Children of Blood and Bone

by Tomi Adeyemi

  They live, fleeing the guards’ senseless attack.

  Because of Kwame, because of his magic, they survive.

  Staring at the blaze, it’s as if the entire world stops. The shouts and screams are muffled into nothingness. The festival fades to black. Inan’s promises play out before my eyes, our Orïsha, a pact the world won’t allow him to keep. Peace.

  We will never have peace.

  As long as we don’t have magic, they will never treat us with respect. Baba’s words simmer through my mind. They need to know we can hit them back. If they burn our homes, we burn theirs, too.

  With one final cry, Kwame erupts like a dying star. Fire explodes in all directions, leaving the earth with the last remnants of himself.

  As the final embers fall, my heart rips in my chest. I can’t believe I ever denied Baba’s truth. They’ll never allow us to thrive.

  We will always be afraid.

  Our only hope is to fight. Fight and win.

  And to win, we need our magic.

  I need that scroll.

  “Zélie!”

  My head snaps up. I don’t know how long I’ve stayed still. The world seems to travel in slow motion, weighed down by Kwame’s sacrifice, dragging with all my pain and guilt.

  Tzain and Amari approach from the distance, riding on Nailah’s back. Tzain guides Nailah toward me through the chaos. Amari clutches my pack to her chest.

  But as my name travels from his mouth, other guards take note. “The girl,” they scream to one another. “The girl! It’s her!”

  Before I can take another step, hands wrap around my arms.

  My chest.

  My throat.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  AMARI

  AS THE SUN RISES into the valley, a sob catches in my throat. The rays light the charred clearing where the procession occurred, the blackened remains of what was once a joyful place.

  I stare at the scorched earth where Tzain and I danced, recalling how he twirled me, remembering the sound of his laugh.

  All that remains now is blood. Hollow corpses. Ash.

  I close my eyes and clasp my hand to my mouth, a futile attempt to block out the painful sight. Though it is silent, the cries of divîners still echo in my mind. The shouts of the soldiers who slaughtered them follow, the clash of swords striking into flesh. I cannot bear to look, but Tzain scans the destruction, searching for Zélie among every fallen face.

  “I don’t see her.”

  Tzain’s voice is barely above a whisper, like if he speaks any louder, everything inside him will break: his rage, his pain, the heartache of having another family member ripped away.

  Thoughts of Inan force their way into my mind: his promises, his potential lies. Though I can’t bring myself to search the dead, I can feel it in my core.

  Inan’s corpse isn’t on this ground.

  No part of me wants to believe this was his doing, yet I don’t know what to think. If this wasn’t his betrayal, how did the guards find us? Where is my brother now?

  Nailah whimpers behind us, and I stroke her snout the way I’ve seen Zélie do so many times before. A lump rises in my throat when she nuzzles my hand back.

  “I think they took her,” I say as delicately as I can. “It’s what my father would’ve ordered. She’s far too important to kill.”

  I hope this will give him hope, but Tzain’s expression stays even. He stares at the bodies on the ground, his breaths escaping in short spurts.

  “I promised.” His voice cracks. “When Mama died, I promised. I said I’d always be there. I swore I’d take care of her.”

  “You have, Tzain. You always have.”

  But he’s lost in his own world, a place far beyond where my words could go.

  “And Baba…” His body seizes; he clenches his fists to try and stop the trembling. “I told Baba. I—I told him I would…”

  I lay my hand on Tzain’s back, but he retreats from my touch. It’s as if every tear Tzain has ever fought back comes pouring out of his body at once. He crumples into the dirt, pressing clenched fists against his head so hard I worry he’ll get hurt. His heartache bleeds raw, breaking through his every wall.

  “You cannot give up.” I drop to Tzain’s side to wipe away his tears. Despite everything, he has always stayed strong. But this loss is too much to bear. “We still have the scroll, the stone, and the dagger. Until my father has retrieved the artifacts, his men will keep her alive. We can save her and get to the temple. We can still make this right.”

  “She won’t talk,” Tzain whispers. “Not if we’re at risk. They’ll torture her.” His hands clench the earth. “She’s as good as dead.”

  “Zélie is stronger than anyone I know. She’ll survive. She’ll fight.”

  But Tzain shakes his head, unconvinced no matter how hard I try. “She’ll die.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “She’ll leave me all alone.”

  Nailah’s whimpers grow as she nuzzles Tzain, attempting to lick his tears away. The sight crushes everything inside me, destroying the last fragments that were whole. It’s like watching the magical light explode from Binta’s palms only for Father’s sword to rip through her chest. How many families has Father left like this, broken beyond repair, mourning their dead? How many times will I allow him to do it again?

  I stand on the hill and turn toward the town of Gombe, a speck of pluming smoke before the Olasimbo Range. The map in Father’s war room reappears inside my mind, crystallizing the Xs that marked his military bases. As the layout forms in my head, a new plan falls into place. I cannot let Tzain endure this loss.

  I will not let Father win.

  “We need to move,” I say.

  “Amari—”

  “Now.”

  Tzain lifts his head from the ground. I reach down and grab his hand, wiping the dirt sticking to the tearstains on his face.

  “There is a guard fortress outside Gombe. That has to be where they took her. If we can get in, we can get her out.”

  We can bring Father’s tyranny to an end.

  Tzain stares at me with broken eyes, fighting the spark of hope that tries to light. “How would we get in?”

  I turn back to the silhouette of Gombe against the night sky. “I have a plan.”

  “Will it work?”

  I nod, for once not fearing the fight. I was the Lionaire once.

  For Tzain and Zélie, I shall be her again.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  ZÉLIE

  MAJACITE CUFFS SCALD my skin, searing straight through my wrists and ankles. The black chains suspend me above the floor of my jail cell, making it impossible for me to cast an incantation. Sweat drips down my skin as another warm blast funnels through the vent. The heat must be intentional.

  Heat will make the coming pain worse.

  Live … Lekan’s words echo, a taunt as I face my death.

  I told him it was a mistake. I told him, I told everyone. I begged them not to waste this chance on me; now look what I’ve done. I laughed and spun and kissed as the king prepared our slaughter.

  Metal-soled boots clank outside. I flinch as they near my door. It would be easier if my cell had bars. At least then I could prepare myself. But they’ve locked me in an iron box. Only two burning torches keep me from being left in the dark.

  Whatever they plan to do, they intend to hide it even from the guards.

  I swallow hard, a feeble attempt to quench my dry mouth. You’ve done this before, I remind myself, more times than you can count. For a moment I ponder whether Mama Agba’s constant lashings weren’t to punish, but to prepare. She beat me so often I got good at taking it, good at loosening my body to minimize the aches. Could she sense that my life would end this way?

  Dammit. Tears sting my eyes at the shame of all the corpses I’ve left in my wake. Little Bisi. Lekan. Zulaikha.

  Their sacrifice will never amount to anything.

  This is all my fault. We never should have stayed. Somehow we must’ve led the army t
o that camp. Without us, they might still be alive. Zu could’ve survived.…

  My thoughts slow.

  Tzain’s glare flashes into my mind. My heart seizes at the thought. Could Inan have done this?

  No.

  My throat burns with the fear I choke back like bile. He wouldn’t. After everything we’ve been through, he couldn’t. If he wanted to betray me, he had countless opportunities. He could’ve made off with the scroll without taking all those innocent lives away.

  Amari’s face overtakes Tzain’s, her amber eyes dripping with pity. Either he’s about to betray us or something else is taking place.

  Inan’s smile breaks through their hate, the soft gaze he gave me before we kissed. But it blackens and it twists and it burns until it wraps around my throat with the strength of his grip—

  “No!” I close my eyes, remembering the way he held me in his arms He saved me. Twice. And he tried to save me again. He didn’t do this. He couldn’t have.

  A clink sounds.

  The first lock outside my door opens. I brace myself for pain, holding on to the last good things I have left.

  At least Tzain is alive. At least he and Amari survived. With Nailah’s speed, they had to have gotten away. I have to focus on that. One thing turned out alright. And Baba …

  The threat of tears burns behind my eyes as I remember the crooked grin I prayed I would see once more. When he finds out about this, he’ll never smile again.

  I close my eyes as the tears fall, stinging like tiny knives. I hope he’s dead.

  I hope he never experiences that pain.

  The final lock unhinges and the door groans open. I steel myself.

  But when Inan fills the entryway, my every defense breaks.

  My body jolts against the chains as the little prince walks in, flanked by two lieutenants. After days of seeing him in muted kaftans and borrowed dashikis, I forgot how cold he looks in a guard’s uniform.

  No …

  I search him for any sign of the boy who promised me the world. The boy I almost gave up everything for.

  But his eyes are distant. Tzain was right.

  “You liar!” My scream echoes in the cell.

  The words aren’t enough. They can’t cut the way I need them to, but I can barely think. I grip the metal chains so hard they rip through my skin. I need the pain to distract myself, otherwise nothing will stop my tears.

  “Leave,” Inan orders his lieutenants, looking at me as if I were nothing. Like I wasn’t in his embrace just hours ago.

  “She’s dangerous, Your Highness. We can’t—”

  “That was an order, not a suggestion.”

  The guards exchange glances but reluctantly leave the room. Gods know they can’t defy a direct order from their precious prince.

  Clever. I shake my head. It’s not hard to guess why Inan wants privacy. The white streak that shone so vibrantly in his hair hides under a new coat of black dye. Can’t have anyone finding out the truth about their little prince.

  Was this his plan all along?

  I squeeze everything in me to keep my face even. He doesn’t get to see my pain. He doesn’t get to know how he’s hurt me.

  The door swings shut, leaving us alone. He looks at me as we hear the sounds of the guards retreating. It’s only when we can’t hear them anymore that his hardened face crumbles into the boy I know.

  Inan’s amber gaze fills with fear as he steps forward, eyes catching on the largest bloodstain on my dress. A warm rush of air fills my lungs—I don’t know when I stopped breathing. I don’t know when I started needing him this much.

  I shake my head. “It’s not my blood,” I whisper. Not yet. “What happened? How did they find us?”

  “The festival.” Inan looks down. “Divîners went into Gombe to get supplies. A few guards got suspicious and tailed them.”

  Gods. I bite back a new wave of tears that wants to come forth. Slaughtered for a celebration. One we never should’ve had.

  “Zél, we don’t have much time,” he rushes out, voice strained and hoarse. “I couldn’t get to you until now, but a military caravan just docked. Someone’s coming, and when they do…” Inan turns back to the door, hearing something that isn’t there. “Zél, I need you to tell me how to destroy the scroll.”

  “What?” There’s no way I heard him correctly. After everything, he can’t think that’s the answer.

  “If you tell me how to destroy it, I can protect you. Father will kill you as long as the possibility of magic coming back is still a threat.”

  By the gods.

  He doesn’t even realize we’ve already lost. The scroll means nothing without someone to read it. But I can’t let him know that.

  They’ll slaughter us all if they find out, erasing every man, woman, and child. They won’t stop until we’re gone, until they’ve wiped our existence from this world with their hate.

  “—they’re vicious, Zél.” Inan swallows hard, bringing me back to the present. “If you don’t give it up, you won’t survive.”

  “Then I don’t survive.”

  Inan’s face twists. “If you don’t talk, they’ll cut it out of you!”

  A lump forms in my throat; I guessed this much. I can’t talk.

  “So I’ll bleed.”

  “Zél, please.” He steps forward, putting his hands on my bruised face. “I know we had our plans, but you have to realize everything’s changed—”

  “Of course everything’s changed!” I scream. “Your father’s men killed Zu! Salim! All those children.” I shake my head. “They couldn’t even fight, and the guards murdered all of them!”

  Inan grimaces, face splitting with pain. His soldiers. His men. Our undoing once again.

  “Zélie, I know.” His voice breaks. “I know. Every time I close my eyes, her body is all I can see.”

  I look away, fighting back fresh tears. Zu’s bright smile fills my mind, her endless joy, her light. We should’ve been halfway to Zaria by now. She and Kwame should still be alive.

  “They shouldn’t have attacked,” Inan whispers. “Zulaikha deserved a chance. But the soldiers thought you were using the scroll to create a maji army. And after what Kwame did…”

  Inan’s voice trails off. All the grief that filled him before seems to shrink, overpowered by fear.

  “Kwame took out three platoons in seconds. Burned them alive. He incinerated that camp. We’d probably be dead if he hadn’t burned out himself.”

  I rear back in disgust. What in gods’ names is he talking about? “Kwame sacrificed himself to protect us!”

  “But imagine how it looked to the guards.” Inan speaks quickly. “I know Kwame’s intentions were pure, but he took it too far. For years we’ve been warned about magic like that. What Kwame did was worse than anything Father’s ever said!”

  I blink, searching Inan’s face. Where is the future king who was ready to save the maji? The prince who threw himself in front of flames to keep me safe? I don’t know this boy, afraid, making excuses for everything he claimed to hate. Or maybe I know him too well.

  Maybe this is the truth: the broken little prince.

  “Make no mistake, the attack was an abomination. I know we’ll have to deal with it. But right now we have to act. The soldiers are terrified a maji like Kwame will attack again.”

  “Good.” I squeeze my chains to hide the tremor in my hands. “Let them be afraid.”

  Let them taste the terror they make us swallow.

  “Zélie, please.” Inan grits his teeth. “Don’t choose this. We can still unite our people. Work with me and I’ll find a way for you to return to Lagos. We’ll save Orïsha with something safer, something without magic—”

  “What’s wrong with you?” My shout echoes against the walls. “There’s nothing to save! After what they just did, there’s nothing at all!”

  Inan stares at me, a flash of tears in his eyes. “You think I want this? You think after planning a new kingdom with you I want this?” I
see my own grief reflected in his eyes. The death of our dream. The future Orïsha will never see. “I thought things could be different. I wanted them to be different. But after what we just saw, we have no choice. We can’t give people that kind of power.”

  “There’s always a choice,” I hiss. “And your guards made theirs. If they were scared of magic before, they should be terrified now.”

  “Zélie, don’t add your body to the dead. That scroll is the only way I convinced them to keep you alive. If you don’t tell us how to destroy it—”

  Another click sounds through the door. Inan steps back just as it opens.

  “Did I say you could ente—”

  His voice falters. The color drains from his face.

  “Father?” Inan’s lips part in surprise.

  Even without his crown, it’s impossible not to recognize the king.

  He enters like a storm, the air darkening in his presence. A wave of emotions hits me as the door swings shut. I forget how to breathe as I meet the soulless eyes of the man who murdered Mama.

  Gods, help me.

  I don’t know if I’m in a dream or a nightmare. My skin heats with a rage like I’ve never known, yet my pulse thunders with fear. Since the early days after the Raid I’ve pictured this moment, imagined what it would be like to meet him face-to-face. I’ve orchestrated his death so many times in my mind I could fill a tome detailing all the ways he should die.

  King Saran rests his hand on Inan’s shoulder. His son flinches, as if waiting for a blow. Despite everything, the flash of terror in Inan’s eyes pains me. I’ve seen him broken before, but this is a side of him I don’t know.

  “The guards tell me you tracked her to the uprising.”

  Inan stands up straight and clenches his jaw.

  “Yes, sir. I’m in the middle of an interrogation. If you leave us, I’ll get the answers we need.”

  Inan’s voice stays so even I almost believe the lie. He’s trying to keep me away from his father. He must know I’m about to die.

  A shudder runs through me at the thought, but it’s quickly met with an unearthly calm. The fear in Saran’s presence is undeniable, yet it doesn’t overwhelm my desire for vengeance.