When I nod, she spins on her heels, heading into the kitchen. Hoping to avoid my mother, I enter that way too, wearing the too-large silver slippers given to me by an attendant at the Omari estate. Arti is nowhere in sight as I creep to my room, and the dancers on the wall creep alongside me. Terra’s brought in fresh water for my bath, but it’s grown cold, likely having been there since daybreak. An ivory sheath lies on my bed.
Arti knew that I would return. She needn’t worry with this curse in my blood. I grimace in the mirror at where the scar should be if not for my mother’s magic. I want to throw something through the glass so it’ll shatter into a thousand pieces, the way my mother shattered me. The way the Ka-Priest shattered her.
As the eye of Re’Mec settles over the Almighty Palace, I take my time getting dressed after washing. I trace the invisible serpent carved into my chest again. It doesn’t glow at my touch this time, and even though my skin is smooth and unmarked, I remember the exact curve of it. I can’t pretend the terrible things my mother’s done never happened. She refused to answer my questions about Kofi, and that has me more worried than this wretched snake.
I dread going to the salon and eating with Arti, but her magic yanks me by an invisible leash. As soon as I walk into the room, I stop cold. My father sits on a cushion at the head of the table. He’s drinking from a porcelain bowl, having his usual fill of beer before the evening meal. He’ll know what to do. He’ll be able to stop Arti. She sits to his right, nibbling on roasted figs and walnuts. Her magic brought me here, but she doesn’t spare me a glance.
“You’re back!” I exclaim.
My father flashes me a smile, his face opening up like the first rays of sunlight. Clearly, he hasn’t gotten wind of my mysterious disappearance in the middle of the night. He sets his bowl aside and holds out his arms to welcome me. I almost collapse into him as he pulls me into a tight hug. I sink into the warmth of his embrace, knowing that he’ll make things right again.
“I’ve missed you, daughter.” He kisses the top of my head. “I have much to tell you.”
Arti’s mask is one of feigned disinterest as she lifts a cup of wine to her lips, but it doesn’t hide the animosity in her eyes. Nor does it hide the way she shifts on the pillow as if unable to find comfort. She focuses her attention on a wall behind me instead of meeting my gaze. I should be glaring at her, cursing her in my mind, but despite myself I pity her. The news about the Ka-Priest is still fresh, seething and festering like bad blood.
Her amber eyes shine too bright, her raven hair too lustrous in the glow of the fire lamps. She is the opposite of Oshhe in every way. The light catches the angles of his ebony face, making his jaw more prominent, his nose more distinguishable, his forehead prouder. She is softness and curves and radiance even now. I catch my father stealing glances at her, his expression yearning, his smile small. After all this time, he’s still so happy to see her.
The tribal boys had called her the Siren of the Valley.
They should’ve called her the Snake instead.
“Did you find the white ox, Father?” I shouldn’t ask in front of Arti, but I’m desperate. Its bones may be strong enough to break her curse.
“Indeed, Little Priestess.” Oshhe nods as I settle on the pillow to his left. “I spied the ox on the edge of the Dark Forest.”
My father’s voice vibrates in the room like a great song and wraps around me. He has to sense something wrong. At the very least he should be able to feel the tension between Arti and me that’s thick enough to cut with a knife.
As Oshhe takes another gulp of beer, I wish I could gather up all the awful things in my mind and bury them someplace far away. I wish that I could burn the invisible cursed serpent from my chest. Why can’t he feel something . . . anything? From the gleam in his eyes, he’s on the verge of a story. I sigh in resignation, for it has been too long since my father told me a story and I need to feel safe.
When my father tells stories, I’m a little girl again, hanging on to his every word. “Did you see one?” I ask, my heart pounding against my chest. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes hints that something extraordinary must’ve happened. “Did you see a craven?”
“One does not see a craven, Little Priestess.” Oshhe beams with pride. “For they are as elusive as they are dangerous. But if one has enough magic, one can sense their presence. It feels like a heavy cloak, like air that’s too thick, like the sky is falling. It weighs upon your ka and makes you want to flee.
“As I said, I spied the white ox on the edge of the Dark Forest,” my father continues. “As this was no ordinary ox, he knew why I had come and what I meant to do. He ran like the wind in a storm, wild, unbridled, and without caution. But I would not leave without his bones. I ran too—as fast as a gazelle—and caught him as he entered the forest. When I kneeled to say a blessing for taking the beast’s life, I felt them.
“Even in the heart of day, the Dark Forest is forever night,” he tells me. “The trees are so tall and wide that they block out the sun. The cravens surrounded me in this twilight. I thought I was dead for sure, but they stayed in the shadows. How many I cannot say. Seeing that they did not attack, I used magic to lessen the weight of the ox to that of a child. It took much effort, for the cravens’ presence had weakened my powers. The white ox bones contain powerful protective magic, but the cravens’ anti-magic poisons it. It’s a venom to which there is no antidote.”
Oshhe pauses to refill his bowl with beer. “As you can imagine, I had no intention of lingering there for long. I carried the ox from the Dark Forest as fast as I could. It wasn’t until I was far away that I stopped to rest.”
“Thank you, white ox,” I whisper. “I promise to honor your bones.”
It’s an Aatiri prayer, one to respect something taken. I hope his sacrifice can undo Arti’s curse. “When will you make the charm, Father?” Again, my question is too eager in front of my mother, but I don’t worry about that now.
“Wasting time with bone charms,” Arti scoffs. “Such foolishness.”
“Just because it is not your way does not make it foolish.” Oshhe shakes his head at her, his look one of pity and disbelief. Then he reaches into a sachet near his side, grinning. “A gift for you, daughter.”
He holds the charm out to me. It’s a single curved horn, polished and hollowed out with a hole on either end. He’s strung a silver chain through the holes so it can be worn around the neck. It’s inlaid with gold and shimmers with his magic. Not just any magic—magic that will protect me from the green-eyed serpent, protect me from my mother.
But when I make to reach for it, the muscles in my arms tighten and I can’t move. I raise my eyes to my father in desperation.
Oshhe’s about to say something when Arti rings the bell for Ty to send our meals. She must know it won’t be long before my father figures out the truth. She’s trying to distract him. It won’t work forever.
Terra slips in from the kitchen with a tray in her arms. She kneels between Arti and Oshhe, offering the food for their inspection. Peanut soup spiced with ginger and garlic, served with generous balls of fufu. Herb-crusted lamb garnished with mint leaves. Wagashi cheese and a warm loaf of bread. Oshhe gestures for Terra to set the platter down, but he hardly notices her or the food.