“I couldn’t resist.” Ro?n grins like a foxer, revealing teeth that shine a little too bright. “From behind I saw only the beautiful staff. I didn’t know it’d be on a beautiful girl.”
I glare at him, but it only makes his smile wider. “As I said before, love”—he gives a little bow—“till we meet again.”
With that he saunters off, walking over to Kwame in the distance. They grasp each other’s fists in a familiar greeting, exchanging words I can’t hear.
Kwame eyes me for a second before the two disappear into a tent. I can’t help but wonder what Kwame would be doing meeting with a man like that.
“Thanks,” I say to Inan as I run my fingers over the carved staff markings. It’s the only thing I have left from Ilorin. The only tie to the life I once had. I think back to Mama Agba, wishing I could see her and Baba again.
“If I knew all it took to distract you was a charming smile, I would’ve tried that ages ago.”
“It wasn’t his smile.” I lift my chin. “I’ve never seen someone from another land.”
“Ah, was that all it was?” Inan grins, subtle yet completely disarming. In our time together I’ve seen everything from rage to pain play across his lips, but never anything close to an actual smile. It creates a dimple in his cheek, crinkling the skin around his amber eyes.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I turn back to my staff. Between the kaftan and the smile, it’s hard to believe I’m still looking at the little prince— “Ugh!”
Inan’s grin transforms to a wince. He clenches his teeth and grips his side.
“What’s wrong?” I put my hand on his back. “Do you need me to get Zu?”
He shakes his head, exhaling a frustrated breath. “This isn’t the type of thing she could heal.”
I tilt my head until I realize the meaning behind his words. He looked so different in a cobalt kaftan I didn’t even notice the air around him was cold.
“You’re suppressing your magic.” My heart falls in my chest. “You don’t have to, Inan. No one here knows who you are.”
“It’s not that.” Inan braces himself before standing up straight. “There are too many people. I have to control it. If I let it out, someone could get hurt.”
Once again, I get a glimpse of the broken little prince who charged me with his blade; I knew he was scared, but was he really this afraid of himself?
“I can help you.” I drop my hand. “At least a little. If you learned how to control it, it wouldn’t hurt you like this.”
Inan pulls at the collar of his kaftan, though it hangs loose around his neck. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“It’s fine.” I grab his arm, leading him away from the crowds. “Come on. I know a place we can go.”
*
THE GOMBE RIVER TRICKLES BESIDE US, filling the air with its song. I thought the new surroundings might calm Inan, but now that we sit, I realize I need calming myself. The nerves that hit when Zu asked me to lead the maji return, stronger this time. I don’t know how to help Inan. I’m still trying to figure Reaper magic out myself.
“Talk to me.” I take a deep breath and feign the confidence I wish I had. “What does your magic feel like? When does it hit you the strongest?”
Inan swallows, fingers twitching around a phantom object. “I don’t know. I don’t understand anything about it at all.”
“Here.” I reach into my pocket and place a bronze piece into his palm. “Stop fidgeting, you’re making me itch.”
“What’s this?”
“Something you can play with without poisoning yourself. Have at it and calm down.”
Inan smiles again, this time fully, one that reaches and softens his eyes. He runs his thumb over the cheetanaire engraved in the coin’s center, marking it as Or?shan. “I don’t think I’ve ever held a bronze piece.”
“Ugh,” I choke in disgust. “Keep facts like that to yourself or I won’t be able to stomach this.”
“Forgive me.” Inan tests the weight of the coin in his palm. “And thank you.”
“Thank me by making this work. When was the last time you really let your magic flow?”
With the bronze piece passing between his fingers, Inan begins to think. “That temple.”
“Chandomblé?”
He nods. “It amplified my abilities. When I was trying to find you, I sat under a painting of Orí and … I don’t know. It was the first time I felt like there was something I could control.”
The dreamscape. I think back to the last time we were there, wondering what I must’ve said. Did I give something away?
“How does it work?” I ask. “There are times when it feels like you’re reading a book inside my head.”
“More like a puzzle than a book,” Inan corrects me. “It’s not always clear, but when your thoughts and emotions are intense, I feel them, too.”
“You get that with everyone?”
He shakes his head. “Not to the same degree. Everyone else feels like being caught in the rain. You’re the whole tsunami.”
I freeze at the power of his words, trying to imagine what that would be like. The fear. The pain. The memories of Mama being ripped away.
“Sounds awful,” I whisper.
“Not always.” He stares at me like he can see straight into my heart, straight into everything I am. “There are times when it’s amazing. Beautiful, even.”
My heart swells in my chest. A coil of hair falls in front of my face, and Inan tucks it behind my ear. Goosebumps prickle down my neck when his fingers brush my skin.
I clear my throat and look away, ignoring the thumping inside my head. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know I can’t allow myself to feel like this.
“Your magic is strong.” I push the focus back. “Believe it or not, it comes naturally to you. You channel things instinctively that most maji would need a powerful incantation to do.”
“How can I control it?” Inan asks. “What do I do?”
“Close your eyes,” I instruct. “Repeat after me. I don’t know Connector incantations, but I do know how to ask for help from the gods.”
Inan closes his eyes and grips the bronze piece tight.
“It’s simple—Orí, bá mi s0r0.”
“Ba me sorro?”
“Bá mi s0r0.” I correct his pronunciation with a smile. It’s endearing how clumsy Yoruba sounds on his lips. “Repeat it. Picture Orí. Open yourself up and ask for his help. That’s what being a maji is about. With the gods on your side, you’re never truly alone.”
Inan looks down. “They’re really always there?”
“Always.” I think back to all those years I turned my back on them. “Even in the darkest times the gods are always there. Whether we acknowledge them or not, they always have a plan.”
Inan’s hand closes over the bronze piece, face turning pensive.
“Alright.” He nods. “I want to try.”
“Orí, bá mi s0r0.”
“Orí, bá mi s0r0,” he chants under his breath, fingers twisting around the bronze piece. At first nothing happens, but as he continues, the air begins to heat. A soft blue glow appears in his hands. The light creeps its way over to me.
I close my eyes as the world spins away, a hot rush, just like the other day. When the spinning ends, I’m back in the dreamscape.
But this time when the reeds tickle my feet, I don’t have to feel afraid.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
INAN
THE AIR OF THE DREAMSCAPE hums like a melody. Soft.