Page 182 of Children of Blood and Bone

Amari’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, amber eyes piercing. I sit on the cot again to buy time.

“I’m okay.”

“Zélie…” Amari tries to meet my gaze, but I look away. She’s not Inan or Tzain. If she pries, I won’t fool her.

The flap opens as Khani exits; the sun begins to set behind the mountains. It dips under a jagged peak, sliding off the orange horizon.

“What day is it?” I interrupt. “How long was I out?”

Amari and Tzain make eye contact. My stomach drops so hard it must lie at my feet.That’s why I can’t feel my magic.…

“We missed the solstice?”

Tzain looks to the ground as Amari chews on her lower lip. Her voice comes out in a whisper. “It’s tomorrow.”

My heart jumps in my throat and I hide my head in my hands. How are we going to get to the island? How am I going to do the ritual? Though I can’t feel the chill of the dead, I whisper the incantation in my mind. “4mí àw?n tí óti sùn, mo képèyín ní òní—”

—with a lurch the soldier finishes the A. Bile spews from my lips. I scream. Iscream. But the pain never ends—

My palms burn and I look down; my fingernails have cut red crescents into my own skin. I unclench my fists and wipe the blood on the cot, praying no one sees.

I try the incantation again, but no spirits rise from the dirt ground. My magic is gone.

And I don’t know how to get it back.

The realization reopens a gaping hole inside of me, a pit I haven’t felt since the Raid. Since the moment I saw Baba crumble in the streets of Ibadan and knew things would never be the same. I think back to my first incantation in the sand dunes of Ibeji, back to the ethereal rush of holding the sunstone and grazing Oya’s hand. The ache that cuts through me is sharper than the blade that cut through my back.

It’s like losing Mama all over again.

Amari sits on the corner of my bed and sets the sunstone down. I wish its golden waves would speak to me once more.

“What do we do?” If we’re this close to the Olasimbo Range, Zaria’s at least a three days’ ride away. Even if I had my magic, we wouldn’t get to Zaria in time, let alone be able to set sail for the sacred islands.

Tzain looks at me like I’ve slapped him in the face. “We run. We find Baba and get the hell out of Orïsha.”

“He’s right.” Amari nods. “I don’t want to retreat, but my father has to know you’re still alive. If we can’t make it to the island, we need to get to safety and regroup. Figure out another way to fight—”

“The hell are you talking about?”

I whip my head around as a boy nearly as big as Tzain charges through the tent flaps. Though it takes me a moment, I remember the white locs of a player who once faced Tzain on the agbön court.

“Kenyon?” I ask.

His eyes flick to me, but there’s no nostalgia in his glare. “Good to see you’ve decided to wake up.”

“Good to see you’re still an ass.”

He glares before turning back to Amari. “Yousaidshe was going to bring magic back. Now you’re trying to cut and run?”

“We’re out of time,” Tzain shouts. “It’d take three days to get to Zaria—”

“And only half a day to go through Jimeta!”

“Skies, not this again—”

“People died for this,” Kenyon yells. “For her. Now you want to run away because you’re afraid of the risk?”

Amari glowers with an intensity that could melt stone. “You have no idea what we have risked, so I advise you to keep your mouth shut!”

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