Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,84

veins, searing my skin from the inside out.

“4mí àwọn tí ó ti sùn—”

Waves of red flash behind my eyes.

Oya dances for me again.

Water twists around me, writhing with new and violent life. The blood magic takes over, enacting my will. With a rush, a new army of animations swirls before my eyes.

Their watery skin bubbles with blood and white light, coming alive with the force of a storm. Ten more animations awaken to join the army, water swirling as their bodies take form. They draw the blood and the debris into their skin, creating new armor for my army of the dead. They look to me when the last animation comes forth.

“Save the boat!”

My spirit soldiers shoot through the water like dual-finned sharks, fiercer than any ship or cannon in sight. Though my insides burn, the thrill of my magic overwhelms the chaos of our fight.

Pleasure swells through me as they follow my silent directive and disappear into the holes left by the cannonballs. A second later all the water inside begins to rush out.

Yes!

In an instant our ship gains buoyancy, bobbing back up to the surface. When all the water is out, the animations join with the wood, patching the holes with the watery remains of their bodies.

It worked!

But my wonder doesn’t last long.

Though the animations have disappeared, the surge of the blood magic remains.

My skin sears as it tears through me, burning as if the blood magic is ripping my organs apart. The violence shreds through my muscles. My hands go numb.

“Help!”

I try to scream, but bubbles rush through my throat. Horror sinks into my bones. Mama was right.

This blood magic will destroy me.

I swim for the surface, but each kick is harder than the last. My arms lose feeling, then my feet.

Like vengeful spirits, the blood magic overwhelms me, clinging to my mouth, my chest, my skin. Though I fight for the surface, I can’t move. Once so close, our ship now falls farther and farther away.

“Tzain!”

The crimson sea muffles the sound of my screams.

The little air I have in my lungs disappears.

Water rushes in.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

AMARI

I GRIP THE EDGE of the boat, heartbeat racing as its sinking slows to a rough halt.

“She did it!” Tzain pounds a fist against the ship’s railing. “Zél, you did it!”

But when Zélie doesn’t resurface, Tzain’s triumph disappears. He yells her name over and over again, shouting himself hoarse.

I lean over the edge of the ship and scan the waters, frantically searching for a shock of white hair against the red. There’s only one vessel left, but Zélie is nowhere in sight.

“Tzain, wait!”

He jumps overboard, leaving the boat without its captain. The final ship turns in the water, altering its course.

“And just like that, our final competitors are out of blastpowder!” the announcer’s voice sings. “But only one captain can make it to the end. To win, only one captain can live!”

“Tzain!” I scream over the edge of the ship, heart quaking as the final boat nears. I can’t do this on my own. We need him to take down the last ship.

The enemy’s rowers paddle as fast as they can, while those who manned their cannons arm themselves with blades. Our own crew abandons their posts, scrambling for the spears and swords attached to the ship. Though I shake, they do not hesitate. They are ready, eager, prepared to bring this hell to an end.

Relief rocks my core when Tzain breaks above the surface, one arm wrapped tightly around Zélie’s unconscious body. I untack a rope from the side and throw it over the edge; Tzain secures it under Zélie’s arms and yells at us to pull her up.

Three laborers join me as I yank, raising Zélie onto the deck. The enemy is moments away now. If she can summon her animations again, we can all live through this.

“Wake up!” I shake Zélie, but she doesn’t stir. Her skin burns to the touch. Blood drips from a corner of her lip.

Skies, this won’t work. We have to bring Tzain back up. I claw at the knots binding Zélie’s torso, but before the final knot is undone, the enemy ship smashes into ours.

With a wild roar, our competitors jump aboard.

I scramble to my feet and wave my sword like a child trying to keep a lionaire away with a flame. There is no technique in my thrust, no sign of the years spent in pain.

Strike, Amari, Father’s voice thunders in my head, bringing me back to the tears spilled when he commanded