Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,106
color. I always thought the piece was painted black, but could it really have been made of majacite the whole time?
I take it from her hands, holding it gently, feeling the way it pricks my skin. All this time I thought I was just squeezing too tight.
Of course …
I almost laugh at the irony. The realization brings me back to the moment I got it. The day Father “gifted” it to me.
Before the Raid, we played sênet every week. An hour where Father became more than a king. Every piece and move was a lesson, wisdom for the day I would lead.
But after the Raid, there was no time for games. No time for me. One day I made the mistake of carrying the game into the throne room and Father threw the pieces in my face.
Leave it, he barked when I bent down to pick them up. Servants clean. Kings don’t.
This pawn was the only piece I managed to salvage.
Shame ripples through me as I stare at the tarnished metal.
The only gift he’s ever given me, and at its core is hate.
“This belonged to my father,” I speak quietly. A secret weapon taken from others who despised magic. Created to destroy others like me.
“You clutch it the way a child clutches a blanket.” Zélie releases a heavy sigh. “You fight for a man who will always hate you just because of what you are.”
Like her hair, her silver gaze glows in the moonlight, more piercing than any eyes that have ever seen through me. I stare.
I stare though I need to talk.
I drop the pawn in the dirt and kick it aside. I must draw a line in the sand. I’ve been a sheep. A sheep when my kingdom needed me to act like a king.
Duty before self.
The creed unravels before my eyes, taking Father’s lies with it. Magic may be dangerous, but the sins of eradicating it have made the monarchy no better.
“I know you can’t trust me, but give me this chance to prove myself. I’ll get us into that camp. I’ll bring your brother back.”
Zélie bites her lip. “And when we find the scroll?”
I hesitate; Father’s face flashes in my mind. If we don’t stop magic, all of Orïsha will burn.
But the only fires I’ve seen have been by his hand. His and mine. I’ve given him a lifetime. I can’t abide by any more of his lies.
“It’s yours,” I decide. “Whatever you and Amari are trying to do … I won’t stand in your way.”
I hold out my hand and she stares at it; I don’t know if my words are enough. But after a long moment, she places her palm in mine. A strange warmth fills me at her touch.
To my surprise, her hands are calloused, perhaps toughened from using her staff. When we let go, we avoid each other’s eyes, instead staring at the night sky.
“So we’re doing this?” she asks.
I nod. “I’ll show you what type of king I can be.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
ZÉLIE
OYA, PLEASE LET THIS WORK.
I lift up a silent prayer as my heart thumps against my chest. We move through the shadows, crouching at the periphery of the masks’ camp. My plan seemed perfect before, but now that it’s time, I can’t stop thinking of all the ways it could fail. What if Tzain and Amari aren’t inside? What if we have to face off against a maji? And what about Inan?
I glance at him, dread building at the sight. My plan starts with me handing the little prince the sunstone; either I’ve lost my mind, or I’ve already lost this fight.
Inan peers ahead, jaw tight as he takes a count of the guards surrounding the gate. Instead of his usual armor, he wears the black attire the captive fighter wore.
I still can’t tell what to make of him, of all the things he made me feel. Watching his misguided hate brought me back, wrapping me in the darkest days after the Raid. I despised magic. I blamed Mama.
I cursed the gods for making us this way.
A lump forms in my throat as I try to forget that old pain. I can still feel the shadow of the lie inside, pushing me to hate my blood, rip out my white hair.
It almost ate me alive, the self-hatred spun from Saran’s lies. But he already took Mama. I couldn’t let him take the truth, too.
In the moons following the Raid, I held on to Mama’s teachings, embedding them in my heart until