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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

INAN

M Y BARE FEET DRAG across the hard soil.

The night winds bite at my skin.

Walking through the forest outside of Lagos, I’ve never felt more exposed. More helpless. More alone.

Though I was able to sail around the front lines, the battle rages behind me at Lagos’s broken walls. The ravages of war surround my every step. Destruction meets me at every turn.

More than half the towering jackalberry trees have fallen. Giant caverns litter the earth. Severed limbs mark my hike. The corpses of t?táns, soldiers, and maji lie intertwined.

A fallen soldier still grasps his sword. A t?tán lies with a twisted spine. My stomach churns at two children caught in an attack. The trunk of a snapped tree pins their lifeless bodies to the ground.

Guilt eats at me from within. Every body I pass reminds me of everything Or?sha’s lost. All I see are my mistakes. The failures that allowed the Skulls to succeed in their raids.

If the Skulls invaded our shores today, nothing would stand in their way. With our infighting, their forces would be unopposed. Their slaughter could travel from coast to coast—

A whistle blows through the air, growing with every passing second. I barely have a chance to hit the ground before a metal blade passes overhead. It collides with the trees at my back, cutting the old wood in half.

My heart thunders as I scurry across the ground. The treetops come crashing down with a vengeance. A trio of Welders appears ahead, their golden armor glistening under the sliver of moonlight. White streaks pass through their hair. Scraps of metal float around their glowing hands.

“I come in peace!” I shout, raising my arms in surrender. I pray for the words to be enough, but when one t?tán lifts his palm to attack, my fingers grow numb.

Dammit.

I scramble to my feet and take off. The air whistles as more blades launch. I zigzag through what remains of the standing trees. Metal blades fly through the air like arrows.

One blade nicks my cheek as it zips past my face. Another misses my side by a breath. I dive behind a thick trunk for cover. A series of thunks ring as the blades strike tree bark. Nausea rises in my throat as I climb over a pile of corpses. The rotting bodies shield me as more metal blades strike.

“Close him in!” a Welder yells.

My legs strain as I push. I dodge every blade that flies. But when one cuts through my thigh, I stumble forward. Nothing breaks my fall. Air rushes past me as I plummet headfirst into an empty cavern.

“Ah!” I grit my teeth, pressing my hands to the open wound. The metal boots of the Welders clank as they approach. Words of surrender choke in my throat.

Before I can speak, iron restraints wrap around my mouth. They bind my ankles and my wrists. The shortest of the Welders jumps into the cavern, inspecting my white streak.

“We got another.” The Welder grabs me by the hair, turning me from side to side. His square brows furrow when he pulls me into the moonlight. Recognition fills his dark brown eyes.

“Do you know who this is?” He turns to the others.

They shake their heads.

“Send word back to camp,” the Welder instructs. “We’ve found the fallen king.”

T HEY’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR ME.

I don’t know whether the realization should spike fear or relief. The Welders don’t speak as they carry me through the forest, following the worn trail back to their camp.

Chatter builds through the thinning trees. As we near the edge of the forest, I recognize our path—we head for the only military fortress on the outskirts of Lagos. I used to visit it all the time before magic came back.

Maybe this is a good thing , I try to reassure myself. This could be my chance. If some noble or fallen general has put a bounty on my head, that means they want me alive. It means I may be able to convince them of what’s to come.

As we reach the end of the trail, teams of Grounders work to bury their dead. A dark green glow spreads from their fingertips. They dig their hands into the earth, and grave plots erupt by the dozens. The fresh mounds ripple as they spread across the land.

I prepare to meet the fortress, but the military’s stronghold is no more. Piles of rubble cover the clearing. The tarnished snow leopanaire seal that hung over the entrance lies twisted in the dirt.

In the fortress’s place a new iron dome rises, only a fraction of the garrison that stood before. A team of t?tán Burners stands guard in front of the dome’s only gate. The blast marks and charred skeletons around them warn of what happens to any maji who attempts to get close.

At the sight of the Welders, the t?táns exchange nods. With a call, the gate slides up. The Welders are quick to enter the dome. I flinch as the gates slam shut behind us.

This is it? Though restrained, I do my best to take stock of what’s left.

A few dozen tents lie behind the dome’s walls, all that remains of the t?táns’ former forces.

A makeshift infirmary sits at the eastern edge of the camp.

Across the way, a large tent serves eba and stew to the line of t?táns who wait.

A small group spars in the center of the camp.

Blasts ring from other t?táns training behind the dome’s iron walls.

Most t?táns lie in their tents, taking the gift of sleep before the next battle commences.

As the Welders carry me through their army, all eyes fall to me. My presence quiets all conversation. Some t?táns stare in shock. Others look on with bitter contempt.

“—at last—”

“—I thought he was dead—”

“—he dares to show his face—”

Their voices ring inside my head as we go, making our way to the largest tent at the southern edge of the dome. Wide enough to house six people, the tent stands tall, surrounded by a line of golden armor.

The trio sets me down and takes position, each standing at attention. A crowd of t?táns gathers around us, eager to see what will happen next.

“General! We found him!” the head Welder calls.

My mind races as I try to think of who lies behind the tent’s walls. Last I remember, Lieutenant Okeke was next in line. The stout officer became a Tamer when magic returned. But Okeke resented my every command.

If he’s had his soldiers looking for me, it’s only to take my head.

My heart spikes as someone stirs. A rustle builds as the silhouette nears the entrance. I prepare to make my case, but all the words leave my mind when I see a familiar face.

Mother…

The former queen exits her tent with the aid of a staff. A bandage covers her right eye. More bandages wrap tight around her abdomen. The color’s drained from her soft copper complexion. Only ice fills her amber eyes.

The last time we were together, I tricked her into drinking her own sedatives. I knocked her out to dissolve Or?sha’s throne. I knew she’d never forgive me for moving against her.

When the Iyika attacked the palace, I was certain she died.

But now Mother bends down to meet me. The breath shrivels in my chest. The Welders back away as she finally speaks.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you now.”