Zélie tenses as every elder stops talking. All eyes fall to her. “Jagunjagun Ikú” echoes around the cafeteria.

I clear my throat, waiting for my introduction to follow, but it’s like I’m not even here. Not one elder seems to care.

“Jagunjagun.”A girl with a scar over her left eye speaks first. A few years older than us, she sits with her back against the wall, one arm draped over her knee. My lips part as I take in the forest of white coils that frame her light brown skin; the freckles splattered across her flat nose. I’ve seen this girl before.

The rebel from the rally!

She glared at me from the crowd, red paint staining her hands. From the way the others wait on her word, I can tell she’s their unspoken leader.

“Ramaya.” She drops to one knee. “Elder of the Connector clan. It’s an honor to meet the soldier who brought our magic back.”

“I didn’t act alone.” Zélie gestures to me. “I had a lot of help.”

Ramaya’s eyes flick in my direction, but she looks through me as if I was glass. My insides burn when she steps closer to Zélie, extending her hand.

“We look forward to having you on the council.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Zélie says. “I’m only here to win this war.”

“Winning’s just the beginning,” Ramaya pushes back. “With your strength, we can annihilate Nehanda and her tîtáns. Once the monarchy’s out of the way, we can place you on the throne.”

“Wait, what?” Zélie jerks her head back and the two of us lock eyes. I don’t even know what to say. I can’t find my voice.

“Who better to lead us than the Soldier of Death?” Ramaya asks.

My throat dries as I step forward, a feeble attempt to insert myself into the conversation. But before I can get a word out, another elder blows past us.

“There’s word from Lagos.” The Tamer sits down, a thick girl with broad shoulders and rich curves. Sunflowers rest in her luscious head of curls. Small hummingbirds flutter around their petals.

The Tamer’s pink-tinted armor glistens as she hands Ramaya a small parchment from the yellow hummingbird on her shoulder.

“You’re kidding.” Ramaya’s face falls when she reads the note. “The prince is alive?”

Inan?I lean forward, attempting to see the black ink.

“I know.” The Tamer rolls her eyes. “Killing these royals is like killing roaches.” She locks eyes with Zélie and nods, tossing her white curls. “Na’imah,” she introduces herself. “I would bow, but I don’t bow to anyone.”

“This doesn’t make sense.” Ramaya shakes her head. “Why would the king offer food and gold to any maji who defect?”

Zélie reaches for the note, but I beat her to the punch. Ramaya bristles as I scan the report, but even she can’t dim the light of Inan’s decree. My hand flies to my heart as I read his promises, his bold attempts at peace. It’s more than I’ve seen from any monarch.

I knew he could be this kind of king.

“Zélie, look.” I push the parchment in her hands, fighting the lump in my throat. “He’s keeping his word!”

My mind starts to spin as I consider everything this decree could mean. I thought I needed power to take Mother off Orïsha’s throne and build a kingdom that was safe for the maji. But if Inan’s willing to grant amnesty to theIyika, we may not need to fight.

If I could talk to him, we might be able to reach an agreement that satisfies both sides. With the right terms, we could get the monarchy and the maji to put down their arms!

“You’ve faced the king.” Ramaya looks to Zélie. “What do you make of this?”

Zélie’s face hardens as she stares at the note. My stomach drops when she throws it to the ground.

“If the little prince is offering food to the maji, there’s poison in it.”

“Zélie, no!” I whisper under my breath, but her words incite the other elders.

“He’s good with his words, but you’d be a fool to believe any of them.”