Page 130 of Ashes of Gold
She nods.
I smile. “Come with me. I have something I’d like your help with.” She agrees and I hand her the Yakanna breastplate sitting unused in the corner. She hesitates but takes it.
“Where are we going?” she asks, latching it on.
“You’ll see.”
Outside, the sun beats over Yiyo. Ocean waves lap the shore, and I run my fingers through the leaves as we pass. Kai comes along hesitantly. I’d asked everyone to give us this moment with just the two of us, and I’m glad she was up for it. Jhamal lies still on the ground, and she clamps her mouth with a whimper. I loop my arm in hers.
“Forgiveness starts with yourself. Jhamal said he saw something in you.” I lay my hand on her bare shoulder. “And I see it too.”
She tucks her lip, nodding, as she realizes what we’re about to do.
We spread his arms and legs wide.
“May I?” I ask, reaching for the armor she’s wearing. Stones were what we used for the Macazi we buried, but gems are what the Ancestors used, and the only gems we have are on the Yakanna armor.
“Yes,” she says, and I flicker flames from my fingertips to the edge of her armor until it starts to drip, melting. Two pieces of jade pressed into the metal plop into my hands, piping hot. I cool them then place them over Jhamal’s eyes.
“Wismaja ya, Jhamal,” I say, remembering what the men said during the Macazi burial. “Rest well.”
Kai sings this time, and it is even more beautiful than anything I’ve ever heard, panged with notes of pain. Her voice cracks and I reach for her hands. She keeps going. Her last note hangs in the air like a star, and I coil one hand over the other, remembering the words my little friend whispered, and a gold bloom appears. I work my fingers around its edges and more blooms appear with each spot I touch. I place the golden bouquet in Jhamal’s fingers, winding its vines around his arms. Then several around his head, like a crown. Kai sprinkles the dirt from the Ancestors’ grave over his feet as I stake wooden torches every few steps around the burial site.
“The prayer is next, right?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Doilekki, mis kishaq pwana yo meh,” we sing, covering him with earth. We move in sync, in silence, as saisas. When he’s fully covered, Kai’s magic glistens from her fingertips as we light the torches in a circle around the mound. I finish one side, she the other, and when done, we collapse with a sigh, sitting next to the mound. Tears well in my eyes and I let them. Kai smooths sadness from her cheek. “How long can we stay?”
“As long as we like.”
“Jelani.”
“Yes?”
“I cannot imagine a finer Ghizoni Queen.”
EPILOGUE
THE CROWN RESTING ONmy natural curls is lighter than I thought it’d be.
Without my coconut oil, I was trippin’, worried my hair would be frizzed out. But the jpango tree makes an oil that’s just as good, I’ve learned. My hair is fresh, tightly coiled, and luscious in the mirror. Gold spires point in every direction from my headdress, strings of jewels hanging from their tips catch the sunlight. I tilt my chin, admiring the trail of gold paint from my hairline down my face. Colorful dots encircle my temples, and I reach to touch them.
“Ah, ah,” the woman who made up my face says, tucking away her tray of colors. “It’s not dry yet.”
Rings loop around my left ear and tiny bells dangle from my hair. White paint covers my eyebrows. I try to let my hands hang casually, but my fingers worry at one another. Silks hang from every part of me, weighing me down like a blanket. The coronation robes are layers upon layers, tucked, tied, and twisted around every part of me. I hold in a breath, an elderly Ghizoni woman pulling ribbons at my back.
“One more.”
I suck it in and my ribs squeeze. I’m seriously considering changingthe traditional coronation attire to jeans and a hoodie at this point. But for today, we’re following tradition to thenthdegree. I want to do it the way the Ancestors did. I want to do it right. It’s the very least I could do to honor them.
“Good,” she says, and I smile. I twist my torso and the fabric shifts. It’s golden brocade, beaded in jade, sparkling in the firelight. I run my fingers down it and take a deep breath. It’s happening. This is actually happening. We more than survived. We won.
“Chin up.” Hands lay a cone-like necklace of bone around my neck, painted with swirly blue designs. “The blue is reminiscent of the ocean, Jelani.” The woman presses and something snaps into place. The neckline of the dress forces my head up, but not uncomfortably. She takes my wrists and slides rings on my fingers. “And for luck.” She pulls out two minted Ghizoni coins, and I blink.
“Can I see that?”
I turn the gold in my hands. My face is minted on the coin where the Chancellor’s used to be. She takes them from me, a smirk playing on her lips.
