Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,119

more and more often in her presence. “You rather enjoy insulting me, don’t you?”

“It’s almost as satisfying as beating you with my staff.”

This time it’s she who grins. It makes my own smile grow. She jumps up and floats on her back, passing between the drifting reeds and floating lilies.

“If I had your magic, I’d spend all my time here.”

I nod, though I wonder what my dreamscape would look like without her in it. All I create are wilting reeds. With Zélie, the whole world flows.

“You seem at home in the water,” I say. “I’m surprised you’re not a Tider.”

“Maybe in another life.” She runs her hand through the lake, watching as it slips through her fingers. “I don’t know why it is. I liked the lakes in Ibadan, but they were nothing compared to the ocean.”

Like sparks igniting a fire, her memory engulfs me: her young eyes open wide; the awe of the never-ending waves.

“You lived in Ibadan?” I drift closer, breathing more of her in. Though I’ve never ventured to the northern village, Zélie’s memories are so vivid it’s as if I’m there now. I marvel at the stunning views from the mountaintop, inhale the crisp mountain air into my lungs. Her memories of Ibadan hold a special warmth. The blanket of her mother’s love.

“I lived there before the Raid.” Zélie’s voice falters as she relives the moments with me. “But afterward…” She shakes her head. “There were too many memories. We couldn’t stay.”

A pit of guilt opens in my chest, tainted with the smell of burning flesh. The fires I watched from the royal palace resurface, the innocent lives burned before my young eyes. A memory I’ve pushed down like my magic, a day I’ve longed to forget. But staring at Zélie now brings it all back: the pain. The tears. The death.

“We weren’t supposed to stay in Ilorin.” Zélie speaks more to herself than to me. “But then I saw the sea.” She smiles to herself. “Baba told me we never had to leave.”

In the dreamscape, Zélie’s heartbreak hits me with unbearable force. Ilorin was her happiness. And I burned it to the ground.

“I’m sorry.” The words fight their way out. I hate myself even more as they ring. They sound so inadequate. Weak in the face of her pain. “I know I can’t fix it. I can’t change what I’ve done, but … I can rebuild Ilorin. When this is over, it’ll be the first thing I do.”

Zélie releases a brittle laugh. Dry. Devoid of all joy.

“Keep saying naive things like that. You’ll only prove Tzain right.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “What does he think?”

“That when this is over, one of us will be dead. He’s scared it’ll be me.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

ZÉLIE

I DON’T KNOW why I’m here.

I don’t know why I baited Inan to jump in.

I don’t know why something in me flutters each time he swims near.

This is temporary, I remind myself. This isn’t even real. When this is over, Inan won’t be wearing kaftans. He won’t be welcoming me into the dreamscape.

I try to picture the feral warrior I know, the little prince who came at me with his sword. But instead, I see the blade that freed me from the masks’ net. I see him standing up to Kwame’s flames.

He has a good heart. Amari’s words from so long ago play inside my head. I thought she was in denial. But did she see the parts of him I couldn’t?

“Zélie, I would never hurt you.” He shakes his head and grimaces. “Not after all I’ve seen.”

When he lifts his eyes to mine, the truth leaks through. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before. The guilt and pity he’s been carrying … Gods.

He must’ve seen everything.

“I thought my father didn’t have a choice. I was always taught that he did what he did to keep Orïsha safe. But after seeing your memories…” His voice trails off. “No child should have to live through that.”

I turn back to the ripples in the lake, not knowing what to say. To feel. He’s seen the worst parts of me. Parts I never thought I could share.

“My father was wrong.” Inan speaks so quietly the waterfall nearly drowns him out. “Maybe I should have realized it earlier, but the only thing I can do now is try to make those wrongs right.”

Don’t believe him, I warn myself. He’s living in a fantasy, a dream. But with each promise he makes, my heart swells, secretly hoping even