Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,142

stepping into the commander quarters that Father’s commandeered. He stands in his velvet night robes, scanning a faded map. No sign of hatred. Not even a hint of disgust.

For him, carving MAGGOT into a girl’s back is just another day’s work.

“You wanted to see me.”

Father chooses not to answer for a long moment. He picks up the map and holds it to the light. A red X marks the divîner valley.

In that instant it hits me: Zulaikha’s death. Zélie’s screams. They don’t mean a thing to him. Because they’re maji, they’re nothing.

He preaches duty before self, but his Orïsha doesn’t include them. It never has.

He doesn’t just want to erase magic.

He wants to erase them.

“You disgraced me.” He finally speaks. “That’s no way to conduct yourself during an interrogation.”

“I wouldn’t call that an interrogation.”

Father sets the map down. “Excuse me?”

Nothing.

That’s what he expects me to say.

But Zélie sobs and shakes in the corners of my mind.

I won’t call “torture” by another name.

“I didn’t learn anything of use, Father. Did you?” My voice crescendos. “The only information I received was how loud you can make a girl scream.”

To my surprise, Father smiles. But his smile is more dangerous than his fury.

“Your travels have fortified you.” He nods. “Good. But do not waste your energy defending that—”

Maggot.

I know long before the slur leaves Father’s lips. It’s how he sees them all.

How he would see me.

I shift, moving until I can check my reflection in the mirror. Once again the streak is covered under a coat of black dye, but skies only know how long that’ll stay.

“We are not the first to bear this burden. To go to these lengths to keep our kingdom safe. The Bratonians, the Pörltöganés—all crushed because they didn’t fight magic hard enough. You would have me spare the maggot and allow Orïsha to suffer the same fate?”

“That is not what I proposed, but—”

“A maggot like that is like a wild ryder,” Father continues. “It won’t just give you answers. You have to break its will, demonstrate a new command.” He turns his gaze back to the parchment. He marks another X over Ilorin. “You’d understand that if you’d had the disposition to stay. By the end, the maggot told me everything I needed to know.”

A bead of sweat runs down my back. I clench my fists. “Everything?”

Father nods. “The scroll can only be destroyed with magic. I suspected this much after Admiral Ebele’s failure, but the girl confirmed it. With her in our grasp, we finally have everything we need. Once we retrieve the scroll, we’ll have her do the deed.”

My heartbeat pulses into my throat. I have to close my eyes to keep calm. “So she’ll live?”

“For now.” Father runs his finger over the X marking the divîner valley. The red ink runs thick. Dripping like blood.

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” he sighs. “She killed Kaea. A quick death would be a gift.”

My body goes rigid.

I blink hard. Too hard.

“W-what?” I stammer. “She said that?”

I struggle to say more, but every word dries in my throat. Kaea’s hatred flashes back into my eyes. Maggot.

“She confessed to being at the temple.” Father speaks as if the answer was obvious. “That’s where they recovered Kaea’s body.”

He picks up a small turquoise crystal, stained with blood. My stomach twists as he holds it up to the light.

“What’s that?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“Some kind of residue.” Father’s lips curl. “The maggot left these in Kaea’s hair.”

Father crushes the remnant of my magic until it crumbles into dust. As it breaks, the smell of iron and wine hits me.

The scent of Kaea’s soul.

“When you find your sister, end her.” Father speaks more to himself than to me. “There’s no shortage of people I would eradicate to keep you both safe, but I cannot forgive her for whatever role she played in Kaea’s demise.”

I grip the hilt of the sword and force a nod. I can almost feel the knife carving TRAITOR into my back.

“I’m sorry. I know—” She was your sun. “I know … how much she meant to you.”

Father twists his ring, lost in his emotions. “She didn’t want to go. She feared something like this would happen.”

“I think she feared disappointing you more than her own death.”

We all do. We always have.

No one more than me.

“What will you do with her?” I ask.

“With who?”

“Zélie.”

Father blinks at me.

He’s forgotten she has a name.

“The physician is tending to her now. We believe her brother has the scroll. Tomorrow