White men.
That name sent shivers down King Jelani's spine.
The entire hall fell quiet, both in disbelief and shock as the women, including the guards and servants who stood by, looked at each other with wide eyes.
Moremi's breath hitched, and her words tangled in her throat. She could hardly believe what she had just done—shouted the one secret she had hoped to bury. The only thing that could have made her father pause, even for a moment.
She didn't know if it was only shaped by fear but she could see something different in her father's eyes at the mention of the white men.
"What are you talking about?" King Jelani asked her, speaking the mind of everyone in the room as they stared curiously at her, anticipating her reply.
Moremi swallowed hard, her entire body trembling as she repeated, "White men, Father. We saw them near the western border. Akan and I. They were passing by...with slaves. Black slaves."
The room went silent again for a moment and Moremi knew she had not convinced them enough.
She continued, her words tumbled out of her mouth in a frantic rush, desperation thick in her voice. "They were in the forest, near the old hunting path. I saw them...They were... they were dragging black slaves, chained like animals. I saw it with my own eyes!" Her hands clutched at the air, her face white with fear as she panted.
"They were speaking with strange accents—clipped and sharp. It was them, Father! You've told me about them, from the far-off kingdoms you've visited. They were there, in our land!"
Gasps filled the room and everyone looked like they had seen a ghost.
Akan's head snapped up, his eyes wide as he caught her gaze. He seemed just as stunned as the rest in the room. His lips parted, but no words came out—he was as lost for speech as she was.
Never did he imagine Moremi would speak about that incident with her father... Just to save his life!
And what's worse, there was no guarantee that this would spare him.
He had accepted his fate the moment he had entered this room tonight. Now, Moremi might only end up putting them in a deeper pit.
This will only prove her father's point of disobedience!
.
King Jelani's face darkened, the rage in his eyes igniting anew, but it was no longer directed solely at his daughter.
He stepped back, shaking his head as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard. "You lie, Remi," he spat, though his voice lacked conviction. "You must be lying to save him."
"I am not!" Moremi shouted, her desperation mingling with a newfound determination.
Since she was no longer being held by the guards, she knelt a bit forward, her hands outstretched in a plea. "I know what I saw. Akan saw it too! Ask him. It's the truth, Father. They were there...their skin pale like how u described them."
"No!" he snapped, shaking his head as if to clear it. "This is nonsense, Moremi. You are only trying to save him!" His gaze turned icy, settling back on Akan, who still knelt at the executioner's feet, his head shifted back down in surrender.
"No, Father, it's true!" Moremi's voice cracked with emotion, her hands trembling. "I swear it by the spirits! They were there, moving like ghosts in our forest. They had chains, heavy iron chains, and the slaves they dragged behind them were our own people, their faces bruised and beaten!"
Tears streaked down Moremi's face as she pushed herself to her feet, the fear and urgency in her eyes undeniable.
"I heard them speak, their words harsh and unfamiliar. They even made bargains, father. I know what I saw. You have to believe me!"
As much as she wanted her father's validation, she tried to be vague about her explanation, not wanting to let her father know they had almost being caught by them.
King Jelani's face twitched, a storm of emotions flashing behind his eyes—anger, disbelief, but also a hint of something else.
Doubt.
He opened his mouth to retort, to shut her down, but then his gaze locked onto Moremi's, and he saw the terror in her eyes.
The kind of terror that was not easily feigned. It stirred something inside him, a faint ember of concern, no matter how much he wished to dismiss her claims.
"Father," she continuously pleaded, stepping closer, her voice lower now, barely above a whisper. "You've seen them too. You've told me stories of them. Their skin, as pale as the moon. Their cold, clipped voices. Please, you must know I'm telling the truth."
The king's stern expression wavered.
His eyes narrowed, his face a mask of disbelief, but there was something in her voice—something raw and desperate—that made him hesitate.
He had been to other kingdoms and had seen these pale-skinned men with his own eyes—traders, with their clipped accents and strange customs.
Moremi's description struck a chord, a memory buried deep, and it made him pause.
He knew his daughter could be defiant, but she had never lied about something this grave, this dangerous.
The accusation held weight—too much weight to dismiss easily. He took a slow, deliberate breath, struggling to steady himself
Finally, his eyes darted to Akan, who stood motionless, his gaze now back on the floor, the memories of what they had seen flickering in his eyes.
If Moremi was lying, he knew this noble being before him. Akan could never lie to him, even at death point.
"Is it true?" the king asked, his voice a low growl, barely restrained. "Did you see what she claims?"
Akan hesitated, biting his lips, but then he raised his chin and spoke with a voice as steady as he could manage. "Yes, my king," he said, his words falling like stones in the stunned silence of the hall. "We saw them. They were there, in the forest, leading slaves."
The air in the room seemed to shift, a chill settling over the gathered crowd.
Zaria and the other wives exchanged uncertain glances, whispering amongst themselves.
The concubines who had earlier averted their gazes, disinterested in watching the execution, now leaned forward, their eyes wide with shock and curiosity.
Nyala and Ayanna with their faces still kissing the floor looked at each other, trembling from Moremi's statement.
It slowly dawned on them why their princess seemed weary when she had first arrived this morning.
She had indeed seen a ghost! Nyala's wild head thought in disbelief.
King Jelani contained his curiousity.
Deep down, he wanted to pry further, to question his daughter about them...how and what they were saying when she had seen them but he didn't want to appear vulnerable before his people.
Knowing he had shown a bit of trembling, he didn't want to ask more questions concerning the white men or the people might become aware of his weakness.
The last thing he wanted was another weapon fashioned against him.
Moremi was already fulfilling that role as of now.
He stared at his daughter whose hands were intertwined together with tears still streaming from her eyes.
"You intended to keep such news away from me, did you not?" He asked to see Moremi's face falter.
Moremi didn't argue. She knew the most stupid thing she could do now was defend herself.
"I'm sorry, father. I was scared. I knew my defiance led to it. I didn't want to trouble you with what I had seen," she wisely apologized, dropping her head to his feet.
The king's stern expression wavered. His eyes flickered between his daughter's desperate
gaze and Akan's bowed head, a war raging within him.
His fist clenched at his side, and for a long moment, he said nothing. The tension in the room grew suffocating. Moremi could barely breathe, each second stretching out into eternity as she waited for his decision.
Finally, with a slow exhale, King Jelani turned his gaze to Akan, his expression hardening again, though not with the same conviction as before. "Even if what you say is true, Moremi," he said, his voice low and grave, "that does not absolve you of your defiance. Akan was meant to keep you in check, to ensure your safety and obedience. He failed in that duty."
No!" Moremi's voice broke, and she moved to shield Akan, wrapping her arms around him when the executioner came forward again, unsheathing his sword.
"It was me, Father, I was the one who disobeyed. It was my choice, my foolishness. Don't punish him for my mistakes!" Her voice cracked, raw with emotion, and she dropped to her knees in front of her father, pleading with every ounce of strength she had left. "Please, Father, I beg you. Don't take his life. I will do anything—anything you ask! Just spare him."
King Jelani's eyes softened for a brief second, but he quickly hardened his resolve.
He was a king, and his daughter's stubbornness had become a problem that could no longer be ignored. But he could not entirely shut out her desperate pleas; the mention of the white men had struck too close to his memories of those foreign lands.
"Enough!" he roared, his voice echoing through the hall, causing everyone to flinch.
His gaze fell to Akan, then back to Moremi, who had tears streaming down her face as she covered Akan.
Her father looked to the executioner and with a wave of his hand, he sheathed his sword again and moved backward.
Moremi's grip on Akan loosened and she finally heaved for air as did the others in the room.
"If I show you any mercy, it is not because you deserve it, Moremi. You've done nothing but defy my wishes, time and time again." He said, seeing Moremi nod at him, supporting his every word.
They all believed the king had forgiven.
He was one with the reputation on a kind heart and when he chose to show mercy, he did so in abundance.
However, King Jelani drew in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his next words.
"Take him to the dungeon," he ordered coldly, his voice like ice.