Page 48 of Children of Anguish and Anarchy

As we sail, I’m reminded of the potential of my kingdom. Of all the things we could be. If we can unite the people of Orïsha, we can do more than protect ourselves from the Skulls. We can rebuild our great nation, create the Orïsha I always dreamed we could become. But the thought of what awaits us at home haunts me. My mind spins with the wreckage of our war.

How am I supposed to reunite my kingdom when I couldn’t do it before?

I scan the ship from my position by the supplies in the far back. The majority of the maji rest under a bamboo pavilion in the center, leaves woven together to block out the sun. The rest of the maji wait by Kenyon at the front of the ship, following the Burner’s every command.

The few times I’ve attempted to pull him aside and strategize, he’s ignored my every word. Without Zélie’s presence, the maji only tolerate my existence. I know they don’t need me to rally their own, but if I can’tget them to respect me, what hope will I have with the monarchy that I dissolved?

There has to be a way to make them see.…

With a push, I ignite the turquoise cloud in my palms, considering what role my magic might play. I think of the Skull Amari and I took on. Of what Zélie suffered in the arms of the Silver Skull. If the people could understand what was coming, we might have a chance. I have to make the threat of the Skulls real.

I have to find a way to make themfeel.

“Kenyon!” Dakarai calls out. The elder of the Seers has an edge in his voice that makes me rise. Round with a thick head of white curls, Dakarai draws attention as he holds out his hands.

“Orúnmila, bá mi s0r0. Orúnmila, bá mi s0r0—”

As Dakarai chants, the night sky bleeds into the space between his palms. My lips part in awe as the stars spiral, opening up to reveal the ocean waters. The moment I see the Skulls’ ship, my blood runs cold. Another mighty vessel cuts through the waves, nearly identical to the one we escaped.

Countless Skulls man the deck. Dakarai’s image is so clear, I can see the individual bones welded into their masks. The sight of the enemy shifts the mood of the ship in an instant. It’s like the sun darkens above.

“How far out are they?” Kenyon asks.

The elder of the Seers closes his eyes, pushing for the answer to Kenyon’s question. With a lurch, Dakarai’s eyes shoot open.

“Just over the horizon,” he says.

Kenyon’s nostrils flare. He leaves the circle and walks to the very edge of the ship. He raises his open palm, and a flame comes to light.

“Prepare to fight,” he orders. “We’re taking the ship.”

Dread hits me like a cannonball. All around me, the maji start tomove. Though I can summon my magic, I know it’s not enough. We can’t take the risk.

Right now we’re Orïsha’s only hope.

“Kenyon, wait,” I call. “This isn’t the time to attack.”

“You’re not an elder.” Kenyon glares down at me. “You don’t get a say.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” I push myself to his side, keeping my voice firm. “Think of what it took to escape.”

“We didn’t have our magic before,” Nâo joins in. “This time we have the strength to fight!”

“But what if we’re captured?” I push. “What if we’re killed? Right now we’re the only ones who know what’s out there. We are the only ones who know what’s coming to invade our lands. We can’t afford to risk that knowledge battling one ship. Our people need us to stay safe. They need us to live.”

“And what of our people on the ship?” Nâo’s voice cracks. She speaks the fears I hold myself. The thought of the maji who might be locked inside twists my insides into knots. But it doesn’t change everything we face.

I look back to Dakarai, observing the Skull’s ship between his palms.

“Are you able to track the ship?” I ask. “See where it sails?”

Dakarai nods, and I rub my fingers together as a new plan begins to take shape. With Dakarai’s knowledge, we could have an advantage. One that gives us a greater chance to survive.

“Then we hide,” I decide. “For now, we don’t engage. If we can track where the Skulls are sailing, we’ll have the upper hand. We can gather forces in Orïsha and mount a proper attack.”

Nâo’s gaze drifts from me to the flame in Kenyon’s hands. The Burner’s face is unreadable.

“Think of your people,” I beg. “Allof them.”

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