Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,59
But I have no choice. I cannot climb and weaken myself.
I have to let the darkness in.
It stings worse than the burn that sears in my chest when I fight my powers down. Each time a foreign thought hits me, my skin crawls. Every flash of another’s emotion makes my lips curl.
Magic slithers inside me. Venomous, like a thousand spiders crawling over my skin. It wants more of me. The curse wants to fight its way in—
With a lurch, my foothold crumbles.
Stones at my feet tumble like an avalanche.
I grunt as my body is slammed flat against the wall, my feet flailing for a new hold.
“Inan!” Kaea’s shouts from the ledge below. More of a distraction than an aid. She waits with the ryders and other soldiers while I stake out a path.
Rope and flint slip from pockets of my belt as I swing. Amari’s headdress slides as well.
No!
Though it’s a risk, I release my left hand, catching the headdress before it evades my grasp. As my feet discover new footing, memories I can’t fight swell to the surface.
“Strike, Amari!”
Father’s command boomed against the stone walls of the palace cellar. Deep underground, where his commands were law. Amari’s small hands shook, barely strong enough to lift the iron sword.
It wasn’t like the wooden swords he forced us to spar with, dull blades that bruised but never cut. The iron was sharp. Jagged at its edge. With the right strike, we wouldn’t just bruise.
We’d bleed.
“I said, strike!” Father’s yells were like thunder. A command no one could defy. Yet Amari shook her head. She let her sword fall.
I flinched as it clattered against the ground. Harsh and piercing. Defiance ringing in every sound.
Pick it up! I wanted to scream.
At least if she struck, I could defend myself.
“Strike, Amari.”
Father’s voice hit an octave so low it could crack stone.
Yet Amari clutched herself and turned away. Tears streamed down her face. All Father saw was weakness. After all this time, I think it might have been strength.
Father turned to me, face dark, flickering in the shadows of the torchlight.
“Your sister chooses herself. As king, you must choose Orïsha.”
All the air vanished from the room. The walls closed in. Father’s orders echoed in my head. His commands to fight against myself.
“Strike, Inan!” Rage flared in his eyes. “You must fight now!”
Amari screamed and covered her ears. Everything in me wanted to run to her side. Protect her. Save her. Promise we would never have to fight.
“Duty before self!” Father’s voice went hoarse. “Show me you can be king!”
In that moment, everything stopped.
I lunged forward with my sword.
“Inan!”
Kaea’s barks pull me back, breaking through the depths of my memories.
I press against the mountainside, one foot still dangling. With a grunt, I continue my climb, not stopping until I reach the next ledge. Sweat pours from my body as I rub my thumb over the ornate seal in Amari’s headdress.
We never spoke of it. Not once. Even after all these years. Amari was too kind to bring it up. I, far too scared.
We carried on, an invisible chasm always between us. Amari never had to go back to that cellar. I never left.
Though my muscles shake, I pocket the headdress. There’s no time to waste. I failed my sister once. I shall not repeat that mistake again.
As I rise, the maji’s spirit pulses like never before. A surge she can’t control. The sea-salt scent of her soul is so strong it overwhelms the clove smell of bromeliads under my nose. I pause when I notice the flattened stems at my feet.
Tracks …
She’s been here.
She’s close.
I’m close.
Kill her, my heart thrums as I claw at the mountain ledge. Kill her. Kill magic.
When the girl’s finally in my grasp, this will all be worth it. I shall take my kingdom back.
Amari’s headdress pokes my side as I continue to rise. I couldn’t save her from Father then. But today, I shall save her from herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ZÉLIE
“FASTER!” LEKAN CALLS as we run through the temple halls. Tzain carries me over his shoulders, grip tight around my waist.
“Who is it?” Amari asks, though the quiver in her voice suggests she already knows. Her brother’s scarred her once. Who’s to say it won’t happen again?
“My staff,” I moan. It takes every ounce of energy to speak. But I need it to fight. I need it to keep us alive.
“You can barely stand.” Tzain catches me before I slide from his back. “Shut up. And for gods’ sakes, try to hold on!”