But even dead, his corpse wraps a chill around my throat. He held my life in his hands.
He had every chance to throw it away.
My thumb grazes over Father’s tarnished pawn, my skin prickling as I back away from his body. I understand now, Father.
With magic we die.
But without it …
My gaze drifts back to the dead man, to the hands gifted by the heavens, stronger than the earth. Orïsha cannot survive that kind of power. But if I used it to get the job done …
A bitter tang crawls onto my tongue as the new strategy takes hold. Their magic is a weapon; mine could be one, too. If there are maji who can fling me from a cliff with a wave of their hand, magic is my only chance of getting the scroll back.
But the very thought makes my throat close up. If Father were here …
I look down at the pawn. I can almost hear his voice in my head.
Duty before self.
No matter the cost or collateral.
Even if it’s a betrayal of everything I know, my duty to protect Orïsha comes first. I release my hold on the pawn.
For the first time, I let go.
It starts slowly. Broken. Crawling limb by limb. The pressure in my chest is released. The magic I force down starts to stir underneath my skin. At the pulsing sensation, my stomach lurches, churning through every ounce of my disgust. But our enemies will use this magic against us.
If I’m to fulfill my duty and save my kingdom, I must do the same.
I sink into the warm thrum pulsing from within. Slowly, a cloud of the maji’s consciousness appears. Wispy and blue like the others, twisting above his head. As I touch it with my hand, the dead man’s essence hits first: a tinged scent. Rustic. Like burnt timber and coal.
My lips curl as I sink into his lingering psyche, reaching for it instead of running away. A single memory begins to flicker into my mind. A quiet day when his temple teemed with life. He ran across the manicured grass, hand in hand with a young boy.
The more I release the hold on my magic, the bigger the flicker grows. A whiff of clean mountain air fills my nose. A distant song rings through my ears. Each detail becomes rich and robust. As if the memory stored in his consciousness is my own.
With time, new knowledge begins to settle. A soul. A name. Something simple …
Lekan—
Metal heels clank against the stone cliff.
Skies! With a start, I force my magic down.
The smell of timber and coal vanishes in an instant. A sharp pain in my stomach reappears in its stead.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as my head reels from the whiplash. Moments later Kaea emerges from the thick underbrush.
Sweat-soaked hair sticks to her brown skin, now splattered with Lekan’s blood. As she nears, I reach up to make sure my helmet is still covering my head. That was far too close.…
“There’s no way across,” she sighs, sitting down beside me. “I scouted a full kilometer. With the bridge destroyed, we can’t travel between this mountain and the next.”
Figures. In the brief flicker I got of Lekan, I guessed as much. He was intelligent. He pursued the only path that would allow them to escape.
“I told him not to do this.” Kaea removes her black breastplate. “I knew this wouldn’t work.” She shuts her eyes. “He will blame me for their resurgence. He’ll never look at me the same way again.”
I know the look she speaks of; like she’s the sun, and he the sky. It’s the gaze Father reserves for her. The one he shares when he thinks they’re alone.
I lean away and pick at my boot, unsure of what to say. Kaea never breaks down in front of me. Before today, I thought she never broke at all.
In her despair, I see my own. My concession, my defeat. But that is not my place. I must be a stronger king.
“Stop moping,” I snap. We haven’t lost the war yet.
Magic has a new face.
That simply means I must attack with a new blade.
“There’s a guard post east of Sokoto,” I say. Find the maji. Find the scroll. “We can send word of the collapsed bridge with your firehawk. If they dispatch a legion of stock laborers, we can build another one.”
“Brilliant.” Kaea buries her face in her hands. “Let’s make it easier for the maggots to return and kill us when their powers are restored.”
“We’ll find them before that happens.” I’ll kill her.
I’ll save us.
“With what leads?” Kaea asks. “Getting the men and supplies alone will take days. Building it—”
“Three days,” I cut her off. How dare she question my reasoning? Admiral or not, Kaea cannot defy an order from me.
“If they work through the night, they can get it done,” I continue. “I’ve seen stockers construct palaces with less.”
“What use will a bridge be, Inan? Even if we build it, there’ll be no trace of that maggot by the time it’s done.”
I pause and look across the cliff. The sea-salt scent of the girl’s soul is almost gone, fading in the jungle’s underbrush. Kaea’s right. A bridge shall only take us so far. By nightfall, I won’t be able to sense the divîner at all.
Unless …
I turn back to the temple, recalling the way it made voices surge in my head. If it could do that, perhaps it can allow my magic to sense more.
“Chândomblé.” I shift the sênet pieces around in my mind. “They came here for answers. Maybe I can find some, too.”
Yes, that’s it. If I discover what’s amplifying my curse, I can use it to pick up the girl’s trail. Just this once.
“Inan—”
“It’ll work,” I interrupt. “Summon the stockers and lead the construction while I search. There will be traces of the girl there. I’ll uncover the clues to where they’re headed.”
I pocket Father’s pawn; in its absence, the air hits cold against my skin. This fight is not over yet. The war has only begun.
“Send a message and gather a team. I want those laborers on this ledge by dawn.”
“Inan, as captain—”
“I’m not addressing you as your captain,” I cut her off. “I’m commanding you as your prince.”
Kaea stiffens.
Something between us breaks, but I force my gaze to stay even. Father wouldn’t tolerate her fragility.
Neither can I.
“Fine.” She presses her lips into a tight line. “Your desire is my command.”
As she stalks away, I see the maji’s face in my mind. Her wretched voice. The silver eyes.
I stare across the void to where her sea-salt soul has disappeared among the jungle trees.
“Keep running,” I whisper.
I’m coming for you.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AMARI
BACK HOME AT THE PALACE, every window in my quarters only allowed me to look in. Father had the new wing constructed right after I was born, insistent that every window could only face the courtyard. The most I could see of the outside world was the leopard orchids of the royal garden in full bloom. The palace is all you need to be concerned with, Father would say when I begged him for a different view. Orïsha’s future is decided within these walls. As princess, yours will be, too.
I tried to hold on to his words, allow palace life to satiate me the way it did Mother. I made an effort to socialize with the other oloyes and their daughters. I attempted to find entertainment in palace gossip. But at night, I used to sneak into Inan’s quarters and climb out to the balcony overlooking our capital. I would imagine what lay beyond the wooden walls of Lagos, the beautiful world I longed to see.