Children of Blood and Bone

by Tomi Adeyemi

  And I can wipe him away.

  “I see you took my advice,” I yell, somersaulting to dodge the strike of his blade. “I can barely see your streak. How many coats this time, little prince?”

  I swipe my staff at his skull, striking to kill, not maim. I’m tired of fighting.

  I’m tired of him getting in our way.

  He ducks to avoid my staff, but he’s quick to thrust his sword at my gut. I spin out of harm’s way and strike. Once again, our weapons collide with a piercing clink.

  “You won’t win,” I hiss, arms shaking under the force. “Killing me won’t change what you are.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Inan jumps back, freeing himself for another blow. “If you die, magic dies, too.”

  He runs forward and raises his sword with a cry.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  AMARI

  DESPITE ALL THE YEARS spent fighting my brother, watching him now is like watching a stranger spar. Though slower than usual, Inan’s strikes are merciless, fueled by a burning rage I cannot comprehend. As he and Zélie trade blow for blow, their battle flows to the constant clinks of his sword and her staff. When their fight pushes them farther into the forest, Tzain and I run after them.

  “Are you alright?” Tzain asks.

  I long to say yes, but watching Inan, my heart fractures. After all this time, he’s so close to doing the right thing.

  “They’re going to kill each other,” I whisper, flinching at their hate-fueled blows.

  “No.” Tzain shakes his head. “Zél’s going to kill him.”

  I pause and study Zélie’s movements, powerful and precise, the fighter she’s always been. But she’s not trying to knock him down—she fights to take my brother out.

  “We have to stop this!” I run forward, ignoring Tzain’s pleas to stay back. The battle pushes our siblings down a hill, deep into the forested valley. I sprint to reach them, though the closer I get, the more I don’t know what to do. Should I extend my blade or stay defenseless and throw myself in harm’s way? They charge at each other with such a vengeance, I don’t know if either plan would stop them. I don’t even know if either would make them hesitate.

  But as I run, a new dilemma distracts me; the pressure of unseen eyes. It’s a weight I would know anywhere, honed from a lifetime of carrying it inside the palace walls.

  As the sensation grows, I stumble to a stop, searching for its source. Did Inan summon other soldiers? It isn’t like him to fight alone. If the army’s approaching, we could be more vulnerable than I thought.

  But the seal of Orïsha doesn’t appear. Instead, leaves tussle above us. Before I can extend my blade, a whipping sound cracks through the air—

  Nailah crashes to the ground with a yelp, thick bolas wrapped around her legs and snout. I pivot as a net shoots over her massive frame, capturing her with the ease of a practiced poacher. Caged roars shrink into frightened whimpers as Nailah fights in vain to get free. Her whimpers shrivel into silence. She’s helpless as five soldiers emerge from the forest and drag her away.

  “Nailah!” Tzain jumps into action, skinning knife brandished. He bounds forward with impressive speed, blade poised to cut—

  “Ugh!”

  Tzain tumbles to the ground like a boulder with bolas binding his wrists and ankles. The hunting knife skids against the forest floor as a net is launched, trapping him like a jungle cat.

  “No!”

  I run after him and extend my own blade, heart slamming against my chest. I dodge a whipping bola with ease, but when the five figures who took Nailah reappear, I don’t know where to turn. They blend in and out of the shadows, masked and clad in black. In brief flashes I catch their beady eyes. Not soldiers …

  But if not more of Inan’s guards, who are these fighters? Why do they attack us? What are they after?

  I slash at the first figure who approaches and duck to avoid another’s strike. Each attack wastes precious time, time Tzain and Nailah do not have.

  “Tzain!” I call after him as more masked figures emerge from the darkness and drag him away. He fights against the net with all his might, but a swift blow to the head leaves his body limp.

  “Tzain!” I slash my sword at a lunging assailant, striking a moment too late. The masked man grabs my weapon and disarms me. Another covers my face with a soaked cloth.

  Its acidic smell burns to a vicious sting, raging as my vision darkens.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  ZÉLIE

  AMARI’S SCREAMS REVERBERATE through the trees.

  Inan and I freeze mid-attack. We whip our heads to see Amari struggling with a masked man several meters away.

  Though she thrashes, a black glove closes over her mouth. Her eyes glaze before rolling back.

  “Amari!” Inan takes off after her, and I move to follow. But the forest is empty. I can’t find Nailah.

  I don’t see Tzain.

  “Tzain?” I brace myself against a tree and survey the silhouetted trees filling the valley. A cloud of dirt plumes in the distance, a netted body, heavy and strong. A limp hand presses against the cords. No …

  “Tzain!”

  I sprint.

  Faster than I knew I could run.

  It’s like I’m six years old again, reaching after the chain, clawing after Mama.

  I push the memories down as I go, screaming Tzain’s name into the night. This can’t happen. Not to me. Not to Tzain.

  Not again.

  “Tzain!”

  My screams rip my throat raw, my feet quake as I pound against the dirt. I pass Inan in pursuit of Amari. I can save him—

  “No!”

  Tight cords wrap around my ankles, pulling me to the ground. The breath rushes from my chest as a net ensnares my body.

  “Agh!” I scream again, twisting and kicking as I’m pulled through the forest. They’ve taken Tzain. They’ve taken Amari.

  And now they’re going to take me.

  Rocks and twigs tear at my skin, knocking my staff from my hand. I try to unearth Tzain’s dagger, but it too escapes my grasp. Dirt flies into my eyes, burning as I blink the debris away. It’s useless. I’ve lost—

  The cord pulling my net snaps.

  My body rolls to a halt as the two masked figures dragging me pitch forward with a start. In a flash, Inan lunges, striking while they’re still on the ground.

  One masked man runs, seeming to disappear under the gaping tree roots. The other moves too slowly; Inan rams the hilt of his sword against the man’s temple and his knees buckle.

  When the man crumples to the ground, Inan turns on me. He readjusts his grip on his sword.

  A fire rages behind his eyes.

  My fingers tremble as I rip at the cords with my bare hands, struggling to free myself. As Inan approaches, the seal of Orïsha catches the moonlight, carrying every pain endured under its leopanaire’s watch. The guards’ boots. The blood in the dirt. The black chain around Mama’s neck.

  The way they kicked Tzain down.

  The way they threw me to the ground.

  Each new memory constricts everything inside me, crushing my ribs. My breath catches as Inan crouches down and pins my arms under his knees.

  This is how it ends—

  Inan’s blade flashes from above.

  —exactly how it began.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  INAN

  I’M SO CLOSE.

  This one thought consumes me as I stalk toward the girl. Trapped in the net, she’s defenseless. No staff. No magic.

  With this one kill, I’ll fulfill my duty. Protect all of Orïsha from her madness. Every sin committed in this hunt disappears. The only living being who knows of my curse goes with them.

  “Huh!” I pin down her arms with my knees, pressing harder when she fights. I raise my sword and push down on her sternum with one hand, angling to drive the blade through her heart.

  But the moment my hand touches her chest, my magic roars through my skin. A force that can�
�t be stopped. Stronger than any magic I’ve felt.

  “Ugh!” I wheeze. The world disappears in a burning blue cloud. Though I fight, I can’t get out.

  My curse holds me down.

  Red skies.

  Shrill screams.

  Running blood.

  In one moment, the girl’s whole world flashes before my eyes. Her heartbreak rips through my own chest.

  Rawer than I knew pain could be.

  Cold rock hits my bare feet as she climbs the snow-capped mountains of Ibadan. The warm smell of jollof rice wraps around me. My heart stops when the guards kick down the wooden door of their home. Orïsha’s guards.

  My guards.

  The very sight of them suffocates me. Like a gorillion squeezing my throat.

  A thousand instances flash before me, a thousand crimes bearing the seal of Orïsha.

  The snow leopanaire shines as the guard’s ironclad fist collides with her father’s jaw.

  It gleams when the blood-covered chain wraps around her mother’s neck.

  I see it all. The world Father created.

  The pain she’s forced to live in.

  “Mama!”

  Zélie screams. A cry so mangled it doesn’t even sound human.

  Tzain covers her in the corner of their hut, a desperate attempt to hide her from the world’s pain.

  It all speeds past. A blur, yet an endless stretch of time.

  Thrashing as she runs after her mother.

  Freezing when she gets to the tree—

  Skies.

  The horror sears into my brain. Maji bound by majacite chains. Ornaments of death.

  Hanging for the whole world to see.

  It’s a wound that reverberates through my core. A decree to any divîner who lived through that night.

  In Father’s Orïsha, this was the only end maji could meet.

  It takes everything in me to fight Zélie’s memories back. Her sorrow drags me down like a vengeful current.

  With a lurch, I snap back to reality.

  My sword hangs above her chest.

  Curse the skies.

  My hand shakes. The moment to kill still hangs between us. Yet I can’t bring myself to move.

  Not when all I see is the scared and broken girl.

  It’s like seeing her for the first time: the human behind the maji. Fear embedded in the pain. Tragedy caused in Father’s name.

  Father …

  The truth sears, a bitter liquor burning down my throat.

  Zélie’s memories don’t hold the villains Father always warned of. Only families he tore apart.

  Duty before self. His creed rings through my ears.

  My father.

  Her king.

  The harbinger of all this suffering.

  With a cry, I strike down. Zélie flinches at my speed.

  The cords binding her fall into the dirt.

  Her eyes snap open and she scrambles back, waiting for my attack. But it doesn’t come.

  I can’t be another person bearing the seal of Orïsha who causes her pain.

  Zélie’s mouth falls open. Questions and confusion hang on the curve of her lips. But then her head snaps to the masked figure in the dirt. Her eyes go wide with the realization.

  “Tzain!”

  She rushes to her feet, nearly tripping in the process. Her brother’s name echoes through the darkness.

  When nothing answers her, she falls to the earth. Against my will, I sink with her.

  I finally know the truth.

  Yet I don’t know what in skies’ name I’m supposed to do.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ZÉLIE

  I DON’T KNOW how long I lie in the dirt.

  Ten minutes.

  Ten days.

  A cold like I’ve never known settles into my bones.

  The chill of being alone.

  I don’t understand. Who were those masked fighters? What were they after? They moved so fast, there was no way we could’ve avoided them.

  Unless you kept running …

  The truth puts a bitter tang on my tongue. Even the fastest mask would be nothing compared to Nailah’s speed. If we had just ridden off on Nailah, the men couldn’t have ambushed us. Amari and my brother would be safe. But I ignored Tzain’s warning and he paid the price.

  Tzain’s always paying my price.

  When I ran after the guards who took Mama, he weathered their beatings to drag me back. When I saved Amari from Lagos, he gave up his home, his team, his past. And when I decide to fight Inan, it’s not me who gets taken. It’s him. Always Tzain paying for my mistakes.

  Get up, a voice rings through my head, harsher than it’s ever been. Go after Tzain and Amari. Get them back now.

  Whoever these masked men are, they’ve made a fatal mistake. One I will ensure is their last.

  Though my body feels like lead, I drag myself to my feet and go over to where Inan and the masked figure lie.

  Inan leans against a trunk, face pinched, still clutching his chest. When he sees me, he wraps his hand around the hilt of his sword, but still he doesn’t attack.

  Whatever fire he summoned to fight me is extinguished; in its ashes, dark circles have formed under his eyes. He seems smaller than he did before. His bones pull against his blanched skin.

  He’s fighting it.… The realization sets in as the air around me chills. He’s pushing down his magic.

  He’s making himself weak again.

  But why? I stare at him, confusion gathering by the second. Why did he cut me from that net? Why isn’t he raising his sword against me again?

  The “why” doesn’t matter, the harsh voice rings inside my head. Regardless of his reasons, I’m still alive.

  If I waste any more time, my brother could end up dead.

  I turn away from Inan and press my foot to the masked boy’s chest. Part of me itches to unmask him, but this will be easier if I can’t see his face. He seemed like a giant when he dragged me through the forest. Now his limp body looks frail. Perfectly weak.

  “Where’d you take them?” I ask.

  The boy stirs but stays silent. Wrong choice.

  Worst choice.

  I reach for my dropped staff and thrust down, smashing the bones in his hand. Inan’s head snaps up as the boy lets out a violent howl that echoes into the night.

  “Answer me!” I yell. “Where’d you take them?”

  “I don’t—agh!” His screams grow louder, but they’re not loud enough. I want to hear him cry. I want to see him bleed.

  I let my staff fall and pull my dagger from my waistband. Tzain’s dagger …

  The memory of him placing it in my hands before I walked into Lagos breaks through my grief.

  Just in case, he said that day.

  Just in case I endangered him.

  “Tell me!” My eyes sting. “Where’s the girl? Where’s my brother? Where’s your camp?”

  The first strike is intentional, a cut in the arm to get him to talk. But when the blood flows, something snaps, something feral I can’t contain.

  The second strike is quick, the third passes too fast to follow. The darkest part of my rage breaks free as I slash him again and again, drowning out all my pain.

  “Where are they?” I thrust my knife into his hand as the corners of my vision blur. Mama vanishes into the darkness. Tzain’s netted body follows after her. “Answer me!” I shriek, pulling the blade up once more. “Where’d they take him? Where’s my brother?”

  “Hey!”

  A voice calls from above, but I can barely hear it. They took magic. They took Mama. They won’t take Tzain, too.

  “I’ll kill you.” I move the dagger over the masked boy’s heart and pull back. “I’ll kill y—”

  “Zélie, don’t!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  INAN

  I REACH OUT, seizing both her wrists just in time.

  She stiffens as I drag her onto her feet.

  The moment our skin touches, my magic
thrums, threatening to engulf me in Zélie’s memories once more. I clench my teeth and force the beast back down. Skies only know what’ll happen if I lose myself in her head again.

  “Let go,” she seethes. Her voice. It still carries all the rage and ferocity of before. Completely ignorant of the fact that now I’ve seen her memories.

  Now I see her.

  Unable to stop myself, I drink Zélie in, every curve, every line. The crescent-shaped birthmark along the slope of her neck. The specks of white swimming in the silver pools of her eyes.

  “Let go,” Zélie repeats, more violently than before. She drives her knee toward my groin; I jump back just in time.

  “Wait.” I try to reason with her, but without the masked man, her rage has found a new outlet. Her fingers tighten around her crude dagger. She rears back to attack.

  “Hey—” Zél. The word pops into my mind. A rough voice. Her brother’s voice.

  Tzain calls her Zél.

  “Zél, stop!”

  It feels foreign on my lips, but Zélie halts, stunned at the sound of her nickname. Her brows knit with pain. Just like the way they knit when the guards dragged her mother away.

  “Calm down.” I loosen my grip. A small show of faith. “You have to stop. You’ll kill our only lead.”

  She stares at me. The tears hanging off her dark lashes fall onto her cheek. Another surge of painful memories simmers to the surface. I have to brace myself to keep them at bay.

  “‘Our’?” Zélie asks.

  The word sounds even stranger coming out of her mouth. We are not supposed to have anything. We are not even supposed to be a “we.”

  Kill her. Kill magic.

  It was all so simple before. It’s what Father would have wanted.

  It’s what he’s already done.

  But the maji hanging from the tree still scar my mind.

  Just one of Orïsha’s endless crimes.

  Looking at Zélie, I finally have the answer to the question I was too afraid to ask. I cannot be like Father.