“Maybe if you hadn’t beaten him half to death, we could’ve gotten more answers.”
Zélie snarls. “If I didn’t beat that boy, we wouldn’t have found this place at all.”
She stalks forward, starting her trek down the forested terrain.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get our siblings back.”
“Wait.” I grab her arm. “We can’t just storm in.”
“I can take two men.”
“There are far more than two of them.” I point to the areas around the gate. It takes Zélie a moment to see through the shadows. The hidden soldiers are so still they blend completely into the darkness. “There are at least thirty of them on this side alone. And that doesn’t count the archers hidden in the trees.”
I point to a foot dangling from the branches, the only sign of life in the thick leaves. “If their formation matches the feet on the ground, we should expect at least fifteen of them up there as well.”
“So we’ll attack at daybreak,” Zélie decides. “When they can’t hide.”
“Sunlight isn’t going to change how many of them there are to fight. We have to assume they’re all as skilled as the men who took Amari and Tzain.”
Zélie scrunches her nose at me; I hear it, too. Her brother’s name sounds strange coming out of my mouth.
She turns; her white curls glow in the moonlight. Her hair was straight as a blade before, but now it bunches in tight spirals, twisting further in the wind.
Her curls remind me of one of her young memories, back when she was a child and her coils were even tighter. Her mother chuckled while trying to comb Zélie’s hair into a bun, magically summoning dark shadows to hold Zélie in place as her daughter struggled.
“What’s our move?” Zélie breaks through my thoughts. I return my focus to the wall, letting the facts of battle wash away all memories of Zélie’s mother and her hair.
“Gombe is only a day’s ride away. If I leave now, I can bring back guards by morning.”
“Are you serious?” Zélie steps back. “You want to bring the guards into this?”
“We need a force if we’re getting into that camp. What other choice do we have?”
“With the guards, you have a choice.” Zélie jabs her finger in my chest. “I don’t.”
“That boy is a div?ner.” I point to the captive. “What if there are more behind that wall? They have the scroll now. We don’t know what we’ll have to face.”
“Of course. The scroll. Always the scroll. How stupid am I to think this could be about rescuing my brother or your sister—”
“Zélie—”
“Come up with a new plan,” she demands. “If there are div?ners behind that wall and you summon the guards, we won’t get our siblings back. They’ll all die as soon as your soldiers arrive.”
“That’s not true—”
“Bring the guards into this, and I’ll tell them your secret.” She crosses her arms. “When they come for us, I’ll make sure they kill you, too.”
My insides twist and I step back. Kaea’s blade strikes back into my mind. The fear in her grip. The hatred in her eyes.
A strange sadness settles in me as I reach into my pocket and wrap my hand around Father’s pawn. I bite back all the words I want to shoot back. If only she was wrong.
“Then what do you propose we do without guards?” I push. “I don’t see a way past that wall without a fighting force.”
Zélie turns back to the camp and wraps her arms around herself. She shivers even though the humidity around us makes me perspire.
“I’ll get us in,” she finally says. “Once we break through, we go our separate ways.”
Though she doesn’t say it, I know she’s thinking about the scroll. Once those walls come down, the fight for it will be fiercer than ever.
“What kind of plan do you have in mind?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“It is when I’m putting my life in your hands.”
Her eyes flick to me. Sharp. Untrusting. But then she presses her hands into the ground. A hum ignites in the air.
“4mí àw?n tí ó ti sùn—”
Her words bend the earth to her will. It creaks and crumbles and cracks. An earthly figure rises beneath her touch. Brought to life by the magic of her hands.
“Skies,” I curse at her power. When did she learn this trick? But she doesn’t care what I know; she turns back to the camp.
“They’re called animations,” she says. “They follow my command.”
“How many can you make?”
“At least eight, maybe more.”
“That won’t do.” I shake my head.
“They’re powerful.”
“There’re too many fighters down there. We need a stronger force—”
“Fine.” Zélie turns on her heel. “If we’re attacking tomorrow night, I’ll figure out how to make more in the morning.”
She starts to walk away, but pauses.
“And a piece of advice, little prince. Don’t put your life in my hands unless you want that life to end.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
ZéLIE
BEADS OF SWEAT soak through my cropped dashiki and drip onto the mountain stone. My muscles shake with the strain of practicing a hundred incantations, but Inan doesn’t let up. He rises from our latest skirmish, brushing hardened earth from his bare chest. Though a red welt swells on his cheek from my last animation, Inan squares his stance.
“Again.”
“Dammit,” I pant. “Just give me a break.”
“There’s no time for a break. If you can’t do this, we need another plan.”
“The plan is fine,” I say through my teeth. “What else do you need to prove that? They’ll be strong, we won’t need that many—”
“There are over fifty fighters down there, Zélie. Armed, battle-ready men. If you think eight animations will be enough—”
“It’s more than enough for you!” I point to the bruise forming on Inan’s eye, to the blood staining the right sleeve of his kaftan. “You can barely fight one. What makes you think they can handle more?”
“Because there are fifty of them!” Inan shouts. “I’m not even at half my strength. I should hardly be your gauge.”
“Then prove me wrong, little prince.” I clench my fists, eager to draw more of his royal blood. “Show me how weak I am. Show me how strong you really are!”
“Zélie—”
“Enough!” I roar, pressing my palms into the ground. For the first time my spiritual pathways unlock without an incantation; my ashê drains and the animations flow. With a rumble, they come to life, rising from the earth at my silent command. Inan’s eyes widen as ten animations charge across the hill.
But in the brief moment before the attack, his gaze narrows. A vein bulges against his throat. His muscles tense against his strong build. His magic surfaces like a warm breeze, heating the air around us.
He cuts through two animations; they crumble into dirt. He strikes like lightning against the others, dodging and attacking at the same time. Dammit. I bite the inside of my cheek and chew. He’s faster than the average guard.
Deadlier than the typical prince.