platform. Traitor. Traitor. Her bruised knees shake.
“Let me go, Tar,” Dayo whines. “I never get to see the city.”
“It’s not good. It’s an execution.”
“Well, I’ve got to see one someday,” he retorts.
“Please, Dayo.” My throat is dry. The woman on the platform kneels, forced to lay her head on a wooden block. “Please don’t.”
“Why?” The hollow thud of imperial drums fills our ears, pulsing beneath the crowd’s roar. “You think I’m weak, don’t you, Tar? Just like everyone else does.”
“No. I think you’re too good.” I hold Dayo close as hazy noontime light glints on the executioner’s ax. “You think people are kind and soft and pretty.” The ax falls, and blood runs from the platform to pool on the paved square. “I’ll make it true, Dayo. When I’m grown-up, I’ll make the world better, just for you. But for now, close your eyes.”
He sighs into my chest, and I bury my face in his hair.
“I’ll keep you safe, Dayo.”
He gasped as my knife slid into his side. We fell together to the leaf-carpeted earth, like the lovers for whom Enitawa’s Quiver was intended. He gaped up at my unseeing eyes, his features contorted in agony. “Tar.”
“Will you come home now, Mother?” My voice was a monotone. “It’s so lonely in Bhekina House. The servants won’t touch me and I don’t have any friends and I hate it when you leave; please come back …” I blinked, suddenly very, very tired. “Mother?”
Where was I? And why was it so cold?
Bhekina House wasn’t drafty. The tutors had boarded up my windows … No. I didn’t live there anymore. Mother had sent me away to Oluwan with Kathleen and Woo In. Then the fire happened, and it was all my fault. I had been responsible for protecting Dayo. He had trusted me, everyone trusted me, but they shouldn’t, because I was a demon and Mother had sent me here to—
To—
Every hair on my neck rose as I registered the person in my arms.
“No,” I said. A scream worked its way up my throat, but came out as a croak. “No. It’s not—you’re not—Stay awake, Dayo! It’s over now. I’m back. I’d never let anything hurt you; I wouldn’t—Damn it, damn it.” I sobbed, pawing his face. I didn’t dare touch the knife.
He watched me hyperventilate. “You remembered,” he said.
“Don’t talk. Rest, I’ll get help.” His words didn’t make sense. My tears were a torrent; my ribs shuddered with each breath.
“You missed my heart.” He smiled, voice gurgling with blood. “That means you’re stronger than her, Tar.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I breathed. “Dayo, stay—”
His eyes fluttered closed.
“No.” I wagged my head, baring my teeth at the sky. “Am, no. I don’t care if you’re the Storyteller; I hate your stories. Kill me instead. Doesn’t that make more sense? Write something better. I’ll give up anything. Anything.” Tears ran into my open mouth as I pressed my ear to Dayo’s bare chest. The dimmest of heartbeats pounded against my cheek. “Anything,” I said, and felt the uneasy sensation of a sealed promise.
A footstep crunched behind me. Then I turned and locked eyes with a stiff, horrified face. Sanjeet stood over me in his wrinkled black festival clothes.
“Thank Am,” I said. “Jeet, we have to get help; Dayo, he—”
Sanjeet’s hand clamped my shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. He wrenched me away from the tree, and I toppled, stunned.
He knelt, shielding Dayo’s body with his broad back. “Little brother,” he said, “don’t sleep. Don’t you dare sleep.” Avoiding the knife’s hilt, Sanjeet’s fingers ran precise patterns across Dayo’s side, assessing the failing organs.
I began, “We need help. I’ll—”
“You shut up,” Sanjeet rasped. “Just shut up and stay back.”
“Jeet,” I whispered. “It’s not … It’s not what you think.”
“Who are you?” Sanjeet asked. His quiet voice was more ominous than any roar. When he looked at me at last, his eyes were wet and savage. “What are you?”
“I don’t know,” I sobbed. “I don’t know, I don’t know.” Dayo needed help. My mind raced; he couldn’t be moved without making it worse. We needed a miracle-worker.
I flung the Ray back toward Yorua Keep. With difficulty it traveled through the stone; my temples pounded with pain by the time I found Kirah. Dayo’s hurt, I said as her mind woke up groggily. We need you. Don’t wake the others. Hurry.
“Kirah’s coming,” I told Sanjeet as my mind guided her to Enitawa’s Quiver. I could feel Kirah’s panic through the Ray; she barraged me with questions.