“It’s true, aheh! Once, Oro-ko lured a peasant and his son into the Bush, beguiling them with smells of saltfish and honeyed garri cakes. The son saw a great feast, and began to eat. But when he awoke from the trance, was it garri? I am not a liar: The son had eaten his father!”
The warriors traded macabre stories for hours as we traveled, speaking loudly to ensure we would hear.
“At least take a spear, Anointed Honor,” one of the warriors pleaded, noticing my empty halter. “You must protect yourself.”
I smiled ruefully, glancing at Sanjeet. A weapon would make me more dangerous than any ghost-creature of the Bush.
We stopped at a field thinly dotted with corkwood trees. Wind whistled through gnarled, long-reaching branches. Wood posts etched with skulls marked the edge of the otherwise serene meadow. The air hung faintly with kiriwi: Someone had planted the fragrant herb across the border, hoping to ward off evil. The downy plants had spread into the plain, marking an informal path.
“Stay by the kiriwi,” Captain Bunmi said, doing her best to hide her anxiety. We had forbidden the warriors from accompanying us through the Bush. “And I beg, Anointed Honors: No matter what happens, stay together.” She considered us. “Perhaps you should hold hands—”
“No need for that,” Sanjeet said. “We’ll be fine.”
He tried to cross into the Bush, but I stopped him. “Me first,” I said. “If I’m behind you, how can you make sure I don’t run off?”
The grass crunched beneath my feet as I entered the crop of trees, Sanjeet close behind. “Am be with your Anointed Honors,” the warriors yelled. We waved goodbye and moved farther in. Except for our footsteps, the meadow was pristinely quiet. A breeze tickled my face, teasing the strings of my dust mask. Within minutes the mask came loose, fluttering away. I stumbled after it.
“Stay by the kiriwi!” Captain Bunmi shrilled from across the meadow. I could barely hear her.
My fist closed around the mask. “It’s all right,” I called, turning to wave. “I’ve got …” My voice died in my throat.
The warriors were gone.
All around was an empty plain, corkwood trees snickering in the wind. My heart hammered, but to my relief, Sanjeet still stood behind me.
“You’re here,” I breathed.
“I’m here,” he echoed.
“How did that happen? The warriors just disappeared. Maybe they’re still there, but we’ve been blinded or …” I trailed off as I noticed the meadow. “Oh no.”
The kiriwi had vanished too.
Sanjeet’s hand closed around mine. “We’ll be fine,” he said.
I blinked up at him in surprise. Sanjeet’s tea-tinted eyes were calm, and his jaw free of its recent tension.
“We should find the kiriwi,” I said. My stomach fluttered with unease. I had almost forgotten what Sanjeet’s gaze felt like when he wasn’t angry. Had it only been two sunsets since he kissed me by the ocean?
“This way,” he said, still holding my hand. “We saw the plants over there.”
The area to which he gestured didn’t strike me as familiar. But now, neither did any part of the meadow. I followed him through the grass, which grew taller and thicker with every yard. “Jeet, do you think—”
“As long as we go in a consistent direction, we’ll reach the other side.”
“Are you … feeling all right?” I asked.
“Are you?” He glanced back, running his thumb over the top of my hand. “Please keep up, Tarisai. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
My head swam in confusion. Had Sanjeet … forgiven me? Did he trust me again? No. He was only being kind so I would calm down and we could escape the Bush. I let him tow me over the meadow, which thickened with hills and trees.
We walked for what felt like an hour. I admired the back of Sanjeet’s neck, where loose curls grazed the top of his weapon halter. He hummed a song in his cavernous bass: an old lullaby I had heard from a maid at Bhekina House. I remembered the moon streaming through my window, and the evasive scent of mangoes as I drifted to sleep.
“That’s from Swana,” I mumbled, feeling warm and sluggish. “I didn’t know you knew Swana songs.”
Sanjeet did not reply. We had stopped in front of a cave, sunken into the face of a brush-covered hill. Corkwood trees surrounded us on every side.
“Do you need to rest?” he murmured, touching my arm. His expression, soft and earnest, made my knees buckle. I resisted the urge to trace his slanted brows, his ridged nose, the deep