Gods, help me.
I make my way through their gathering. Dozens of masked mercenaries clad in black leer at me as I pass, each sitting on a rock structure that juts out of the ground. Some reach for their weapons, some shift into a fighting stance. Half stare like they want to kill, others like they want to devour.
I ignore their hostility as I search for gray eyes amid a sea of ambers and browns. The man they belong to emerges from the front of the cavern, the only unmasked mercenary in sight. Though he’s covered in black like the rest of the fighters, a dark red scarf wraps around his throat.
“You?” I breathe out in confusion. I can’t hide my shock. The sandstone complexion, the striking, storm-gray eyes. The pickpocket … the thief from the div?ner settlement. Though only a short time has passed, it feels like a lifetime ago now.
Ro?n takes a long drag off a hand-rolled cigarette as his angular eyes slide up my form. He sits down, resting against a circular rock structure reminiscent of a throne. His foxer-like smile spreads wide against his lips.
“I told you we’d meet again.” He takes another drag off his cigarette and is slow to exhale. “But unfortunately, these aren’t the right circumstances. Not unless you’re here to join me and my men.”
“Your men?” Ro?n looks only a few years older than Tzain. Though he has a fighter’s build, the men he commands are twice his size.
“You find that amusing?” A crooked grin rises to his thin lips, and he leans forward on his stone throne. “Do you know what amuses me? A little maji. Stumbling into my cave unarmed.”
“Who says I’m unarmed?”
“You don’t look like you know your way around a sword. Of course, if that’s what you’re here to learn, I’d be more than happy to teach.”
His crudeness elicits laughter from his crew, and my cheeks grow hot. I’m a game to him. Another mark he can pickpocket with ease.
I survey the cave, taking stock of his mercenaries. If this is going to work, I need his respect.
“How kind.” I keep my face even. “But it’s me who’s here to teach you.”
Ro?n lets out a hearty laugh that bounces along the cave walls. “Go on.”
“I need you and your men for a job that could change Or?sha.”
Again the men jeer, but this time the pickpocket doesn’t laugh. He leans farther out of his seat.
“There’s a sacred island north of Jimeta,” I continue, “a full night’s sail away. I need you to take us there before tomorrow’s sun rises.”
He leans back against his stone throne. “The only island in the Lokoja Sea is Kaduna.”
“This island only appears every hundred years.”
More taunts erupt, but Ro?n silences them with a sharp hand.
“What’s on this island, mysterious little maji?”
“A way to bring magic back for good. For every maji in Or?sha’s lands.”
The mercenaries explode in laughter and taunts, yelling at me to go away. A stocky man steps out of the fray. His muscles bulge beneath his black fatigues. “Stop wasting our time with these lies,” he growls. “Ro?n, get this girl out of here or I wi—”
He lays his hand on my back; his touch sends spasms through my wounds. The pain takes me away, locking me inside the cell—
—rusted cuffs rip against my wrists as I pull. My screams echo against the metal walls.
And during it all, Saran stands calm, watching them tear me apart—
“Agh!”
I throw the man over my shoulder, slapping him against the rock floor with a loud smack. As he recoils, I ram my staff into his sternum, letting up just before I hear anything crack. His screams are loud, but not louder than the ones still ringing in my head.
The cave seems to hold its breath as I bend down, placing the end of my staff above the mercenary’s throat.
“Touch me again.” I bare my teeth. “See what happens.”
He flinches as I release my hold, giving him the chance to crawl away. With his retreat there’s no more laughter.
They understand my staff.
Ro?n’s stormy eyes dance, filled with even more amusement than before. He puts out his cigarette and walks forward, stopping only a finger’s breadth away from my face. The scent of his smoke engulfs me, sweet like milk and honey.
“You’re not the first to attempt this, love. Kwame already tried to bring magic back. From what I hear, it didn’t go so well.”
Kwame’s name sends a pang through my heart, reminding me of the meeting he took with Ro?n in the div?ner camp. Even back then, he must have been preparing. Deep down, he always knew we’d have to fight.
“This is different. I have a way to give all the maji back their gifts at once.”
“What kind of payment are we talking?”
“No coin,” I say. “But you’ll earn the favor of the gods.”
“How do you figure?” he snorts. “Just general goodwill?”
He needs more. I rack my mind, searching for a better lie. “The gods sent me to you. Twice. It’s no accident we’re meeting again. They’ve chosen you because they want your help.”
The crooked smile drops off his face and he’s solemn for the first time. I can’t read the expression behind his eyes when it’s not amusement or mischief.
“That may be enough for me, love, but my men are going to need a little more than divine intervention.”
“Then let them know that if we succeed, you’ll be employed by the future queen of Or?sha.” The words tumble out of me before I can even assess whether or not they’re true. Tzain told me of Amari’s intention to claim the throne, but with everything going on, I haven’t thought of it since.
Yet now I hold on to it, using my only leverage. If Ro?n and his men don’t help us, we won’t get anywhere near that island.
“The queen’s mercenaries,” he muses. “It has a ring to it, no?”
“It does.” I nod. “One that sounds a lot like gold.”
A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. His gaze slides over me once more.
Finally, he holds out his hand and I hide a smile, keeping my grip firm as we shake.
“When do we leave?” I ask. “We have to hit the island by daybreak.”
“Right now.” Ro?n smiles. “But our boat’s small. You’ll have to sit next to me.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
ZéLIE
WIND FILLS THE SILENCE as we ride across the Lokoja Sea on Ro?n’s boat. Unlike the vast vessels of Ibeji’s arena, Ro?n’s ship is sleek and angular, only a few meters longer than Nailah. Instead of sails, metal turbines harness the blowing wind. They propel us through the choppy waters as they hum and rotate.