A SHARP CRACK rings through the air.
I reel as Kwame’s fist crashes into Tzain’s jaw.
Tzain’s head lolls to the side, a mess of reds and blacks and bruises.
“Stop it!” I scream, tears spilling down my cheeks. Fresh blood drips into Tzain’s eye, undoing all of Zu’s healing.
Kwame pivots and grabs my chin. “Who else knows you’re here? Where are the rest of your soldiers?” Despite everything, his voice is strained, almost heavy with desperation. It’s like this is hurting him as much as it’s hurting me.
“There are no soldiers. Go find the maji we’re traveling with. She’ll confirm that everything I’ve said is true!”
Kwame closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He stays so still, a shudder runs through me.
“When they came to Warri, they looked like you.” He pulls the bone dagger from his waist. “They sounded like you.”
“Kwame, please—”
He thrusts the dagger into Tzain’s leg. I don’t know who yells louder, me or him.
“If you’re angry, hurt me!” I thrash against the tree, pulling uselessly at my restraints. If only he would cut me instead. Hit me. Punch me.
Like a battering ram to the heart, Binta forces herself into my mind. She, too, suffered. She suffered in my place.
Kwame stabs Tzain’s thigh again and I cry out once more, my vision blurring with new tears. He withdraws the dagger with a shaking hand. His tremor intensifies as he moves the blade up to Tzain’s chest.
“This is your last chance.”
“We are not your enemy!” I rush out. “The guards in Warri killed the people we loved, too!”
“Lies.” Kwame’s voice chokes up. He steadies his hand and pulls back the blade. “Those guards are your people. They’re the ones you love—”
The tent flaps open. Folake rushes in, almost flinging herself into Kwame.
“We’re under attack.”
Kwame’s face falls. “Her guards?”
“I don’t know. I think they have a maji!”
Kwame pushes the bone dagger into Folake’s hand and runs out.
“Kwame—”
“Stay here!” he calls back.
Folake pivots and takes us in. My tears, the blood gushing from Tzain’s leg. She covers her mouth, then drops the dagger in the dirt and flees from the tent.
“Tzain?” I ask. He clenches his teeth and presses against the tree root. The bloodstains spread on his pants leg. He blinks slowly, though his eyes are nearly swollen shut.
“You okay?”
The most painful tears yet prick at my eyes. Beaten. Stabbed. Yet still, he asks about me.
“We have to get out of here.”
I pull against the ropes binding my wrists with a new fervor. There’s a snapping sound as the bonds begin to fray. The rope rips at my skin, but my chest fills with a different kind of pain.
It’s like all those days back at the palace, back when my bonds were golden chains. I should’ve fought them the way I fight now.
If I had only done more, Binta would still be safe.
I clench my teeth, digging my heels into the dirt. With a grunt, I brace my heel against the bark and leverage my whole body to pull free.
“Amari.” Tzain’s voice is weaker now. He’s lost so much blood. Bark cuts into the soles of my feet, but I press even harder to pull at the ropes.
Strike, Amari.
Father’s voice rings in my head, but it’s not his strength I need.
Be brave, Amari. Binta soothes instead.
Be the Lionaire.
“Ugh!” I scream against the pain. It almost sounds like a roar. Folake’s voice rings from outside. The tent flap opens—
The rope binding me snaps. I pitch forward, falling face-first in the dirt. Folake dives for the bone dagger. I scramble to my feet and lunge at her.
“Agh!” she grunts as I tackle her headfirst, knocking her to the ground. She grabs the bone dagger, but I jab her in the throat. While she chokes, I drive my elbow into her gut.
The bone dagger falls from her hand. I wrap my hand around its ivory blade. Its touch fills me with a chill, a strange and violent power.
Strike, Amari.
Father’s face returns. Hard. Unforgiving.
This is what I warned you about. If we don’t fight, these maggots will be our end.
But staring at Folake, I see the pain in Kwame’s eyes. The fear that weighed down Zu’s small shoulders. All the grief that lies in Father’s wake, the lives he’s already taken away.
I cannot be like Father.
The maji are not my enemy.
I drop the dagger and pull my fist back, twisting from my hips as my fist collides with her jaw. Her head snaps with a lurch. Her eyes roll before she blacks out.
I leap off her and grab the dagger, slicing through the ropes binding Tzain’s wrists. The cords barely hit the ground before I start tying them around his thigh.
“Go.” Tzain tries to urge me on, but his arms are weak. “There’s not enough time.”
“Hush.”
His skin is clammy to the touch. When I tie the ropes tight, the blood flow slows. But he can hardly keep his eyes open. This might not be enough.
I peek outside the tent—unmasked figures run in every direction, creating the cover of chaos. Though the boundaries of the camp aren’t visible, we can at least follow the surge of people.
“Alright.” I break a branch off a tree and duck back into the tent, placing the makeshift cane in Tzain’s right hand. I sling his other arm over my shoulder, locking my knees to stop myself from buckling under the weight.
“Amari, no.” Tzain grimaces, breaths rapid and shallow.
“Be quiet,” I snap. “I’m not leaving you behind.”
With me for leverage and the cane for balance, Tzain takes his first labored step on his good leg. We make our way to the tent’s entrance before taking our last moment of rest.
“We’re not dying here,” I say.
I won’t allow it.