I wait for her to concede. She only glares.
“I’ll take your rare bout of silence as a no.”
She stares at the dagger in her hand. “If you give me a reason to kill you—”
“It’s amusing that you think you could.”
We face off as if we’re still fighting, an invisible staff pressing against an unseen sword. But when she can oppose me no longer, Zélie walks back to the boy bleeding in the dirt.
“Okay, little prince. What do we do now?”
My blood simmers at her pet name, but I force myself to brush it aside. A new Or?sha has to begin somewhere.
“Hold him up.”
“Why?”
“For skies’ sake, just do it.”
She cocks an eyebrow in defiance but drags the poor bastard up. His eyelids flutter slightly and he moans. An uncomfortable heat prickles the air between us as I step closer.
I take inventory of the masked figure. Both hands broken. More wounds than I can count. He hangs like a rag doll in her hands. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t bleed out.
“Listen here.” I grab his chin, forcing him to look into my eyes. “If you want to live, I suggest you start talking. Where’s our family?”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
AMARI
THE STABBING ACHE comes first, pulsing through my head with an intensity that stirs me awake. The burns follow soon after, stinging from the endless cuts and scratches peppering my skin.
I blink my eyes open, but the darkness remains; they’ve tied a tweed bag over my face. The rough fabric sticks to my nose as I breathe in too deeply, a futile attempt to keep myself from hyperventilating.
What is the meaning of this?
I pull forward, but my arms hold me back, wrists bound against a column. Wait, not a column. I shift to explore the rough surface. A tree …
That means we’re still in the forest.
“Tzain?” I try to call out, but my mouth is gagged. The fried pork rinds from dinner churn in my stomach. Whoever these people are, they’ve taken every precaution to protect themselves.
I strain to hear another clue—running water, the shift of other captives. But no other sounds come forth. I’m forced to mine my memories for more.
Though I can’t see, I close my eyes, reliving the surprise attack: Tzain and Nailah disappearing in woven nets, the acidic stench that turned everything black. So many masked figures, quick and silent, blending with the shadows. These strange fighters are the culprits.
They took all of us down.
But why? What is it these people want? If their aim was to rob us, they already succeeded. If they desired our deaths, I wouldn’t be breathing now. This has to be something different, an attack shrouded in a greater aim. With enough time, I can decipher it. Plot a way to escape—
“She’s awake.”
I tense, keeping still as a female voice speaks. Something rustles as footsteps near. The faint smell of sage hits me when she gets closer.
“Should we get Zu?”
This time I catch a drawl in her speech, an accent I’ve only heard from the nobles hailing from the east. I picture Father’s map of Or?sha in my mind. Besides Ilorin, the only eastern village large enough to garner nobles in the palace is Warri.
“Zu can wait,” a male voice answers her, his speech carrying the same eastern lilt. The heat rising off his body hits me in a wave when he nears.
“Kwame, don’t!”
The bag is ripped off my head so hard my neck jerks forward. The pounding in my head surges with the flood of lantern light. My vision blurs as I fight against the pain to take everything in.
A div?ner’s face fills my gaze, dark brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. A thick beard highlights his defined jaw. As he gets closer, I catch a small silver ring pierced through his right ear. Despite his menacing expression, the boy can’t be much older than Tzain.
Behind him, another div?ner stands, beautiful with her dark skin and catlike eyes. Long white locs travel down her back, tangling over her arms when she crosses them. A large canvas tent surrounds us, built around the trunks of two mammoth trees.
“Kwame, our masks.”
“We don’t need them,” he replies, breath warm against my face. “For once, she’s the one in danger. Not us.”
Another body sits behind him, bound to a large tree root, head hidden behind a tweed bag. Tzain. I exhale as I recognize his shape, but the relief doesn’t last. A stain bleeds through the top of Tzain’s bag, thick and dark. Cuts and bruises mar his skin; transporting him here must have been rough.
“You want to speak to him?” Kwame asks. “Tell me where you got this scroll.”
The blood freezes in my veins when he waves the parchment in front of my face. Skies. What else did he take?
“Itching for your blade?” Kwame seems to read my mind, pulling the bone dagger from his waist. “Couldn’t leave your boyfriend with a weapon like this.”
Kwame cuts the gag binding my mouth, unflinching even when he nicks my cheek in the process.
“You have one chance,” he says through gritted teeth. “Don’t bother lying.”
“I took it from the royal palace,” I rush out. “We’re on a mission to bring magic back. I’ve been tasked by the gods.”
“I’m going to get Zu—” the girl behind him starts.
“Folake, wait.” Kwame’s tone is sharp. “Without Jailin, we need to go to her with answers.”
He turns back to me, narrowing his eyes once more.
“A kosidán and a noble are on a mission to bring magic back, yet not one maji is with you?”
“We have a—”
I stop myself, sifting through all the information he revealed with his simple question. It brings me back to the luncheons in the palace, times when I had to search for the truth behind all the smiles and lies. He thinks we’re alone. That means Zélie and Inan must have gotten away. Or they were never taken. It’s quite possible they’re still safe.…
I cannot decide whether this should give me hope. Together, Zélie and Inan could find us. But at the rate they were fighting, one of them might already be dead.
“Run out of lies?” Kwame asks. “Good. Tell the truth. How did you find us? How many of you are there? What’s a noble like you doing with a scroll like this?”
A scroll like this?
I dig my nails in the dirt. Of course. Why didn’t I notice right away? Kwame didn’t bat an eye when said I wanted the scroll to bring magic back. And though he’s a div?ner, touching it for the first time doesn’t make his magic react.
Because this isn’t the first time he’s held it.…
In fact, it might just be the thing he and his fellow masked vigilantes are after.
“Listen—”
“No,” Kwame cuts me off, and moves to Tzain, ripping the bag from his head. Tzain is barely conscious, his head lolling to the side. Anxiety grips my chest as Kwame holds the bone dagger to Tzain’s neck.
“Tell the truth.”
“I am!” I shriek, pulling against my bonds.
“We need to get Zu.” Folake backs up to the entrance of the tent, as if distance absolves her of this horror.
“We need the truth,” Kwame yells back. “She’s lying. I know you see it, too!”