Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,136

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