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CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

ZéLIE

S EA AIR WHIPS THROUGH my white braids. The crescent moon glows above. We fly through choppy waters, riding one of the New Gaīans’ videiras.

Two vineweavers work the shifting vessel we sail across the sea.

One weaves the dark vines into sails of different sizes, while another works to shape the craft we ride.

Her brows knit in concentration as she plays the vines like the keys of a balafon.

One moment, the videira’s hull expands to face a mighty wave.

The next, it narrows, allowing us to pick up speed.

I press my hand to the medallion as we race across the seas.

This is it. I ready myself for what it will take to end this. The secrets Yéva shared with me on the mountaintop return, rumbling inside me like the stone we stood on.

I see the destruction of Or?sha. I count the skeletons of all my obliterated people. King Baldyr will be there tonight.

This might be the only chance I have to end our war.

You must fight. Yéva’s ancient voice rings in my ears. You must take the power he seeks to harvest from your soul and use it yourself!

I look to the bow of the ship, where Jorah stands with Koa and five other Laminas. The emperor’s wide arms are crossed over his chest. Jorah promised me he would bring his best.

Each warrior is built like an ox. They wait, unfazed by the mission they sail into. They follow their emperor with no hesitation. Their conviction makes me want to believe there is nothing to fear.

But the veins of the medallion buzz in my chest. Yéva didn’t mince her words. I can’t rely on the others.

King Baldyr’s defeat is up to me.

I close my eyes and try to summon the sound of thunder between my ears. Only silence answers my call. I attempt to draw forth the golden lightning that broke free in the town circle, but nothing comes out.

Though I’ve practiced, I’ve yet to summon my power without Yéva’s touch. A wave of panic rises inside.

If I could just use an incantation…

I look up at the crescent moon. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to feel my old magic again. All of this would be so much different if I had the power of my animations, the ability to raise spirits of the dead.

When my magic first returned, animations were the Reaper incantation I mastered. The spirits of the dead always answered my call.

Now I struggle to use any power at all.

“Zélie.” Emperor Jorah calls me by name. I turn away from the waters to face him. It’s strange to see him out of the imperial palace. Free of his golden mantle, the emperor is stripped of all but his black pants.

Jorah extends me my staff. I wrap my fingers around the crossed blades. The weapon grants me comfort, but I know it won’t be enough to take King Baldyr down.

“Do not worry.” Jorah seems to read my mind. “You are only here to confirm the identity of their king. You will stay behind me.”

I arch my brow. Or?shan floats from his lips with surprising precision.

“You’ve learned our tongue?” I ask.

“Would you let foreigners into your kingdom without understanding their words?”

“My kingdom?” I almost laugh. “I don’t think you understand. The boy who delivered the maps— he is the closest thing to a king our nation has.”

“A king without a crown or an army?” Jorah tilts his head. “I know what I see. You are the one who leads.”

I look back out over the waters and think of Or?sha, remembering all the different people who used to mill through the village of Ilorin. For the first time, the fight I must wage is not only about the maji.

I see the t?táns with their white streaks. The black-haired kosidán I always used to resent. Even the very soldiers who hunted me for years are the people I now must find the strength to defend.

“After tonight, you will be able to return victorious.” Jorah stands firm. “Your people will be proud.”

I want to believe his words. But the closer we sail to the trading port, the more something gnaws at my core.

“What if it’s not enough?” I dare to speak my fears. “What if we should be launching a greater attack?”

“Point out their king.” Jorah bends down, allowing me to see the fervor in his pale green gaze. “I assure you—I will bring you back his golden skull.”

W HEN WE FINALLY ARRIVE at the chain of islands, my chest turns cold. It’s as if the ship we sank in the seas has been resurrected from the dead. A new monster sprouting multiple heads.

Seven vessels sit in the small island’s bay. Their crimson banners wave through the night. More Skulls than I’ve ever seen travel along the decks, unloading their ships.

Warriors just like the ones who tormented us walk the rocky shores. They mill through bonfires and shoddy tents. My skin crawls at the sight of their bronze masks.

Being forced to face the enemy again, I see red. I taste the blood they spilled. My majacite crown prickles against my temple, reminding me of all the ways I suffered on their ship.

Use it. I clutch my staff. Yéva’s words rattle within me once more. I reach for the rage Oya granted me on the ship. I remember every one of the maji who didn’t get to escape. I think of every single one of my people tossed into the seas. The way the Skulls watched us starve and bleed.

A heavy hand comes down over my own. My fingers crackle at Jorah’s touch.

“ Do not fear ,” he speaks in his tongue. “ This ends here .”

Half the night burns as we wait for King Baldyr to dock. Without his presence, his men run rampant. They treat the island like their own isle of sins. They gamble. They feast. They drink.

The Skulls get so inebriated most can barely stand. I wring the neck of my staff. Just as I start to worry Inan’s information was wrong, a loud horn rings out.

HA-WOOOOOO!

The familiar sound twists my stomach into knots. The last time I heard that horn, it was ringing to alert the Skulls of our escape.

I rise to my feet, joining the men at the bow of the ship. The metal in my chest vibrates.

I feel King Baldyr before I see his face.

He sails in on a ship triple the size of the others. Hundreds of colored shields glisten along the ship’s sides, making it look like the scales of a magnificent ryder. The ship’s many sails flicker in gold, decorated with images of Baldyr’s golden mask.

Jorah’s lips part at the fortress that floats in the ocean.

The mighty vessel moves through the water like one of the Skulls’ axes, cutting through the very seas.

Its multiple levels burn with the torchlights of an army.

A carving of a man made of thunderclouds serves as the ship’s figurehead, sculpted out of their crimson bloodmetal.

At the arrival of their king, the Skulls on the beach end their debauchery. Men who were passed out in the sands now stand at attention. Others stumble out from their tents. Everyone rushes to re-don their masks.

When Baldyr’s ship docks, a creaking drawbridge falls into the sand.

Every Skull takes a knee as King Baldyr appears.

You.

King Baldyr stands at the head of the drawbridge, bare chested and head raised. His presence is like a whip cracking through the air. He commands power over his men with a simple look.

As he walks, the majacite crown burns through my skin. The scent of mead fills my nostrils. Suddenly, I’m locked back in the Silver Skull’s quarters, fighting to get away from him.

“That’s him,” I say.

“You are sure?” Jorah asks. “Even with the mask?”

I can’t explain that I will never be able to forget the shift of Baldyr’s gait. The slant of the black runes carved into his fair skin.

“I’m sure.” I nod.

King Baldyr makes his way down the ramp. His heavy boots thunder with every step. Blood drips from his large hands. I pray it’s not the blood of any captured maji.

Baldyr convenes with a few Skulls on the sands, exchanging words we can’t hear. With a torch, he moves into the forest. His torchlight disappears down a dirt trail, heading for a cave on the far side of the island.

Jorah pulls a black mask over his head, and gathers his best men.

I brace myself as he gives the final command.

“Move in.”