Color drains from Amari’s face, and I see the fear that’s plagued her all her life. The girl who grabbed me all those weeks ago in the market. The princess with the scar traveling down her back.
But as she moves, something different sets into her stance, something steady like on the arena ship. It allows her to approach her brother, concern eclipsing the terror in her eyes.
“What happened?”
Inan redirects his sword from my chest to Amari’s. Tzain jumps down to fight, but I grab his arm. “Let her try.”
“Out of my way.” Inan’s voice is commanding, but a tremble shakes his hand.
Amari pauses for a second, illuminated by the moonlight reflecting off Inan’s blade.
“Father’s not here,” she finally says. “You won’t hurt me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Maybe you don’t.” Amari swallows hard. “But I do.”
Inan is silent for a long moment. Still. Too still. The clouds shift and moonlight shines, lighting the space between them. Amari takes a step forward. Then another, bigger this time. When she places a hand on Inan’s cheek, tears fill his amber eyes.
“You don’t understand,” he croaks, still clenching his sword. “It destroyed her. It’ll destroy all of us.”
Her? Whether or not Amari knows who Inan’s talking about, she doesn’t seem to care. She guides his sword to the ground as if soothing a wild animal.
For the first time I notice how different she and her brother truly look, the contrast in her round face, the angles of Inan’s square jawline. Though they share the same amber gaze and copper complexion, that seems to be where their similarities end.
“Those are Father’s words, Inan. His decisions. Not yours. We are our own people. We make our own choices.”
“But he’s right.” Inan’s voice cracks. “If we don’t stop magic, Or?sha will fall.”
His eyes return to me, and I tighten my grip on my staff. Try it, I want to bark. I’m done running away.
Amari redirects Inan’s line of vision, her delicate hands cupping the back of his head.
“Father is not the future of Or?sha, brother. We are. We stand on the right side of this. You can stand there, too.”
Inan stares at Amari, and for a moment I don’t know who he is. The ruthless captain; the little prince; the scared and broken maji? There’s a longing in his eyes, a desire to give up the fight. But when he lifts his chin, the killer I know comes back.
“Amari—” I cry out.
Inan pushes her aside and lunges forward, sword raised to my chest. I jump in front of Tzain with my staff brandished. Amari tried.
Now it’s my turn.
The air rings as Inan’s sword hits the metal of my staff. I expect a chance to counterattack, but now that the true Inan’s awakened, he won’t let up. Though fatigued, his blows are fierce, fueled by a hatred of me, a hatred of what I know. Yet as I defend against each strike, my own rage builds. The monster who burned my village, the man responsible for Lekan’s death. The root of all our problems.
And I can wipe him away.
“I see you took my advice,” I yell, somersaulting to dodge the strike of his blade. “I can barely see your streak. How many coats this time, little prince?”
I swipe my staff at his skull, striking to kill, not maim. I’m tired of fighting.
I’m tired of him getting in our way.
He ducks to avoid my staff, but he’s quick to thrust his sword at my gut. I spin out of harm’s way and strike. Once again, our weapons collide with a piercing clink.
“You won’t win,” I hiss, arms shaking under the force. “Killing me won’t change what you are.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Inan jumps back, freeing himself for another blow. “If you die, magic dies, too.”
He runs forward and raises his sword with a cry.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
AMARI
DESPITE ALL THE YEARS spent fighting my brother, watching him now is like watching a stranger spar. Though slower than usual, Inan’s strikes are merciless, fueled by a burning rage I cannot comprehend. As he and Zélie trade blow for blow, their battle flows to the constant clinks of his sword and her staff. When their fight pushes them farther into the forest, Tzain and I run after them.
“Are you alright?” Tzain asks.
I long to say yes, but watching Inan, my heart fractures. After all this time, he’s so close to doing the right thing.
“They’re going to kill each other,” I whisper, flinching at their hate-fueled blows.
“No.” Tzain shakes his head. “Zél’s going to kill him.”
I pause and study Zélie’s movements, powerful and precise, the fighter she’s always been. But she’s not trying to knock him down—she fights to take my brother out.
“We have to stop this!” I run forward, ignoring Tzain’s pleas to stay back. The battle pushes our siblings down a hill, deep into the forested valley. I sprint to reach them, though the closer I get, the more I don’t know what to do. Should I extend my blade or stay defenseless and throw myself in harm’s way? They charge at each other with such a vengeance, I don’t know if either plan would stop them. I don’t even know if either would make them hesitate.
But as I run, a new dilemma distracts me; the pressure of unseen eyes. It’s a weight I would know anywhere, honed from a lifetime of carrying it inside the palace walls.
As the sensation grows, I stumble to a stop, searching for its source. Did Inan summon other soldiers? It isn’t like him to fight alone. If the army’s approaching, we could be more vulnerable than I thought.
But the seal of Or?sha doesn’t appear. Instead, leaves tussle above us. Before I can extend my blade, a whipping sound cracks through the air—
Nailah crashes to the ground with a yelp, thick bolas wrapped around her legs and snout. I pivot as a net shoots over her massive frame, capturing her with the ease of a practiced poacher. Caged roars shrink into frightened whimpers as Nailah fights in vain to get free. Her whimpers shrivel into silence. She’s helpless as five soldiers emerge from the forest and drag her away.
“Nailah!” Tzain jumps into action, skinning knife brandished. He bounds forward with impressive speed, blade poised to cut—
“Ugh!”
Tzain tumbles to the ground like a boulder with bolas binding his wrists and ankles. The hunting knife skids against the forest floor as a net is launched, trapping him like a jungle cat.
“No!”
I run after him and extend my own blade, heart slamming against my chest. I dodge a whipping bola with ease, but when the five figures who took Nailah reappear, I don’t know where to turn. They blend in and out of the shadows, masked and clad in black. In brief flashes I catch their beady eyes. Not soldiers …
But if not more of Inan’s guards, who are these fighters? Why do they attack us? What are they after?
I slash at the first figure who approaches and duck to avoid another’s strike. Each attack wastes precious time, time Tzain and Nailah do not have.
“Tzain!” I call after him as more masked figures emerge from the darkness and drag him away. He fights against the net with all his might, but a swift blow to the head leaves his body limp.