It leaves me feeling robbed, like a thief made off with my dreams. Slumber usually brings an escape, a break from the misery I face when I wake. But when every one of my dreams ended with the prince’s hands wrapped around my throat, the nightmares hurt just as much as reality.
“Dammit,” I mutter. They’re just dreams. What do I have to fear? Even if his magic is powerful, gods know he’s far too terrified to use it.
Tzain grunts across the small clearing as he does crunch after crunch with unwavering concentration, training as if this was his regular morning practice. Except there won’t be another practice for him this year. Because of me, he may never play agb?n again.
Guilt adds to my exhaustion, dragging me back to the ground. I could apologize for the rest of my days and it still wouldn’t be enough. But before I can sink further into my guilt, a flurry of movement catches my eye. Amari stirs underneath a large brown cloak, waking from her royal slumber. The sight puts a bitter taste in my mouth, reigniting the image of Inan.
Knowing her family, I’m surprised she didn’t slit our throats in our sleep.
I search her dark hair for a streak to match her brother’s, muscles relaxing when I find none. Gods only know how much worse this would be if she could trap me inside her head, too. I’m still glaring at Amari when I recognize the cloak she’s using as a blanket. I rise and crouch by Tzain’s side.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He ignores me and keeps exercising. The bags under his eyes warn me to leave him alone, but I’m too angry to stop now.
“Your cloak,” I hiss. “Why’d you give it to her?”
Tzain fits in two more crunches before muttering, “She was shivering.”
“And?”
“And?” he shoots back. “We have no idea how long this trip will take. The last thing we need is her getting sick.”
“You know she’s used to that, right? People who look like you making sure she gets her way?”
“Zél, she was cold and I wasn’t using my cloak. That’s all there is to it.”
I turn back toward Amari and try to let it go. But in her eyes, I see her brother’s. I feel his hands around my throat.
“I want to trust her—”
“No, you don’t.”
“Well, even if I did, I can’t. Her father ordered the Raid. Her brother burned down our village. What makes you think she’s any different?”
“Zél…” Tzain’s voice trails off as Amari approaches, always delicate and demure. I have no way of knowing if she’s heard us or not. Either way, I can’t pretend I care.
“I think this is yours.” She hands him the cloak. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Tzain takes the cloak and folds it into his pack. “It’ll be warmer as we get into the jungle, but let me know if you need it again.”
Amari smiles for the first time since we’ve met, and I bristle when Tzain smiles back. It should take more than a pretty face for him to forget she’s the daughter of a monster.
“Is that all?” I ask.
“Um, well, actually…” Her voice grows quiet. “I was wondering … what are we planning to do for, um—”
A deep groan escapes Amari’s stomach. Color rises to her cheeks and she grips her slim belly, failing to cage in another roar.
“Excuse me,” she apologizes. “All I ate yesterday was a loaf of bread.”
“A whole loaf?” I salivate at the thought. It’s been moons since I’ve had a good slice. Though I can’t imagine the stale bricks we trade for in the market could hold a candle to a fresh loaf from the royal kitchen.
I itch to remind Amari of her good fortune, but my own stomach twists and turns with emptiness. Yesterday passed without one meal. If I don’t eat soon, my stomach too will growl.
Tzain reaches into the pockets of his black pants and pulls out Mama Agba’s weathered map. We follow his finger as it trails down the coast from Ilorin, stopping just outside a dot marking the settlement of Sokoto.
“We’re about an hour out,” he says. “It’s the best place to stop before we head east to Chandomblé. There’ll be merchants and food, but we’ll need something to trade.”
“What happened to the coin from the sailfish?”
Tzain dumps out my pack. I groan as a few silver pieces and Amari’s headdress fall to the ground. “Most of it was lost in the fire,” Tzain sighs.
“What can we trade?” Amari asks.
Tzain stares at the finery of her dress. Even with dirt stains and a few burn marks, its long, elegant cut and lined silk scream of noble origin.
Amari follows Tzain’s eyes and her brows knit. “You cannot be serious.”
“It’ll trade for good coin,” I jump in. “And we’re going to the jungle, for gods’ sakes. You’ll never make it through in that.”
Amari scans my draped pants and cropped dashiki, gripping the fabric of her dress tighter. I’m amazed she thinks she has a choice when I could hold her down and cut it off with ease.
“But what will I wear?”
“Your cloak.” I point to the dingy brown cloth. “We’ll trade the dress for some food and get new clothes on the way.”
Amari steps back and looks at the ground.
“You were willing to evade your father’s guards to save the scroll, but you won’t take off your stupid dress?”
“I didn’t risk everything because of the scroll.” Amari’s voice cracks. For a moment her eyes glimmer with the threat of tears. “My father killed my best friend—”
“Your best friend or your slave?”
“Zél,” Tzain warns.
“What?” I turn to him. “Do your best friends press your clothes and make your food without pay?”
Amari’s ears redden. “Binta was paid.”
“A mighty wage, I’m sure.”
“I am trying to help you.” Amari clenches the skirt of her dress. “I’ve given up everything to help you people—”
“‘You people’?” I fume.
“We can save the div?ners—”
“You want to save the div?ners, but you won’t even sell your damn dress?”
“Fine!” Amari throws her hands in the air. “Skies, I’ll do it. I never said no.”
“Oh, thank you, gracious princess, savior of the maji!”
“Cut it out.” Tzain nudges me as Amari walks behind Nailah to change. Her delicate fingers move to the buttons on her back, but she hesitates, glancing over her shoulder. I roll my eyes as Tzain and I look the other way.
Princess.
“You need to lay off,” Tzain mutters as we face the natal mahogany lining the vibrant forests of Sokoto. A small family of blue-butt baboonems swings from the branches, shaking the glossy leaves free when they pass.
“If she can’t handle being around a div?ner not enslaved by her father, she’s free to return to her little palace.”
“She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“She hasn’t done anything right, either.” I nudge Tzain back. Why is he so insistent on defending her? It’s as if he really thinks she deserves better. Like somehow she’s the victim.
“I’m the last person to give a noble a chance, but Zél, look at her. She just lost her closest friend, and instead of grieving she’s risking her life to help maji and div?ners.”
“I’m supposed to feel bad because her father killed the one maji servant she liked? Where’s her outrage been all these years? Where was she after the Raid?”
“She was six.” Tzain keeps his tone flat. “A child, just like you.”