He frowned and nodded and walked out of the room. She couldn’t understand him. He walked and talked like a king. He knew what he was and who he was. She lay back in the bed, and as she closed her eyes, she could remember glimpses of the night before. The feel of his breath on her face when he cleaned the blood from her wound with water and herbs. Falling and thinking she’d hit the ground but landing in his arms, comforted by the solid build that held her up. She remembered the odd feeling of safety as he held herclose and sang to her, stroking her hair. That was when she’d drifted off. He’d sung to her.What was his problem?Her frown deepened, and she lifted her gaze when a servant entered the room. Before the girl could speak, Milúà shouted, ‘Get out! I can clean myself.’
Milúà slumped in the bed and covered her face with her palms. Frustration made her head boil. She shouldn’t be here. This hunt would have been over days ago if Ìyá-Ayé hadn’t sent a message demanding that the Lord Regent wanted L’?r? alive. She’d spent so much time tracking them, finding them and losing them because she couldn’t just burn them all to ash. Her mission had been a failure from the start. She should never have taken her eyes off Alawani. It was her fault he escaped the temple.
Images of Command flashed in her mind, and she remembered every word the woman had said. She’d implied that Àdùnní knew L’?r?’s mother. She’d implied that there was more to the girl from Òtútù than Milúà knew. Milúà didn’t care about L’?r? other than the fact that she ruined her life. And it vexed her that she was no longer allowed to kill her. People had died for less by her own hands.
Milúà rubbed at her eyes. For many centuries descendants of late kings and queens moved to the sixth ring to join the army and so with so much agbára concentrated in a single place, every time she used her true sight, she was flooded with an influx of light that nearly blinded her. Still, she knew, she could feel it in her guts. They were close. They had to be.
Just before dawn, she walked out of the fortress to meet the Lord General, Captain Méjìlá and Tofa standing together.
Turning to look at her, Tofa said, ‘Milúà will lead us to them. If they are in this city, we’ll find them.’
The Lord General growled at the sound of her name and stepped towards her. ‘Touch her and feel the burn of thesun,’ Tofa growled back, placing himself between her and the Lord General.
Milúà didn’t need him fighting for her. Did he forget she was a maiden of the Holy Order? She was the weapon used to cut down enemies, not a damsel in distress. As she glared at him, she noticed for the first time how handsome the crown heir was. He stood tall in his armour. He had five chunky braids with the sides faded off in a trim cut. His face was chiselled like the gods had created their chosen one. But ultimately, too thin for a king, she thought. She’d considered him much too meek, but now she was impressed by the raw venom that laced his threat. She wanted that kind of power. She needed it.
The Lord General spat on the floor near her feet and walked away. ‘Let’s just get this over with.’
Milúà was lost in thought, staring at Tofa, and didn’t notice the group staring back at her.
Captain Méjìlá’s voice pulled her back, ‘Maiden, allow me to introduce you to my ward, Rmí,’ he said, slamming a heavy slap into the man’s back, smiling with pride. ‘He will join the hunt.’
Milúà eyed the man she hadn’t even noticed before. He stood next to Captain Méjìlá wincing at the strike. Something about how Rmí inched away from the man reminded her of herself when she stood next to Ìyá-Ayé. Rmí bowed to her and his locs fell to frame his face. She nodded to him and looked away. She needed no reminders of her mother today.
‘What’s your plan, Milúà?’ Tofa asked, and the group gathered in closer.
‘We’re not leaving this keep,’ Milúà said, moving a few steps away from him and pointing at the large stretch of building before them, the ends of which faded into the horizon on account of how long it was. On the map of Oru the LordGeneral’s keep was marked as a long half-crescent line in the middle of the sixth ring. ‘This is the last line of defence when leaving the kingdom. This is where we wait for them. Every inch of this building is crawling with soldiers, and with us here, they are not getting past. If they manage to do that, the graveyard will do what it’s been made for. I imagine that your archers are poised on the last wall ready to strike as usual?’ Milúà said to the Lord General, who grunted a nod. ‘Good. Have the guards here on alert. We’re looking for the prince Àlùfáà and L’?r?. She’s about my height, and her tribal marks are three lines for Ìlú-Ìm. Last I saw her, she was wearing a clay-red ensemble. The prince Àlùfáà has the royal seal inked into his arm. They’re armed and dangerous.’
Milúà clenched her jaw, fighting the pain as she awakened her true sight. The light burned her, but she kept it on, trying to sort through the tangle of threads to find the brightest. Her eyes stung, and she squinted, forcing herself to keep them open.
‘What is she doing now?’ she heard the Lord General ask.
She walked away from the group. Back at Ìlú-Idán – the fourth ring – the witch’s powers had blocked them from her sight. But once they were out of the woman’s house, she’d quickly found them. But now, the flood of threads and light was nearly unbearable for her. Oddly, back at the fifth ring, the light of L’?r?’s agbára core thread was brighter than any she’d ever seen before. Even brighter than the crown heir’s. It felt like she was looking at strands of pure sunlight floating around – just as it did now.
Milúà closed her eyes, exhaled and slowly opened them again. She was trying to follow a star amongst a sea of them. She could see the brightest one – the one she knew had to be L’?r?’s. But like yarn when jumbled together, the core threads of everyone else around her crisscrossed over each other,distorting her true sight. Milúà still wasn’t sure why L’?r?’s core looked like everyone else’s – albeit remarkably brighter and stronger. She’d seen the girl’s evil magic. It wasn’t anything like agbára oru so why did her core look like others’?
Tofa joined her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She glared at it, and he slid it off. ‘We need to get into position on the roof if we want to see them coming this way,’ he said, avoiding her gaze.
A soldier came running to the group nearly out of breath by the time he reached them.
He greeted the crown heir first by prostrating flat on the floor, shining the light of his agbára at Tofa’s feet. Then he stood and saluted Captain Méjìlá and the Lord General. It was clear by the look on his face that he had no idea how to greet a maiden.
‘Speak, boy,’ the Lord General said. ‘What is it?’
‘Scouts from the outpost, sir; they said there’s a sandstorm on the horizon. Coming in quick.’
The men’s eyes widened.
‘Tell the men on the last wall to get inside. I want no one on the battlements,’ the Lord General said, then turned to captain Méjìlá. ‘Let the squad know we’re relocating to the inner gate keep.’
‘No!’ Milúà shouted. ‘We have a plan. We just discussed this.’
‘Damn your plans, girl,’ the Lord General said. ‘I know these storms don’t break through the magic barrier for the inner rings so you have no idea what it means to have your home flung into the wind with you in it, but out here, we don’t play silly games when the gods are angry.’ He turned to the soldier who brought the news. ‘Go now!’
‘Will you not stop this?’ Milúà said to Tofa.
‘The crown heir has lived here among us for many blood moons,’ the Lord General scowled. ‘He knows what itmeans to be caught in these storms. Look at my keep,’ he said, pointing at the large building. ‘See how it’s chipped and broken in different sections. The storms did that. With every hit, I lose more and more of my men and my home. I’m not risking any more life for this. And there’s no way anyone survives the storm coming. If they try to escape, the sands will strip them to their bones.’
Milúà could see his core stirring – she could tell from how their colours changed and blended exactly what the person was planning to do. She ignited her agbára.
