Chapter 4: The Crown Prince’s Trap

Prince Sani, Musa Danladi, no dey my plan. Na just footnote for saga wey I dey ready to rewrite.

Born by lowly concubine, Musa Garba no like am. Dem send am go Sani Town—dry place, even tree dey complain.

To marry am na to dey locked for Sani Town forever—golden cage without key.

Since I wan cause wahala for Garba dynasty, I gats enter heart of power. Where danger dey high, reward dey high too.

Only way—marry the future king, Musa Yunusa. Then my plan fit begin.

I plan every step careful, like cat cross hot roofing sheet.

E just be say Noble Consort Zainab birthday dey come. She be Musa Garba late wife younger sister, next in power after queen. Her word na law for palace.

My sister carry me go greet Noble Consort Zainab, bow down well, wrapper dey brush the tile as we kneel.

She look me, smile full of meaning, eyes sharp like needle. She measure me from head reach toe, lips purse like person dey count money.

"This one na Consort Ifedolapo younger sister? She fine pass Consort Ifedolapo that year." Her voice get both praise and warning, like say beauty no fit save person from wahala.

My sister quick reply, humble and small flattery, "Aunty, you dey praise us too much. Even two of us no fit reach your grace. Without your guidance, how we go survive for palace?"

Noble Consort Zainab nod, satisfied. "King dey talk true—Consort Ifedolapo get sense pass all of una. No wonder she still dey last."

Just to watch my sister humble herself, I know the kind life she dey suffer all these years. Always dey bow, always dey give way—spirit battered by palace wahala.

My heart pain for her. My resolve strong. I clench fist, vow never to bow my head like that.

Noble Consort Zainab birthday feast—crown prince go attend. Musa Yunusa, born by king consort, na her nephew—king favourite. Every move na palace dey watch am.

When I dey with common people, I hear say crown prince dey kind, dey respect elders. He dey greet old women for well, dash coin to hungry pikin, dey settle market wahala with gentle word.

For feast, I observe am—handsome, well-behaved, graceful. Musa Garba and Noble Consort Zainab dey praise am, pride thick for their voice.

Na pity—such good crown prince go fall inside my trap. I feel small guilt, but I push am aside. He be enemy son.

I disguise as maid, pour him palm wine with secret medicine, powder from old woman for Makurdi wey owe my family.

Soon, him face red. He stand, pretend sick, rush go side chamber of Zaria Hall, no fit return main compound. Steps dey wobble, hand hold wall.

I follow am quietly, heart dey pound like drum for festival.

I burst enter the room, face red, breath dey rush.

As I enter, he pull me for hot embrace. He dey breathe hard, but eyes clear—he dey fight himself. Hand dey shake as he push me, then pull me again.

"I don chop medicine. I no wan spoil your purity. Abeg, go bring cold water, pour for my head..." Him voice dey desperate, but care still dey inside.

I turn, wrap my hand round him neck, kiss him, press my chest to him. Sandalwood and sweat smell full my nose.

Musa Yunusa breath dey rough. Many times he try push me, but medicine strong. My own heart dey run, shame and determination dey fight inside me.

When everything calm and medicine fade, his eyes clear. He look me, eyes full of guilt. He touch my cheek, voice low.

"I go take responsibility. I swear."

Later I wonder—Musa Yunusa ever regret that promise? If he act ruthless, accuse me or finish me, maybe palace for forget me, he go waka free.

But he no do am. He dress me, carry me go main compound, ask Musa Garba make royal order to marry me. Him hand never leave my own.

Na so our tangled story start, roots twist like old iroko tree.