Page 58 of Children of Blood and Bone

And the sea-salt scent of the girl’s soul.

Though I fight my magic, her smell surrounds me when I pass through the cloud. The divîner appears in my mind fully formed, dark skin almost luminescent in the Sokoto sun.

The image lasts only a moment, but even a flicker makes my insides churn. The magic feeds like a parasite in my blood. I straighten my helmet as we walk through the wagon’s door.

“Welcome, welcome!”

The wide smile of the elderly merchant drips from his dark face like wet paint. He stands, clenching the sides of the wagon for support.

Kaea shoves the scroll in his face. “Have you seen this girl?”

The merchant squints and cleans his spectacles against his shirt. Slowly.Buying time.He takes the sheet. “I can’t say I have.”

Droplets of sweat form on his brow. I glance at Kaea; she notices, too.

Doesn’t take magic to tell this fool’s lying.

I walk around the small wagon, searching, knocking over goods to get a rise. I spot a tear-shaped bottle of black dye and slip it into my pocket.

For a while the merchant stays still. Too still for someone with nothing to hide. He tenses when I near a crate, so I kick down with my foot. Wooden splinters fly. An iron safe is revealed.

“Don’t—”

Kaea pushes the merchant against the wall and searches him, tossing a ring of keys my way. I test each in the lock of the hidden safe.How dare he lie to me.

When the right key fits, I slam open the vault, expecting to find an incriminating clue. But then I spot the jewels of Amari’s headdress. My breath catches in my throat.

The sight takes me back, bringing me to the days when we were kids. The day she first wore this. The moment I hurt her…

I wrap myself in the curtains of the palace infirmary. It’s a fight to stifle my cries. As I cower, the physicians tending to Amari’s wounds expose her back. My stomach twists when I see the sword’s slash. Red and raw, the cut rips across her spine. More and more blood leaks by the second.

“I’m sorry,” I cry into the curtains, wincing every time the doctor’s needles make her scream. “I’m sorry.” I ache to shout, “I promise, I’ll never hurt you again!”

But no words leave my mouth.

She lies on the bed. Screaming.

Praying for the agony to end.

After hours, Amari lies numb. So drained, she can’t even speak. As she moans, her handmaiden Binta slips into her bed, whispering something that somehow draws a smile from Amari’s lips.

I listen and watch intently. Binta comforts Amari in a way none of us can. She sings her to sleep with her melodic voice, and when Amari slumbers, Binta takes Mother’s old dented tiara and places it on Amari’s head.…

Not a day passed when Amari didn’t wear that tiara. The only fight with Mother she ever won. It would take a gorillion to rip it off her head.

For this to be here, my sister would have to be dead.

I shove Kaea aside and thrust my blade against the merchant’s neck.

“Inan—”

I silence Kaea with my hand. This isn’t the time for rank or discretion. “Where did you get this?”

“Th-the girl gave it to me!” the merchant croaks. “Yesterday!”

I grab the parchment. “Her?”

“No.” The merchant shakes his head. “She was there, but it was another girl. She had copper skin. Bright eyes—eyes like yours!”

---