Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,153

away. With his retreat there’s no more laughter.

They understand my staff.

Roën’s stormy eyes dance, filled with even more amusement than before. He puts out his cigarette and walks forward, stopping only a finger’s breadth away from my face. The scent of his smoke engulfs me, sweet like milk and honey.

“You’re not the first to attempt this, love. Kwame already tried to bring magic back. From what I hear, it didn’t go so well.”

Kwame’s name sends a pang through my heart, reminding me of the meeting he took with Roën in the divîner camp. Even back then, he must have been preparing. Deep down, he always knew we’d have to fight.

“This is different. I have a way to give all the maji back their gifts at once.”

“What kind of payment are we talking?”

“No coin,” I say. “But you’ll earn the favor of the gods.”

“How do you figure?” he snorts. “Just general goodwill?”

He needs more. I rack my mind, searching for a better lie. “The gods sent me to you. Twice. It’s no accident we’re meeting again. They’ve chosen you because they want your help.”

The crooked smile drops off his face and he’s solemn for the first time. I can’t read the expression behind his eyes when it’s not amusement or mischief.

“That may be enough for me, love, but my men are going to need a little more than divine intervention.”

“Then let them know that if we succeed, you’ll be employed by the future queen of Orïsha.” The words tumble out of me before I can even assess whether or not they’re true. Tzain told me of Amari’s intention to claim the throne, but with everything going on, I haven’t thought of it since.

Yet now I hold on to it, using my only leverage. If Roën and his men don’t help us, we won’t get anywhere near that island.

“The queen’s mercenaries,” he muses. “It has a ring to it, no?”

“It does.” I nod. “One that sounds a lot like gold.”

A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. His gaze slides over me once more.

Finally, he holds out his hand and I hide a smile, keeping my grip firm as we shake.

“When do we leave?” I ask. “We have to hit the island by daybreak.”

“Right now.” Roën smiles. “But our boat’s small. You’ll have to sit next to me.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

ZÉLIE

WIND FILLS THE SILENCE as we ride across the Lokoja Sea on Roën’s boat. Unlike the vast vessels of Ibeji’s arena, Roën’s ship is sleek and angular, only a few meters longer than Nailah. Instead of sails, metal turbines harness the blowing wind. They propel us through the choppy waters as they hum and rotate.

I brace myself against Tzain and Amari as another large wave crashes against the iron boat. Unlike the Warri Sea off the coast of Ilorin, the Lokoja Sea is phosphorescent; beneath the water plankton glow bright blue, making the sea sparkle like the stars in the sky. It would be an incredible sight if we weren’t packed into the boat so tightly. Between Kenyon’s team and a dozen of Roën’s crew, we’re forced to squeeze in side by side with men we can’t trust.

Ignore them, I coach myself turning to the ocean to revel in the familiarity of sea-salt spray on my skin. Closing my eyes, I can almost imagine myself back in Ilorin, back with the fish. With Baba. Before all of this began, back when my biggest worry was a graduation match.

I stare at my hands, thinking of everything that’s passed since then. I thought this close to the solstice I would feel something again, but still no magic runs through my veins.

Oya, please. I clench my fists and pray. Sky Mother. Everyone. I’m trusting you.

Don’t let me be wrong.

“Are you alright?” Amari whispers. Though her voice is gentle, her amber eyes are knowing.

“Just cold.”

Amari tilts her head, but she doesn’t pry. Instead, she laces her fingers through mine and looks back out at the sea. Her touch is kind. Forgiving. Like she already knows the truth.

“We’ve got company, boss.”

I whip around to find the silhouettes of large, three-masted warships on the horizon. There’s far too many to count. The wooden beasts cut through the water, metal plates marking the cannons lining their decks. Though they fade into the sea’s mist, the moonlight illuminates Orïsha’s seal. My chest tightens at the sight and I close my eyes, willing the image away—

—the heat intensifies my pain as the knife rips through my back. No matter how much I