"What's this?"
Nkiru sighed."A grinding stone.Please sit still for one moment."
Chinedu sat.For approximately three seconds.Then he was up again, drawn by the clay kettle simmering on the stove.
"Does that have water?Can I help?"
"No—" Nkiru started, but Chinedu was already reaching, his small fingers grasping for the handle.
The kettle tipped.
Nkiru moved without thinking—catching the kettle before it could fall—and felt the burn sear across her arm as boiling water splashed.She bit down on a scream, setting the kettle back on the stove with shaking hands.
Chinedu stared at her, his face crumpling.
"You're hurt," he whispered.Then, louder: "You're hurt!Mama!Mama, Nkiru is hurt!"
Tears welled in his eyes—not for his own pain, Nkiru realised with confusion, but for her.The prince was crying because she was hurt.
Her lips pursed for a moment as rage simmered in her; what privilege one must have to cry on behalf of others.
"It's nothing," she said quickly, hiding her hand behind her back."See?I'm fine.It's nothing at all."
"You're bleeding—"
"It's just water.Please don't cry.Please don't tell your mother—"
But Nnenna was already at the door, Azul behind her, both drawn by the commotion.
"What happened?It's only been a few minutes."Nnenna swept toward her son, checking him for injuries.Finding none, she looked at Nkiru—at the hand hidden behind her back, at the spilled water, at the kettle still steaming."You burned yourself."
"It was my fault," Chinedu sobbed."I tried to help and she—she saved me and now she's hurt—"
Nkiru shook her head frantically."It's nothing, Third Wife.Truly.A splash of water, nothing more."
Nnenna's eyes softened.She glanced at Azul, who stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
"We should go; I only came to thank you for last time."Nnenna said quietly."Let the girl tend to herself."She knelt before Chinedu, wiping his tears."Your friend is very brave.You'll thank her properly next time, yes?"
Chinedu nodded, sniffling.He looked at Nkiru with such earnest concern that her chest ached.
"Thank you," he said."I'm sorry you got hurt."
"It's nothing," Nkiru repeated and smiled so he would believe her.
When they left, Azul didn't move from the doorway for a long moment.Then she turned and walked towards her room.
Nkiru followed, her burned hand still hidden in her sleeve.She'd wrap it later, when the Akwaugo didn't need her.For now, she would serve tea and pretend nothing had happened.
"Come here."
Nkiru stopped.
Azul sat by her small table, where a mortar and pestle sat beside fresh herbs.
Azul held out her hand.
Nkiru hesitated; she hadn't washed her hands yet, she wasn't clean enough to touch a member of the royal family.But seeing Azul waiting, she had no choice but to pull out her injured hand from her sleeve.The burn was uglier than she'd thought—red and blistering across her arm, the skin already tightening.It was ugly to look at, so she looked away, lest her heart be overwhelmed by the pain and she cry in front of the Akwaugo again like a child.
