by Tomi Adeyemi
Inan’s eyes widen and he stammers, looking between me and Zu as if one of us will release him from answering.
“Zu, it’s fine.” I wave her off. “I’m sure you can find someone else.”
“Probably be for the best.” Inan recovers his voice. His eyes drift to me for a moment, before looking away. “But yes, I think Zélie would look beautiful.”
My face heats, growing warmer when Amari studies us. I turn away and focus my attention elsewhere, trying to ignore the way Inan’s answer makes something inside me tingle. Once again the way he carried me into the camp forces itself back into my mind.
“Zu, what’s that?” I point to a black cart with a long line of divîners.
“That’s where Folake’s painting the clan baajis.” Zu’s eyes light up. “You have to get one!”
“Baajis?” Amari’s nose scrunches in confusion.
Zu gestures to the symbol painted on her neck. She grabs Inan and Amari by the hands and pulls, running ahead. “They’re lovely. Come on, you have to see it now!”
Zu moves fast, leading them farther through the crowd. I consider a brisker pace, but there’s something about walking through this camp that makes me want to slow down. Each time I pass a new divîner, my mind runs wild imagining all the different types of maji they could become. There could be future Winders on my left, or Seers on my right. With ten clans, there’s even a chance a future Reaper is right in front of m—
A stranger bumps into me, clad in red and black. He grips my waist, steadying me before I tumble back.
“Apologies.” He smiles. “My feet have a nasty habit of following my heart.”
“It’s fi…” My voice trails off. The stranger looks like no one I’ve ever seen, no descendant of Orïshan blood. His complexion is like sandstone, rich with copper undertones. Unlike the round eyes of Orïshans, his are angular and hooded, highlighting his stormy gray eyes.
“Roën.” He smiles again. “It’s a delight. I hope you can find the heart to forgive my clumsiness.” His accent clips the t’s and rolls the r’s in his speech. He has to be a merchant, some trader from another land.
Finally.
I look the young man up and down. Tzain’s told me about meeting the occasional foreigner while traveling Orïsha for his agbön matches, but I’ve never met one myself. Over the years I’ve heard descriptions of unique traders in crowded markets and travelers passing through Orïsha’s busiest cities. I always hoped one would come to Ilorin, but they never make it all the way to our eastern coast.
Questions fill my mind, but then I realize his hand is still on the small of my back. My cheeks warm as I slide away from his touch. I shouldn’t stare, but from the smirk on Roën’s lips, I can almost guarantee he likes it.
“Till we meet again.” He winks and struts off, holding my gaze. But before he can take another step, Inan reappears and grabs his arm.
The smile fades from Roën’s eyes as he glances at Inan’s grip. “I don’t know your intention, brother. But that’s a good way to lose a hand.”
“So is pickpocketing.” Inan sets his jaw. “Give it back.”
The gray-eyed stranger glances at me; with a sheepish shrug he removes a compacted staff from the pocket of his draped pants. My eyes widen as I reach for my empty waistband.
“How the hell did you do that?” I swipe back the staff. Mama Agba’s trained us to feel a thief’s touch. I should’ve sensed his hand.
“First bump.”
“Then why’d you linger?” I ask. “If you’re that smooth, you could’ve gotten away.”
“I couldn’t resist.” Roën grins like a foxer, revealing teeth that shine a little too bright. “From behind I saw only the beautiful staff. I didn’t know it’d be on a beautiful girl.”
I glare at him, but it only makes his smile wider. “As I said before, love”—he gives a little bow—“till we meet again.”
With that he saunters off, walking over to Kwame in the distance. They grasp each other’s fists in a familiar greeting, exchanging words I can’t hear.
Kwame eyes me for a second before the two disappear into a tent. I can’t help but wonder what Kwame would be doing meeting with a man like that.
“Thanks,” I say to Inan as I run my fingers over the carved staff markings. It’s the only thing I have left from Ilorin. The only tie to the life I once had. I think back to Mama Agba, wishing I could see her and Baba again.
“If I knew all it took to distract you was a charming smile, I would’ve tried that ages ago.”
“It wasn’t his smile.” I lift my chin. “I’ve never seen someone from another land.”
“Ah, was that all it was?” Inan grins, subtle yet completely disarming. In our time together I’ve seen everything from rage to pain play across his lips, but never anything close to an actual smile. It creates a dimple in his cheek, crinkling the skin around his amber eyes.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I turn back to my staff. Between the kaftan and the smile, it’s hard to believe I’m still looking at the little prince—
“Ugh!”
Inan’s grin transforms to a wince. He clenches his teeth and grips his side.
“What’s wrong?” I put my hand on his back. “Do you need me to get Zu?”
He shakes his head, exhaling a frustrated breath. “This isn’t the type of thing she could heal.”
I tilt my head until I realize the meaning behind his words. He looked so different in a cobalt kaftan I didn’t even notice the air around him was cold.
“You’re suppressing your magic.” My heart falls in my chest. “You don’t have to, Inan. No one here knows who you are.”
“It’s not that.” Inan braces himself before standing up straight. “There are too many people. I have to control it. If I let it out, someone could get hurt.”
Once again, I get a glimpse of the broken little prince who charged me with his blade; I knew he was scared, but was he really this afraid of himself?
“I can help you.” I drop my hand. “At least a little. If you learned how to control it, it wouldn’t hurt you like this.”
Inan pulls at the collar of his kaftan, though it hangs loose around his neck. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“It’s fine.” I grab his arm, leading him away from the crowds. “Come on. I know a place we can go.”
* * *
THE GOMBE RIVER TRICKLES BESIDE US, filling the air with its song. I thought the new surroundings might calm Inan, but now that we sit, I realize I need calming myself. The nerves that hit when Zu asked me to lead the maji return, stronger this time. I don’t know how to help Inan. I’m still trying to figure Reaper magic out myself.
“Talk to me.” I take a deep breath and feign the confidence I wish I had. “What does your magic feel like? When does it hit you the strongest?”
Inan swallows, fingers twitching around a phantom object. “I don’t know. I don’t understand anything about it at all.”
“Here.” I reach into my pocket and place a bronze piece into his palm. “Stop fidgeting, you’re making me itch.”
“What’s this?”
“Something you can play with without poisoning yourself. Have at it and calm down.”
Inan smiles again, this time fully, one that reaches and softens his eyes. He runs his thumb over the cheetanaire engraved in the coin’s center, marking it as Orïshan. “I don’t think I’ve ever held a bronze piece.”
“Ugh,” I choke in disgust. “Keep facts like that to yourself or I won’t be able to stomach this.”
“Forgive me.” Inan tests the weight of the coin in his palm. “And thank you.”
“Thank me by making this work. When was the last time you really let your magic flow?”
With the bronze piece passing between his fingers, Inan begins to think. “That temple.”
“Chândomblé?”
He nods. “It amplified my abilities. When I was trying to find you, I sat under a painting of Orí
and … I don’t know. It was the first time I felt like there was something I could control.”
The dreamscape. I think back to the last time we were there, wondering what I must’ve said. Did I give something away?
“How does it work?” I ask. “There are times when it feels like you’re reading a book inside my head.”
“More like a puzzle than a book,” Inan corrects me. “It’s not always clear, but when your thoughts and emotions are intense, I feel them, too.”
“You get that with everyone?”
He shakes his head. “Not to the same degree. Everyone else feels like being caught in the rain. You’re the whole tsunami.”
I freeze at the power of his words, trying to imagine what that would be like. The fear. The pain. The memories of Mama being ripped away.
“Sounds awful,” I whisper.
“Not always.” He stares at me like he can see straight into my heart, straight into everything I am. “There are times when it’s amazing. Beautiful, even.”
My heart swells in my chest. A coil of hair falls in front of my face, and Inan tucks it behind my ear. Goosebumps prickle down my neck when his fingers brush my skin.
I clear my throat and look away, ignoring the thumping inside my head. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know I can’t allow myself to feel like this.
“Your magic is strong.” I push the focus back. “Believe it or not, it comes naturally to you. You channel things instinctively that most maji would need a powerful incantation to do.”
“How can I control it?” Inan asks. “What do I do?”
“Close your eyes,” I instruct. “Repeat after me. I don’t know Connector incantations, but I do know how to ask for help from the gods.”
Inan closes his eyes and grips the bronze piece tight.
“It’s simple—Orí, bá mi s0r0.”
“Ba me sorro?”
“Bá mi s0r0.” I correct his pronunciation with a smile. It’s endearing how clumsy Yoruba sounds on his lips. “Repeat it. Picture Orí. Open yourself up and ask for his help. That’s what being a maji is about. With the gods on your side, you’re never truly alone.”
Inan looks down. “They’re really always there?”
“Always.” I think back to all those years I turned my back on them. “Even in the darkest times the gods are always there. Whether we acknowledge them or not, they always have a plan.”
Inan’s hand closes over the bronze piece, face turning pensive.
“Alright.” He nods. “I want to try.”
“Orí, bá mi s0r0.”
“Orí, bá mi s0r0,” he chants under his breath, fingers twisting around the bronze piece. At first nothing happens, but as he continues, the air begins to heat. A soft blue glow appears in his hands. The light creeps its way over to me.
I close my eyes as the world spins away, a hot rush, just like the other day. When the spinning ends, I’m back in the dreamscape.
But this time when the reeds tickle my feet, I don’t have to feel afraid.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
INAN
THE AIR OF THE DREAMSCAPE hums like a melody. Soft.
Resonant.
As it sings, my eyes trail Zélie’s bare skin through the lake.
Like a black-feathered swan, she glides above the shimmering waves, face at ease, an expression I’ve never seen. It’s like for one single moment the whole world doesn’t weigh on her shoulders.
She dives down for a few seconds and resurfaces, lifting her dark face to the rays above. With eyes shut, her lashes seem to never end. Her coils look like silver against her skin. When she turns to me, my breath catches. For a moment I forget how to breathe.
And to think.
I once thought she wore the face of a monster.
“You know it’s creepy if you just watch.”
A grin crawls onto my face. “Is that your clever way of getting me to join you?”
She smiles. A beautiful smile. With it, I glimpse the sun. When she turns, I long for that glimpse again, the warmth it spread through my bones. With that urge, I remove my shirt and jump in.
Zélie sputters and spits at the wave that hits when I crash through the rippling water. The current pulls me under with unexpected strength. I kick and push until I break back to the surface.
As I swim away from the waterfall’s roar, Zélie studies the forest behind us—its end stretches farther than I can see. Far beyond the white border that sat on the lake’s bank last time.
“I take it this is your first time in the water?” Zélie calls out.
“What gave it away?”
“Your face,” Zélie answers. “You look stupid when you’re surprised.”
A smile spreads on my lips, one that’s coming more and more often in her presence. “You rather enjoy insulting me, don’t you?”
“It’s almost as satisfying as beating you with my staff.”
This time it’s she who grins. It makes my own smile grow. She jumps up and floats on her back, passing between the drifting reeds and floating lilies.
“If I had your magic, I’d spend all my time here.”
I nod, though I wonder what my dreamscape would look like without her in it. All I create are wilting reeds. With Zélie, the whole world flows.
“You seem at home in the water,” I say. “I’m surprised you’re not a Tider.”
“Maybe in another life.” She runs her hand through the lake, watching as it slips through her fingers. “I don’t know why it is. I liked the lakes in Ibadan, but they were nothing compared to the ocean.”
Like sparks igniting a fire, her memory engulfs me: her young eyes open wide; the awe of the never-ending waves.
“You lived in Ibadan?” I drift closer, breathing more of her in. Though I’ve never ventured to the northern village, Zélie’s memories are so vivid it’s as if I’m there now. I marvel at the stunning views from the mountaintop, inhale the crisp mountain air into my lungs. Her memories of Ibadan hold a special warmth. The blanket of her mother’s love.
“I lived there before the Raid.” Zélie’s voice falters as she relives the moments with me. “But afterward…” She shakes her head. “There were too many memories. We couldn’t stay.”
A pit of guilt opens in my chest, tainted with the smell of burning flesh. The fires I watched from the royal palace resurface, the innocent lives burned before my young eyes. A memory I’ve pushed down like my magic, a day I’ve longed to forget. But staring at Zélie now brings it all back: the pain. The tears. The death.
“We weren’t supposed to stay in Ilorin.” Zélie speaks more to herself than to me. “But then I saw the sea.” She smiles to herself. “Baba told me we never had to leave.”
In the dreamscape, Zélie’s heartbreak hits me with unbearable force. Ilorin was her happiness. And I burned it to the ground.
“I’m sorry.” The words fight their way out. I hate myself even more as they ring. They sound so inadequate. Weak in the face of her pain. “I know I can’t fix it. I can’t change what I’ve done, but … I can rebuild Ilorin. When this is over, it’ll be the first thing I do.”
Zélie releases a brittle laugh. Dry. Devoid of all joy.
“Keep saying naive things like that. You’ll only prove Tzain right.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “What does he think?”
“That when this is over, one of us will be dead. He’s scared it’ll be me.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
ZÉLIE
I DON’T KNOW why I’m here.
I don’t know why I baited Inan to jump in.
I don’t know why something in me flutters each time he swims near.
This is temporary, I remind myself. This isn’t even real. When this is over, Inan won’t be wearing kaftans. He won’t be welcoming me into the dreamscape.
I try to picture the feral warrior I know, the little prince who came at me with his sword. But instead, I see the blade that freed me from the masks’ net. I see him
standing up to Kwame’s flames.
He has a good heart. Amari’s words from so long ago play inside my head. I thought she was in denial. But did she see the parts of him I couldn’t?
“Zélie, I would never hurt you.” He shakes his head and grimaces. “Not after all I’ve seen.”
When he lifts his eyes to mine, the truth leaks through. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before. The guilt and pity he’s been carrying … Gods.
He must’ve seen everything.
“I thought my father didn’t have a choice. I was always taught that he did what he did to keep Orïsha safe. But after seeing your memories…” His voice trails off. “No child should have to live through that.”
I turn back to the ripples in the lake, not knowing what to say. To feel. He’s seen the worst parts of me. Parts I never thought I could share.
“My father was wrong.” Inan speaks so quietly the waterfall nearly drowns him out. “Maybe I should have realized it earlier, but the only thing I can do now is try to make those wrongs right.”
Don’t believe him, I warn myself. He’s living in a fantasy, a dream. But with each promise he makes, my heart swells, secretly hoping even one of them holds truth. When Inan looks up at me, I see a hint of the optimism that’s always shining in Amari’s eyes. Despite everything, he’s determined to do this.
He really wants Orïsha to change.
If Sky Mother brought the scroll to you through a descendant of Saran’s blood, her will is clear. Lekan’s words echo through my head as I stare at Inan, entranced by his strong jaw, the stubble lining his chin. If one descendant of Saran’s blood is supposed to help me, could the gods want Inan to rule and change the guard? Is that what we’re doing here? Why they gifted him this magic?
Inan floats closer and my heartbeat spikes. I should swim away. But I stay still, cemented in place.
“I don’t want anyone else to die,” he whispers. “I can’t take any more blood on my family’s hands.”
Pretty lies. That’s all this is. But if they’re just pretty lies, why can’t I swim away?