As we trek across the mountains, I avoid Rudjek at all costs. Maybe I’m not being fair to him, but it’s better this way. Whenever we’re near each other, I find something to do, or strike up a conversation with one of my friends. With Essnai or Sukar, we share our favorite moments from the Blood Moon Festival. Majka tries to cheer me up—that is, when he’s not trying to woo the craven with the freckles and silver hair. When Kira isn’t checking on Essnai, she lets me practice with one of her daggers. Every time I thrust the blade into thin air, I imagine my sister’s face and feel sick to my stomach.
On the seventh day, we leave the mountains behind and descend into a valley on the outskirts of the tribal lands. There’s been no sign of Efiya or her demons or the shotani. My so-called friends each feign a task and leave Rudjek and me at camp alone. I’m annoyed with them for their little trick. I wander from camp too, but he follows me to the river. I’m not ready for this conversation. Not yet. The wounds are still too fresh.
I stop without facing him. “I’d like to be alone, please.”
“Are you going to avoid me forever?” Rudjek asks, irritated.
“That’s the plan,” I say, “so go away.”
“I know you can never forgive me about Efiya . . .”
I turn and the sun catches the angles of his jaw. “You’re a fool.”
“I deserve that,” he says, gaze flitting to his feet. “I deserve worse.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered that you thought I’d give myself to you?”
“I wanted to give myself to you too.” He shudders. “I should’ve realized . . .”
I’m so mad that my whole body shakes. “Yes, you should have!”
We stand with little space between us now. His intoxicating scent tickles my nose. How he manages to smell so amazing after days on the road is bewildering to me. He reaches for me, but pauses, his eyes asking for permission. I should say no and walk away to put us both out of our misery, but I don’t. I nod because I still want him too.
Rudjek cups my cheek in his hand and I turn my face into the warmth of his palm and let him pull me against his chest. The drumming of his heartbeat echoes in my ears. The strength of it lulls me into a sense of peace. I could stay like this forever, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
He buries his nose in my hair and inhales like he’s taking a breath of life. “Arrah.” My name is sweet music on his tongue; the call of birdsong; the hum of the ocean. His next words send a shiver down my spine. “I need to tell you something.”
The chieftains’ whispers startle me and drown out his voice. His hand is so hot against my face, too hot. A sharp pain cuts through my cheek and I pull away from him, half stumbling. It feels like someone just slapped my face. The magic inside me shifts, preparing to strike out at Rudjek. I draw back even farther and he does the same, an invisible barrier pushing us apart.
Rudjek glares at his hands like they’re dangerous serpents. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. The anti-magic. That’s why I should’ve known it wasn’t you, Arrah.” He winces. “Re’Mec said that we could never be together. Even if we can control our respective gifts—your magic and my anti-magic, there are other consequences. We would weaken each other, and eventually one of us would destroy the other. Back in the clearing, that’s why—I thought that maybe he was wrong. I thought we had a chance.”
“But that’s never happened between us . . .” My mind races through the almost kisses, the lingering touches, and the flush of heat in their wake. Before, I didn’t have magic, but now, with the chieftains’ kas, things are different. “Efiya . . .” It doesn’t make sense. My sister is magic, yet . . .
“I don’t know.” Rudjek takes another step back from me. “She’s different somehow.”
Dread fills my belly as the answer becomes clear. If my sister is strong enough to kill orishas, then his anti-magic would be nothing against her. The irony of our situation doesn’t escape me, and I force down a bitter laugh. My entire life, I’ve longed for magic to mend the rift between my mother and me, but that’s a foolish wish for a foolish girl. I have it now, and it isn’t enough to stop Efiya, only enough to ruin any chance I have with Rudjek in my final hours.
We stare at each other, emotions raging in our eyes, a lifetime of missed chances.
I want to sink back into his arms, but this is all I can have of him, and he of me.
It’s not enough.
Thirty-Eight
Rudjek is afraid to touch me. He thinks I’m a flower that’ll wither up and die if disturbed. He doesn’t know that I’ve died a thousand times already. I died when my mother cursed me. I died when she stole my father’s light. I died when I saw the children she’d taken for her ritual. I died when Koré told me about the edam. I die again every time I close my eyes and think about all the awful things my family’s done.
I’m not afraid of death, but I don’t want to die without ever feeling his lips pressed against mine. Even for the briefest moment. I’m haunted by the memories of kisses from the kas inside me. Soft, sweet ones; passionate ones. Sensual and slow ones that steal my breath. Rushed and messy ones that make my heart race.
I’ve avoided Rudjek since that night with Efiya. Now that we’re alone, sitting beside the river, listening to the lull of the water, I don’t want to stay away any longer. I want whatever my sister had of him—I want more.
“We should get back before they come looking for us,” Rudjek says, his voice somber. “Essnai and Sukar will think I’ve stolen you away.”
“They’d hunt you down.” I toss a stone into the water. “Essnai might break your legs.”
Rudjek gives me a lopsided smile. “I fear she’d do worse.”
Fadyi, the craven leader who almost looks human, steps into the clearing. He keeps his eyes downcast like he’s caught us in some lewd act. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he apologizes. “We spotted Efiya’s army coming from the south, a half a day behind us.”
“Can we stay ahead of them and reach the Temple?” Rudjek asks, slipping into his commanding voice. A voice that is cold and precise and ready to issue orders like he’s been doing it his entire life. We climb to our feet, our backs rigid, and I suspect we both share the weariness in our bones. We’ve expected this for days, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear.
“If we keep moving without rest,” Fadyi answers. “The demons are still limited by their hosts, but once they’ve consumed enough souls, we won’t know what they’ll be capable of.”
The chieftains erupt into a deafening chorus inside my head. Their words are urgent and feverish, and my muscles tense with the need to get to the Temple. We must go now. There’s no time. I start walking, not back to camp to gather our things first, but where they lead. Rudjek calls after me, his plea lost in the chorus too. When he and Fadyi catch up with me, their words sound like a half-forgotten dream that teeters on the edge of my memory.
The witchdoctors call me back to the Temple where they took their final breaths. Where their blood stained the grass. Where I must face my sister one last time.