Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,165
every other maji, every threat to the monarchy crushed.
That day I swore I’d never feel that way again; I promised they’d never take another member of my family. But as I lie paralyzed now, blood drips down Baba’s lips. I promised.
And now I’m too late.
“Baba?”
Nothing.
Not even a blink.
His dark brown eyes are empty. Broken. Hollow.
“Baba,” I whisper again. “Baba!”
As his blood spreads onto my fingers, the world goes black and my body grows warm. In the darkness I see everything—I see him.
He runs through the streets of Calabrar, kicking an agbön ball through the mud with his younger brother. The child in him has a smile Baba never had, a grin ignorant of the world’s pain. With a hearty kick, the ball bounces away and Mama’s young face appears. She’s stunning. Radiant. She takes his breath away.
Her face fades to the magic of their first kiss, the awe of their firstborn son. The awe blurs as he rocks his baby daughter to sleep, running his hands over my white hair.
In his blood, I feel the moment he woke after the Raid, the heartbreak that never ceased.
In his blood, I feel everything.
In his blood, I feel him.
Baba’s spirit tears through my being like the earth ripping in half. Every sound rings louder, every color shines brighter. His soul digs deeper into me than any magic I’ve ever felt, deeper than magic at all. It’s not incantations that run through my veins.
It’s his blood.
It’s him.
The ultimate sacrifice.
The greatest blood magic I could wield.
“Kill her!”
The first two guards charge at me, swords pointed and raised. They run with a vengeance.
The last mistake they will ever make.
As they near, Baba’s spirit tears from my body as two sharp, twisting shadows. The darkness wields the power of death, commands the power of blood. They pierce through the soldiers’ breastplates, skewering them like meat. Blood splatters into the air as dark matter spills from the holes in their chests.
The men choke on their last breaths, eyes bulging in defeat. They wheeze as their bodies crumble into ash.
More.
More death. More blood.
The blackest part of my rage finally has the power it’s always craved, the chance to avenge Mama. Now Baba. I’ll take these shadows of death and end them.
Each and every one.
No. Baba’s voice rings in my head, steady and strong. Revenge is meaningless. There’s still time to make this right.
“How?”
I peer through the frenzy as Roën’s crew and Kenyon’s team lunge into battle. Revenge is meaningless, I repeat to myself. Revenge is meaningless.…
As the words settle, I see it, the one person running away from the fight. Inan scrambles for the rolling sunstone through the madness, dodging the blades of Roën’s men.
As long as we don’t have magic, they will never treat us with respect, Baba’s spirit booms. They need to know we can hit them back. If they burn our homes—
I burn theirs, too.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
INAN
THE GIRL I HELD in my sleep is nowhere to be seen.
In her place a monster rages.
It bares fangs of death.
Two black shadows shoot from Zélie’s hands and hurtle forward like venomous snakes, hungry for blood. Vengeance. They pierce through the first two guards. Then something in Zélie’s silver eyes clicks.
Her gaze homes in on me. The sunstone glows in my hand. I barely have time to draw my sword before the first shadow attacks.
Pointed like a saber, it clashes against my sword, recoiling through the air. The next attack comes in fast. Too fast for me to block—
“Prince Inan!”
A guard lunges forward. He trades his life for mine. The shadow pierces through his body—he wheezes before turning to ash.
Skies!
I retreat into the insanity. Her shadows rear back for another attack. As I run, she chases after me. Her sea-salt soul rages like an ocean storm.
Even with the sunstone’s surge, I can’t stop her. No one can. I’m dead.
I died the moment her father hit the ground.
Skies. I fight my own tears back. Zélie’s heartbreak still throbs in my core. A sorrow so strong it could shake the earth. He was supposed to live. She was supposed to be saved. I was going to keep my promises to her. I was going to make Orïsha a better place—
Focus, Inan. I force out a deep, long breath and count to ten. I can’t give up. Magic is still a threat. One only I can end.
I race across the dome to Orí’s statue. The outcomes run through my mind. If Zél performs the ritual, she’ll wipe us out. And then all of Orïsha