Ean, to push him off her. 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.
Ean and Oceania sat back down. Feeling as though someone was carving her apart from the inside, her hand trembled as she reached for more wine. With her other hand, her steady hand, she grabbed her chalice and finished her drink.
Throughout the evening, bentas moved about, smiling and placing golden plates of food on the tables. Savory aromas from 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. What she wanted was to end her engagement. What had transpired tonight had crystallized in her mind what she had felt in her heart all along. But she didn't have the power to stop this marriage. Only one of the fathers, a komeri, or the uzakwa could with the uzakwa having the final word, and Oceania knew her father would sooner end her than end his alliance.
She finished her chalice for the fifth time that night. She had finished her tenth by the time the feast slowed.
Piya came behind her, whispered in her ear: "Onqwi, your father requires your presence in his confidential chamber after the feast."
Oceania's hand trembled again, as tarantulas crawled up her belly. With her other hand, she finished her eleventh chalice of wine.
After the feast she steeled herself and joined her father in his confidential chamber, leaving her bentas waiting 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. The walls and ceiling's hieroglyphs told the tale of how her father had saved Kanai from the previous uzakwa. Free of his luako, her father's shiny bald head reflected the light coming from the torches in the walls.
A little unsteady on her feet, she went to him and clumsily pulled out one of the feelka chairs opposite his desk. "You—you wanted to see me, Father?" she said, forcing her voice to sound bright and cheerful when, really, she was terrified.
"You stink of wine, girl," her father said without looking up. She started to apologize, but he cut her off. "Don't sit. You won't be staying long. I saw your reticence with Ean tonight. So did others, including the king and queen of Teba." He was vexed with her, as was usual, but his voice sounded warm, charming, persuasive. 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 years of living with her father to learn what would make him angry and what signs to look for that he was about to become angry.
She had better apologize, calm him down. "I—"
"Stop talking, girl, and just listen. Make sure you perform all of your duties tomorrow. 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."
"I don't want to marry him!" she said breathlessly. She knew she shouldn't have, but it had just poured out of her.
"What?" He hadn't heard what she had said. "What did you say?"
Don't repeat it.
"What was it, girl?"
He doesn't care.
"I . . ."
"What!"
Nothing! Tell him you said nothing! Then apologize and leave! Now!
"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 mind to the stack of papyrus on his desk than to her. Now, she had his full attention, and by the way his beard twitched, she would soon have his full wrath. He moved toward her and she stumbled back, his imposing body eclipsing hers like the moon eclipsing the sun.
"I'm sorry," she cried, "I—"
"This alliance is a year in the making. Your and your brother's marriages to the children of Teba are the essential element to that alliance. Your wedding will go on tomorrow as planned."
"Father, please, I am begging you. 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—something she hadn't felt or shown in ages. "You do so much for Quelsa and Kalla Qwaa, it won't hurt you to do this one thing for me—aah!"
The back of her father's hand sent her to the floor, her luako landing a few feet away, her box braids that had been neatly tucked inside it splayed like octopus tentacles, the amethysts beaded into the ends like droplets 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, 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 cold, so menacing, and so full of terror whenever they laid upon her.
He dropped her back to the floor as he stood 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."