Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,149
eyes again. Cold.
Soulless.
“But I’m so new at this,” Khani rushes out. “I’m sure a better Healer can take them away.”
I nod, but it doesn’t matter. Even if they wipe away the MAGGOT, the pain will always stay. I rub my wrist, discolored and scaly, indented where the majacite cuffs burned through my skin.
More scars that will never heal.
The tent flaps open again and I turn. I’m not ready to face anyone else. But then I hear it.
“Zél?”
His voice is delicate. Not the voice of my brother. It’s the voice of someone who’s scared, someone who feels ashamed.
As I turn, he shrinks into the corner of the tent. I slip down from the cot. For Tzain, I can swallow my fears. I can hold back every tear.
“Hey,” he calls out.
Stings sear my back as I wrap my arms around Tzain’s chest. He pulls me close and the ache intensifies, but I let him squeeze as hard as he needs to see I’m okay.
“I left.” His voice shrinks. “I got angry and I left the celebration. I wasn’t thinking … I didn’t know—”
I pull back from Tzain and paste a smile on my face. “The wounds looked a lot worse than they were.”
“But your back—”
“It’s fine. After Khani’s done, there won’t even be a scar.”
Tzain glances at Khani; thankfully, she manages to smile back. He searches me, desperate to believe my lie.
“I promised Baba,” he whispers. “I promised Mama—”
“You’ve kept your promise. Every single day. Don’t blame yourself for this, Tzain. I don’t.”
His jaw clenches tight, but he hugs me again and I breathe as his muscles relax under my arms.
“You’re awake.”
It takes me a few seconds to place Amari; rid of her usual braid, her black hair cascades down her back. It swishes from side to side as she enters the tent with the sunstone in hand. The stone bathes her with its glorious light, but nothing inside me stirs.
The sight almost breaks me. What happened?
The last time I held the sunstone, the wrath of Oya lit every cell of my being on fire. I felt like a goddess. Now I hardly feel alive.
Though I don’t want to think about Saran, my mind takes me back to the cellar.
It’s like that bastard cut the magic out of my back.
“How are you feeling?”
Amari’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, amber eyes piercing. I sit on the cot again to buy time.
“I’m okay.”
“Zélie…” Amari tries to meet my gaze, but I look away. She’s not Inan or Tzain. If she pries, I won’t fool her.
The flap opens as Khani exits; the sun begins to set behind the mountains. It dips under a jagged peak, sliding off the orange horizon.
“What day is it?” I interrupt. “How long was I out?”
Amari and Tzain make eye contact. My stomach drops so hard it must lie at my feet. That’s why I can’t feel my magic.…
“We missed the solstice?”
Tzain looks to the ground as Amari chews on her lower lip. Her voice comes out in a whisper. “It’s tomorrow.”
My heart jumps in my throat and I hide my head in my hands. How are we going to get to the island? How am I going to do the ritual? Though I can’t feel the chill of the dead, I whisper the incantation in my mind. “4mí àwọn tí ó ti sùn, mo ké pè yín ní òní—”
—with a lurch the soldier finishes the A. Bile spews from my lips. I scream. I scream. But the pain never ends—
My palms burn and I look down; my fingernails have cut red crescents into my own skin. I unclench my fists and wipe the blood on the cot, praying no one sees.
I try the incantation again, but no spirits rise from the dirt ground. My magic is gone.
And I don’t know how to get it back.
The realization reopens a gaping hole inside of me, a pit I haven’t felt since the Raid. Since the moment I saw Baba crumble in the streets of Ibadan and knew things would never be the same. I think back to my first incantation in the sand dunes of Ibeji, back to the ethereal rush of holding the sunstone and grazing Oya’s hand. The ache that cuts through me is sharper than the blade that cut through my back.
It’s like losing Mama all over again.
Amari sits on the corner of my bed and sets the sunstone down. I wish its golden waves would speak to me once more.