HE’S SUPPOSED TO BE SAFE.
This one thought keeps me from accepting the truth. I scan the guards for Mama Agba’s wrinkled form, waiting for her attack. If Baba’s with the guards, where is she? What did they do to her? After everything, she can’t be dead. Baba can’t be standing here.
Yet he trembles under Inan’s grip … ripped clothes, gagged, bloodied face. They’ve beaten him for my mistakes. And now they’ll take him.
Just like they took Mama.
Inan’s amber eyes trap me in the truth of his betrayal, but it isn’t the gaze I know. He’s a stranger. A soldier. The shell of the little prince.
“I assume the situation speaks for itself, but since your people are daft, I’ll break it down. Relinquish the artifacts, and you can take your father back.”
Just the sound of Saran’s voice closes the metal chains against my wrists—
I wouldn’t be doing my job as king if I didn’t remind you what you are.
He stands clothed in rich purple robes, defiance in his snarl. But even he looks small against the statues of gods staring him down.
“We can take ’em,” Kenyon whispers from behind. “We have our magic. They only have guards.”
“We can’t risk it.” Tzain’s voice cracks.
Baba gives the slightest shake of his head. He doesn’t want to be saved.
No.
I step forward but Kenyon grips my arm, whipping me around. “You can’t surrender!”
“Let me go—”
“Think of someone other than yourself! Without the ritual all the divîners will die—”
“We’re already dead!” I shriek. My voice echoes against the dome, revealing the truth I wish I could change. Gods, please! I plead one last time, but nothing happens.
They’ve abandoned me once again.
“My magic’s gone. I thought it would come back, but it hasn’t.…” My voice shrivels and I stare at the floor, biting back the shame. The anger. The pain. How dare the gods force themselves back into my life only to break me this way.
Against everything, I try once more, searching for any remnant of ashê that might remain. But they’ve discarded me.
I won’t let them take anything else away.
“I’m sorry.” The words are hollow, but they’re all I have. “But if I can’t do the ritual, I’m not going to lose my father.”
Kenyon unhands me. Hatred doesn’t begin to describe the looks I receive from the gathered men. Only Amari’s eyes are sympathetic; even Roën looks taken aback.
I step forward, clutching the sunstone and scroll to my chest. The bone dagger presses into my skin, almost cutting with every step. I’m halfway across the floor when Kenyon yells, “We saved you!” His screams bounce against the walls. “People died for this! People died for you!”
His words dig into my soul, into everyone I’ve left behind. Bisi. Lekan. Zulaikha. Maybe even Mama Agba.
All dead.
Because they dared to believe in me.
They dared to think we could win.
As I approach Inan, Baba’s shaking grows frantic. I can’t let him break my resolve. I don’t want them to win, Baba.
But I can’t let you die.
I clench the stone and scroll as Inan moves forward, gently guiding Baba ahead. The apology is stark in his amber eyes. Eyes I’ll never trust again.
Why? I itch to scream, but it withers in my throat. With each step, the echo of his kiss presses against my lips and travels down my neck. I stare at his hands on Baba’s shoulders, hands I should’ve crushed. I swore I’d die before I let a guard have his way with me, yet I gave their captain free rein?
I know we’re meant to work together. We’re meant to be together.
His pretty lies play in my ear, each new one drawing more tears.
We’d be unstoppable. A team Orïsha has never seen.
Without him, Ilorin would still stand. Lekan would be alive. I would be here saving my people, not sealing their fate.
As my tears burn, my insides rip raw. It’s worse than the searing of Saran’s knife. Despite everything, I let him in.
I let him win.
Baba shakes his head one last time, my last chance to run away. But it’s over now. It ended before it even began.
I pull Baba out of Inan’s grip, dropping the parchment and stone on the floor. I almost reach for the bone dagger, but then I remember Inan has never seen it. I toss out Tzain’s rusted knife instead, keeping the true bone dagger hidden in my waistband. I can hold on to this one thing. This one artifact now that he’s taken everything else from me.
“Zélie—”
Before Inan can mutter another treacherous word, I take off Baba’s gag and walk away. As my footsteps echo against the ritual ground, I focus on the statues instead of the hateful glares.
“Why?” Baba sighs. His voice is weak but rough. “Why when you were so close?”
“I was never close.” I choke down a sob. “Never. Not even once.”
You tried, I console myself. You did more than your best.
It wasn’t meant to be. The gods chose wrong.
At least it’s over. At least you’re alive. You can leave on that boat, find a new—
“No!”
I freeze as Inan’s cries ring against the dome walls in a deafening timbre. Baba throws me to the ground as a swoosh! flies through the air.
I move to shield Baba, but it’s too late.
The arrowhead pierces my father’s chest.
His blood leaks onto the ground.