Children of Blood and Bone (Legacy of Orisha)

by Tomi Adeyemi

  Peace …

  It’s been so long since I’ve known that word. The peace I only get in the dreamscape. The comfort of being wrapped in Inan’s arms.

  For a moment, I let myself imagine an end to the maji’s strife. Not with swords and revolution, but with peace.

  With Inan.

  “You’re serious?”

  “I’m more than serious. Zél, I need this. I want to keep every promise I made to you, but I can’t do it alone. You can’t do it with just magic. But together…” A delicious smile spreads across his lips, drawing me in. “We’d be unstoppable. A team Orïsha has never seen.”

  I look past him to the dancing divîners, catching sight of the young boy I danced with in the crowd. Salim spins himself in so many circles he tumbles into the grass.

  Inan drops his hand from my cheek and interlaces his fingers with mine; his warmth spreads over me like a soft blanket as he pulls me into his arms. “I know we’re meant to work together.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think … we’re meant to be together.”

  His words make my head spin. His words or the alcohol. But through the haze I know he’s right. This is the one thing that can keep everyone safe. The one decision that can end this endless fight.

  “Okay.”

  Inan searches me with his eyes. Hope hums around him like the faint drumbeats in the air.

  “Really?”

  I nod. “We’ll have to convince Tzain and Amari, but if you’re serious—”

  “Zél, I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

  “My family will have to come to Lagos, too.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “And you still have to rebuild Ilorin—”

  “It’ll be the first thing the Grounders and Tiders do!”

  Before I can make another objection, Inan wraps his arms around me and spins. His smile stretches so wide it’s impossible for me not to smile back. I laugh as he sets me down, though it takes a moment for the world to stop turning.

  “We probably shouldn’t decide the fate of Orïsha while spinning around in some forest.”

  He mumbles in agreement, slowly sliding his hands up my sides and back up to my face. “We probably shouldn’t do this, either.”

  “Inan—”

  Before I can explain that we can’t, that Tzain’s ax is freshly sharpened and only a few tents away, Inan presses his lips to mine and everything fades. His kiss is tender yet forceful, gently pushing into me. And his lips … soft.

  Softer than I knew lips could be.

  They light every cell in my body, sending a warmth down my back. When he finally pulls away, my heart is beating so fast it feels like I’ve just finished a fight. Inan’s slow to open his eyes as a delicious smile spreads across his face.

  “Sorry…” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Do you want to go back in?”

  Yes.

  I know what I should do. What I probably need to do. But now that I’ve had a taste, every restraint in me breaks.

  Inan’s eyes widen as I grab his head and force his lips back onto mine.

  Restraint can wait for tomorrow.

  Tonight I want him.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  AMARI

  I GIGGLE LIKE I haven’t in years as Tzain spins me round and round. He bends to lift me again but stops, leaving me on the ground. The smile that stretched from ear to ear drops alongside his sweat. I follow his line of sight just in time to see Inan grab Zélie’s face, embracing her with a kiss.

  Skies!

  A gasp slips from my lips. I sensed that something kindled between them; I just didn’t know it would ignite so soon. But observing the way Inan kisses Zélie now, more questions brew. The tender way he holds her, the way his hands roam, pulling her into him—

  My cheeks flush and I turn away; an embrace like this is far too intimate to watch. But Tzain does not share my discomfort. If anything, he stares more. Every muscle in his body tenses; his eyes grow hard, all joy banished.

  “Tzain…”

  He brushes past me, steeled to attack with a fury I’ve yet to witness.

  “Tzain!”

  He moves like he cannot see me, like he will not stop until his hands wrap around my brother’s throat.

  Then Zélie grabs Inan and pulls his lips to hers.

  The sight halts Tzain midstep. He stumbles back, as if physically struck. Then all of a sudden he snaps, breaking in half like a twig between clenched fists.

  He stalks past me into the divîner crowd, pushing through the festival into the campgrounds. I struggle to keep pace with his sprint as he rushes into his tent. He bypasses Nailah and Zélie’s pack to grip the handle of his ax—

  “Tzain, no!”

  My screams fall on deaf ears as he shoves the ax into his pack. Along with his cloak, his food … the rest of his belongings?

  “What are you doing?”

  Tzain ignores me, forcing his cloak down as if it too kissed his sister. I reach out to touch him, but he rips his shoulder away. “Tzain—”

  “What?” he yells, and I flinch. He pauses, releasing a deep sigh. “Sorry, I just—I can’t do this. I’m done.”

  “What do you mean ‘done’?”

  Tzain wraps the leather straps around his back and pulls them tight. “I’m leaving. You can come with me if you want.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Tzain doesn’t pause to give me an answer. Before I can say anything else, he blows through the tent flaps, abandoning me for the brisk night.

  “Tzain!”

  I scramble after him, but he makes no attempt to wait. He storms past the campgrounds, leaving all traces of the festival in his wake. I can hear the faint roar of the Gombe River as he flies through the wild grass. He gets all the way to the next valley before I finally catch up.

  “Tzain, please!”

  He pauses, but his legs tense like he could take off at any moment.

  “Can you just slow down?” I plead. “Just—just breathe! I know you hate Inan, but—”

  “I don’t give a damn about Inan. Everyone can do whatever the hell they want, just leave me out of it.”

  My chest freezes at the cruelty of his words, shattering all the warmth he put there before. Though my legs shake, I force them forward. “You’re upset. I understand, but—”

  “Upset?” Tzain narrows his eyes. “Amari, I’m tired of fighting for my life, I’m tired of paying for everyone’s mistakes. I’m sick of doing everything I can to keep her safe when all she does is throw it away!” He lowers his head, shoulders slumping. For the first time since I’ve met him he appears small; it’s disconcerting to see him this way. “I keep expecting her to grow up, but why would she when I’m always here? Why change when I stand by just waiting to clean up her mess?”

  I step closer and grab his hands, lacing my fingers between his coarse ones. “I know their relationship is confusing … but I promise you, deep down my brother’s intentions are pure. Zélie hated Inan more than anyone. If she feels this way about him now, it has to mean something.”

  “It means what it always does.” Tzain slides out of my grasp. “Zélie’s doing something stupid, and sooner or later it’s going to blow up in her face. Wait for the explosion if you want, but I’m done.” His voice breaks. “I never wanted to be a part of this anyway.”

  Tzain walks away again, cleaving something inside me. This is not the man I know, a man I have started to …

  Love?

  The word floats in my mind, but I can’t call it that. Love is too strong, too intense for what I feel. For what I am allowed to feel. But even still …

  “You never give up on her,” I shout after him. “Never. Not once. Even when she cost you everything, you’re always by her side.”

  Like Binta. My friend’s playful smirk appears in my mind, lighting up the cold night. Tzain loves fiercely as she did, without condition—even when he shouldn’t.

  “Why now?” I con
tinue. “After everything, why this?”

  “Because he destroyed our home!” Tzain whips around. A vein bulges against his neck as he screams. “People drowned. Children died. And for what? That monster’s been trying to kill us for weeks and now she wants to forgive him? Embrace him?” His voice strains and Tzain pauses, slowly clenching and unclenching his fists. “I can protect her from a lot of things, but if she’s going to be this stupid, this reckless—she’s going to get herself killed. I’m not sticking around to watch.”

  With that he turns, tightening his pack and walking farther into the darkness.

  “Wait,” I call, but this time Tzain does not slow. Each step he takes causes my heart to pound harder against my chest. He’s really doing this.

  He’s really leaving.

  “Tzain, please—”

  A horn sounds, cutting through the night.

  We freeze as more join in, silencing the drums of the festival.

  I turn and my heart drops as the royal seal that has always haunted me comes into view, gleaming off suit after suit. The eyes of the snow leopanaires seem to flash in the darkness.

  Father’s men are here.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  ZÉLIE

  I INHALE SHARPLY as Inan’s hands slide down to my thighs. His touch makes every part of my body explode; it’s too hard to concentrate on kissing him back. But as my lips forget what to do, Inan’s don’t miss a beat. His electric kisses move from my mouth to my neck, so intense it’s hard to breathe.

  “Inan…”

  My face flushes, but there’s no point in hiding it. He knows what his kiss does to me, how his touch burns. If my emotions hit him like a tsunami, then he must know how much I want this. How my body aches to let his hands search and wander.…

  Inan presses his forehead against mine and slides his hands to the small of my back. “Believe me, Zél. What I do to you is nothing compared to what you do to me.”

  My heart flutters and I close my eyes as Inan draws me in. He leans down for another kiss—

  A loud horn blares. A crash rings through the air.

  “What was that?” I ask. We jolt apart as another crash sounds.

  Inan’s grip on me tightens, a cold sweat breaking out. “We need to go.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Zél, come on—”

  I break free of his hold and run toward the edge of the festival grounds. The music of the celebration halts as everyone tries to figure out the cause of the sounds. A hushed hysteria erupts through the crowd, questions mounting as it spreads. But with time the source of the horns makes itself clear.

  The legion of royal guards charges through the new wreckage of the gate and marches to the top of the hill overlooking the valley. They light up the black sky with red torch flames, blazing against the night.

  Some soldiers position their arrows, others bare their sharpened blades. The most terrifying among them hold back a pack of wild panthenaires; the menacing beasts chomp and foam at their bits, desperate for a chase.

  Inan catches up to me. He stalls when he sees the sight. The color drains from his cheeks. His fingers lace through mine.

  The commander of the troops steps forward, distinguished by the golden lines carved into the iron of his armor. He raises a cone to his mouth so we can all hear his shouts.

  “This is your only warning!” his voice booms through the silence. “If you do not comply, we will use force. Give up the scroll and the girl and no one here will get hurt.”

  The divîners break out in whispered conversations, fear and confusion spreading throughout the masses like a virus. Some people try to escape the crowd. A child begins to cry.

  “Zél, we have to go,” Inan repeats, gripping my arm once more. But I can’t feel my legs. I can’t even speak.

  “I will not warn you again!” the commander shouts. “Give them up or we will take them by force!”

  For a moment nothing happens.

  Then a ripple breaks through the crowd.

  Though the movement starts out small, in seconds waves of people split. They clear a path, allowing one person to walk through. Her small body steps forward. Her white mane dances.

  “Zu…,” I breathe, fighting the urge to run and pull her back into the crowd.

  She stands tall and strong, defiant beyond her young years. Her emerald-green kaftan blows in the wind, shimmering against her brown skin.

  Though she is only thirteen, the entire legion readies their arms. Archers pull back against their bows. Swordsmen position the reins of their panthenaires.

  “I don’t know which girl you speak of,” Zu shouts, her voice carried by the wind. “But I can assure you we don’t have the scroll. This is a peaceful celebration. We only gathered here to honor our heritage.”

  The silence that follows is almost deafening. It brings a tremble to my hands I can’t fight back.

  “Please—” Zu steps forward.

  “Don’t move!” the commander shouts back, pulling out his sword.

  “Search us if you must,” Zu responds. “We will agree to an examination. But please, lower your weapons.” She raises her hands in surrender. “I don’t want anyone to get hur—”

  It happens so fast. Too fast.

  One moment Zu stands.

  The next, an arrow pierces through her gut.

  “Zu!” I scream.

  But it doesn’t sound like me.

  I can’t hear my voice. I can’t feel anything.

  Air dies inside my chest as Zu looks down, small hands gripping the arrow’s shaft.

  The young girl with a smile too wide for her face pulls against the weapon, speared with Orïsha’s hate.

  She strains, limbs shaking, somehow taking a step forward. Not back where we can protect her.

  Forward, so she can protect us.

  No …

  Tears sear my vision, falling fast down my face. A Healer. A child.

  Yet her last moments are stained with hate.

  Blood spreads across the silk of her kaftan. The emerald darkens with red.

  Her legs buckle and she hits the ground.

  “Zu!” I race forward even though I know she can’t be saved.

  In that moment the entire world explodes.

  Arrows fly and swords flash as the guards unleash their attack.

  “Zél, come on!” Inan yanks on my arm, pulling me back. But as he tries to steer me away, one thought fills my mind. Oh gods.

  Tzain.

  Before Inan can object, I take off, stumbling more than once as I return to the valley. Screams of terror fill the night. Divîners run in all directions.

  We sprint in vain, trying desperately to escape the archers striking from the sky. One by one divîners go down, pierced by an onslaught of arrows that never seems to end.

  But the archers become a fear of the past as the suited seal of Orïsha spreads through the masses. Soldiers release the rabid panthenaires, allowing the ryders to sink their fangs straight through divîner flesh. Above them, armored guards push through the crowd, swords raised and sharpened. They show no mercy, no discretion, slashing through everyone in their path.

  “Tzain!” I scream, another voice in the chorus of shouts. He can’t die like Mama. He can’t leave me and Baba.

  But the farther I run, the more bodies fall to the ground, the more spirits bleed into the earth. Lost in the crowd, Salim howls, sharp screams rising above every other cry.

  “Salim!” I scream, charging for the sweet boy I spun in my arms. A guard rides toward him on a rabid panthenaire. Salim raises his hands in surrender.

  He has no magic. No weapon. No way to fight.

  The guard doesn’t care.

  His sword slashes down.

  “No!” I scream, insides aching at the sight. The blade rips straight through Salim’s small body.

  He dies before he even hits the ground.

  His dead eyes chill my blood. My heart. My bones.

  We cannot win. We cann
ot live. We never stood a chan—

  The sensation strikes me in my core, deep, as powerful as my beating heart.

  It rattles the magic in my blood. It pulls the air from my lungs.

  Kwame brushes past me, running for the heart of the battle. He grips a dagger tight in his hands.

  Then he slashes open his palm.

  Blood magic.

  Horror settles into my bones.

  It’s like the world slows to a stop, stretching the seconds between this moment and the last Kwame will ever have. His blood glows with a white light, splashing as it hits the ground.

  In an instant the ivory light surrounds him, illuminating his dark skin like a god from above.

  When it reaches the top of his head, it seals his fate.

  A fire explodes from his skin.

  Smoldering embers rain from his body. Flames blaze around his form. The fire erupts from every limb, shooting out of his mouth, his arms, his legs. The blast towers meters into the sky, a blaze so powerful it lights the horrors of the night. Shock stops the guards’ attack just as Kwame’s begins.

  He punches his fists forward. Streams of fire crash through the settlement in smoldering waves. The flames incinerate everything in their path, blazing through the guards, destroying the camp.

  The stench of burning flesh fills the air, mixed with the scent of blood.

  Death strikes so quickly, soldiers don’t even have a chance to scream.

  “Agh!” Kwame’s cries of agony rise above all else as he turns the night red. The blood magic tears through him, raw and unforgiving.

  It’s grander than any flame a maji could conjure on his own. He burns with the power of his god, but it burns through him.

  His dark face flushes red, veins tearing from within. His skin bubbles and scalds from his flesh, revealing corded muscle and hard bone. He can’t contain it. He can’t outlast it.

  The blood magic eats him alive, yet still he uses his last breath to fight.

  “Kwame!” Folake screams from the edge of the valley. A strong divîner drags her back, keeping her from charging into the roaring fire.

  A vortex of flames shoots from Kwame’s throat, pushing the guards even farther back. As he sears through their attack with the last seconds of his life, the divîners react. My people flee in all directions, escaping through the flaming walls, leaving the wasteland in their path.