the gashes carved into my skin as Nailah carries us to safety.
All these people …
All these maji come to save me. What will they do when they learn the truth? That I’m broken. Useless.
Through the blackness, I try something, anything to feel magic’s rush. But no warmth runs through my veins, no surge erupts in my heart. All I feel is the searing slash of the soldier’s knife. All I see are Saran’s black eyes.
I faint before my fears reach their full fruition, not knowing how much time has passed or where we’ve gone. When I wake from the haze, calloused hands wrap around my body and lift me from Nailah’s saddle.
Tzain …
I’ll never forget the despair carved into his face when he saw me. The only time I’ve seen that look was after the Raid, when he discovered Mama’s body in chains. After everything he’s done, I can’t give him a reason to make that face again.
“Hold on, Zél,” Tzain whispers. “We’re close.” He lays me down on my stomach, exposing the horrors of my back. The wounds draw a crowd of gasps; one boy begins to cry.
“Just try,” a girl coaxes.
“I—I’ve only done cuts, some bruises. This—”
I spasm at the woman’s touch, seizing up as the pain rips through my back.
“I can’t—”
“Dammit, Khani,” Tzain cries. “Do something before she bleeds out!”
“It’s alright,” Amari soothes. “Here. Touch the stone.”
Once again I flinch as the woman’s hands press down, but this time they’re warm, heating me like the tidal pools surrounding Ilorin. The warmth travels through my body, soothing the pain and aches.
As it weaves under my skin, I get my first breath of relief. With it, my body jumps, snatching the chance for sleep.
* * *
THE SOFT EARTH FLATTENS beneath my feet, and I instantly know where I am. The reeds brush against my bare legs as the roar of rushing water falls nearby. On another day, the falls would beckon me closer.
Today they sound wrong. Sharp, like my screams.
“Zélie?”
Inan comes into view, eyes wide with worry. He takes a step forward but stops, like if he gets any closer I’ll shatter.
I want to.
To crack.
Crumble into the dirt and cry.
But more than anything, I don’t want him to know how his father’s broken me.
Tears well in Inan’s eyes and he shifts his gaze to the ground. My toes curl into the soft earth as I follow his lead.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes; I don’t think he’ll ever stop. “I know I should let you rest, but I had to see if you were…”
“Okay?” I finish for him, though I know why he doesn’t speak the word.
After everything that’s happened, I don’t know if I’m capable of feeling okay again.
“Did you find a Healer?” he asks.
I shrug. Yes. I’m healed. Here in our dreamscape, the world’s hatred isn’t carved into my back. I can pretend my magic still flows through my veins. I don’t struggle to speak. To feel. To breathe.
“I…”
In that instant I see a face that cuts like another scar in my back.
Since the day I met Inan, I’ve seen so much in his amber eyes. Hatred, fear. Remorse. I’ve seen everything. Everything.
But never this.
Never pity.
No. Fury grips me. I won’t let Saran take this, too. I want the eyes that stared at me like I was the only girl in Orïsha. The eyes that told me we could change the world. Not the eyes that see I’m broken.
That I’ll never be whole again.
“Zél—”
He stops when I pull his face to mine. With his touch, I can push away the pain. With his kiss, I can be the girl from the festival.
The girl who doesn’t have MAGGOT etched into her back.
I pull away. Inan’s eyes stay closed like they did after our first kiss. Except this time he winces.
As if our kiss causes him pain.
Though our lips touch, the embrace isn’t the same. He doesn’t run his fingers through my hair, graze my lip with his thumb. His hands hang in the air, afraid to move, to feel.
“You can touch me,” I whisper, fighting to keep my voice from cracking.
The lines in his forehead crease. “Zél, you don’t want this.”
I pull his lips to mine again and he breathes in, muscles softening under my kiss. When we pull apart, I press my forehead to his nose. “You don’t know what I want.”
His eyes flutter open, and this time there’s a glimmer of the look I crave. I see the boy who wants to take me back to his tent,