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CHAPTER EIGHT

ZéLIE

B UT HOW ?

I close my eyes. I try to block everything out of my mind. I think of every weapon at my disposal. The edge I’ll need to attack. To kill.

When I first started training with Mama Agba, I was one of the smallest. My arms were weak. I could barely hold up a staff. But with her training, I managed to find a way.

If I push, I know I can fight today.

Baldyr motions to the maji on the floor with a hole in her chest, and the two Skulls grab the girl by the ankles. They drag her corpse across the marble floor with no regard. The door closes behind them, leaving me alone with Baldyr and the Silver Skull.

Something dark claws at my heart as I stare at the trail of blood that follows the maji’s retreat. The pain she must have felt.

How will her spirit ever sleep?

“How many of my people have you tossed in the sea?” The bite in my voice steadies me. My muscles begin to hum. I think of the way he’s treated my people. Every innocent soul ripped from our lands.

A curious smile spreads across Baldyr’s lips. He mutters something in his tongue and the Silver Skull chuckles. He nods his head toward me.

“Finally, one of you speaks.”

I watch as Baldyr settles in his chair. His ease spikes my fear. He grabs a chicken thigh and sucks off the meat. The entire time he keeps his stormy gaze on me.

I glance at the knife to his left. The Silver Skull still holds my arms tight. But I imagine the feel of the wooden hilt in my hands, the satisfaction of driving the blade straight through Baldyr’s forehead.

“Your people seem to like the sea.” The bloodmetal strapped to his palm glows as he continues to speak in my tongue. “On one of our first expeditions, every captive escaped. Instead of revolting, they walked into the sea in chains.”

His words hit me like shards of glass. The weight of every skeleton pulls me under the sea.

All those people…

Those maji were taken because of me.

“ Veikt fólk ,” the Silver Skull remarks. Even without a translation rune, I understand his words.

“It’s not weak to choose our waters over your chains.”

My anger pulls King Baldyr back to me. He gets so close, I inhale the scent of mead on his breath. He brushes my cheek with his dirt-stained nail, inspecting me again.

“Such rage,” he mutters. “More anger than fear.”

My eyes drift back to my staff. He follows my gaze to the wall of weapons.

“And a warrior.” Baldyr steps back. He studies me once more. “ Merle , I think you are the one I have been looking for.…”

Before I can strike, the Silver Skull grabs my shackled wrists.

He holds me tight against his muscular frame.

King Baldyr moves to the back room. He returns with an ornate chest, setting it down in front of the wood carving on the back wall.

A golden key hangs from Baldyr’s throat.

It glimmers in the candlelight as he nears.

“Years ago, my people were nothing.” Baldyr’s voice darkens.

A sharp hatred coats his tongue. “We were battle worn. Starving. Worse than the worms crawling out of the mud. But one day I heard a promise.” Baldyr takes in the man made of storm clouds as he reaches for the golden key around his neck.

“A promise that my people could be more than the mere mortals we were born as. A promise that we could become gods.”

I think of the Skull I impaled, the way the hammer fed on his blood. Though he was mighty to begin with, the crimson alloy magnified his strength. His entire being transformed.

“Then that’s what you think you are?” I challenge Baldyr. “Gods because of the weapons you wield?”

“It takes more than a weapon to be a god.”

My pulse spikes as the chest creaks opens. Whatever’s inside casts the king’s face in a warm glow. Baldyr steps back to reveal a trio of ancient medallions. Carved into different shapes, the bloodmetal is sculpted from antique gold.

“Our blood grants us strength, but it doesn’t come close to giving me the power I was promised. But your blood is different.” Baldyr glances back at me. “Your blood carries the power of the gods.”

Ashê. My eyes widen as I realize what he seeks. The divine power of the gods that runs through our blood. The reason maji can do magic at all.

Baldyr removes one of the medallions, and it shines in his palm. Even from a distance, I can feel the golden metal buzz. My eyes trail over the same triple arrowhead I saw in the compass of the Silver Skull.

“Legend says there is one of your kind who carries the blood of the sun.”

Thunder rumbles outside the captain’s quarters, and my throat dries.

These men aren’t just searching for maji, Zélie. Inan’s words return. They’re searching for you.

“If someone like that existed, she would never fight for you,” I declare.

Baldyr steps closer. Hunger drips from his form like sweat.

“I don’t need her to fight.” His eyes comb down to my chest. “I need her heart.”