MAJACITE CUFFS SCALD my skin, searing straight through my wrists and ankles. The black chains suspend me above the floor of my jail cell, making it impossible for me to cast an incantation. Sweat drips down my skin as another warm blast funnels through the vent. The heat must be intentional.
Heat will make the coming pain worse.
Live … Lekan’s words echo, a taunt as I face my death.
I told him it was a mistake. I told him, I told everyone. I begged them not to waste this chance on me; now look what I’ve done. I laughed and spun and kissed as the king prepared our slaughter.
Metal-soled boots clank outside. I flinch as they near my door. It would be easier if my cell had bars. At least then I could prepare myself. But they’ve locked me in an iron box. Only two burning torches keep me from being left in the dark.
Whatever they plan to do, they intend to hide it even from the guards.
I swallow hard, a feeble attempt to quench my dry mouth. You’ve done this before, I remind myself, more times than you can count. For a moment I ponder whether Mama Agba’s constant lashings weren’t to punish, but to prepare. She beat me so often I got good at taking it, good at loosening my body to minimize the aches. Could she sense that my life would end this way?
Dammit. Tears sting my eyes at the shame of all the corpses I’ve left in my wake. Little Bisi. Lekan. Zulaikha.
Their sacrifice will never amount to anything.
This is all my fault. We never should have stayed. Somehow we must’ve led the army to that camp. Without us, they might still be alive. Zu could’ve survived.…
My thoughts slow.
Tzain’s glare flashes into my mind. My heart seizes at the thought. Could Inan have done this?
No.
My throat burns with the fear I choke back like bile. He wouldn’t. After everything we’ve been through, he couldn’t. If he wanted to betray me, he had countless opportunities. He could’ve made off with the scroll without taking all those innocent lives away.
Amari’s face overtakes Tzain’s, her amber eyes dripping with pity. Either he’s about to betray us or something else is taking place.
Inan’s smile breaks through their hate, the soft gaze he gave me before we kissed. But it blackens and it twists and it burns until it wraps around my throat with the strength of his grip—
“No!” I close my eyes, remembering the way he held me in his arms He saved me. Twice. And he tried to save me again. He didn’t do this. He couldn’t have.
A clink sounds.
The first lock outside my door opens. I brace myself for pain, holding on to the last good things I have left.
At least Tzain is alive. At least he and Amari survived. With Nailah’s speed, they had to have gotten away. I have to focus on that. One thing turned out alright. And Baba …
The threat of tears burns behind my eyes as I remember the crooked grin I prayed I would see once more. When he finds out about this, he’ll never smile again.
I close my eyes as the tears fall, stinging like tiny knives. I hope he’s dead.
I hope he never experiences that pain.
The final lock unhinges and the door groans open. I steel myself.
But when Inan fills the entryway, my every defense breaks.
My body jolts against the chains as the little prince walks in, flanked by two lieutenants. After days of seeing him in muted kaftans and borrowed dashikis, I forgot how cold he looks in a guard’s uniform.
No …
I search him for any sign of the boy who promised me the world. The boy I almost gave up everything for.
But his eyes are distant. Tzain was right.
“You liar!” My scream echoes in the cell.
The words aren’t enough. They can’t cut the way I need them to, but I can barely think. I grip the metal chains so hard they rip through my skin. I need the pain to distract myself, otherwise nothing will stop my tears.
“Leave,” Inan orders his lieutenants, looking at me as if I were nothing. Like I wasn’t in his embrace just hours ago.
“She’s dangerous, Your Highness. We can’t—”
“That was an order, not a suggestion.”
The guards exchange glances but reluctantly leave the room. Gods know they can’t defy a direct order from their precious prince.
Clever. I shake my head. It’s not hard to guess why Inan wants privacy. The white streak that shone so vibrantly in his hair hides under a new coat of black dye. Can’t have anyone finding out the truth about their little prince.
Was this his plan all along?
I squeeze everything in me to keep my face even. He doesn’t get to see my pain. He doesn’t get to know how he’s hurt me.
The door swings shut, leaving us alone. He looks at me as we hear the sounds of the guards retreating. It’s only when we can’t hear them anymore that his hardened face crumbles into the boy I know.
Inan’s amber gaze fills with fear as he steps forward, eyes catching on the largest bloodstain on my dress. A warm rush of air fills my lungs—I don’t know when I stopped breathing. I don’t know when I started needing him this much.
I shake my head. “It’s not my blood,” I whisper. Not yet. “What happened? How did they find us?”
“The festival.” Inan looks down. “Divîners went into Gombe to get supplies. A few guards got suspicious and tailed them.”
Gods. I bite back a new wave of tears that wants to come forth. Slaughtered for a celebration. One we never should’ve had.
“Zél, we don’t have much time,” he rushes out, voice strained and hoarse. “I couldn’t get to you until now, but a military caravan just docked. Someone’s coming, and when they do…” Inan turns back to the door, hearing something that isn’t there. “Zél, I need you to tell me how to destroy the scroll.”
“What?” There’s no way I heard him correctly. After everything, he can’t think that’s the answer.
“If you tell me how to destroy it, I can protect you. Father will kill you as long as the possibility of magic coming back is still a threat.”
By the gods.
He doesn’t even realize we’ve already lost. The scroll means nothing without someone to read it. But I can’t let him know that.
They’ll slaughter us all if they find out, erasing every man, woman, and child. They won’t stop until we’re gone, until they’ve wiped our existence from this world with their hate.
“—they’re vicious, Zél.” Inan swallows hard, bringing me back to the present. “If you don’t give it up, you won’t survive.”
“Then I don’t survive.”
Inan’s face twists. “If you don’t talk, they’ll cut it out of you!”
A lump forms in my throat; I guessed this much. I can’t talk.
“So I’ll bleed.”
“Zél, please.” He steps forward, putting his hands on my bruised face. “I know we had our plans, but you have to realize everything’s changed—”
“Of course everything’s changed!” I scream. “Your father’s men killed Zu! Salim! All those children.” I shake my head. “They couldn’t even fight, and the guards murdered all of them!”
Inan grimaces, face splitting with pain. His soldiers. His men. Our undoing once again.
“Zélie, I know.” His voice breaks. “I know. Every time I close my eyes, her body is all I can see.”
I look away, fighting back fresh tears. Zu’s bright smile fills my mind, her endless joy, her light. We should’ve been halfway to Zaria by now. She and Kwame should still be alive.
“They shouldn’t have attacked,” Inan whispers. “Zulaikha deserved a chance. But the soldiers thought you were using the scroll to create a maji army. And after what Kwame did…”
Inan’s voice trails off. All the grief that filled him before seems to shrink, overpowered by fear.
“Kwame took out three platoons in seconds. Burned them alive. He incinerated that camp. We’d probably be dead if he hadn’t burned out himself.”
I rear back in disgust. What in gods’ names is he talking about? “Kwame sacrificed himself to protect us!”
“But imagine how it looked to the guards.” Inan speaks quickly. “I know Kwame’s intentions were pure, but he took it too far. For years we’ve been warned about magic like that. What Kwame did was worse than anything Father’s ever said!”
I blink, searching Inan’s face. Where is the future king who was ready to save the maji? The prince who threw himself in front of flames to keep me safe? I don’t know this boy, afraid, making excuses for everything he claimed to hate. Or maybe I know him too well.
Maybe this is the truth: the broken little prince.
“Make no mistake, the attack was an abomination. I know we’ll have to deal with it. But right now we have to act. The soldiers are terrified a maji like Kwame will attack again.”
“Good.” I squeeze my chains to hide the tremor in my hands. “Let them be afraid.”
Let them taste the terror they make us swallow.
“Zélie, please.” Inan grits his teeth. “Don’t choose this. We can still unite our people. Work with me and I’ll find a way for you to return to Lagos. We’ll save Orïsha with something safer, something without magic—”
“What’s wrong with you?” My shout echoes against the walls. “There’s nothing to save! After what they just did, there’s nothing at all!”
Inan stares at me, a flash of tears in his eyes. “You think I want this? You think after planning a new kingdom with you I want this?” I see my own grief reflected in his eyes. The death of our dream. The future Orïsha will never see. “I thought things could be different. I wanted them to be different. But after what we just saw, we have no choice. We can’t give people that kind of power.”
“There’s always a choice,” I hiss. “And your guards made theirs. If they were scared of magic before, they should be terrified now.”
“Zélie, don’t add your body to the dead. That scroll is the only way I convinced them to keep you alive. If you don’t tell us how to destroy it—”
Another click sounds through the door. Inan steps back just as it opens.
“Did I say you could ente—”
His voice falters. The color drains from his face.
“Father?” Inan’s lips part in surprise.
Even without his crown, it’s impossible not to recognize the king.
He enters like a storm, the air darkening in his presence. A wave of emotions hits me as the door swings shut. I forget how to breathe as I meet the soulless eyes of the man who murdered Mama.
Gods, help me.
I don’t know if I’m in a dream or a nightmare. My skin heats with a rage like I’ve never known, yet my pulse thunders with fear. Since the early days after the Raid I’ve pictured this moment, imagined what it would be like to meet him face-to-face. I’ve orchestrated his death so many times in my mind I could fill a tome detailing all the ways he should die.
King Saran rests his hand on Inan’s shoulder. His son flinches, as if waiting for a blow. Despite everything, the flash of terror in Inan’s eyes pains me. I’ve seen him broken before, but this is a side of him I don’t know.
“The guards tell me you tracked her to the uprising.”
Inan stands up straight and clenches his jaw.
“Yes, sir. I’m in the middle of an interrogation. If you leave us, I’ll get the answers we need.”
Inan’s voice stays so even I almost believe the lie. He’s trying to keep me away from his father. He must know I’m about to die.
A shudder runs through me at the thought, but it’s quickly met with an unearthly calm. The fear in Saran’s presence is undeniable, yet it doesn’t overwhelm my desire for vengeance.
In this man—this one wretched man—is an entire kingdom. An entire nation of hate and oppression, staring me in the face. It may have been the guards who broke down the doors in Ibadan that day, but they were simply his tools.
Here lies the heart.
“What of Admiral Kaea?” Saran lowers his voice. “Is this her killer?”
Inan’s eyes widen and drift to me, but when Saran follows his gaze, Inan realizes his mistake. No matter what he says now, he can’t stop the king of Orïsha from approaching me.
Even in the sweltering room, Saran’s very presence chills my blood. The burning in my skin intensifies as he nears with his majacite blade. This close to him, I can make out the pockmarks in his deep brown skin, the gray hairs of old age speckled throughout his beard.
I wait for the slurs, but there’s something worse about the way he looks at me. Distant. Removed. Like I’m some beast dragged from the mud.
“My son seems to think you know how the admiral died.”
Inan’s eyes bulge. It’s written all over his face.
Someone died, his words from the festival come back to me. Someone I loved.
But it wasn’t just someone …
It was Kaea.
“I asked you a question,” Saran’s voice breaks back in. “What happened to my admiral?”
Your maji son killed her.
Behind Saran, Inan jerks back, likely horrified at my thoughts. They’re secrets I should scream to the world, secrets I should spill onto this floor. But something about Inan’s terror makes it impossible for me to break.
I look away instead, unable to stomach the monster who ordered Mama’s death. If Inan’s truly on my side, then when I die, the little prince might be the divîners’ only ho—
Saran’s grip jerks my chin back to his face. My whole body flinches. The calm that sat in Saran’s eyes before explodes with a violent rage.
“You would do well to answer me, child.”
And I would. I would do well indeed.
It would be perfect to have Saran find out here, try to kill Inan himself. Then Inan would have no choice to attack back. Kill his father, take the throne, rid Orïsha of Saran’s hate.
“Plotting, are we?” Saran asks. “Cooking up those precious incantations?” He digs into me so hard his nails draw blood from my chin. “Make any moves and I will personally rid your body of its wretched hands.”
“F-Father.” Inan’s voice is faint, but he forces himself forward.
Saran glances back, wrath still burning in his eyes. Yet something about Inan reaches him. With a violent jerk, he releases my face. His lips curl as he wipes his fingers against his robe.
“I suppose I should be angry with myself,” he muses quietly. “Pay attention, Inan. When I was your age, I thought the children of the maggots could live. I thought their blood needn’t be spilled.”
Saran grabs on to my chains, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“After the Raid you should’ve been desperate to keep magic away. You were supposed to be afraid. Obedient. Now I see there is no educating your kind. You maggots all crave the disease tainting your blood.”
“You could’ve taken magic away without killing us. Without beating our bodies into the ground!”
He jumps as I pull against my chains, wild like a rabid lionaire. I itch to unleash magic fueled by the blackest part of my rage. A rage born because of everything he took away.
A new searing burns my flesh as I fight the majacite, doing everything I can to call forth my magic despite the power of the black chains. Smoke sizzles from my skin as I fight in vain.
Saran’s eyes narrow, but I can’t be silent. Not when my blood boils and my muscles shake to break free.
I will not let my fear silence the truth.
“You crushed us to build your monarchy on the backs of our blood and bone. Your mistake wasn’t keeping us alive. It was thinking we’d never fight back!”
Inan steps forward, jaw taut, eyes traveling back and forth between us. The fury in Saran’s gaze flares as he lets out a long, low chuckle.
“You know what intrigues me about your kind? You always start in the middle of the story. As if my father didn’t fight for your rights. As if you maggots didn’t burn my family alive.”
“You can’t enslave an entire people for the rebellion of a few.”
Saran bares his teeth. “You can do whatever you want when you’re the king.”
“Your ignorance will be your downfall.” I spit in Saran’s face. “Magic or not, we won’t give up. Magic or not, we will take back what’s ours!”
Saran’s lips curl back in a snarl. “Brave words for a maggot about to die.”
Maggot.
Like Mama.
Like every brother and sister slaughtered by his command.
“You’d be wise to kill me now,” I whisper. “Because you’re not getting any of the artifacts.”
Saran smiles slow and sinister like a jungle cat.
“Oh, child.” He laughs. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”