Page 103 of Children of Blood and Bone

Skies.

My heads rings as I push my magic down. Deep into my bones, further than I ever knew it could go. Now it’s not just an ache in my chest or a winded breath that I fight, it’s a constant tremor shaking my hands. The burning hatred in Kaea’s eyes. The venom in her final word.

Maggot.

I hear it again and again. A hell I can’t escape. With that one foul word, Kaea might as well have declared me unfit to be king.

The slur disparages everything I’ve ever worked for. The duty I fight to fulfill. The destiny Kaea herself forced upon me.

Dammit.I close my eyes against the memories of her that day. It was Kaea who found me after I hurt Amari, tucked in the darkest corner of my room, clutching the bloodied blade.

When I threw the sword to the floor, Kaea placed it back into my hands.

You’re strong, Inan.She smiled.Do not let that strength scare you. You will need it all your life. You’ll need it to be king.

“Strength,” I scoff. It’s that very strength I need now. I only used magic to protect my kingdom. Kaea of all people should’ve understood that.

Sand whips at my face as I pass the clay walls of Ibeji. I force thoughts of Kaea away. She’s dead. I can’t change that.

The threat of magic still lives.

Kill her.In the dead of night, I’d expected the desert settlement to be asleep, but the streets of Ibeji swell with the remnants of some celebration. Low-ranking nobles and villagers pull generous swigs from their cups, each drunker than the last. At times they cry out mythicnames, cheering for “the Lionaire,” “the Commander,” or “the Immortal.” None pay any mind to the disheveled soldier who rides in their midst, or waste a glance at the dried blood coating my skin. No one realizes that I am their prince.

I pull on my panthenaire’s reins, stopping before a villager who looks sober enough to remember his own name. I reach to pull out the wrinkled poster.

Then I catch the scent of the sea.

Though I’ve pushed every part of my curse down, it hits. Distinct, like an ocean breeze. It strikes me like the first drop of water in days. Suddenly it all comes together.

She’s here.

I yank on the reins and urge the panthenaire toward the scent.

Kill her. Kill magic.

Get my life back.

I slide to a stop in an alleyway lined with sand ahérés. The smell of the sea is overpowering now. She’s here. Hiding. Behind one of these doors.

My throat tightens as I dismount the panthenaire and unsheathe my sword. Its blade catches the moonlight.

I kick down the first door.

“What’re you doing?” a woman cries. Even with the haze slowing my thoughts, I can see it’s not her.

Not the girl.

Not what I need.

I breathe deep and search again, letting the sea-salt scent guide my way. It’s this door.Thisahéré. The only thing standing in my way.

I kick down the clay door and run forward, teeth bared in a growl. I raise my sword to fight—

No one is here.

Folded sheets and old clothes line the walls. All stained with blood.But the hut is empty, filled only with shed lionaire fur and the unmistakable scent of the girl.

“Hey!” a man shouts from outside. I don’t turn to look.

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