Chapter 6: New Rules, Old Rivalries

That time, Sade soft voice come from outside.

Her knock gentle, almost afraid, like someone who had seen too much in one lifetime.

"Madam, Yemisi don recover from cold, say she wan greet you."

Sade peeked in, face glowing. The old fear was gone, replaced with hope. My heart squeezed at the memory of her death—now undone.

Compound door open, Zainab waka come in with light steps.

She carried herself with a swagger, even in plain cloth. The other servants watched, whispering, some with envy, some with fear.

Even as she wear maid cloth, she still dey carry herself like madam.

Old habits die hard. Her chin stayed high, her back straight, as if the world owed her respect.

I know Zainab dey wait for me to talk.

Her silence was a dare. The air crackled with tension.

So I just look her with small fear, my eyes full of the right amount of confusion and worry.

My acting never failed me. I let the tears flow, let my lips tremble, playing my part well.

"Madam?"

The word tasted strange on my tongue, but I forced it out, as if she still ruled me.

"Good Yemisi, come here. The servant bed too hard—e dey pain body. Arrange another place for me today, or you fit sleep with me."

She stretched, yawned loudly, pretending comfort where there was none. Her command was sharp, but her eyes darted nervously.

She act like nobody dey, open shea butter for dressing table, still dey complain.

She scooped cream absentmindedly, rubbing her elbows, grumbling about small things only the privileged can notice.

"Wetin do your knees? Dem thick and swell, always dey pain."

Her tone was mocking, but I heard the worry hidden inside. She didn’t like what she saw—a reminder of her own former frailty.

That time na when you first enter compound, offend Bisi. I kneel for you whole day, na so I get this sickness.

I let the memory wash over me—the ache in my bones, the shame, the silent pride in surviving.

"Ah, and your hand rough, always dey scratch for night…"

She sniffed, wrinkling her nose, as if my suffering was an inconvenience to her new life.

After some time, maybe she notice my silence, she stop, look back at me.

The room fell quiet. I could feel her gaze burning into me, searching for something.

She see me kneel for ground, tears dey fall for my face.

I let the tears flow, not caring if she saw weakness. My pain was real, my prayer desperate.

"Madam, how you go really be maid? Abeg tell that spirit make dem swap us back."

My voice broke, the words spilling out. I wanted her to see the cost of her wish.

I wan test this "Ngozi" wey she dey talk about.

Deep down, I needed to know—was this all real, or another game of the rich?

Zainab wave hand like say e no concern am.

She shrugged, lips pursed, eyes wandering to the window. Her indifference stung, but I held my ground.

"No be anything. Others like money and position, me I no send. Na freedom I like."

Her voice was light, but her jaw clenched. Freedom, to her, was the only currency.

"I don give you all the riches and glory. You fit do something for me?"

She looked at me, the weight of her demand hanging in the air. I shivered, knowing what came next.

I act confused, look up.

My eyes wide, lips trembling, I waited for her to explain. In this moment, I felt both powerful and powerless.

"This small servant—wetin I fit do for you? No be the spirit fit help you? Abeg swap us back."

I pleaded, voice thin with fear. The words hung in the room, heavy as lead.

Zainab eyes flash with impatience.

Her nostrils flared, mouth tightening. The old pride burned in her eyes—she didn’t like being questioned.

"Why you dey call yourself small? When you be Yemisi, I never treat you as servant. Now you be Zainab, first-rank chief’s daughter, future chief favourite—who go call you small?"

She stomped her foot, her voice rising. I saw how much she missed her old life, how little she valued mine.

"If no be say I fail my mission and points finish, why I go pick you, come dey depend on you…"

Her words came out bitter, regret mixing with anger. I felt her pain, but I didn’t pity her.

She grab my shoulders hard.

Her grip hurt, nails digging into my flesh. I forced myself not to wince.

"Just do as I talk. Quick-quick rise to madam, help me comot compound, else I go tell spirit make thunder fire you."

She hissed the words, her voice cold. I nodded, fear pricking my skin.

As she see me nod, she raise chin, try make me relax.

She softened her tone, patting my shoulder, pretending kindness. It fooled nobody.

"No fear. As long as you listen, your life go better. Yemisi, no ever tell anybody about our swap, unless you wan make dem burn you as witch. I get spirit protection, but na you I dey worry for, silly girl."

Her warning hung heavy. In this village, such secrets could mean death—real or spiritual.

"Later, make chief give me princess title, dash me gold and jewel. When I comot compound, you go be only senior wife for Palm Grove Estate."

She listed her demands, already planning her next move. I just nodded, playing the fool, but inside my mind ran fast.

After serving her all my life, I sabi Zainab well.

Her ways, her tricks, her weakness—all mapped in my mind. This was my chance to finally be more than just a shadow.

Just from her words, I know her magic don spoil.

Her desperation was clear—she was no longer in control. The balance had shifted.

If she want anything again, na through me e go happen.

I tasted power for the first time. She needed me now, more than ever.

She only fit swap with me,

She no fit swap back.

The realization sent a thrill through me. Her trap had become my freedom.

After she waka go, I just hiss, arrange side room for Zainab, and find one mute steward wey dem dey call Musa from old boys’ quarters.

Musa’s eyes were sharp, his loyalty never in question. I trusted him with my new secret.

I give am one job: midnight, hide for side room’s small chamber, write down every word wey Zainab dey talk for herself.

He nodded, understanding without words. In this house, even silence could be weapon.