to the Olasimbo Range, Zaria’s at least a three days’ ride away. Even if I had my magic, we wouldn’t get to Zaria in time, let alone be able to set sail for the sacred islands.
Tzain looks at me like I’ve slapped him in the face. “We run. We find Baba and get the hell out of Orïsha.”
“He’s right.” Amari nods. “I don’t want to retreat, but my father has to know you’re still alive. If we can’t make it to the island, we need to get to safety and regroup. Figure out another way to fight—”
“The hell are you talking about?”
I whip my head around as a boy nearly as big as Tzain charges through the tent flaps. Though it takes me a moment, I remember the white locs of a player who once faced Tzain on the agbön court.
“Kenyon?” I ask.
His eyes flick to me, but there’s no nostalgia in his glare. “Good to see you’ve decided to wake up.”
“Good to see you’re still an ass.”
He glares before turning back to Amari. “You said she was going to bring magic back. Now you’re trying to cut and run?”
“We’re out of time,” Tzain shouts. “It’d take three days to get to Zaria—”
“And only half a day to go through Jimeta!”
“Skies, not this again—”
“People died for this,” Kenyon yells. “For her. Now you want to run away because you’re afraid of the risk?”
Amari glowers with an intensity that could melt stone. “You have no idea what we have risked, so I advise you to keep your mouth shut!”
“You little—”
“He’s right,” I speak up, a new desperation bubbling to the surface. This can’t be it. After everything, I can’t lose my magic again. “We have a night. If we can get to Jimeta, find a boat—” If I can get my magic back … find some way to communicate with the gods …
“Zél, no.” Tzain bends to my eye level, the same way he does with Baba. Because Baba is delicate. Broken. And now so am I. “Jimeta’s too dangerous. We’re more likely to be killed than to find help. You need to rest.”
“She needs to get off her ass.”
Tzain gets in Kenyon’s face so quickly I’m surprised he doesn’t take the tent down with him.
“Stop it.” Amari wedges herself between them. “There’s no time for us to fight. If we cannot get through, we need to get out.”
As they erupt in arguments, I stare at the sunstone, within arm’s reach. If I could touch it … just a graze …
Please, Oya, I lift up the silent prayer, don’t let this be it.
I take a deep breath, preparing for the rush of Sky Mother’s soul, the fire of Oya’s spirit. My fingers brush the smooth stone—
Hope shrivels inside my chest.
Nothing.
Not even a spark.
The sunstone is cool to the touch.
It’s worse than before my awakening, before I ever touched the scroll. It’s like all the magic has bled out of my body, left on that cellar’s floor.
Only a maji tethered to Sky Mother’s spirit can perform the sacred act. Lekan’s words echo back into my mind. Without him, no other maji can be connected to Sky Mother before the ritual.
Without me, there’s no ritual at all.
“Zélie?”
I look up to find everyone staring at me, waiting for the final answer.
It’s over. I should tell them now.
But as I open my mouth to deliver the news, the right words don’t come out. This can’t be it. Not after everything we’ve lost.
Everything they did.
“Let’s go.” The words are weak. By the gods, I wish I could make them sound strong. This has to work. I won’t let this be the end.
Sky Mother chose me. Used me. Took me away from everything I loved. She can’t abandon me like this.
She can’t throw me away with nothing but scars.
“Zél—”
“They cut ‘maggot’ into my back,” I hiss. “We’re going. I don’t care what it takes. I won’t let them win.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
ZÉLIE
AFTER HOURS OF TRAVELING through the forest surrounding the Olasimbo Range, Jimeta makes its way onto the horizon. Sharp and jagged like its rumored inhabitants, its sand cliffs and rocky bluffs jut out over the Lokoja Sea. Waves crash against the base of its cliffs, creating a familiar song I know all too well. Though the crashing waves pound and rumble like thunder, just being near the water again sets me at ease.
“Remember when you wanted to live here?” Tzain whispers to me, and I nod, a half smile rising to my lips. It’s nice to feel something