AS THE SUN RISES into the valley, a sob catches in my throat. The rays light the charred clearing where the procession occurred, the blackened remains of what was once a joyful place.
I stare at the scorched earth where Tzain and I danced, recalling how he twirled me, remembering the sound of his laugh.
All that remains now is blood. Hollow corpses. Ash.
I close my eyes and clasp my hand to my mouth, a futile attempt to block out the painful sight. Though it is silent, the cries of divîners still echo in my mind. The shouts of the soldiers who slaughtered them follow, the clash of swords striking into flesh. I cannot bear to look, but Tzain scans the destruction, searching for Zélie among every fallen face.
“I don’t see her.”
Tzain’s voice is barely above a whisper, like if he speaks any louder, everything inside him will break: his rage, his pain, the heartache of having another family member ripped away.
Thoughts of Inan force their way into my mind: his promises, his potential lies. Though I can’t bring myself to search the dead, I can feel it in my core.
Inan’s corpse isn’t on this ground.
No part of me wants to believe this was his doing, yet I don’t know what to think. If this wasn’t his betrayal, how did the guards find us? Where is my brother now?
Nailah whimpers behind us, and I stroke her snout the way I’ve seen Zélie do so many times before. A lump rises in my throat when she nuzzles my hand back.
“I think they took her,” I say as delicately as I can. “It’s what my father would’ve ordered. She’s far too important to kill.”
I hope this will give him hope, but Tzain’s expression stays even. He stares at the bodies on the ground, his breaths escaping in short spurts.
“I promised.” His voice cracks. “When Mama died, I promised. I said I’d always be there. I swore I’d take care of her.”
“You have, Tzain. You always have.”
But he’s lost in his own world, a place far beyond where my words could go.
“And Baba…” His body seizes; he clenches his fists to try and stop the trembling. “I told Baba. I—I told him I would…”
I lay my hand on Tzain’s back, but he retreats from my touch. It’s as if every tear Tzain has ever fought back comes pouring out of his body at once. He crumples into the dirt, pressing clenched fists against his head so hard I worry he’ll get hurt. His heartache bleeds raw, breaking through his every wall.
“You cannot give up.” I drop to Tzain’s side to wipe away his tears. Despite everything, he has always stayed strong. But this loss is too much to bear. “We still have the scroll, the stone, and the dagger. Until my father has retrieved the artifacts, his men will keep her alive. We can save her and get to the temple. We can still make this right.”
“She won’t talk,” Tzain whispers. “Not if we’re at risk. They’ll torture her.” His hands clench the earth. “She’s as good as dead.”
“Zélie is stronger than anyone I know. She’ll survive. She’ll fight.”
But Tzain shakes his head, unconvinced no matter how hard I try. “She’ll die.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “She’ll leave me all alone.”
Nailah’s whimpers grow as she nuzzles Tzain, attempting to lick his tears away. The sight crushes everything inside me, destroying the last fragments that were whole. It’s like watching the magical light explode from Binta’s palms only for Father’s sword to rip through her chest. How many families has Father left like this, broken beyond repair, mourning their dead? How many times will I allow him to do it again?
I stand on the hill and turn toward the town of Gombe, a speck of pluming smoke before the Olasimbo Range. The map in Father’s war room reappears inside my mind, crystallizing the Xs that marked his military bases. As the layout forms in my head, a new plan falls into place. I cannot let Tzain endure this loss.
I will not let Father win.
“We need to move,” I say.
“Amari—”
“Now.”
Tzain lifts his head from the ground. I reach down and grab his hand, wiping the dirt sticking to the tearstains on his face.
“There is a guard fortress outside Gombe. That has to be where they took her. If we can get in, we can get her out.”
We can bring Father’s tyranny to an end.
Tzain stares at me with broken eyes, fighting the spark of hope that tries to light. “How would we get in?”
I turn back to the silhouette of Gombe against the night sky. “I have a plan.”
“Will it work?”
I nod, for once not fearing the fight. I was the Lionaire once.
For Tzain and Zélie, I shall be her again.