Chapter 25: The Need

Four months after the realization, Ayo couldn’t stop thinking about children.

Everywhere she looked, she saw them. Village raids where mothers clutched daughters. Training yards where young recruits—fourteen, fifteen—were just becoming warriors. Markets where children ran between stalls laughing.

Every one a reminder of what she couldn’t have.

What she needed.

What was consuming her from the inside out.

She was twenty-seven years old. Queen for nearly two years. And drowning in need so desperate it was becoming physical.

She’d wake at night. Chest tight. Breathing shallow. Feeling the absence like a wound. Like something vital had been removed and she was bleeding out slowly.

Need for a child. For motherhood. For something to love that couldn’t choose to leave.

Something permanent.

Council Meeting - Age 27

“The western territories report increased Oyo aggression,” Commander Yemisi reported. “Multiple raids on our villages. They’re testing our strength.”

“Deploy additional forces,” Ayo said mechanically. “Show them we won’t tolerate incursions. Make examples.”

“Captives?”

“Standard protocol. Able-bodied adults for trade. Children over six. Eliminate the rest.”

The words came automatically. Years of practice. Years of not thinking about what they meant.

But now—now she thought about the children. The ones they took. The ones they left behind to starve. The mothers they killed.

And felt something twist inside.

I’m complicit in this. Have been for thirteen years. Taking children from mothers. Killing families. Destroying lives.

And now I want—

She pushed the thought away. Focused on the meeting. On tactics. On anything except the growing realization of what she was planning.

After the meeting, Nala pulled her aside.

“You’re distracted. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just tired.”

“You’re always tired. This is different. You’re—” Nala studied her. “You’re somewhere else. Thinking about something else. Something that’s consuming you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. I’ve known you thirteen years. Trained you. Watched you rise. I know when something’s wrong.” Nala paused. “Is this about Adanna? Are you—”

“No. Not Adanna. That’s over. Done. Has been for months.”

“Then what?”

Ayo wanted to say it. Wanted to admit the truth. I need a child. I’m dying without one. I’m planning something terrible to get one.

But she couldn’t. Because saying it would make it real. Would force her to confront what she was becoming.

“I’m just—empty. I don’t know how else to explain it. I’m queen. I’m effective. I’m doing everything right. And I feel absolutely nothing. Like I’m dead inside but still functioning.”

“You lost Adanna. That creates emptiness. It’ll pass—”

“It’s not about Adanna. It’s—deeper than that. More fundamental. Like something essential is missing. Something I need to survive. And I don’t know what it is or how to get it or—” Ayo stopped. Too close to the truth.

Nala was quiet for a long moment. “You’re twenty-seven. You’ve been Agojie for thirteen years. You’ve given up everything for this life—body, relationships, the possibility of family. That creates holes. Absences. Needs that can’t be filled by duty alone.”