Children of Blood and Bone

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 div?ner 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.

“Chandomblé.” 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. Or?sha’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.

One day, I would whisper to Binta.

One day, indeed. She would smile back.

As I dreamed, I never imagined the hell of the jungle, all the mosquitoes and sweat and jagged stones. But after four days in the desert, I’m convinced there’s no limit to the hells Or?sha can hold. The desert provides no foxer meat to eat, no water or coconut milk to drink. All it gifts us with is sand.

Endless mountains of sand.

Despite the scarf wrapped so tightly around my face I can barely breathe, grains settle in my mouth, my nose, my ears. Their persistence is matched only by the scorching sun, a final touch to this bleak wasteland. The longer we travel through it, the more my fingers itch to grab Nailah’s reins and yank her the other way. But even if we turned around now, where in skies’ name would I go?

My own brother hunts me. Father probably desires my head. I can hardly fathom all the lies Mother’s spinning in my absence. Perhaps if Binta was still at the palace, I would risk crawling back with my tail between my legs. But even she’s gone.

This sand is all I have left.

Sadness swells inside me as I close my eyes and picture her face. Just a brief thought of her is almost enough to take me away from the hell of this desert. If she were here, she’d be smiling, laughing at the grains of sand that got stuck between her teeth. She’d find beauty in all of this. Binta found the beauty in everything.

Before I can stop myself, my thoughts of Binta take me further, bringing me back to our days in the palace. One morning, when we were young, I snuck her into Mother’s quarters, eager to show her my favorite jewels. As I climbed onto the vanity, I rambled on and on about the villages Inan was going to see on his military visits.

“It’s not fair,” I whined. “He’ll go all the way to Ikoyi. He’s going to see the actual sea.”

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