Page 126 of Children of Blood and Bone

“I didn’t want to risk losing it, but it’ll help me make all the animations we need.”

I nod; for once her plan is sound. This should be enough, but it’s about so much more than that now.

Your people, your guards—they’re nothing more than killers, rapists, and thieves. The only difference between them and criminals is the uniforms they wear.

Her words echo in my mind, no longer a staff pressed against my sword.

After everything that’s happened, we can’t go back. One of us must yield.

“You asked me what hurts more.” I force the words out, though they want to stay in. “The sensation of using my magic or the pain of pushing it down. I don’t know the answer.” I grip the tarnished sênet pawn, focusing on the way it stings against my palm. “I hate it all.”

The threat of tears pricks at my eyes. I clear my throat, desperate to keep them down. I can only imagine how fast Father’s fist would fly if he could see me now.

“I hate my magic.” I lower my voice. “I despise the way it poisons me. But more than anything, I hate the way it makes me hate myself.” It takes more strength than I have to lift my head and meet Zélie’s gaze. Looking at her stirs up every single shame.

Zélie’s eyes water once more. I don’t know what chord I’ve struck. Her sea-salt soul seems to shrink away. For the first time, I want it to stay.

“Your magic isn’t poison.” Her voice shakes. “You are. You push it down, you fight it back. You carry around that pathetic toy.” She stomps over and rips the sênet pawn out of my hand, shoving it in my face. “This is majacite, you idiot. I’m surprised all your fingers haven’t fallen off.”

I stare at the tarnished pawn, the gold and brown rust hiding its original color. I always thought the piece was painted black, but could it really have been made of majacite the whole time?

I take it from her hands, holding it gently, feeling the way it pricks my skin. All this time I thought I was just squeezing too tight.

Of course…

I almost laugh at the irony. The realization brings me back to the moment I got it. The day Father “gifted” it to me.

Before the Raid, we played sênet every week. An hour where Father became more than a king. Every piece and move was a lesson, wisdom for the day I would lead.

But after the Raid, there was no time for games. No time for me. One day I made the mistake of carrying the game into the throne room and Father threw the pieces in my face.

Leave it, he barked when I bent down to pick them up.Servants clean. Kings don’t.

This pawn was the only piece I managed to salvage.

Shame ripples through me as I stare at the tarnished metal.

The only gift he’s ever given me, and at its core is hate.

“This belonged to my father,” I speak quietly. A secret weapon taken from others who despised magic. Created to destroy others like me.

“You clutch it the way a child clutches a blanket.” Zélie releases a heavy sigh. “You fight for a man who will always hate you just because of what you are.”

Like her hair, her silver gaze glows in the moonlight, more piercing than any eyes that have ever seen through me. I stare.

I stare though I need to talk.

I drop the pawn in the dirt and kick it aside. I must draw a line in the sand. I’ve been a sheep. A sheep when my kingdom needed me to act like a king.

Duty before self.

The creed unravels before my eyes, taking Father’s lies with it. Magic may be dangerous, but the sins of eradicating it have made the monarchy no better.

“I know you can’t trust me, but give me this chance to prove myself. I’ll get us into that camp. I’ll bring your brother back.”

Zélie bites her lip. “And when we find the scroll?”

I hesitate; Father’s face flashes in my mind.If we don’t stop magic, all of Orïsha will burn.

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