Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,148
the gaze that lets me pretend we could be okay.
His fingers brush against my lips and I close my eyes, testing his restraint. His knuckles graze my chin and—
—Saran’s grip jerks my chin back to his face with violent force. My whole body flinches. The calm in his eyes explodes with rage as my breath withers in my throat. It takes everything in me not to cry out, to swallow my terror as his nails draw blood from my skin.
“You would do well to answer me, child—”
“Zél?”
My nails dig into Inan’s neck. I need the grip to stop my hands from shaking; I need it to keep from crying out.
“Zél, what’s wrong?”
Concern creeps back into his voice like a spider crawling across the grass. The look I need is falling apart.
Just.
Like.
Me.
“Zél—”
I kiss him with so much force it breaks through his hesitation, his contempt, his shame. Tears fall from my eyes as I press into his touch, desperate to feel the way we felt before. He pulls me close, fighting to be tender, yet holding me tight. It’s like he knows that if he lets go, it’s over. There’s no denying what awaits us on the other side.
A gasp catches in my throat as his hands clutch my back, grip the slope of my thighs. Each kiss takes me to a new place, each stroke pulls me from the pain.
His hands slide up my back and I wrap my legs around his waist, following his silent command. He lowers me onto a bed of reeds, laying me down with a gentle ease.
“Zél…” Inan breathes.
We’re moving fast, too fast, but we can’t slow down. Because when the dream ends, it’s over. Reality will hit, sharp and cruel and unforgiving.
I’ll never be able to look at Inan’s face without seeing Saran’s again.
So we kiss and we clutch each other until it all goes away. Everything fades; every scar, every ache. In this instant, I only exist in his arms. I live in the peace of his embrace.
Inan pulls away, pain and love swirling behind his amber eyes. Something else. Something harder. Maybe a good-bye.
It’s then I realize that I want this.
After everything, I need this.
“Keep going,” I whisper, making Inan’s breath hitch. His eyes drink in my body, yet I can still feel his restraint.
“Are you sure?”
I pull his lips to mine, silencing him with a slow kiss.
“I want this.” I nod. “I need you.”
I close my eyes as he draws me close, letting his touch drown out the pain. Even if it’s only for a moment.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
ZÉLIE
MY BODY WAKES before my mind. Though there’s an improvement from the searing agony, a throbbing ache still runs through my back. It stings as I rise; I flinch from the pain. What is this? Where am I?
I gaze at the canvas tent erected around my cot. Everything in my mind sits in a haze except the echo of Inan’s embrace. My heart flutters at the thought, taking me back to his arms. Parts of him still feel so close—the softness of his lips, the strong grip of his hands. But other parts already feel so far away, as if they happened a lifetime ago. Words he said, tears we wept. The way the reeds tickled my back, reeds I’ll never see again—
—Saran’s black eyes watch as the lieutenant carves into my back.
“I wouldn’t be doing my job as king if I didn’t remind you what you are—”
I grip the rough sheets. Pain ripples through my skin. I stifle a groan as someone enters the tent.
“You’re up!”
A large, freckled maji with light brown skin and a head full of white braids walks to my side. I flinch at her touch at first, but when heat travels through my cotton tunic, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Khani,” she introduces herself. “It’s nice to see you awake.”
I glance at her again. The vague memory of watching two girls who looked like her compete in an agbön match surfaces. “You have a sister?”
She nods. “A twin, but I’m the cuter one.”
I try to smile at her joke, but the joy doesn’t come.
“How bad is it?”
My voice doesn’t sound like my own. Not anymore. It’s small. Empty. A well run dry.
“Oh, it’s … I’m sure with time…”
I close my eyes, bracing myself for the truth.
“I managed to stitch the wounds, but I … I think the scars are there to stay.”
I wouldn’t be doing my job as king if I didn’t remind you what you are.