Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,35
rare smile.
I pray we’ll live to see that smile again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
INAN
“COUNT TO TEN,” I whisper to myself. “Count. To. Ten.”
Because when I finish counting, this horror shall end.
The blood of the innocent will not stain my hands.
“One … two…” I grip Father’s sênet pawn with a shaking hand, so tight the metal stings. The numbers rise, but nothing changes.
Like Ilorin, all my plans have gone up in flames.
My throat tightens when the village falls in a fiery blaze, taking the homes of hundreds with it. My soldiers drag the corpses through the sand, bodies charred beyond recognition. The shrieks of the living and the injured fill my ears. My tongue tastes nothing but ash. So much waste. Death.
This was not my plan.
Amari should be in one hand, the divîner thief chained in the other. Kaea should’ve retrieved the scroll. Only the divîner’s hut need have burned.
If I had succeeded in returning the scroll, Father would’ve understood. He would’ve thanked me for my discretion, praised my shrewd judgment in sparing Ilorin. Our fish trade would be protected. The only threat to the monarchy would be crushed.
But I’ve failed. Again. After begging Father for another chance. The scroll is still missing. My sister at risk. An entire village wiped away. Yet I have nothing to show for it.
The people of Orïsha are not safe—
“Baba!”
I grab my blade as a small child hurls his body to the ground. His cries cut through the night. It’s only then I discover the sand-covered corpse at his feet.
“Baba!” He grasps at the body, willing it to wake. The blood of his father stains the skin of his small brown hands.
“Abeni!” A woman trudges through the wet sand. She gasps at the sight of the approaching guards. “Abeni, no, you must be quiet. B-baba wants you to be quiet!”
I turn away and squeeze my eyes shut, forcing my bile down. Duty before self. I hear Father’s voice. The safety of Orïsha before my conscience. But these villagers are Orïsha. They’re the very people I’m sworn to protect.
“This is a mess.” Admiral Kaea stomps to my side, knuckles bloody from beating the soldier who lit the fire too soon and started the blaze. I fight the urge to walk over and beat him myself as he lies moaning in the wet sand. “Get up and bind their wrists!” Kaea barks at the guard before lowering her voice again. “We don’t know if the fugitives are dead or alive. We don’t even know if they came back here.”
“We’ll have to round up the survivors.” I release a frustrated breath. “Hope that one of them…”
My voice trails off as a vile sensation crawls up my skin. Like in the market, the heat prickles my scalp. It pulses as a thin wisp of air floats toward me. A strange turquoise cloud cutting through the black smoke.
“Do you see that?” I ask Kaea.
I point, stepping back as the smoke slithers near. The strange cloud carries the scent of the sea, overwhelming the bite of ash in the air.
“See what?” Kaea asks, but I don’t have a chance to respond. The turquoise cloud passes through my fingers. A foreign image of the divîner ignites in my head.…
The sound around me fades out, turning murky and muddled. The cold sea washes over me as the moonlight and fire fade from above. I see the girl who haunts my thoughts, sinking among the corpses and driftwood, falling into the blackness of the sea. She doesn’t fight the current that pulls her down. She relinquishes control. Sinking into death.
As my vision fades, I return to the screaming villagers and shifting sand. Something stings under my skin, the same bite that started when I last saw the divîner’s face.
Suddenly all the pieces come together. The thrashing. The vision.
I should’ve known all along.
Magic …
My stomach twists in knots. I rake my nails over my tingling arm. I have to get this virus out of me. I need to rip the treacherous sensation from my skin—
Inan, focus.
I squeeze Father’s sênet pawn so hard my knuckles crack. I swore to him I was prepared. But how in the skies could I have prepared for this?
“Count to ten,” I whisper again, gathering all the pieces like pawns. By the time I hiss “five,” a terrifying realization hits: the divîner girl has the scroll.
The spark I felt when she brushed against me. The electric energy that surged through my veins. And when our eyes locked …