“What are you talking about?” Amari grabs my shoulders. “Zélie, where is this coming from?”
“You don’t understand.…” I shake my head. “You didn’t see what Kwame could do. If Zu hadn’t stopped him … if stockers had that kind of power or a man like your father—” My throat goes dry at the memory of the blaze. “Imagine all the people he’d incinerate if he could conjure flames!”
It all pours out of me at once, the fears, the shames that have plagued me all day. “And Tzain—” I start, but I can’t even say the words. If I can’t even trust myself to keep my magic in check, how can I expect untested maji to fare?
“For so long I thought we needed magic to survive, but now … now I don’t know what to think. We have no plan, no way to make rules or establish control. If we just bring it back, innocent people could get hurt.”
Amari stays silent for a long moment, letting my words simmer. Her eyes soften and she pulls me by the hand.
“Amari—”
“Just come.”
She drags me outside the tent, and in an instant I’m blown away. While we were inside, the settlement came alive. The valley bursts with youthful energy, glowing red with soft lantern lights. Savory meat pies and sweet plantain pass under our noses as vibrant music and thundering drums reverberate through our skin. Everyone dances to the joyous music, buzzing with the excitement of the procession.
In the festive craze I spot Inan, more handsome than anyone has a right to be in a dark blue agbada with matching pants. When he spots me, his mouth falls open. My chest flutters under his gaze. I look away, desperate not to feel anything else. He approaches, but before he can catch up, Amari pulls me through the crowd.
“Come on,” she yells back at him. “We cannot miss it!”
We zip through the crowd while the celebrants thrust and shimmy by our sides. Though part of me wants to cry, I crane my neck to take in the crowd, craving their joy, their life.
The children of Or?sha dance like there’s no tomorrow, each step praising the gods. Their mouths glorify the rapture of liberation, their hearts sing the Yoruba songs of freedom. My ears dance at the words of my language, words I once thought I’d never hear outside my head. They seem to light up the air with their delight.
It’s like the whole world can breathe again.
“You look magnificent!” Zu smiles as she takes me in. “Every boy will be dying for a dance, though I think you may be spoken for.”
I tilt my head and follow her finger to Inan; his eyes trail me like a lionaire on the hunt. I want to hold his gaze, to hold the rush that blossoms under my skin when he looks at me this way. But I force myself to turn around.
I can’t hurt Tzain again.
“Mama! òrìsà Mama! òrìsà Mama, àwá un dúp1 pé egb3 igbe wá—”
The closer we get to the center, the louder the singing grows. It takes me back to the mountains of Ibadan, when Mama would use this song to sing me to sleep. Her voice flowed rich and soft, like velvet and silk. I breathe in the familiar sensation as a petite girl with a powerful voice leads the crowd.
“Mama, Mama, Mama—”
As the voices fill the night with their heavenly song, a young div?ner with light brown skin and cropped white hair enters the circle. Dressed in rich blue robes, she looks like Lekan’s painting of Yem?ja, the goddess who took Sky Mother’s tears, come to life. The div?ner spins and twirls with the song, a jar of water resting on her head. When the chorus peaks, she throws the water in the air and opens her arms wide as it rains back down on her skin.
The crowd’s cheers rise as the div?ner twirls out of the circle and Folake shimmies in. The beads of her yellow kaftan catch the light, shimmering as they move along her skin. She teases everyone with her smile, no one more than Kwame. When the crowd can take no more, her hands erupt. The crowd cheers when sparks of golden light shoot from her hands, dancing with her through the camp.
“Mama, Mama, Mama—”
Div?ner after div?ner enters the ring, each dressed like Sky Mother’s children. Though they can’t do magic, their imitations fill the crowd with joy. At the end, a girl who mirrors my age steps forward. She’s dressed in flowing red silks, and a beaded headdress glitters against her skin. Oya … My sister deity.
Though nothing like the brilliance of Oya in my visions, the div?ner has a magical aura of her own. Like Folake, she has long white locs that spin as she dances, twirling around her like the red silks. In one hand she sports Oya’s signature irukere, a short whip with the hair of a lionaire. As she spins it around the circle, the div?ner’s praises grow.
“You are a part of this, Zélie.” Amari laces her fingers with mine. “Do not let anyone take this magic away.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
AMARI
THOUGH THE PROCESSION ENDS, the music and dancing advance late into the night. I bite into another moín moín pie as I watch the festivities, savoring the melting of the steamed bean cake in my mouth. A div?ner walks past with a platter of shuku shuku, and I almost cry when the sweet coconut hits my tongue.
“About time.”
Tzain’s breath tickles my ear, sending a pleasant tingle down my neck. For a rare moment he is alone, unbothered by the swarm of div?ner girls who have tried to catch his eye all night.
“Pardon?” I ask, choking down the rest of the shuku shuku.
“I’ve been looking for you. You’re a hard person to find.”
I wipe the crumbs from my lips, desperate to hide the fact that I’ve eaten my way through half the festival. Though my dress started out a perfect fit, now the seams pull at my hips.
“Well, I suppose it’s hard to find me when a gaggle of girls blocks your every path.”
“My apologies, Princess.” Tzain laughs. “But you should know it takes time to approach the prettiest girl here.”
His smile softens, just like the night he threw me in the river and laughed when I tried to throw him back. It was a rare side of him; after everything that happened since, I wasn’t sure when I would see this side again.
“What is it?”
“Just thinking.” I shrug and turn back to the sea of dancing div?ners. “I’ve been worried about you. You’re forgiving, but being tortured in that tent couldn’t have been easy.”
“Humph.” Tzain grins. “I can think of a lot of better ways to spend a night with a girl locked in a tent.”
My face turns so red I’m positive it clashes with the golden hues of my dress. “I guess the other night was my first time spending the night with a boy.”
Tzain snorts. “Was it everything you ever dreamed?”
“I don’t know…” I press my finger to my lips. “I always imagined less bondage.”