I push and shove through the crowd too, my irritation growing. I yank at my collar as sweat glides down my back. It isn’t hotter than any given Tamaran day—which is to say it’s blistering hot. But the market is so packed that it’s hard to breathe, let alone move. Every third person is looking for a fight, or fresh out of one. I search for Majka or Kira to hear what message Rudjek sends.
It’s the memory of your smile that keeps me sane in these trying times. So melodramatic. Majka blushed delivering the message, but he’ll get no pity from me. As much as Majka and Kira complain about Rudjek’s behavior, they’re every bit as insolent as him. Yet his messages bring me comfort when I lie awake in bed at night, reliving those awful moments at the Temple.
When I’m not thinking about the Temple, I dwell on another fear—a fear that the almost kiss unlocked. A part of me worries that Rudjek’s mother will want him paired with a Northern princess like her. All the beautiful girls at his Coming of Age Ceremony weren’t there by accident. Their families brought them to meet the future Vizier. Whenever his father introduced him to someone, they introduced him to their daughters. Girls of sweeping grace who could charm snakes with their sweet words.
But in the gardens, there was only us. His scent of wood smoke and lilac tangling my senses, his lips so close to mine. Heat awakened in me, and my thoughts had little to do with meeting in the market or fishing at the river. How long has this thing between us been boiling beneath the surface?
I shouldn’t think about him, not with all that’s happened. I’m betraying the memory of Kofi and the children by having even the smallest moment of joy. Why should I be happy while their parents suffer and grieve? It’s not fair. But my friendship with Rudjek is the only thing my mother hasn’t taken. It keeps me from falling to pieces. Hope is daunting in the face of desperation, yet I cling to it, no matter how withered and how small. It’s foolish to believe someone like me can stop my mother when even the orishas have failed, but I won’t give up. I’ve failed at magic so much that I know how to lock the pain away and keep trying.
“I’ve missed you too.”
I stop in my tracks, my heart racing and warmth flooding through my body. Rudjek’s voice is deep, low and playful, punctuated by the longing dancing in my chest. It has none of the arrogance and bravado of when he talks about the arena. I turn to find him by my side in the sway of the crowd, and despite myself, my breath hitches a little. I’m surprised he’s come himself; I expected another message through Majka or Kira. He beams at me with twinkles in his midnight eyes, another foolish grin on his face as if he’s bewitched.
Bewitched by me.
I’m bewitched by him.
Rudjek, my best friend.
Rudjek, something more.
We stop in the middle of the crowded market, people flowing around us like a rushing river. The throng hums with noise, but it fades to the background as I take a step closer to him. He does the same. Now there’s very little space between us, like in the gardens, and a flush of anticipation flutters in my belly.
“Your father let you leave?” My words come out husky.
Rudjek scratches his head. “He finally saw the error of his ways.”
I spot Majka and Kira nearby, scanning the crowds. “I doubt that.”
Rudjek’s eyes land somewhere on my body that makes his cheeks burn, and then he glances away. “I’m sorry you had to see that. My father is a selfish ass.”
I laugh not because it’s true or funny. I laugh because if we are competing for who has the most awful parent, I would win that honor a thousand times over. “He could be much worse.”
“My mother took my side, and we wore him down,” he says as two patrons sidestep us, one cursing under his breath.
“Wore the Vizier down?” I laugh again. “I can’t imagine that.”
“We reminded him that I’m his only viable heir.”
I cock my head and purse my lips at him. “A threat, then.”
“If I’m so disagreeable”—Rudjek shrugs—“he can always choose Jemi or Uran.”
I take a deep breath. “I never meant to cause strife between you and your father.”
Rudjek leans closer. He’s going to kiss me. I want him to, but instead he runs a teasing finger down one of my braids. “You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “You used to pull my hair all the time when we were little.”
“Can we get out of here?” Rudjek shifts his hands to his hips. “Go to our fishing spot?”
I arch an eyebrow and cluck my tongue at him.
“With Majka and Kira, of course.” Rudjek winks. “I promise to behave.”
I don’t want him to behave. I want the kiss his father interrupted—a kiss to forget the bad, a kiss to bury the pain. Heka’s vision showed me a bleak future, but at least I can have this one thing, while the Kingdom is still in one piece.
The muted sounds of the market rush back in.
They never left, did they?
When a troupe of paid mourners cuts through the crowd, we split apart. Rudjek steps to one side and me to the other. Women tear at their already tattered clothes, kohl streaking down their cheeks. They pray to Kiva, the orisha of children, to save the souls of the fallen. A chill runs up my spine as Familiars fan through the mourners, feeding off their emotions.
They know.
“They’ve found the children!” someone screams.
Guards shove through the market.
“Below the cliffs near the Temple,” yells another.
By the time the mourners pass, I wonder if Koré or another orisha has seen to it that someone found the children. The shotani would’ve hidden the bodies well, so this can be no accident.
“The Temple is on fire!” comes a third shout.
It’s true.
Black smoke swells atop the cliffs above the city, obscuring the Temple from sight.
I grab Rudjek’s arm and push against the flow of the crowd. People elbow their way toward the Temple, but another path will get us to the bottom of the precipice faster. By the time we clear the throng and land by the sacred Gaer tree, we’re both soaked in sweat and panting. Somewhere in the fray we’ve lost Majka and Kira. Rudjek stares at me, his mouth open, his earlier flirtation replaced by grim realization. Neither of us can speak. My mind slips back to the nightmare of Arti’s ritual and the demon eating the children’s souls. My father eating their souls.
“We tried, Arrah,” Rudjek says.
He doesn’t know how wrong he is, or the depths of my involvement. What would he think of me if he did? I watched the children’s lives snatched away so that the monster in my mother’s belly could exist. Rudjek shudders, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Put the pieces together! They found the children near the Temple. My thoughts scream what my tongue won’t allow me to speak.
“It isn’t your fault,” he reassures me. “You gave so much with that ritual.”
The plume of smoke above the Temple has doubled in size. Good. Let the vile place burn to ashes and my mother along with it. Let the fire destroy her the way she’s destroyed me. “This isn’t about me, Rudjek.” I wince. “You don’t understand.”