by Tomi Adeyemi
Everyone shrinks in and out of shadows, shrouded by weak, flickering candlelight. Its glow illuminates the chipping paint and patches of rust marring the walls.
In the back corner, two men pound a soft beat on the canvas of their ashiko drums while another hits the wooden keys of a balafon. They play with a practiced ease, filling the iron walls with their lively sound.
“What is this place?” I whisper in Tzain’s ear.
Though I have never stepped foot in a bar, I soon realize why this one requires a password. Among all the patrons, almost everyone’s hair shines white, creating a sea overflowing with divîners. The few kosidán who made it inside are all visibly linked to the divîners who belong. The various couples sit hand in hand sharing kisses, closing the space between their hips.
“It’s called a tóju,” Tzain responds. “Divîners started them a few years ago. They have them in most cities. It’s one of the only places divîners can go to gather in peace.”
Suddenly the doorman’s animosity doesn’t feel as misplaced. I can only imagine how quickly the guards could dispatch a gathering like this.
“I’ve played against these guys for years,” Tzain whispers as Kenyon leads us toward a table in the back. “They’re loyal, but they’re guarded. Let me do the talking. I’ll ease them in.”
“We don’t have time for easing,” I whisper back. “If we don’t get them to fight—”
“There won’t be a fight if I can’t convince them to say yes.” Tzain gives me a gentle nudge. “I know we’re tight on time, but with them, we need to take it slow—”
“Tzain!”
A chorus of excitement erupts when we reach a table with the four divîners I can only assume complete Kenyon’s agbön team. Each player is bigger than the last. Even the twin girls Tzain calls Imani and Khani almost match his height.
Tzain’s presence incites smiles and laughter. Everyone rises, slapping his hand, patting his back, teasing Tzain about the coming agbön tournament. Tzain’s instructions to take it slow buzz in my mind, but his friends are so consumed with games, they do not even realize Tzain’s world is falling apart.
“We need your help.” I break through the noise, the first sentence I manage to get in. The team pauses to stare at me, as if noticing me for the first time.
Kenyon sips on his bright orange drink and turns to Tzain. “Talk. What do you need?”
They sit in silence as Tzain explains our precarious situation, hushed when they hear about the fall of the divîner settlement. He tells them everything from the origin of the scroll to the impending ritual, ending with Zélie’s capture.
“The solstice is in two days,” I add. “If we’re going to make it, we need to act fast.”
“Damn,” Ife sighs, his shaved head reflecting the candlelight. “I’m sorry. But if she’s in there, there’s no getting her out.”
“There has to be something we can do!” Tzain points to Femi, a broad divîner with a cropped beard. “Can’t your father help? Isn’t he still bribing the guards?”
Femi’s face darkens. Without a word, he jerks back, rising so fast he almost knocks over the table.
“They took his father a few moons ago.” Khani drops her voice. “It started as a tax mix-up, but…”
“Three days later they found his body,” Imani finishes.
Skies. I stare after Femi as he makes his way through the crowd. Another victim of Father’s power. One more reason we must act now.
Tzain’s face falls. He reaches out and grips someone’s metal cup so hard it dents under his touch.
“It’s not over,” I speak up. “If we can’t bribe our way in, we can break her out.”
Kenyon snorts and takes another long swig of his drink. “We’re big, not dumb.”
“How is this dumb?” I ask. “You don’t need your size, you just need your magic.”
At magic, the whole table freezes, as if I’ve hissed a hurtful slur. Everyone turns to look at one another, but Kenyon fixes a sharp glare on me.
“We don’t have magic.”
“Not yet.” I pull out the scroll from my pack. “But we can give you your powers back. The fortress was designed to hold back men, not maji.”
I expect at least one of them to take a closer look, but everyone stares at the scroll as if it’s a fuse about to blow. Kenyon backs up from the table.
“It’s time for you to go.”
In an instant, Imani and Khani rise, each gripping one of my arms.
“Hey!” Tzain yells. He struggles as Ife and Kenyon hold him back.
“Let go!”
The bar stops, not wanting to miss out on the entertainment. Though I kick and shout, the girls do not relent, instead rushing to the doors as if their very lives depend on it. But as Imani’s breath comes out in short rasps and Khani’s grip on me tightens, the realization sinks in.
They are not angry …
They’re afraid.
I twist out of their grasp with a maneuver Inan taught me moons ago. I grab the hilt of my sword, releasing the blade with a sharp flick.
“I am not here to hurt you.” I keep my voice low. “My only desire is to bring your magic back.”
“Who the hell are you?” Imani asks.
Tzain finally breaks free of Kenyon’s and Ife’s grasp. He pushes through divîners and the twins to get to my side.
“She’s with me.” He forces Imani to back up. “That’s all you need to know.”
“It’s alright.” I step out of Tzain’s shadow, leaving the circle of his protection. Every eye in the bar pierces through me, but for once I do not shrink away. I picture Mother before a crowd of oloyes, able to command a room with just the slightest arch of her brow. I must call on that power now.
“I am Princess Amari, daughter of King Saran, and…” Though the words have never left my lips, I now realize there is no other choice. I cannot let the line of succession stand in my way. “And I am the future queen of Orïsha.”
Tzain’s brows knit in surprise, but he doesn’t let himself rest in his shock for too long. The bar erupts in an unyielding chatter that takes forever to quiet down. Eventually he manages to silence the crowd.
“Eleven years ago my father took your magic away. If we don’t act now, we’ll lose the only chance we will ever have to bring it back.”
I look around the tóju, waiting for someone to challenge me or try to throw me out again. A few of the divîners leave, but most stay, hungry for more.
I unclench the scroll and hold it up so they can see its ancient script. A divîner leans in to touch it and yelps when a burst of air shoots from his hands. The accidental display gives me all the proof I need.
“There’s a sacred ritual, one that will restore your connection to the gods. If my friends and I don’t complete it during the centennial solstice in two days, magic will disappear forever.” And my father will run through the streets, slaughtering your people again. He will stab you in the heart. He’ll kill you like he killed my friend.
I look around the room, locking eyes with each divîner. “There is more than your magic at risk. Your very survival is on the line.”
The mutters continue until someone from the crowd shouts, “What do we have to do?”
I step forward, resheathing my blade and lifting my chin. “There is a girl trapped in the guard fortress outside Gombe. She is the key. I need your magic to get her out. If you save her, you save yourselves.”
The room remains silent for a long moment. Everyone stands still. But Kenyon leans back, crossing his arms with an expression I can’t discern.
“Even if we wanted to help, whatever magic that scroll gave us wouldn’t be strong enough.”
“Do not worry.” I reach into Zélie’s leather pack and pull out the sunstone. “If you agree to help, I will take care of that.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
INAN
ZÉLIE’S SCREAMS HAUNT ME long after they end.
Shrill.
Piercing.
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Though her broken consciousness rests in the dreamscape, my physical connection to her body remains. Echoes of her anguish burn my skin. At times, the ache is so severe it hurts to draw breath. I fight to mask the pain as I knock on Father’s door.
Magic or not, I have to save her. I’ve already failed Zélie once.
I’ll never forgive myself if I allow her to perish here.
“Enter.”
I open the door and push my magic down, stepping into the commander quarters that Father’s commandeered. He stands in his velvet night robes, scanning a faded map. No sign of hatred. Not even a hint of disgust.
For him, carving MAGGOT into a girl’s back is just another day’s work.
“You wanted to see me.”
Father chooses not to answer for a long moment. He picks up the map and holds it to the light. A red X marks the divîner valley.
In that instant it hits me: Zulaikha’s death. Zélie’s screams. They don’t mean a thing to him. Because they’re maji, they’re nothing.
He preaches duty before self, but his Orïsha doesn’t include them. It never has.
He doesn’t just want to erase magic.
He wants to erase them.
“You disgraced me.” He finally speaks. “That’s no way to conduct yourself during an interrogation.”
“I wouldn’t call that an interrogation.”
Father sets the map down. “Excuse me?”
Nothing.
That’s what he expects me to say.
But Zélie sobs and shakes in the corners of my mind.
I won’t call “torture” by another name.
“I didn’t learn anything of use, Father. Did you?” My voice crescendos. “The only information I received was how loud you can make a girl scream.”
To my surprise, Father smiles. But his smile is more dangerous than his fury.
“Your travels have fortified you.” He nods. “Good. But do not waste your energy defending that—”
Maggot.
I know long before the slur leaves Father’s lips. It’s how he sees them all.
How he would see me.
I shift, moving until I can check my reflection in the mirror. Once again the streak is covered under a coat of black dye, but skies only know how long that’ll stay.
“We are not the first to bear this burden. To go to these lengths to keep our kingdom safe. The Bratonians, the Pörltöganés—all crushed because they didn’t fight magic hard enough. You would have me spare the maggot and allow Orïsha to suffer the same fate?”
“That is not what I proposed, but—”
“A maggot like that is like a wild ryder,” Father continues. “It won’t just give you answers. You have to break its will, demonstrate a new command.” He turns his gaze back to the parchment. He marks another X over Ilorin. “You’d understand that if you’d had the disposition to stay. By the end, the maggot told me everything I needed to know.”
A bead of sweat runs down my back. I clench my fists. “Everything?”
Father nods. “The scroll can only be destroyed with magic. I suspected this much after Admiral Ebele’s failure, but the girl confirmed it. With her in our grasp, we finally have everything we need. Once we retrieve the scroll, we’ll have her do the deed.”
My heartbeat pulses into my throat. I have to close my eyes to keep calm. “So she’ll live?”
“For now.” Father runs his finger over the X marking the divîner valley. The red ink runs thick. Dripping like blood.
“Perhaps it’s for the best,” he sighs. “She killed Kaea. A quick death would be a gift.”
My body goes rigid.
I blink hard. Too hard.
“W-what?” I stammer. “She said that?”
I struggle to say more, but every word dries in my throat. Kaea’s hatred flashes back into my eyes. Maggot.
“She confessed to being at the temple.” Father speaks as if the answer was obvious. “That’s where they recovered Kaea’s body.”
He picks up a small turquoise crystal, stained with blood. My stomach twists as he holds it up to the light.
“What’s that?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Some kind of residue.” Father’s lips curl. “The maggot left these in Kaea’s hair.”
Father crushes the remnant of my magic until it crumbles into dust. As it breaks, the smell of iron and wine hits me.
The scent of Kaea’s soul.
“When you find your sister, end her.” Father speaks more to himself than to me. “There’s no shortage of people I would eradicate to keep you both safe, but I cannot forgive her for whatever role she played in Kaea’s demise.”
I grip the hilt of the sword and force a nod. I can almost feel the knife carving TRAITOR into my back.
“I’m sorry. I know—” She was your sun. “I know … how much she meant to you.”
Father twists his ring, lost in his emotions. “She didn’t want to go. She feared something like this would happen.”
“I think she feared disappointing you more than her own death.”
We all do. We always have.
No one more than me.
“What will you do with her?” I ask.
“With who?”
“Zélie.”
Father blinks at me.
He’s forgotten she has a name.
“The physician is tending to her now. We believe her brother has the scroll. Tomorrow we’ll use her as leverage to retrieve it. After it’s in our hands, she’ll destroy it for good.”
“And after that,” I press, “after it’s gone, what then?”
“She dies.” Father turns back to his map, charting a course. “We’ll parade her corpse around Orïsha, remind everyone what happens if they defy us. If there’s even a whiff of rebellion, we’ll wipe them all out. Then and there.”
“What if there’s another way?” I speak up. I glance at the cities on the map. “What if we could hear their complaints—use the girl as an ambassador? There are people … people she loves. We could use them to keep her in line. A maji we control.” Each word feels like a betrayal, but when Father doesn’t interrupt, I keep going. I don’t have a choice. I have to save her at all costs. “I’ve seen things on these travels, Father. I understand the divîners now. If we can improve their situation, we’ll quell the possibility of rebellions altogether.”
“My father thought the same thing.”
I suck in a quick breath.
Father never speaks of his family.
The little I know about them comes from gossip and whispers around the palace.
“He thought we could end their oppression, build a better kingdom. I thought so, too, but then they killed him. Him and every other person I loved.” Father places a cold hand on my neck. “Believe me when I say there’s no other way. You saw what that Burner did to their camp.”
I nod, although I wish I hadn’t. There’s no fighting Father now that I’ve seen humans incinerated so fast they couldn’t even scream.
Father’s grip tightens. Almost to the point of pain. “Heed my word and learn this lesson now. Before it’s too late.”
Father steps forward and embraces me. A touch so foreign my body flinches in shock. The last time his arms were wrapped around me was when I was young. After I cut Amari.
A man who can cut his own sister is a man who can be a great king.
For a second I allowed myself to feel proud.
I was happy as my sister bled.
“I didn’t believe in you.” He pulls back. “I didn’t think you would succeed. But you’ve kept Orïsha safe. All of this will make you a great king.”
Unable to speak, I nod. Father turns back to his maps. He’s done with me now. With nothing more to say, I leave the room.
Feel, I command myself. Feel something. Father’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted. After all this time, he finally believes I will be a great king.
But when the door slams shut, my legs buc
kle. I slide to the ground.
With Zélie locked in chains, it doesn’t mean a thing.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
INAN
I WAIT TILL FATHER SLUMBERS.
Until the guards leave their post.
I sit in the shadows. Watching. The iron door moans when the physician exits her cell.
His face is blanched with strain, his clothes stained with her blood. The sight of him fortifies my desires.
Find her. Save her.
I zip across the floor and slide in my key. As the door groans open, I brace myself for the sight.
Nothing can prepare me.
Zélie hangs limp, her body nearly lifeless, her torn dress soaked through with blood. The sight rips a new hole inside of me.
And Father thinks the maji are the animals.
Shame and rage thrash within me as I select the right key. This isn’t about magic. For once it has to be about her.
I unlock the shackles binding her wrists and ankles, freeing Zélie from their hold. I catch her in my arms and cover her mouth. As she wakes, I muffle the sound of her screams.
Her pain ripples through me. Already the physician’s stitches are splitting. Her blood seeps out.
“I can’t feel it,” she whimpers against my skin. I adjust my arms to put pressure on the bandages around her back.
“You will,” I try to soothe her. What in skies’ name does she mean?
Her mind is a wall, running her torture on a constant loop.
There’s no ocean, no spirit. No scent of the sea. I can’t see beyond the anguish. She lives in the prison of her pain.
“Don’t do this.” Her nails claw into my shoulder as we ascend an empty stairwell. “I’m already bleeding out. Just leave me.”
The heat of her blood leaks through my fingers. I press harder against her back.
“We’ll find a Healer.”
Guards’ boots clank around the corner. I duck into an empty room as I wait for them to pass by. She cringes and fights back a scream. I press her even tighter to my chest.
When the corridor clears, I ascend another set of stairs. My heart pounds with every step.
“They’ll kill you,” she whispers as I run. “He’ll kill you.”
I steel myself against her words.
