by Tomi Adeyemi
“Oh…” I fight back a smile. I want you here. His words make my ears burn. Tzain actually wants me to stay.
“Well, thank you,” I say quietly, sitting back. “I want to be here, too. Despite how loudly you snore.”
Tzain smiles, and it softens up every hard line in his face. “You’re not so quiet yourself, Princess. The way you snore, I should’ve called you the Lionaire this whole time.”
“Ha.” I narrow my eyes and grab our canteens, praying my face isn’t flushed. “I’ll remember that the next time you need help grabbing a roll of bandages.”
Tzain grins as I leave the hut, a lopsided smile that lifts my very steps. The brisk night air greets me like an old friend, thick with the scent of ogogoro and palm wine from the celebration.
A hooded woman spots me and breaks out into a wide smile. “The Lionaire!”
Her call incites the cheers of those around her. It makes my cheeks flush, but this time the name doesn’t sound so wrong. With a shy wave, I skirt the crowd, fading into the shadows.
Perhaps I made a mistake.
Maybe a lionaire lives in me after all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
INAN
THE DESERT AIR is lifeless.
It cuts with each inhale.
Without Kaea’s steady instruction, every breath blurs together, marred by the magic that took her away.
I never realized how riding alongside Kaea passed the time. Traveling alone, minutes merge into hours. Days blend into nights. The food supply dwindles first. Water follows close behind.
I grab the canteen hooked to the saddle of my stolen panthenaire and squeeze the last droplets out. If Orí is really watching me from above, he must be laughing now.
Maji attack.
Kaea killed.
Pursuing the scroll.
—I
The message I sent home with the soldiers should arrive soon.
Knowing Father, he’ll dispatch guards the moment he receives it, order them to return with the culprit’s head or not at all. Little does he know the monster he hunts is me.
Guilt rips at my insides like the magic I fight back. Father’ll never understand the extent to which I’m already punishing myself.
Skies.
My heads rings as I push my magic down. Deep into my bones, further than I ever knew it could go. Now it’s not just an ache in my chest or a winded breath that I fight, it’s a constant tremor shaking my hands. The burning hatred in Kaea’s eyes. The venom in her final word.
Maggot.
I hear it again and again. A hell I can’t escape. With that one foul word, Kaea might as well have declared me unfit to be king.
The slur disparages everything I’ve ever worked for. The duty I fight to fulfill. The destiny Kaea herself forced upon me.
Dammit. I close my eyes against the memories of her that day. It was Kaea who found me after I hurt Amari, tucked in the darkest corner of my room, clutching the bloodied blade.
When I threw the sword to the floor, Kaea placed it back into my hands.
You’re strong, Inan. She smiled. Do not let that strength scare you. You will need it all your life. You’ll need it to be king.
“Strength,” I scoff. It’s that very strength I need now. I only used magic to protect my kingdom. Kaea of all people should’ve understood that.
Sand whips at my face as I pass the clay walls of Ibeji. I force thoughts of Kaea away. She’s dead. I can’t change that.
The threat of magic still lives.
Kill her. In the dead of night, I’d expected the desert settlement to be asleep, but the streets of Ibeji swell with the remnants of some celebration. Low-ranking nobles and villagers pull generous swigs from their cups, each drunker than the last. At times they cry out mythic names, cheering for “the Lionaire,” “the Commander,” or “the Immortal.” None pay any mind to the disheveled soldier who rides in their midst, or waste a glance at the dried blood coating my skin. No one realizes that I am their prince.
I pull on my panthenaire’s reins, stopping before a villager who looks sober enough to remember his own name. I reach to pull out the wrinkled poster.
Then I catch the scent of the sea.
Though I’ve pushed every part of my curse down, it hits. Distinct, like an ocean breeze. It strikes me like the first drop of water in days. Suddenly it all comes together.
She’s here.
I yank on the reins and urge the panthenaire toward the scent.
Kill her. Kill magic.
Get my life back.
I slide to a stop in an alleyway lined with sand ahérés. The smell of the sea is overpowering now. She’s here. Hiding. Behind one of these doors.
My throat tightens as I dismount the panthenaire and unsheathe my sword. Its blade catches the moonlight.
I kick down the first door.
“What’re you doing?” a woman cries. Even with the haze slowing my thoughts, I can see it’s not her.
Not the girl.
Not what I need.
I breathe deep and search again, letting the sea-salt scent guide my way. It’s this door. This ahéré. The only thing standing in my way.
I kick down the clay door and run forward, teeth bared in a growl. I raise my sword to fight—
No one is here.
Folded sheets and old clothes line the walls. All stained with blood. But the hut is empty, filled only with shed lionaire fur and the unmistakable scent of the girl.
“Hey!” a man shouts from outside. I don’t turn to look.
She was here. In this city. In this hut.
And now she’s gone.
“You can’t just—” A hand grips my shoulder.
In an instant, my own hands are around the man’s throat.
He lets out a yelp as I point my blade at his heart.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he cries.
I draw my blade across his chest. A thin line of blood appears. His tears almost look silver in the moonlight.
Maggot, the girl whispers with Kaea’s voice. You’ll never be king. You can’t even catch me.
I tighten my grip on the man’s neck.
“Where is she?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ZÉLIE
AFTER THE SIX DAYS traveling through the hell of the desert, the lush forests of the Gombe River Valley are a welcome sight. The hilly land breathes with life, filled with trees so wide one trunk could fit an entire ahéré. We weave in and out of the towering giants, moonlight spilling through their leaves as we travel toward a winding river. Its quiet roar hits my ears like a song, soft like the crash of ocean waves.
“This is so soothing,” Amari purrs.
“I know. It’s almost like being back home.”
I close my eyes and take in the trickling sound, letting it fill me with the calm that came in the early mornings spent drawing the fishing net with Baba. That far out at sea, it was like we lived in our own world. It was the only time I truly felt safe. Not even the guards could touch us.
My muscles relax as I settle into the memory. I haven’t felt this still in weeks. With the sacred artifacts scattered and Inan’s sword at our backs, every second felt stolen, borrowed at best. We didn’t have what we needed for the ritual, and the chances of us getting the artifacts were far smaller than the chances of getting killed. But now, we have it all: the scroll, the sunstone, and the bone dagger are safe in our grasp. For once, I feel more than at ease. With six days until the centennial solstice, I finally feel that we can win.
“Do you think they’ll tell stories about this?” Amari asks. “About us?”
“They better.” Tzain snorts. “With all the dung we’ve had to wade through for this magic, we better get a whole festival.”
“Where would the story even start?” Amari chews on her bottom lip. “What would they call it? ‘The Magic Summoners’? ‘The Restorers of Magic and the Sacred Artifacts’?”
“T
hat doesn’t have a ring to it.” I scrunch my nose and recline on Nailah’s furry back. “A title like that will never withstand the test of time.”
“What about something simpler?” Tzain offers. “‘The Princess and the Fisherman’?”
“That sounds like a love story.”
I roll my eyes. I can hear the smile in Amari’s voice. I have no doubt that if I sat up, I would catch Tzain smiling as well.
“It does sound like a love story,” I tease. “But that’s not accurate. If you want a love story so bad, why not call it ‘The Princess and the Agbön Player’?”
Amari whips her head around, a flush rising to her cheeks. “I didn’t mean—I—I wasn’t trying to say—” Her mouth clamps shut before she can choke out anything else.
Tzain shoots me a glare, but it lacks true malice. As we approach the Gombe River, I can’t decide whether it’s endearing or annoying how the smallest taunt makes them both clam up.
“Gods, it’s a beast!” I slide down Nailah’s tail and find my footing over the large, smooth stones lining the muddy bank. The water stretches wide, curving a path through the heart of the forest and the trunks of massive trees. I kneel down in the mud and bring the water to my lips, remembering the way my throat burned for it in the desert. The ice-cold water feels so good in this humid air that I’m tempted to thrust my entire face in.
“Zél, not yet,” Tzain says. “There’ll be water up ahead. We still have a ways to go.”
“I know, but just take a sip. Nailah could use the rest.”
I rub Nailah’s horn and nuzzle my face against her neck, grinning when she nuzzles me back. Even she hated the desert. Since we’ve left, she’s had an extra spring in her step.
“For Nailah,” Tzain concedes. “Not for you.”
He jumps down and crouches by the river, careful as he fills up his canteen. A smile spreads across my lips. The opportunity is too great to resist.
“Oh my gods!” I point. “What’s that?”
“What—”
I ram into his body. Tzain yells as he topples over, hitting the river with a splash. Amari gasps when Tzain reemerges, soaked, teeth chattering with cold. He locks eyes with me, a wicked grin breaking through.
“You’re dead.”
“You have to catch me first!”
Before I can take off, Tzain lunges forward, grabbing me by the leg. I shriek as he pulls me under. The water is so cold it hits my skin like Mama Agba’s wooden needles.
“Gods!” I sputter for air.
“Was it worth it?” Tzain laughs.
“That’s the first time I’ve tricked you in ages, so I’m going to have to say yes.”
Amari jumps down from Nailah, giggling as she shakes her head. “You two are ridiculous.”
Tzain’s grin turns mischievous. “We’re a team, Amari. Shouldn’t you be ridiculous, too?”
“Absolutely not.” Amari backs away, but she doesn’t stand a chance. Tzain rises from the water like an Orïshan river python. Amari only gains a few meters before he hunts her down. I smile as she squeals with laughter, spouting every excuse she can think of when Tzain throws her over his back.
“I can’t swim.”
“It’s not that deep.” He laughs.
“I’m a princess.”
“Don’t princesses bathe?”
“I have the scroll!” She takes it out of her waistband, reminding Tzain of his own strategy. To keep all of the artifacts from being in one place, he carries the bone dagger, Amari holds the scroll, and I guard the sunstone.
“Good point.” Tzain snatches the scroll out of her hand and places it on Nailah’s saddle. “And now, Your Majesty, your royal bath awaits.”
“Tzain, no!”
Amari’s shriek is so loud that birds fly out of the trees in alarm. Tzain and I burst into laughter as she crashes into the water, flailing around although she can stand.
“It’s not funny.” Amari shivers, grinning in spite of herself. “You’re going to pay for that.”
Tzain bows. “Do your best.”
A new kind of smile rises to my face, one that warms me even as I sit on the bank of the freezing river. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen my brother play. Amari fights in earnest to dunk him under the water, though she can’t be more than half his weight soaking wet. Tzain entertains her, crying out in pretend pain, pretending she might win—
Suddenly, the river vanishes.
The trees.
Nailah.
Tzain.
The world spins around me as a familiar force carries me away.
When the spinning stops, reeds tickle my feet. Brisk air fills my lungs.
By the time I realize I’m in the prince’s dreamscape, I’m thrust back into the real world.
I wheeze, clutching my chest as the cold of the river hits my feet again. The flash of the dreamscape only lasted a moment, but it was powerful, stronger than it’s ever felt. A chill strikes my core as the realization settles in. Inan isn’t just in my dreams.
He’s close.
“We have to go.”
Tzain and Amari are laughing too loudly to hear me. He’s lifted her once again, threatening to throw her back in.
“Stop.” I kick water at them. “We have to go. We’re not safe here!”
“What are you talking about?” Amari giggles.
“It’s Inan,” I rush out. “He’s clo—”
My voice chokes in my throat. A distant noise pounds near.
Our heads whip toward the sound, thumping and constant.
At first I can’t decipher it, but as it approaches I recognize the steady patter of paws. When they round the riverbend, I finally see what I feared most: Inan speeds toward us.
Rabid on his panthenaire.
Shock slows my steps as we scramble out of the river. The water that once held our joy weighs us down, current strong now that Amari and Tzain fight to get out. We’re idiots. How could we be so foolish? The very second we let ourselves relax is the second Inan finally catches us.
But how did Inan get over the broken bridge at Chândomblé? How did he know where to go? Even if he somehow tracked us to Ibeji, we left that hell six nights ago.
I race over to Nailah and mount first, gripping her reins tight. Tzain and Amari quickly scramble up behind me. But before I snap the leather, I turn around—what have I missed?
Where are the guards he traveled with before? The admiral who killed Lekan? After surviving a sêntaro’s attack, surely Inan wouldn’t strike without backup.
But despite all reasonable logic, no other guards shoot forth. The little prince is vulnerable. Alone.
And I can take him in a fight.
“What’re you doing?” Tzain screams as I release Nailah’s reins, drawing her to a halt before we even start.
“I got this.”
“Zélie, no!”
But I don’t turn back.
I throw my pack to the ground and jump off Nailah’s back, landing in a crouch. Inan halts his own ryder and dismounts, sword brandished and ready for blood. With a growl, the panthenaire lopes off, but Inan hardly seems to notice. Crimson stains haunt his uniform, a desperation burns in his amber eyes. And yet, he looks thinner. Fatigue rises from his skin like heat. Something crazed shifts in his gaze.
Suppressing his powers has left him weak.
“Wait!” Amari’s voice quivers.
Though Tzain tries to hold her back, she slides off Nailah’s saddle. Her nimble feet hit the ground without making a sound, tentative as they walk past me.
Color drains from Amari’s face, and I see the fear that’s plagued her all her life. The girl who grabbed me all those weeks ago in the market. The princess with the scar traveling down her back.
But as she moves, something different sets into her stance, something steady like on the arena ship. It allows her to approach her brother, concern eclipsing the terror in her eyes.
“What happened?”
Inan redirects his sword
from my chest to Amari’s. Tzain jumps down to fight, but I grab his arm. “Let her try.”
“Out of my way.” Inan’s voice is commanding, but a tremble shakes his hand.
Amari pauses for a second, illuminated by the moonlight reflecting off Inan’s blade.
“Father’s not here,” she finally says. “You won’t hurt me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Maybe you don’t.” Amari swallows hard. “But I do.”
Inan is silent for a long moment. Still. Too still. The clouds shift and moonlight shines, lighting the space between them. Amari takes a step forward. Then another, bigger this time. When she places a hand on Inan’s cheek, tears fill his amber eyes.
“You don’t understand,” he croaks, still clenching his sword. “It destroyed her. It’ll destroy all of us.”
Her? Whether or not Amari knows who Inan’s talking about, she doesn’t seem to care. She guides his sword to the ground as if soothing a wild animal.
For the first time I notice how different she and her brother truly look, the contrast in her round face, the angles of Inan’s square jawline. Though they share the same amber gaze and copper complexion, that seems to be where their similarities end.
“Those are Father’s words, Inan. His decisions. Not yours. We are our own people. We make our own choices.”
“But he’s right.” Inan’s voice cracks. “If we don’t stop magic, Orïsha will fall.”
His eyes return to me, and I tighten my grip on my staff. Try it, I want to bark. I’m done running away.
Amari redirects Inan’s line of vision, her delicate hands cupping the back of his head.
“Father is not the future of Orïsha, brother. We are. We stand on the right side of this. You can stand there, too.”
Inan stares at Amari, and for a moment I don’t know who he is. The ruthless captain; the little prince; the scared and broken maji? There’s a longing in his eyes, a desire to give up the fight. But when he lifts his chin, the killer I know comes back.
“Amari—” I cry out.
Inan pushes her aside and lunges forward, sword raised to my chest. I jump in front of Tzain with my staff brandished. Amari tried.