Masquerade

by O.O. Sangoyomi

She had worked with far too many precious metals to be impressed by the silver of the stranger’s tongue.

Any woman deemed unnatural in the eyes of society was called a witch, but the word was especially associated with blacksmiths.

Had my mother been here, she would have called me a fool. She would have every right to; I had been ill-prepared to face how big the world was—or perhaps how small I had always been.

“What is love but a choice? I do not need to fall in love with you. I have chosen to step into it—and I pray that you choose me as well.”

“No, I don’t mind,” I assured her, and I meant it. Jealousy would have entailed me caring for Àrmọ, but Kl had made a much better first impression.

For all the lands the Aláràá had conquered, they could never secure y. It was protected by the Ahosi of Dahomey, a legendary regiment of woman warriors

It was this, even more than our seemingly mystical abilities, that made us so despised; our largest crime was being, not just women, but women without a man to belong to.

When Ìlérí finished his story, I said softly, “It sounds like you two make a good team.”

Lovvvvers???

once told you my soul is intertwined with yours, Òdòdó. That is still true. And no matter how many lives it wears, every version of me will search and find you. I apologize if I implied that my love for you is constrained by something as flimsy as time.

The Gilded District was especially radiant today, as it was on fire.

mọ’s assurance that the lack of weapons would be mutual on both sides, all four men held spears. There was something odd about their weapons, but before I could figure it out, Àrmọ pulled me to him,

With a pain worse than my crushed hand, worse than my burns and wounds, and worse than Kl’s betrayal, I realized I would live.

Still, although his hurt pained me, I did not think it was completely fair. It was easy for Àrmọ to love me; it cost him nothing. However, it seemed that I was expected to love him by giving myself to him. I had already given him my hand; how much more of me must I give? What would I have left?

Perhaps it was not strange the generals had not thought of it first; in my brief encounter with them, I had witnessed how myopic they were. The men could only fathom victory if it was achieved through strength.

But as I was quickly learning, power was no less valid when subtle; after all, an ember was never as feared as a flame, yet it burned just as hot.

Men called us witches, they thought us demons, and yet, it was they who wished to possess us.

He never noticed when that happened.

However, if I had a daughter, I would have broken her legs. I would have done everything I could to save her from having to walk around in this world. Maybe then she would not have to feel everything I had—or, worse, feel the nothing I felt now.