Page 31 of Possessing the Prince

She looks at me from the corner of her eye and attempts to talk without making her lips move. We must be under surveillance. “I am Yayi, and you don’t belong here.”

I follow her lead and do not turn to her. I continue to scrub. “I am Abena, and no woman belongs here. I am going to get you and the baby you are carrying to a safe home. My husband will come.”

She shakes her head. “No man that comes for a woman ever makes it out of here alive. For your husband’s sake, I pray he stays away.”

I chuckle at the thought of Senya actually staying away. Only death could keep him from me. His delay must be a logistical issue. But I do hope he does not come alone. This escape will definitely take more than his one-man Rambo act. Plus, I want to take this whole operation down. I’m not leaving unless young girls like Yayi come with me.

“Yayi, my husband is an Ashanti prince and warrior. He will come, and these men will pay. You will be free. Trust me.”

She does not respond for a while, and then she says, “Beware of David. He will hurt you. He hurts all of the women that don’t belong here. The women that were taken and not given.”

What does that mean? Before I can ask, a man comes toward me. He just stands in front of my basin and says nothing. I look up and see it's one of the men that kidnapped me. He is a very big and very light-skinned man. He looks to be albino, which is surprising. Many in the bush think albinism is either a special power or a sign of an evil spirit. Either way, I’m sure growing up for him was hell and dedicating himself to the fetish priest was probably the best path for him. I’m pretty sure he is one of the priests' personal guards. He continues to say nothing even when I stand, so I speak first.

“How can I help you?” Before I get the full sentence out, I feel a hard slap across my face. A white flash of pain blurs my vision and my eyes tear.This must be David.

“The fuck!” I yell. “You will die for that. My husband will kill you for touching what’s his, that much I promise.”

He takes me by my hair and pushes me to my knees. “No, slave, you will die if you do not heed my words. Never talk to me unless I speak to you first. I am going to drag your filthy body to the river where you will clean yourself up to greet the fetish priest. After he finishes with you, we will see whose wife you are…bitch.”

He spits on me before literally dragging me by my hair along the dirt. I feel the hair tearing from my roots, and I know I will be bald before I arrive wherever he is dragging me. I refuse to cry or scream. The other women dare not look; they just continue to work.

When we arrive at the river, he lets me go and I see a patch of my hair in his hand. He throws the hair on the ground with a sneer and demands that I strip. I grudgingly comply, since I really do not want to get hit again. He watches me bathe with disgusting interest. It’s clear in his eyes what he wants to do to me. God, I hope Senya gets here soon. I don’t know what this fucker’s deal is, but he’s a dead man. I just hope I’m not the one that has to figure out a way to kill him, because I’ll be damned if I end up raped or worse in the middle of a jungle.

Once I am done bathing, a girl presents me with a simple white shift. After I put it on, the brute that dragged me to the river grunts for me to follow him.

We walk through the dense forest to a part of the shrine I have not seen. When we stop, he pushes against what looks like a wall of rock and vines. It is actually a door. Once the door opens, I am shocked to see at least fifty young women dressed in the same identical white shift I was ordered to wear. They are milling about and completing various tasks. As I follow the brute through the sea of women, I see an older man draped in white cloths sitting on a makeshift throne. Incense smoke is billowing all around him while approximately twenty women prostrate at his feet. He is uttering something in either Ga or Ewe, so I cannot understand him. But I assume it is a meditation.

We stand there for at least thirty minutes before the man opens his eyes. When he sees me, he motions for the brute to move. He looks at me with an intense stare and holds out his hand. “Come, child.”

I go because I know better than to think I have a choice. Still, I start to contemplate what is around him that I can use as a weapon if needed. As I move closer, I see that he is a man probably in his late fifties. His eyes betray his age, even if his body and stature do not. He moves like a much younger man. He is lean, muscular, and deadly. The hard lines of his face soften a bit as he speaks.

“Abena Owusu, do you know why you are here?”

I take a deep breath and silently pray that Jesus will help me keep my smart mouth in check. “No, Chief, I do not.”

His facial expression is neither mean nor pleasant. Not soft or hard. Instead, it is devoid of any emotion. Nevertheless, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. His apathy is frightening. Somehow, I know he would just as soon let me go as kill me. However, judging from the number of women around this temple, letting me go is probably not his intention.

“Woman, I am not a chief, as your father is. I am a priest, someone of a higher calling that serves the fetishes or Gods—as your people call them—of our lands. You need to understand that neither politics nor gold affect me.”

I roll my eyes. Then why is he wearing so much gold? “Money affects everyone,” I mumble under my breath.

Immediately, the albino brute quickly comes over and an open hand slaps me across the mouth. “Dumb bitch. Do not call our priest a liar.”

The priest raises his hand in protest. “No. Do not touch her…yet.” He snaps at David and his disgust with him is apparent. But when he turns back to me, his eyes continue to betray no emotion. He asked the brute not to hit me as if he were requesting that he sweep the floor. He stands and starts to encircle me.

“You’ll have to watch your mouth around here, Abena Owusu. Women speak only when spoken to. Your opinion is of no consequence, so save your words for prayer. You're here to fulfill a debt: not your father’s debt as you may believe, but the debt of Chief Apeagyei of Aboso.”

What the entire fuck?

“His family owes my shrine a girl of proper standing. They have been in arrears of this debt for almost forty years. The agreement was that Apeagyei send me one of his daughters, but when the girl came of age, he refused. Naturally, I sent my men to collect her. Forfeiting a debt to the fetish shrine is punishable by death. I was going to kill him, chief or not. “

I spit out the blood from my now busted lip and speak. I don’t care if it causes me another blow to the mouth. I need answers. “Then why is he still alive?”

His eyes land on me and he pauses. “I only stayed the hand of judgment because he told me how his family became indebted to the shrine. He was able to provide firm evidence that it was an Owusu who bartered with our priest for the healing of his son almost a century ago. He explained that your ancestors stole a girl from the Apeagyei household instead of providing an Owusu from the patriarchal line as was demanded. That girl provided this shrine with an heir to take her place when she died, but her daughter did not. She died with a barren womb, and the moment she left this Earth, the debt had to be paid.

Damn, trokosis really are indebted for life.

“So, years ago, Chief Apeagyei and this shrine came to an agreement. He would provide Chief Owusu’s first-born daughter as recompense. However, at the age of five, you were betrothed to the future Ashanti king. Apeagyei begged for more time. He attempted to buy God’s grace by keeping our coffers full when our stockpile got low.”

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