The metal gears groan and churn and the wooden gate starts falling down. The checkpoint guards brandish their weapons, our last obstacles to freedom.
“We won’t make it!” the girl wheezes.
“We don’t have a choice!”
I sprint faster than I knew it was possible to run. The drunk guard from before unsheathes his sword, raising his arm to slash. His sluggish movement invites more laughter than fear. I smack his skull with a vengeance, taking an extra second to knee him in the groin when he drops.
Another guard manages to get in a swing of his sword, but it’s easy to block with my staff. I spin the metal rod in my hands, knocking the sword from his grip. His eyes widen as I deliver a roundhouse kick to the face, slamming him against the wooden gate before I pass.
We did it! I want to scream as I run under the cover of the jackalberry trees. I turn to smile at the girl, but she’s not there. My heart seizes as I watch her tumble to the ground, a finger’s breadth before the gate. Clouds of dirt greet her fall.
“No!” I shriek. The gate’s only moments away from shutting.
After all that, she’s not going to make it.
After coming so close, she’s going to die.
Run, I order myself. Escape. You have Tzain. Baba. You’ve done all you can.
But the despair in her eyes pulls me back, and I know my blessings have run out. Because despite every protest in my body, I dash through the gates, rolling through moments before they slam shut.
“You’re done.” The captain steps forward, bloody from the firebomb. “Drop your weapon. Now!”
It seems like every guard in Lagos is staring us down. They circle us in droves, blocking each path before we can attempt another escape.
I pull the girl to her feet and hold my staff high. This ends here. They will not take me. I will force them to kill me where I stand.
My heart slams against my chest as the guards close in. I take a moment to enjoy my last breaths, picturing Mama’s soft eyes, her ebony skin.
I’m coming, I think to her spirit. She probably roams alâfia now, floating through the peace of the afterlife. I imagine myself beside her. I’ll be with you so—
A thunderous roar rings through the air, freezing the guards in their steps. The cry grows louder and louder, deafening in its approach. I barely have enough time to pull the girl out of harm’s way when Nailah’s monstrous figure leaps over the gate.
Guards tumble back in fear as my lionaire lands on the dirt path, saliva dripping from her massive fangs. I’m convinced she’s a hallucination until I hear Tzain shouting from atop Nailah’s back.
“The hell you waiting for?” he yells. “Get on!”
Without wasting another second, I hop onto Nailah’s back and pull the girl aboard. We take off, jumping from shack to shack before the shanties crumble under her weight. When Nailah gets enough height, she makes a final leap, flying toward the gate.
We’ve almost cleared it when a shock like lightning surges through my veins.
The shock travels through every pore in my skin, igniting my being, catching my breath. Time seems to freeze as I look down, locking eyes with the young captain.
An unknown force burns behind his amber gaze, a prison I can’t escape. Something in his spirit seems to claw onto mine. But before I can spend another second locked in his eyes, Nailah flies over the gate, severing our connection.
She lands on the ground with a thud and takes off, thundering through the jackalberry trees.
“My gods,” I breathe. Every part of my body screams with strain. I can’t believe we actually made it.
I can’t believe I’m still alive.
CHAPTER SIX
INAN
FAILURE.
Disappointment.
Disgrace.
Which insult shall Father brand me with today?
I run through the possibilities as I enter the gate and ascend the white marble steps of the palace. Failure would be fitting. I’m returning with no fugitive in hand. But Father might not waste his words.
He could lead with his fist.
This time, I cannot blame him. Not truly.
If I can’t defend Lagos from a single thief, how in the world am I supposed to become Orïsha’s next king?
Curse the skies. I pause for a moment, gripping the smooth alabaster railing. Today was to be my victory.
Then that silver-eyed wretch got in the way.
The divîner’s face flashes behind my eyes for the tenth time since I watched her fly over Lagos’s gate. The image of her obsidian skin and long white hair stains. Impossible to blink away.
“Captain.”
I ignore the salute of the front guards as I enter the main hall. The title feels like a taunt. A proper captain would’ve sent an arrow through that fugitive’s heart.
“Where’s the prince?” A shrill voice echoes against the palace walls.
Dammit. This is the last thing I need.
Mother pushes toward the castle entrance, gele tilting as she fights through the guards blocking her path. “Where is he?” she cries. “Where is—Inan?”
Mother’s face softens with relief. Tears spring to her eyes. She leans in close, pressing a hand against the cut on my cheek.
“There were reports of assassins.”
I pull away from Mother and shake my head. Assassins would’ve had clearer targets. They’d be easier to track. The fugitive was just one runaway. One I couldn’t catch.
But Mother does not care about the attackers’ true identity. About my failure. Wasted time. She wrings her hands together, fighting back more tears.
“Inan, we must…” Her voice trails off. It’s only then that she realizes everyone is staring. She straightens her gele and steps back. I can almost see the claws extending from her hands.
“A maggot attacked our city,” she snaps at the assembled crowd. “Do you not have places to be? Go to the market, flush out the slums. Make sure this never happens again!”
Soldiers, nobles, and servants clear the hall at once, tripping over one another in their haste. When they’re gone, Mother grabs my wrist and yanks me toward the throne room doors.
“No.” I’m not prepared for Father’s wrath. “I don’t have any news—”
“And you never will again.”
Mother throws open the large wooden doors and drags me across the tiled floors.
“Leave the room!” she barks. Like mice, the guards and fanners scatter.
The only soul brave enough to defy Mother is Kaea. She looks unusually handsome in the black chest plate of her new uniform.
Admiral? I stare at the decorated seal denoting her elevated rank. There’s no mistaking it. She’s moved up. But what about Ebele?
The harsh smell of spearmint stings my nose as we near the throne. I scan the tiles and sure enough, two distinct patches of fresh blood stain the cracks.
Skies.
Father’s already in a mood.
“That includes you, Admiral,” Mother hisses, folding her arms across her chest.
Kaea’s face tightens; it always does when Mother addresses her with ice. Kaea glances at Father. He gives a reluctant nod.
“My apologies.” Kaea bows to Mother, though there is no apology in her tone. Mother trails Kaea with a scowl until she exits the throne room doors.
“Look.” Mother pulls me forward. “Look what the maggots did to your son. This is what happens when you send him to fight. This is what happens when he plays captain of the guard!”