“Good,” Lekan soothes. “Your spirit is being cleansed. Remember, whatever you feel, I will be here.”
He places one hand on my forehead and another on my sternum before he chants. “Ọmọ Mama, Arábìnrin 4yà. Sí 1bùn iyebíye r1. Tú idán mím3 rẹ síl1.”
A strange power whirls around my skin. The water boils with a new intensity and my breath hitches as its heat takes hold.
“Ọmọ Mama—”
Daughter of Sky Mother, I repeat in my head.
“Arábìnrin 4yà—”
Sister of Oya.
“Sí 1bùn iyebíye r1—”
Bare your precious gift.
“Tú idán mím3 rẹ síl1.”
Release your holy magic.
The air above us tingles with electric energy, stronger than anything I’ve felt before. It surpasses the buzz of Inan’s imprinting, eclipses the surge of touching the parchment for the first time. The tips of my fingers grow warm, igniting with white light. As Lekan chants, the power travels through my veins, making them glow beneath my skin.
“Ọmọ Mama, Arábìnrin 4yà—”
The louder his incantation rings, the more my body reacts. The magic overwhelms every cell in my being, pulsing as Lekan submerges my head beneath the water. My skull presses against the floor of the tub, and a new kind of air catches in my throat. I finally understand Mama Agba’s words.
It’s like breathing for the first time.
“Ọmọ Mama—”
Veins bulge against my skin as the magic grows, a swell about to burst. Behind my eyes, sheets of red dance around me, crashing like waves, spinning like hurricanes.
As I lose myself in their beautiful chaos, a glimpse of Oya emerges. Fire and wind dance around her like spirits, spinning like the red silks of her skirt.
“Arábìnrin 4yà—”
Her dance transfixes me, igniting everything that I never realized was trapped inside of me. It scorches through my body like a flame, yet chills my skin like ice, flowing in uncharted waves.
“Sí 1bùn iyebíye r1!” Lekan shouts above the water. “Tú idán mím3 rẹ síl1!”
In one final surge, the tsunami breaks free and magic flows through every inch of my being. It inks itself into each cell, staining my blood, filling my mind. In its power I glimpse the beginning and end at once, the unbreakable connections tethering all of our lives.
The red of Oya’s wrath whirls around me.
The silver of Sky Mother’s eyes shines.…
* * *
“ZÉLIE!”
I blink open my eyes to find Tzain shaking me by the shoulders.
“You okay?” he asks, leaning over the edge of the tub.
I nod, but I can’t bring myself to speak. There are no words. Only the prickling sensation left behind.
“Can you stand?” Amari asks.
I try to push myself up out of the bath, but as soon as I do, the entire world spins.
“Be still,” Lekan instructs. “Your body needs rest. Blood magic drains your life force.”
Rest, I repeat. Rest with time we don’t have. If Lekan’s lead on the location of the sunstone is right, we need to head to Ibeji to find it. I can’t complete the ritual without the stone, and we’re already running out of time. The solstice is only three quarter moons away.
“You must spare one night,” Lekan presses, somehow sensing my urgency. “Awakening magic is like adding a new sense. Your body needs time to adjust to the strain.”
I nod and close my eyes, slumping against the cold stone. Tomorrow you’ll start. Head to Ibeji, find the stone. Go to the sacred island. Perform the ritual.
I repeat the plan again and again, letting its repetition lull me to sleep. Ibeji. Stone. Island. Ritual.
With time my mind fades into a soft blackness, seconds away from sleep. I’m almost out when Lekan seizes my shoulders and drags me to my feet.
“Someone is coming,” Lekan shouts. “Quick! We must go!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
INAN
—DRAG US HALFWAY across the world—
—why can’t they just tell us what she stole—
—if that bastard thinks I’m willing to die on this cliff—
“Inan, slow down!” Kaea calls from below. It takes a moment to realize she’s not just another voice in my head.
The closer I get to Chândomblé, the louder they become.
Curse the skies. The guards’ complaints buzz like honeybees sparring inside my skull. Though I want to block them out, I can’t afford to push my curse down; even the slightest efforts cause my legs to slip from the cliff.
The bite of magic twists everything inside me, a virus destroying me from the inside out. But I have no choice. I cannot climb and weaken myself.
I have to let the darkness in.
It stings worse than the burn that sears in my chest when I fight my powers down. Each time a foreign thought hits me, my skin crawls. Every flash of another’s emotion makes my lips curl.
Magic slithers inside me. Venomous, like a thousand spiders crawling over my skin. It wants more of me. The curse wants to fight its way in—
With a lurch, my foothold crumbles.
Stones at my feet tumble like an avalanche.
I grunt as my body is slammed flat against the wall, my feet flailing for a new hold.
“Inan!” Kaea’s shouts from the ledge below. More of a distraction than an aid. She waits with the ryders and other soldiers while I stake out a path.
Rope and flint slip from pockets of my belt as I swing. Amari’s headdress slides as well.
No!
Though it’s a risk, I release my left hand, catching the headdress before it evades my grasp. As my feet discover new footing, memories I can’t fight swell to the surface.
“Strike, Amari!”
Father’s command boomed against the stone walls of the palace cellar. Deep underground, where his commands were law. Amari’s small hands shook, barely strong enough to lift the iron sword.
It wasn’t like the wooden swords he forced us to spar with, dull blades that bruised but never cut. The iron was sharp. Jagged at its edge. With the right strike, we wouldn’t just bruise.
We’d bleed.
“I said, strike!” Father’s yells were like thunder. A command no one could defy. Yet Amari shook her head. She let her sword fall.
I flinched as it clattered against the ground. Harsh and piercing. Defiance ringing in every sound.
Pick it up! I wanted to scream.
At least if she struck, I could defend myself.
“Strike, Amari.”
Father’s voice hit an octave so low it could crack stone.
Yet Amari clutched herself and turned away. Tears streamed down her face. All Father saw was weakness. After all this time, I think it might have been strength.
Father turned to me, face dark, flickering in the shadows of the torchlight.
“Your sister chooses herself. As king, you must choose Orïsha.”
All the air vanished from the room. The walls closed in. Father’s orders echoed in my head. His commands to fight against myself.
“Strike, Inan!” Rage flared in his eyes. “You must fight now!”