I brace myself as the line of fire races down the rope’s oil-soaked cords, shooting toward Baba’s casket. My hand grips my chest the moment he goes up in flames. Reds and oranges blaze bright against the gray horizon.
“Títí di òdí kejì.” Tzain bows his head, whispering the sacrament. I clench my teeth and do the same.
Títí di òdí kejì.
Until the other side.
Speaking the sacrament aloud brings me right back to Mama’s burial. To watching her corpse go up in flames. As the prayer passes, I think of all those who might rest with her in alâfia. Everyone who died so that we could bring magic back.
Lekan, the sêntaro who sacrificed himself to awaken my gift. My friends, Zulaikha and Salim, murdered when the monarchy attacked our festival.
Mama Agba, the Seer who spent her life watching over me and the other Ilorin divîners.
Inan, the prince I believed I loved.
Títí di òdí kejì, I think to their spirits. A reminder to carry on.
Our battle isn’t over.
If anything, it’s just begun.
CHAPTER TWO
AMARI
FATHER USED TO SAY that Orïsha waits for no one.
No man.
No king.
They were the words he used to justify any action. An excuse to excuse everything.
As the flames around Baba’s casket burn before me, the sword I sent through my own father’s chest hangs heavy in my belt. Saran’s body was never recovered from the ritual grounds.
Even if I wanted to bury him, I couldn’t.
“We should go,” Tzain says. “Your Mother’s message will be here soon.”
I trail a few steps behind him and Zélie as we leave the shore and enter the warship we stole to get to the ritual grounds. The iron ship’s been our home since we brought magic back weeks ago, yet the snow leopanaires engraved along its walls still put me on edge. Every time I pass Father’s old seal, I don’t know whether to cry or scream. I don’t know if I’m allowed to feel anything.
“All aboard!”
I glance back at the captain’s high-pitched call. Families line up across the dock, handing over gold pieces as they board a small mercenary ship. Bodies cram below the rusted deck, escaping Orïsha’s borders to seek peace across foreign waters. Each sunken face sticks another needle of guilt into my heart. While I heal and lick my wounds, the entire kingdom still suffers from Father’s scars.
There’s no more time for me to hide. I have to take my place on Orïsha’s throne. I am the only one who can usher in an era of peace. The queen who can fix everything my father broke.
Conviction warms my chest as I join the others in the frigid captain’s quarters. It’s one of the few rooms on the ship free of majacite: the special ore the monarchy used to burn the maji and neutralize their powers. Every comfort that once filled the room has been stripped away, traded so we could survive.
Tzain sits on the bare bed, scraping the last grains of rice from a tin cup. Zélie rests on the metal floor, half-buried in her lionaire’s golden coat. The massive ryder lies across Zélie’s lap, lifting her head to lick the tears that fall from Zélie’s silver eyes. I force myself to look away as I reach for my own meager ration of rice.
“Here.” I hand Tzain the cup.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m too nervous to eat,” I say. “I’ll probably just throw it all up.”
It’s only been a half moon since I sent word to Mother back in Lagos, but it feels like I’ve been waiting an eternity for her to respond. With her support, I can ascend to Orïsha’s throne. I can finally right my Father’s wrongs. Together we can create a land where the maji don’t have to live in fear. We can unite this kingdom and erase the divisions that have plagued Orïsha for centuries.
“Don’t worry.” Tzain squeezes my shoulder. “No matter what she says, we’ll figure it out.”
He moves to check on Zélie and my chest tightens; I hate the part of me that hates what they still have. Only three weeks have passed since Father’s blade tore through my brother’s gut, and I’m already starting to forget the growl in Inan’s voice. Every time it happens, I have to grind my teeth to keep the heartache in. Perhaps when Mother and I are reunited, the gaping hole in my heart might actually start to heal.
“Incoming.” Zélie points to the silhouette moving in the warship’s dark halls. I tense as the tarnished door groans open, revealing our messenger. Roën shakes the rain from his black hair, the silky strands clumping together in waves that fall along his square jaw. With skin like desert sand and eyes like teardrops, the mercenary always looks out of place in a room full of Orïshans.
“Nailah?”
The lionaire’s ears perk up as Roën kneels, removing a thick parcel from his pack. Nailah nearly knocks Roën over when he unties the binds, revealing a glistening array of fish. I’m surprised when a small smile finds its way to Zélie’s lips.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Roën nods, holding her gaze. I have to clear my throat before he rises to face me.
“Let’s hear it,” I sigh. “What did she say?”
Roën pushes his tongue into his cheek and drops his gaze to the ground. “There was an attack. No word’s gotten in or out of the capital.”
“An attack?” My chest clenches as I think of Mother holed up in the palace. “How?” I rise to my feet. “When? Why?”
“They’re calling themselves the Iyika,” Roën explains. “The ‘revolution.’ The maji stormed Lagos when their powers came back. Word is their attack made it all the way to the palace.”
I brace myself against the wall, sliding down to the grated floor. Roën’s lips keep moving, but I can’t make out the words. I can’t hear anything at all.
“The queen,” I struggle to speak. “Did they … is she…”
“No one’s heard from her since.” Roën looks away. “With you hiding out here, people think the royal line’s dead.”
Tzain rises to his feet, but I put up a hand, forcing him to stay back. If he so much as breathes near me, I’ll unravel. I’ll be less than the hollow shell I already am. Every plan I made, every hope I had—in seconds, they’re all gone. If Mother’s dead …
Skies.
I really am all alone.
“What’re the Iyika after?” Tzain asks.
“It’s hard to pin down,” Roën says. “Their forces are small, but lethal. They’ve carried out noble assassinations all over Orïsha.”
“So, they’re out for royal blood?” Zélie’s brows knit and we lock eyes. We’ve barely spoken since the ritual went awry. It’s nice to see she still cares about me.
“It seems that way.” Roën shrugs. “But because of the Iyika, the military’s hunting maji like dogs. Entire villages are being cleared out. The new admiral’s all but declared war.”
I close my eyes and run my hands through the new waves in my hair. The last time Orïsha was at war, Burners nearly wiped out the royal bloodline. Years later, Father struck back with the Raid. If war breaks out again, no one will be safe. The kingdom shall tear itself apart.