He walks away, pausing only to call back, “You should talk to someone. The jokes don’t help much, but talking does.” His foxer smile returns, mischief lighting in his steel-colored gaze. “If you’re interested, my room’s next to yours. I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener.”
He winks, and I roll my eyes as he walks away. It’s as if he can’t stomach being serious for more than five seconds.
I force myself to turn back to the sea, but the longer I stare into the moon, the more I realize he’s right. I don’t want to be alone. Not when tonight could be my last night. Blind faith in the gods may have taken me this far, but if I’m going to get on that island tomorrow, I need more.
I fight my hesitation and walk through the ship’s narrow hallway, passing Tzain’s door, then my own. I need to be with someone.
I need to tell someone the truth.
When I come to the right room I knock softly, heart pounding when the door swings open.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Hi.” Amari smiles.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
AMARI
ZéLIE FLINCHES as I comb through the final section of her hair. The way she squirms and writhes under my touch, you would think I’m stabbing her scalp with my sword.
“Sorry,” I apologize for the tenth time.
“Someone has to do it.”
“If you just combed it every few days—”
“Amari, if you ever see me combing my hair, please call a Healer.”
My laughter bounces against the metal walls as I separate her hair into three parts. Although it’s difficult to comb, a twitch of envy runs through me when I start the last braid. Once smooth as silk, Zélie’s white hair is now coarse and thick, framing her beautiful face like a lionaire’s mane. She doesn’t seem to notice the way Ro?n and his men stare at her when she looks the other way.
“Before magic went away, my hair looked like this.” Zélie speaks more to herself than to me. “Mama had to hold me down with animations to get a comb through my hair.”
I laugh again, picturing stone animations chasing after her for this simple task. “I think my mother would’ve loved those. There weren’t enough nannies to keep me from streaking through the palace.”
“Why were you always naked?” Zélie smiles.
“I don’t know,” I giggle. “When I was young, my skin felt so much better without clothes.”
Zélie clenches her teeth as the braid reaches the nape of her neck. The easiness between us falls away, something that keeps happening again and again. It’s like I can see the wall building up around her, bricks built from unspoken words and cemented with painful memories. I release the braid and rest my chin on her scalp.
“Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”
Zélie’s head drops; she wraps her hands around her thighs and pulls her knees to her chest. I squeeze her shoulder before finishing the last braid.
“I used to think you were weak,” she whispers.
I pause; I wasn’t expecting that. Of all the things Zélie probably used to think of me, “weak” could be the nicest.
“Because of my father?”
She nods, but I sense her reluctance. “Every time you thought about him, you shrank. I didn’t understand how someone could wield a sword the way you do and still hold so much fear.”
I run my fingers along her braids, trailing the lines in her scalp. “And now?”
Zélie closes her eyes, muscles tensing. But when I wrap my hands around her, it’s like I can feel the cracks in her dam.
The pressure builds, pushing against all her emotions, all her pain. When she can bear it no longer, the sob I know she’s been holding back breaks free.
“I can’t get him out of my head.” She squeezes me as hot tears fall onto my shoulder. “It’s like every time I close my eyes, he’s wrapping a chain around my neck.”
I hold Zélie close as she sobs into my arms, releasing everything she’s been trying to hide. My own throat chokes up with her cries; it’s my family who’s caused her all this pain. Holding Zélie makes me wonder about Binta and all the days she probably needed this. She was there for me in all my struggles, yet I never got to be there for her in the same way.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “For what my father did. For what he’s done. I’m sorry Inan couldn’t stop it. I’m sorry it took us both so long to try to right Father’s wrongs.”
Zélie leans into me, letting my words sink in. I’m sorry, Binta, I think to her spirit. I’m sorry I didn’t do more.
“The first night we escaped, I couldn’t fall asleep in that forest no matter how hard I tried.” I speak softly. “I was barely conscious, but each time I closed my eyes I saw Father’s black blade ready to cut me down.” I pull back and wipe away her tears, staring straight into her silver eyes. “I thought if he ever found me I would shatter, but do you know what happened when I saw him in the fortress?”
Zélie shakes her head and the moment returns, making my pulse quicken. The memory of Father’s rage flares, yet what I remember is the weight of my sword in my hand.
“Zélie, I grabbed my blade. I almost ran after him!”
She smiles at me and for a moment, I see Binta in the way it softens her features. “I expect nothing less of the Lionaire,” Zélie teases.
“I can recall a day where the Lionaire was told to get herself together and stop being such a scared little princess.”
“You’re lying.” Zélie laughs through her tears. “I was probably a lot meaner.”
“If it makes you feel better, you did push me into the sand before you said it.”
“So is it my turn?” Zélie asks. “Is this where you push me?”
I shake my head. “I needed to hear that. I needed you. After Binta died, you were the first person to treat me like more than some silly princess. I know you may not see it, but you believed I could be the Lionaire before anyone ever uttered that name.” I wipe away the remainder of her tears and place my hand on her cheek. I couldn’t be there for Binta, yet being with Zélie, I feel the hole in my heart closing. Binta would’ve told me to be brave. With Zélie, I already am.
“No matter what he did, no matter what you see, believe me when I tell you it is not forever,” I say. “If you broke me free, you will find a way to save yourself.”
Zélie smiles, but it only lasts an instant. She closes her eyes and clenches her fist, the way she always does when practicing an incantation.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I can’t…” She looks down at her hands. “I can’t do magic anymore.”
My heart seems to stop, sluggish, heavy in my chest. I clasp Zélie’s arms tight. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s gone.” Zélie grips her braids, pain etched into her face. “I’m not a Reaper anymore. I’m not anything.”
The weight Zélie bears on her shoulders threatens to break her back. All I want to do is comfort her, yet this new reality makes my arms feel like lead.
“When did it happen?”
Zélie closes her eyes and shrugs. “When they cut me, it was like they cut the magic out of my back. I haven’t been able to feel anything since.”
“What of the ritual?”