Akosua.
The walk back to Maame Abena Owusu's house felt longer than any journey I had ever taken in my life.
The guards walked ahead of me, their footsteps firm, measured, carrying the weight of royal command. Their spears caught the moonlight, cold and sharp, as though even the night dared not challenge them. I followed behind, my heart pounding so hard I feared it might announce my thoughts aloud.
I had told Maame Abena that the truth was rising.
But I had not told her how high it had risen.
I had not told her that kings were now involved.
That secrets buried for decades were being summoned back to life.
That the gold she protected had finally spoken.
Her house stood quietly at the edge of Abrem Coast, humble and familiar, built with hands that knew labour and sacrifice. The same doorway that had welcomed me as a child now stood before me, unaware that destiny had come knocking with armed guards.
The lead guard raised his hand.
"Knock," he ordered.
My fingers trembled as I lifted my hand and knocked on the wooden door.
A moment passed.
Then another.
The door creaked open slowly.
Maame Abena Owusu stood there, wrapped in her faded cloth, her face calm—until her eyes fell on the guards behind me.
Her breath caught.
"Akosua?" she whispered. "What is this?"
Before I could answer, the lead guard stepped forward, his voice deep and authoritative, carrying the weight of the palace.
"Woman," he announced, "by order of Nana Osei Aduro, Supreme King of Asanteman Aduro, you are summoned to the palace immediately."
The colour drained from her face.
She looked at me, fear and confusion colliding in her eyes.
"Summoned… by the Supreme King?" she asked weakly.
I stepped forward quickly and took her hands.
"Maame," I pleaded, my voice breaking, "please come with us. I know this is sudden. I know this is frightening. But this may lead to good. Please… trust me."
She searched my face, as though looking for the child she raised, the girl who once cried in her arms. Slowly, she nodded.
"If the stool has called," she said quietly, "then I cannot refuse."
The guards escorted us back to the palace, the night growing heavier with every step. By the time we reached the Supreme Palace, my chest felt tight, as though the air itself had thickened with truth.
Inside the great hall, everything was as before.
At the center sat Nana Osei Aduro, Supreme King of Asanteman Aduro.
Beside him sat Nana Afia Aduro, Supreme Queen, composed and watchful.
To one side stood Queen Mother Nana Yaa Agyeman, Kofi's mother, her eyes already soft with concern.
Across the hall stood King Owusu and Queen Owusu, dignified, silent—and tense.
The council of elders lined the walls, their faces unreadable.
Maame Abena Owusu froze the moment she saw them.
Her knees buckled.
She dropped to the floor in a deep bow, her forehead touching the ground.
"My King," she said shakily. "My Queen. I greet the stool."
"Rise," Nana Osei Aduro commanded.
She rose slowly, her hands trembling.
The Supreme King stood.
"State your name," he said.
"My name is Maame Abena Owusu, Nana," she replied.
"And your community?"
"Abrem Coast, my King."
The Supreme King nodded once.
"You raised this girl," he said, gesturing toward me. "Tell this court how."
Maame Abena swallowed hard.
Before she could speak, Nana Osei Aduro leaned forward.
"And speak the truth," he added. "Because lies spoken before the stool do not die alone."
The hall fell completely silent.
Maame Abena drew a deep breath.
"My King," she began, her voice shaking, "Akosua was one month old when she was brought to me."
A murmur rippled through the elders.
"She was brought to me in the middle of the night," Maame Abena continued, "by the matron in charge of the Motherless Babies' Home of Abrem Coast."
"What is the matron's name?" the Supreme King asked.
"Madam Esi Nyarko, my King."
The Supreme King nodded. "Continue."
Maame Abena's hands clenched tightly.
"She told me that both the life of the child and the life of her mother were in danger," she said. "She said she trusted me because I feared God and respected tradition."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"She said the child was of royal blood," Maame Abena added, her voice trembling now, "and that the same royal blood was hunting for her life."
A sharp intake of breath echoed through the hall.
King Owusu stiffened.
Queen Owusu's face drained of colour.
The Supreme King remained still.
"The matron told me," Maame Abena continued, "that the child's biological mother had brought her to the home that same night. That she cried and begged, saying even if she died, her children must live."
Children?
My knees nearly gave way.
Maame Abena's voice broke.
"She told me… Akosua was not alone."
The hall erupted into gasps.
"She was born twins," Maame Abena said, tears streaming freely now. "She has a brother."
I screamed.
The sound tore from me before I could stop it.
"No—!"
Queen Mother Nana Yaa Agyeman rushed forward and held me as my body shook violently.
Maame Abena dropped to her knees.
"The matron told me," she sobbed, "that the boy was taken to a far community that same night. Another woman was chosen to raise him. The royal gold… it was two."
Two.
Two golds.
Two children.
"The matron said one gold would stay with Akosua," Maame Abena continued, "and the other would be given to the woman raising her brother. She said destiny would one day speak through the gold."
The Supreme King's grip tightened around his staff.
"She warned me never to tell Akosua," Maame Abena said. "She said if the enemy knew the children lived, they would be hunted and killed. She said silence was protection."
She bent forward until her forehead touched the floor.
"My King," she cried, "I did not know who the enemy was. I still do not know. I only did what I was told to keep the child alive."
She raised her head, tears soaking her face.
"I beg the stool," she pleaded. "Protect my life and Akosua's life. Now that this truth is spoken, I fear the enemy will return."
I broke down completely.
My cries filled the hall as Queen Mother Nana Yaa Agyeman held me tightly, rocking me as though I were a child again.
Then—
Nana Osei Aduro rose.
The sound of his staff striking the floor thundered through the hall.
"No!" he declared, his voice fierce. "This bloodshed ends here."
He turned slowly, his eyes burning.
"A royal blood does not hide in the shadows forever," he said. "A lion cub cannot be raised among goats and remain unseen."
The elders hummed in agreement.
"The gods of our land hear me," Nana Osei Aduro continued, lifting his staff. "This enemy will be fished out and brought to book."
He spoke in proverbs, his voice rolling like thunder.
"When the snake bites in secret, daylight will expose its path.
When blood cries from the ground, the earth itself answers."
He turned sharply.
"Akosua's bloodline will be traced."
A loud hum filled the hall.
"And her twin brother," the Supreme King added, "will be found. A royal son cannot remain lost in a far land."
The elders responded louder now.
"Yɛte ase!"
"We hear!"
Across the hall, King Owusu froze.
Fear flickered openly in his eyes.
Queen Owusu's hands trembled as guilt battled her conscience. Her lips parted, but no words came.
The Supreme King noticed.
So did the Supreme Queen.
Their eyes lingered on them longer than necessary.
Meanwhile, Queen Mother Nana Yaa Agyeman held me tighter, hope and relief washing over her face.
"Courage, my daughter," she whispered. "The truth has finally spoken."
Nana Osei Aduro raised his staff once more.
"Madam Esi Nyarko, the matron of the Motherless Babies' Home, will be summoned," he commanded.
"The enemy that sought the blood of these children will be exposed."
"And until this matter is concluded—"
He turned to me and Maame Abena.
"You will both move into the Supreme Palace under my protection."
A stunned silence followed.
"No harm will touch you," he said firmly. "Not while I sit on this stool."
My tears fell freely as I clung to Queen Mother Nana Yaa Agyeman.
As the guards moved, one truth echoed louder than my cries—
The past had risen.
The blood had spoken.
And someone in this palace was afraid.
Very afraid.