“Gods,” Tzain curses as he inspects my palm. The skin is red and tender to the touch, dotted with yellow blisters. “Magic’s not supposed to hurt. If you’d just talk to Zél—”
“Zélie’s not even using her own magic. The last thing she needs to see is mine.”
I tuck away my white streak, wishing I could just chop the lock from my hair. Tzain may not notice the way Zélie looks at it, but I always catch the snarl it brings to her face. For so long, she had to suffer because of her gift. Now those that hurt her the most wield that magic themselves.
I can understand why she despises it, but at times it feels like she despises me. And she’s supposed to be my closest friend. How will the rest of the maji feel when they learn that I’ve become a tîtán?
“I’ll figure it all out,” I sigh. “After I’m on the throne.”
I burrow back into Tzain’s neck, running my fingers against the new stubble along his chin.
“You trying to send a message?”
A sly smile rises to my lips. “I think it suits you. I like it.”
He runs his thumb along my jaw, igniting a surge almost as powerful as my magic. I hold my breath as he lifts my face to his. But before our lips can meet, the ship groans into a sharp turn, jostling us apart.
“What in the skies?” I scramble to my feet, pressing my face against the smudged porthole glass. For the past three weeks, all it revealed were gray seas. Now vibrant coral reefs shine through turquoise waters.
Zaria’s coastline fills the horizon as the warship navigates the ivy-covered cliffs jutting out of the ocean. A lump forms in my throat at the number of villagers gathered on the white sands. There are hundreds of people.
Maybe even thousands.
“You’re ready.” Tzain comes up behind me, sliding his arms around my waist.
“I don’t even know what to wear.”
“I can help you with that,” Tzain says.
“You’re going to help me pick out clothes?” I arch my brow and Tzain laughs.
“I’ve spent a lot of time looking at you, Amari. You’re beautiful in everything you wear.”
Heat rises to my cheeks as he looks at the pile of rejects on my bed. “But no tunics today. You’re about to be Orïsha’s queen.”
He turns me toward the suit of armor I wore to the ritual grounds when we brought magic back. It’s still covered with the blood of every opponent I cut down with my sword. Father’s blood stains the front, darkest along the royal seal.
“I can’t wear that,” I exclaim. “It’ll terrify people!”
“That’s the point. I used to see that seal and my chest would clench. But when you wear it…” Tzain pauses and a smile like sugar comes to his face. “With you behind the seal, I’m not afraid. I actually feel safe.”
He rests his chin on the top of my head, grabbing my hand again.
“You’re the queen, Amari. Give everyone a new face to picture behind that seal.”
CHAPTER FIVE
ZÉLIE
WHEN THE WARSHIP’S RAMP plunks into the wet sand, the people of Zaria don’t cheer. They don’t move. They don’t blink.
The people only stare.
Nobles line the path to the rally site, black hair occasionally marked by the white streaks of tîtáns. Magic-less kosidán gather behind them, soldiers and military officers milling through their masses. I find my people standing at the fringes, white hair barely hidden under large hoods.
The stillness of the crowd holds the weight of this moment, this chapter of history we create. I can’t believe that after all that’s passed, we’ve finally made it here. My gods, I think to myself.
We’re really doing it.
“I can’t feel my legs.” Amari comes to my side, imposing in her suit of armor. Bloodstains still coat the royal seal. A helmet covers her dark hair, perfectly placed to hide her white streak.
I don my own stolen breastplate, sliding my staff where the past owner’s sword would have gone. I feel like I’m about to vomit, but she doesn’t need to hear that.
“You’ve faced worse.” I pat her shoulder. “You can face this.”
Amari nods, but her hands still shake. I haven’t seen this terror in her since we were strangers in Lagos’s marketplace. Back then she was only a runaway princess. I was just a poor fisherman’s daughter. She crashed into my life and now the entire kingdom will never be the same.
“You can do this.” I ignore the pain it brings me to look into her eyes. But with her streak tucked away, it’s easier to see her face and not the one of the brother who broke my heart.
“Father and Inan prepared their whole lives for this role,” Amari says. “I’ve barely had a moon.”
“Yet you’ve already given more to this kingdom than any man or woman who’s come before you. I wouldn’t have been able to bring back magic if it wasn’t for you.” I grab her hands and lace her fingers through mine, giving her another squeeze. “The gods chose you. They’re choosing you the same way they chose you to steal that scroll.”
Though I smile, it hurts to speak the words. If the gods chose her, then they chose for me to suffer.
They chose for me to lose Baba.
“Do you really believe that?” Amari looks away. “Even though I’m a tîtán?”
Her question makes my lips tense, but it doesn’t matter how I feel about her kind. The cost of my scars, the price of Baba’s blood—once Amari’s queen, it’ll all mean something. When she’s queen, I won’t have to carry this weight. I’ll finally be free of all this pain.
“I know it.” I lean in. “This is destiny. The gods don’t make mistakes.”
Amari hugs me with such force, I stumble back. I laugh and wrap my arms around her waist. I forgot how nice it feels to hold her like this.
“Thank you,” she whispers into my braids, voice straining with the threat of tears.
“You’re ready,” I whisper back. “You’ll be the best queen Orïsha’s ever seen—”
“Don’t forget the most important part.” Roën interrupts our embrace, sauntering up with a cigarette tucked between his teeth. “Once you’re queen you’ll be in full command of your royal treasuries.”
“As if you’d ever let me forget.” Amari rolls her eyes. “Are your men in position?”
“We’ve cleared the path.” Roën gestures down the ramp before shooting me a wink. “Ready when you are, my queen.”
Amari exhales and shakes out her hands, muttering her speech under her breath. “My name is Amari Olúborí. My name is Amari Olúborí.”
As she paces, I put two fingers in my mouth and whistle. In seconds, the sound of claws scratching against the ship’s metal floors surges toward us. Nailah gallops from my quarters, skidding to a stop before me.
“What’re you doing?” Amari’s brows lift as I unlatch the belt keeping Nailah’s saddle and reins in place.
“Giving you an entrance fit for a queen.” I cup my hands to help her up. “You’re the Lionaire. The least you can do is ride one.”