“I know,” Kaea soothes me. I wonder if she speaks the same way to Father when his temper flares. “But she’s not completely helpless. There’s a reason the king spent so many years making sure you could both wield a sword.”
I force a nod, pretending to listen as Kaea continues to talk. Again, I shove my curse down, ignoring the way it makes the air around me thin. But even as my magic subsides, my heart still pounds.
The power burns inside me. Taunting. Tainting.
Kill her, I remind myself.
I’ll kill the girl. I’ll kill this curse.
If I can’t—
I force a deep breath.
If I can’t, I’m already dead.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AMARI
I USED TO DREAM of climbing.
Late at night, when everyone in the palace had gone to sleep. Binta and I would run through the painted halls by torchlight, skidding over the tiled floors in our trek to Father’s war room. Hand in hand, we drew the torch over the handwoven map of Or?sha, a map that seemed as large as life itself to our young eyes. I thought Binta and I would see the world together.
I thought if we left the palace, we could be happy.
Now as I cling to the side of the third mountain we’ve climbed today, I question why I ever dreamed of ascending anything higher than the palace stairwell. Sweat clings to my skin, soaking through the rough cloth of my black dashiki. An endless swarm of mosquitoes buzz and sting at my back, feasting because I can’t bear to let go of the mountain long enough to swat them away.
Another full day of travel has passed, along with, thankfully, one night of restful sleep. Though the weather warmed once we left Sokoto and made our way farther into the jungle, I felt Tzain lay his cloak over me again just as I began to fall asleep. With our new supplies, eating comes easy. Even foxer meat and coconut milk start to taste like seasoned hen and tea from the palace kitchen. I thought things were finally improving, but now my chest is so tight I can barely breathe.
This late into the day we’ve ascended thousands of meters, giving us startling views of the jungle beneath. Greens of all hues cover the land, creating endless canopies beneath our feet. A rushing river curves through the tropical brush, marking the only water in sight. It grows smaller and smaller as we climb, shrinking until it’s only a thin blue line.
“How can anything exist up here?” I ask in between pants. I take a deep breath and give the rock above my head a firm pull. Earlier in our journey, I wouldn’t test my handholds. My scraped knees are a reminder not to repeat that mistake.
When the rock holds firm, I hoist myself farther up the mountain, wedging my bare feet into a crack. The urge to cry wells up inside me, but I force it down. I’ve already hidden my tears twice. It would be humiliating to weep again.
“She’s right,” Tzain calls from behind me, searching for an area wide enough for Nailah to clamber up. Their lionaire is skittish after almost slipping off the last mountain. Now she climbs only after Tzain proves it’s safe.
“Just keep going,” Zélie calls from above. “It’s here. It has to be here.”
“Did you actually see it?” Tzain asks.
I think back to the moment in Mama Agba’s hut, the moment the future exploded before our eyes. It all looked so magical back then. Stealing the scroll actually felt like a good idea.
“We saw ourselves climbing…,” I start.
“But did you see this legendary temple?” Tzain presses. “Just because Mama Agba saw us climbing doesn’t mean Chandomblé’s actually real.”
“Stop talking and keep climbing!” Zélie shouts. “Trust me. I know it’s real.”
It’s the same reasoning she’s been shouting all day, the stubbornness that’s carried us from cliff to cliff. Reality and logic don’t matter to her. She needs this so badly, failure isn’t even in the realm of possibilities.
I look down to reply to Tzain, but the sight of jungle trees thousands of meters below makes my muscles seize. I press my body against the mountain and clench the rocks tightly.
“Hey,” Tzain calls. “Don’t look down. You’re doing great.”
“You’re lying.”
He almost smiles. “Just keep climbing.”
My beating pulse fills my ears as I look back up. The next ledge is in sight. Though my legs shake, I push myself farther up. Sweet skies, if Binta could see me now.
Her beautiful face bleeds into my mind in all its former glory. For the first time since I watched her die, I picture her alive, smiling and by my side. There was one night in the war room when she undid her bonnet. Her ivory hair fell in silky sheets around her head.
And what shall you wear when we cross the Olasimbo Range? she teased when I told her my plans for our escape to the Adetunji Sea. Even if you were on the run, the queen herself would drop dead before she allowed you to wear trousers. She put her hand on her head and pretended to shriek, mimicking Mother’s pitch. I laughed so hard that night I nearly wet myself.
Despite the circumstances, a smile comes to my face. Binta could impersonate everybody in the palace. Yet my smile falls as I think of our lost dreams and abandoned plans. I thought we could escape through the tunnels beneath the palace. Once we got out, we would never go back. It all felt so certain in that moment, but did Binta always know it was a dream she’d never see?
The question haunts me as I reach the next ledge and pull myself over. The mountain flattens out for a brief stretch, wide enough for me to lie down in the wild grass.
As I drop to my knees, Zélie collapses in a garden of native bromeliads, crushing the vibrant red and purple petals under her feet. I bend down and breathe in their sweet scent. Binta would’ve loved these.
“Can we stay here?” I ask as the clove fragrance calms me. I can’t imagine climbing any higher. The promise of Chandomblé can only take us so far.
I lift my head as Nailah claws her way onto the ledge. Tzain follows after, dripping with sweat. He peels off his sleeveless dashiki and I lower my eyes—the last time I saw a boy’s bare body my nannies were giving Inan and me baths.
A warm flush rises to my cheeks as I realize how far from the palace I’ve truly come. Though it’s not illegal for royals and kosidán to consort the way it is for maji and kosidán, Mother would have Tzain jailed for what he’s just done.
I scoot away, eager to put more space between Tzain’s bare skin and my blushing face. But as I move, my fingers knock against something smooth and hollow.
I turn and find myself face-to-face with a cracked skull.
“Skies!” I shout, and crawl backward, hairs rising on the nape of my neck. Zélie jumps to her feet and expands her staff, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.
“What is it?” she asks.
I point to the fractured skull, lying on top of a pile of crushed bones. A gaping hole above its eye socket signals its violent death.
“Could it be another climber?” I ask. “Someone who did not make it through?”