Page 48 of Children of Blood and Bone

I turn to mount Nailah, positive I’ve given Amari enough time. But when I glance over, her bare back is still exposed.

“Oh my gods…”

My heart lurches as I take in the gruesome scar carved along Amari’s spine. The mark ripples across her skin, so ghastly it makes my own skin tingle with pain.

“What?”

Tzain turns just before Amari whips around, sucking in his breath at the mark. Even the scars lining Baba’s back don’t look half as hideous as hers.

“How dare you!” Amari scrambles to cover herself with the cloak.

“I wasn’t trying to peek,” I say quickly. “I promise, but—gods, Amari. What happened?”

“Nothing. A-an accident when my brother and I were young.”

Tzain’s jaw drops. “Your brother did that to you?”

“No! Not on purpose. It wasn’t… he didn’t—” Amari pauses, trembling with an emotion I can’t place. “You wanted my dress, you have it. Let us trade and be on with it!”

She holds her cloak close and mounts Nailah, keeping her face hidden. With nothing more we can say, Tzain and I have no choice but to follow suit.

He mumbles an apology before urging Nailah ahead. I try to apologize as well, but the words stall when I look at her cloaked back.

Gods.

I don’t want to imagine what other scars hide along her skin.

***

THE WEATHER WARMSas we reach the forest clearing that marks the settlement of Sokoto. Kosidán children run along the bank of the crystal clear lake, squealing with delight when one young girl falls in. Travelers set up camp between the trees and muddy patches; merchant carts and wagons line up their wares along the rocky shore. One cart’saroma of spiced antelopentai meat envelops me, making my stomach rumble.

I was always told that before the Raid, Sokoto was home to the best Healers. People traveled from all over Orïsha, hoping to be cured by the magic of their touch. As I survey the travelers, I try to imagine what that might look like. If Baba were still with us, he might’ve liked this. A moment of refuge after losing our home.

“So peaceful,” Amari breathes, clutching her cloak as we slide off Nailah.

“You’ve never been here before?” Tzain asks.

She shakes her head. “I barely left the palace.”

Though crisp air fills my lungs as we walk, the sight reawakens the memory of burning flesh. In the lake I see the calm waves of the floating market back home, the coconut boat I should be in as I fight with Kana for a hand of plantain. But like Ilorin, the market’s gone, all burnt at the bottom of the sea. The memories sit among the charred lumber.

Another piece of me taken by the monarchy.

“You two trade the dress,” Tzain says. “I’ll take Nailah to get a drink. See if you can find a few canteens.”

I chafe at the prospect of trading with Amari, but I know she won’t leave my side until she gets new clothes. We part ways with Tzain, traveling through the campsites toward the row of merchant carts.

“You can relax.” I arch my eyebrow. Amari flinches whenever someone so much as looks her way. “They don’t know who you are, and no one cares about your cloak.”

“I know that.” Amari speaks quickly, but her stance softens. “I’ve just never been around people like this.”

“How terrifying. Orïshans who exist to do more than serve you.”

Amari inhales sharply but swallows any retort. I almost feel bad. Where’s the fun if she doesn’t fight back?

“Skies, look at that!” Amari slows as we pass a couple setting up their tent. The man uses vines to bind dozens of long, thin branches into a cone while his partner creates a protective layer by piling on moss. “Can people really sleep in those?”

Part of me itches to ignore her, but she stares at the simple tent as if it’s made of gold. “We used to build those all the time when I was young. Do it right and it’ll even keep out snow.”

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