To my surprise a laugh breaks free, louder than any he’s had in my presence. The sound makes my chest swell. I haven’t made anyone laugh this loud since Binta. Unspoken words swim inside me, but before I can respond, a giggle catches our attention.
I shift to find Zélie a few tents away, dancing at the edge of the crowd. She laughs as she sips on a bottle of palm wine, spinning a div?ner child round and round. Though I smile at her joy, Tzain’s face darkens into the sadness he showed in the tent. But all sadness fades when Tzain spots Inan. My brother stares at Zélie like she’s the single red rose in a garden of white.
“Do you see that?” I grab Tzain’s hand and pull him toward a circle of cheering div?ners. A flutter erupts in my stomach when his hand wraps back over mine.
Tzain’s broad shoulders part the crowd like a herder moving through a flock of sheep. Within moments we reach the vibrant dancer in the center of the circle, bursting with exuberance and life. Her beaded dress sparkles in the moonlight, accentuating every shake and roll of her hips. Each curve of her body circles to the beat, electrifying the crowd with every thrust.
Tzain nudges me forward and I grip his arm. “What in skies’ name are you doing?”
“Get in,” he laughs. “It’s time I see your moves.”
“You’ve had too much ogogoro,” I laugh.
“What if I go?” Tzain asks. “If I do it, will you?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Tzain, I said no—”
He jumps into the circle, startling the dancer, causing the whole crowd to step back. For a long moment he doesn’t make a move, studying everyone with mock seriousness pasted on his face. But when the horns of the song ring, he practically explodes in dance. He shakes and pops like fire ants have been dropped in his pants.
I laugh so hard I cannot breathe, gripping the div?ner next to me to stay upright. Each move he makes incites more cheers, causing the circle of onlookers to double in size.
As he shakes his shoulders and drops to the ground, the dancing girl joins back in, twirling around the space. My skin prickles as she moves, seduction dripping from each roll of her hips. She fixes Tzain with a flirtatious gaze that makes me grimace. How can I be surprised? With his kind smile, his strong, imposing frame—
Calloused hands wrap around my wrists. Large hands. Tzain’s hands.
“Tzain, no!”
His mischief overpowers my fright. Before I know it, I stand in the center of the circle. I freeze, paralyzed as countless eyes land on me. I turn to escape, but Tzain holds me tight, spinning me for the world to see.
“Tzain!” I shriek, but my terror dissolves into a laughter I cannot stop. Excitement swirls through me as we move, my two left feet somehow catching the beat. For a moment the crowd disappears and I only see Tzain—his smile, his kind brown eyes.
I could live an eternity like this, spinning and laughing in the safety of his arms.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
INAN
ZéLIE HAS NEVER LOOKED more beautiful than she does now.
Hand in hand with a young div?ner boy, she shines in her soft purple dress, a twirling goddess among the crowd. The sea-salt scent of her soul rises above the vast aromas of festival foods. It hits me with full force.
An ocean tide pulling me in.
Watching her, it’s almost easy to forget about the maji. The monarchy. Father. In this moment, all I can think about is Zél. Her smile lights the world like a full moon on a starless night.
When she can twirl no longer, she gives the child a hug. He squeals when she plants a kiss on his forehead. But as soon as he runs off, three young men step forward to take his place.
“Excuse me—”
“Hi, I’m Deka—”
“You look lovely tonight—”
I smile as they try to charm her. Each squawks over the other. While they chatter, I wrap my hand around Zélie’s side and squeeze.
“May I have this dance?”
She whips around, outraged. Then she realizes it’s me. As she smiles, I’m struck with her delight. Then longing. A hint of fear. Tzain flashes across her mind, and I pull her close. “I’ll take you somewhere he can’t see.”
A warm rush flows from her body into mine. My grip tightens.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I grab her hand and lead her through the crowd, ignoring the glares of her pursuers. We make our way toward the forest at the edge of the camps. Away from the celebration and dance. The cool air is a welcome breeze. It carries the rich scent of campfires and bark and damp leaves.
“You’re sure you don’t see Tzain?”
“Positive.”
“What about—whoa!”
Zélie stumbles to the ground. A girlish giggle escapes her mouth. As I stifle my own laughter to help her, a whiff of honey palm wine wafts into my nose.
“Skies, Zél, are you drunk?”
“I wish. Whoever brewed this clearly didn’t know what they were doing.” She takes my hand and leans against a tree for support. “I think all that twirling with Salim is catching up to me.”
“I’ll bring you water.”
I make to leave, but Zélie grabs my arm.
“Stay.” Her fingers slide to my hands. A rush travels through me at her touch.
“Are you sure?”
She nods and giggles again. Her melodic laughter draws me close.
“You asked me to dance.” A playful glint flashes in her silver eyes. “I want to dance.”
Like the eager boys circling Zélie before, I step forward. Close enough to catch the faintest hint of palm wine on her breath. When I slide my hand over her wrist, she closes her eyes and breathes in. Her fingers dig into the bark.
Her reaction fills every cell in my being with want, a visceral rush I’ve never experienced before. It takes everything in me not to kiss her; not to run my hands over her curves and press her against the tree.
When her eyes flutter open again, I bend so that my lips brush against her ear. “If we’re actually going to dance, you have to move, little Zél.”
She stiffens.
“Don’t call me that.”
“You can call me ‘little prince’ and I can’t call you ‘little Zél’?”
Her hands drop to her side. She turns her face away.
“Mama called me that.”
Skies.
I release her. It’s a fight not to bang my head against the tree. “Zél, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“I know.”
She stares at the ground. Her playfulness disappears, drowning in a sea of grief. But then a wave of terror swells inside her.
“Are you okay?”
She clings to me without warning, pressing her head into my chest. Her fear sinks into my skin. It wraps around my throat. It consumes her—raw and powerful—just like that day in the forest. Except now it’s not only the monarchy that haunts her; it’s the shadows of death thrashing from her own hands.
I wrap my arms around her and squeeze. What I wouldn’t give to take her fear away. We stay like that for a long moment, disappearing into each other’s arms.
“You smell like the sea.”
She blinks up at me.
“Your spirit,” I clarify. “It’s always smelled like the sea.”
She stares at me with an expression I can’t discern. I don’t spend too much time trying to decipher it. It’s enough to be lost in her eyes. To exist only in her silver gaze.
I tuck a loose coil behind her ears. She presses her face back into my chest.