I BRACE MYSELF as Nâo and Mâzeli lead us past the sanctuary’s narrow dormitories and half-constructed towers. Bodies crowd along the second mountain of the Iyika’s base as word of our arrival spreads like wildfire.
“Out of my way!” Mâzeli revels in the attention. “Soldier of Death coming through!”
The title echoes around Zélie as we move, inciting whispers through the crowd. People stare at her as if she were a goddess. They look at me like I’m a bug.
I don’t know if they glare because they know who I am or because of the white streak in my hair. I attempt to tuck it away as we pass under the vine-covered archway of the mountain’s largest tower.
“The elder quarters fill the floors above,” Nâo explains. “But we use the ground floor as the cafeteria.”
“Thank the skies.” My mouth waters at the scent of spiced chicken and fried plantain. Platters of jollof rice line the far wall; it’s more food than I’ve seen in moons. But my appetite quells when Nâo leads us toward the table of elders in the back. Though they wear the same suits of armor as their counterparts, the five clan heads present radiate natural power.
“Council, allow me to introduce the future of the Reaper clan.” Mâzeli charges forward. “The legend of the lands. The eventual mother of my three sons—”
“Mâzeli, shut up.” Nâo hits the boy over the head before taking her place on an empty stool. “Elders, the Soldier of Death joins us at last.”
Zélie tenses as every elder stops talking. All eyes fall to her. “Jagunjagun Ikú” echoes around the cafeteria.
I clear my throat, waiting for my introduction to follow, but it’s like I’m not even here. Not one elder seems to care.
“Jagunjagun.” A girl with a scar over her left eye speaks first. A few years older than us, she sits with her back against the wall, one arm draped over her knee. My lips part as I take in the forest of white coils that frame her light brown skin; the freckles splattered across her flat nose. I’ve seen this girl before.
The rebel from the rally!
She glared at me from the crowd, red paint staining her hands. From the way the others wait on her word, I can tell she’s their unspoken leader.
“Ramaya.” She drops to one knee. “Elder of the Connector clan. It’s an honor to meet the soldier who brought our magic back.”
“I didn’t act alone.” Zélie gestures to me. “I had a lot of help.”
Ramaya’s eyes flick in my direction, but she looks through me as if I was glass. My insides burn when she steps closer to Zélie, extending her hand.
“We look forward to having you on the council.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Zélie says. “I’m only here to win this war.”
“Winning’s just the beginning,” Ramaya pushes back. “With your strength, we can annihilate Nehanda and her tîtáns. Once the monarchy’s out of the way, we can place you on the throne.”
“Wait, what?” Zélie jerks her head back and the two of us lock eyes. I don’t even know what to say. I can’t find my voice.
“Who better to lead us than the Soldier of Death?” Ramaya asks.
My throat dries as I step forward, a feeble attempt to insert myself into the conversation. But before I can get a word out, another elder blows past us.
“There’s word from Lagos.” The Tamer sits down, a thick girl with broad shoulders and rich curves. Sunflowers rest in her luscious head of curls. Small hummingbirds flutter around their petals.
The Tamer’s pink-tinted armor glistens as she hands Ramaya a small parchment from the yellow hummingbird on her shoulder.
“You’re kidding.” Ramaya’s face falls when she reads the note. “The prince is alive?”
Inan? I lean forward, attempting to see the black ink.
“I know.” The Tamer rolls her eyes. “Killing these royals is like killing roaches.” She locks eyes with Zélie and nods, tossing her white curls. “Na’imah,” she introduces herself. “I would bow, but I don’t bow to anyone.”
“This doesn’t make sense.” Ramaya shakes her head. “Why would the king offer food and gold to any maji who defect?”
Zélie reaches for the note, but I beat her to the punch. Ramaya bristles as I scan the report, but even she can’t dim the light of Inan’s decree. My hand flies to my heart as I read his promises, his bold attempts at peace. It’s more than I’ve seen from any monarch.
I knew he could be this kind of king.
“Zélie, look.” I push the parchment in her hands, fighting the lump in my throat. “He’s keeping his word!”
My mind starts to spin as I consider everything this decree could mean. I thought I needed power to take Mother off Orïsha’s throne and build a kingdom that was safe for the maji. But if Inan’s willing to grant amnesty to the Iyika, we may not need to fight.
If I could talk to him, we might be able to reach an agreement that satisfies both sides. With the right terms, we could get the monarchy and the maji to put down their arms!
“You’ve faced the king.” Ramaya looks to Zélie. “What do you make of this?”
Zélie’s face hardens as she stares at the note. My stomach drops when she throws it to the ground.
“If the little prince is offering food to the maji, there’s poison in it.”
“Zélie, no!” I whisper under my breath, but her words incite the other elders.
“He’s good with his words, but you’d be a fool to believe any of them.”
“What do you suggest?” Na’imah leans forward. “How do we strike back?”
“That food is all they have,” Zélie says. “Burn it and let them starve.”
“No!” I fight my way through, pushing until I can place my hands on their table. “Burn that food and you won’t just endanger the people of Lagos. You’ll escalate the war the king’s trying to end!”
The entire cafeteria quiets down in the wake of my outburst. Ramaya blinks at me, as if surprised I can speak.
“Apologies.” I clear my throat. “I haven’t introduced myself.”
“Oh, I know who you are.” The ice in Ramaya’s tone chills me to the bone. “Your mother is the reason we lost Lagos. Your father is the reason I have this scar.” She rises from her seat and the others move out of her way. “What I don’t know is why you think you have a right to even breathe in my presence.”
My cheeks heat as all eyes land on me. There’s not one warm face in the crowd. Only Mâzeli gifts me a sympathetic frown.
“I helped bring magic back.” I square my chest. “I have magic myself.”
“The abomination you call magic doesn’t earn you a place at this table. It certainly doesn’t earn you the right to have an opinion.” Ramaya looks me up and down before turning back to Zélie. “I look forward to working with you on the council. We’ll hold a Reaper challenge and make your ascension official tomorrow.”
“What about the king’s decree?” Nâo asks.
“I agree with Zélie. Give the order to our soldiers at the front. I want those rations burned by sunrise.”
“Ramaya, wait.” I try to grab her arms, but she stops me with a look.
“Speak at my table again and I’ll rip out your tongue with my bare hands.”
I inhale a shaking breath as she walks away, causing the other elders to follow her path. My lips quiver with everything I want to scream. I can’t believe how easily they reject Inan’s attempt at peace.
“What are you doing?” I turn to Zélie. “You could’ve convinced them to give peace a chance!”
“That offer wasn’t peace.” Zélie shakes her head. “It was bait. Inan’s using food the same way he used Baba. He’ll kill any maji who tries to claim it.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I know there’s nothing I can say. There’s no convincing her to give my brother another chance after all those two have been through.
“Just stick to the plan,” Zélie says. “We can use the Iyika to take your family down. The elders will warm up to you when they know you can be trusted.”
“They’ll never trust me.” I stare at the stool where Ramaya sat. I can still feel the heat of her disdain; her hatred for what I am. “But maybe they can respect me…”
My voice trails as I look at my scarred hand.
“What are you thinking?” Zélie asks.
“I need you to help me with my magic.”