Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,134

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