Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,87
guidance, we make it into our clay hut and take turns out back washing the blood away.
As the cold water runs over me, I scrub as hard as I can, desperate to wipe every remnant of that hell from my flesh. When the water turns red, I think of the captain I killed. Skies …
There was so much blood.
It seeped through the navy kaftan pasted to his skin, leaked through my leather soles, stained the hem of my pants. In his last moments, the captain reached for his pocket with a shaking hand. I don’t know what he wanted to grab. Before he could retrieve it, his hand fell limp.
I close my eyes and dig my nails into my palms, letting out a deep, shuddering breath. I don’t know what disturbs me more: that I killed him, or that I could do it again.
Strike, Amari. A thin whisper of Father’s voice plays in my ears.
I wipe him from my mind as I wash the last of the arena blood from my skin.
Back in the ahéré, the sunstone glows inside Zélie’s pack, lighting the scroll and the bone dagger in reds and sunflower yellows. A day ago I hardly believed we held two of the sacred artifacts, yet here all three sit. With twelve days left until the centennial solstice, we can make it to the sacred island with time to spare. Zélie can perform the ritual. Magic will actually return.
I smile to myself, picturing the glittering lights that escaped Binta’s hand. Not cut short by Father’s blade, but everlasting. A beauty I could witness every day.
If we succeed, Binta’s death will mean something. One way or another, Binta’s light will spread throughout Orïsha. The hole she left in my heart might one day heal.
“Can’t believe it?” Tzain whispers from the doorframe.
“Something like that.” I give him a small smile. “I’m just grateful it’s all over.”
“I heard they’re out of business. Without the coin from the pot, they can’t afford to bribe the stockers for more laborers.”
“Thank the skies.” I think of all the young divîners who perished. Although Zélie helped their spirits pass, their deaths still weigh on my shoulders. “Baako told me he and the other laborers will use the gold to cover more divîners’ debts. If they’re lucky, they’ll be able to save hundreds of people from the stocks.”
Tzain nods, looking at Zélie as she sleeps in the corner of the hut. Freshly bathed, she’s almost hidden against Nailah’s soft fur, recovering after her blinding display with the sunstone. Watching her, I don’t feel the prickle of discomfort that usually surfaces in her presence. When the crew told her that I was the one who ended the fight, she gave me a look that almost resembled a smile.
“Do you think your father knew about this?”
I snap my head up. Tzain averts his gaze and his face hardens.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly. “But if he knew, I’m not sure he would bother to stop it.”
An uncomfortable silence falls between us, stealing our brief moment of relief. Tzain reaches for a roll of bandages, but winces. The pain in his arm must be too great.
“Allow me.” I step forward, avoiding the reddening bandages around his bicep. His only battle wound, sustained because I got in his way.
“Thanks,” Tzain mutters when I hand him the roll. My stomach tightens with the guilt that eats away at my core.
“Don’t thank me. If I’d stayed off that boat, you wouldn’t have this wound at all.”
“I also wouldn’t have Zél.”
He meets my eyes with an expression so kind it catches me off guard. I thought for sure he’d resent me, but if anything, he’s grateful.
“Amari, I’ve been thinking.…” He picks at the roll of bandages, unraveling it only to wrap it up again. “When we pass through Gombe, you should go to the guard post. Tell them you’ve been kidnapped, blame everything on us.”
“Because of what happened on the boat?” I try to keep my tone even, but a slight shrillness breaks in. Where’s this coming from? Just a moment ago he was thanking me for being here.
“No!” Tzain closes the space between us, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder. For someone so large, there’s a surprising tenderness to his touch. “You were amazing. I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if you weren’t there. But the look on your face afterward … If you stay, I can’t promise you won’t have to kill again.”