I THINK YOUR brother is alive.
Days pass, yet Zélie’s words remain trapped in my mind. They haunt me as we make our way through the Olasimbo Mountain Range, moving through the shadows of night. Blankets of fog sweep our feet as we hike up a dirt trail that will give us a view of Gusau’s fortress meters below. I need to focus on freeing the maji trapped inside to build my army and face my mother, but all I can think about is Inan.
I don’t know what to do if he still breathes. I know I cannot allow Mother to sit on Orïsha’s throne, but do I need to free the imprisoned maji in Gusau’s fortress if Inan sits there instead? If Inan is king now, will he still wage this war?
Watching Father drive a sword through my brother’s gut was a wound I felt in my own heart. If Inan is truly alive, I don’t want to fight him anymore.
I want to run into his arms.
“You’re thinking of him again.”
I blink as Tzain comes up beside me, his expression kind. He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear before tracing his fingers down my spine.
“How can I not?” I lower my voice, eyeing Zélie as she walks ahead. “If what she says is true … if Inan really lives…”
Just speaking his name aloud brings me back to every night spent alone after the ritual went awry. My sobs bounced against the cold iron walls of the warship. I cried so much, my sheets were constantly damp.
Despite all the pain he caused, I didn’t know how to breathe without my brother in this world. What in the skies am I supposed to do if he’s really back?
“Hold up.” Zélie raises a hand, forcing us to stop. The branches rattle ahead. Zélie reaches for her staff.
My pulse spikes as the footsteps draw near. Their approaching shadows loom large. But when the three bodies round the corner, my heart breaks.
The shadows belong to children.
“Arábìnrin, do you have any food?” A young maji steps forward, the tallest of the trio. Their clothes are weathered and worn. I don’t know if they’re related, or only linked by their white hair.
Zélie reaches for her leather bag, but I beat her to the punch. I remove a strip of dried hyenaire meat from my knapsack. I can always hunt for more.
“Thank you, Ìyáawa.” The girl smiles as she splits the meat between the three of them. I wonder if it was the rule of Father or Mother that left them alone on this path. Watching them walk away forces me back into the war, to our army waiting to be liberated meters below. Every day I don’t bring this fight to an end, my people suffer.
Inan or not, I have to bring my mother down and take that throne.
“There it is.” Zélie crouches along the cliff, the valley sixty meters below revealing our target. Gusau’s fortress matches Gombe’s in size, an iron prison along the farming town’s borders. Surrounded by fields of cassava plants, the fortress casts a shadow over its guards. Soldiers patrol every meter of the torch-lit tower, flickering flames lighting their stern faces.
“Open the gates!” a guard shouts. My throat goes dry as the torch flames pass over his golden armor. I don’t need to see beneath his helmet to know a white streak runs through his hair.
I tuck my own streak away as I count the other two tîtáns in their patrol. I wonder if any of them are as powerful as my mother.
“Look.” Zélie points to a panthenaire-pulled caravan as it passes below our cliff. When it docks, chained maji are forced out. Their heads hang as they pass through the barred doors.
My stomach churns as I take in the burns and bruises along the maji’s skin. Each broken face hits me with another wave of guilt. If I were queen, these people would be free. We’d be working together to build the Orïsha of my dreams.
“Magic’s been back all of five minutes, and your family’s already rounding us up.” Zélie smacks her lips. The resentment in her voice makes my stomach tight.
“Mother works fast,” I say. “That’s why we need to work faster.”
I know she hears the name that I do not speak, but I don’t care what she believes. I know my brother; if he’s alive, there’s no way he would sanction this. He’s been through too much to fight like Father.
We both have.
“Let’s stake them out,” I decide. “Learn their schedules and find the optimal time to attack. With all the maji raids, they’ve got to have more than they can manage. If we can free the maji, we’ll have the start of our own army.”
“Are you sure we’re strong enough?” Tzain asks. “When we stormed Gombe, we had Kenyon and my agbön friends to back us up.”
“You also weren’t at war.” A voice rings from behind. “This time, the military’s prepared.”
My blade cuts through the air and Zélie whips out her staff. But when the speaker emerges from the bushes, her hands fall limp.
“Roën?” Zélie steps back as the mercenary finishes his ascent up the dirt trail. He leans against a tree, moonlight passing over a new bruise on his cheek.
“Come on, Zïtsōl,” he says. “Did you really think getting rid of me was going to be that easy?”
“What in the skies are you doing here?” I charge forward, teeth clenching as I scan the forest. “How’d you find us? Who sent you? Where are the rest of your men?”
“At ease, Princess. You’ve seen my work.” He holds up his hands. “If I wanted you captured, you’d already be in a leather sack. I’ve tracked you down to make amends.”
“Liar.” I close in, raising my sword to his neck.
“What are you doing?” Zélie whispers.
“You didn’t hear the threats he made after the rally.”
Roën’s jaw clicks as he stares at my blade. “I’m going to give you one chance to put that down.”
Despite his threat, I tighten my grip. Another push and I’ll draw blood.
“Don’t listen to a word he says,” I declare. “If he’s here, it’s to knock me out and collect the bounty on my hea—”
I cry out as Roën grabs my wrist, forcing me to drop my blade. In one smooth motion, he twists my arm behind my back.
“Like I said.” He pushes me to the side, taking my place at the edge of the cliff. “If I wanted to take you out, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He gestures to the fortress’s borders, waving Zélie over. “The Iyika have already attempted jailbreaks. Now every facility in Orïsha is armed.”
“Majacite gas?” Zélie asks.
“Perimeter’s riddled with mines.” Roën nods. “Triple the strength of what they used at the rally. Any maji would choke to death before they ever broke out.”
“Then we’ll get masks,” I say. “We can find a way past the gas.”
“Even if you could, the guards will kill everyone inside before they let one maji escape.”
The color drains from my cheeks as his words sink in.
“That’s impossible.” I shake my head. I know this is war, but even Mother couldn’t be that cruel.
“With Lagos choked off, the military can’t afford to lose another city to the Iyika,” Roën explains. “They certainly can’t afford for them to gather more soldiers.”
I stare at the twigs on the ground as my plan crumbles like sand. After our success freeing Zélie from Gombe’s fortress, I was sure this strategy would work. Liberating prisoners for our army was the foundation of my attack, the start of my path back to the throne. But if Mother will kill every maji we try to break out …
Skies.
We haven’t even struck, and somehow she’s already won.
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Tzain says, stepping between Roën and Zélie. “You expect us to believe you came all this way just to warn us?”
“Come on, brother.” Roën smiles. “Where’s the coin in that? I’ve come to collect a bounty from the only person in Orïsha who doesn’t want you dead.”
“I knew it.” I step back. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Good. Stay here. Zélie’s the one they’re after.”
Roën removes a note from his pocket and I see the red I that’s been tagged across our path.
“The Iyika?” Zélie reaches for the parchment. “They’re looking for me?”
“The lot hired me to escort you to Ibadan and paid in advance. So, you can come willingly, or I can break out that leather sack.”
I snatch the parchment from Zélie’s hands, studying the assortment of red dots. I think of the rebel who stared me down at my rally, the hatred in her scarred eye.
“The Iyika want to kill me and the rest of the monarchy,” I say. “We can’t go to them.”
“Everyone wants you dead.” Roën rolls his eyes. “I don’t blame them. But why waste your time jailbreaking fighters you can’t have when you can join the maji on the winning side?”
I give Zélie a pointed look, but she shrugs in response.
“What other choice do we have?” she asks.
Roën smiles at my defeat, waving at us to follow him as he takes the lead.
“Come along, Princess. Let’s see if the Iyika want to kill you as badly as your mother and my mercenaries do.”