The Sun Temple, Royal Island, Kingdom of Oru
ALAWANI
Alawani had held on with all his will to the only two things he inherited from his father – his name and agbára. Now, in one move of surrender, he’d given to the Red Stone all he had. He felt weak and untethered and terrified of the future he’d committed his life to.
He gazed over the balcony overlooking the maze that surrounded the Sun Temple and scanned the courtyard for his maiden. The sun was already high in the sky and … was it always this hot? The scorching heat made him sway on his feet, gasping for breath. Like everyone in the kingdom, his core had been constantly working to cool the effects of Oru’s fiery sun on their skin. Taking out the heat from the air around him was one of the first things he had learned to do as a child. It was a basic survival skill. He wasn’t sure whether it was fear, panic or pain, but one of these kept him from trying to use his agbára after this near-death experience on the Red Stone the night before.
Milúà’s face had been the first thing he saw as he pulled himself out of oblivion that morning. He thought he must be dead, but the warmth of her hands and the strong scent of jasmine lingering around her convinced him that hehadn’t gone to meet his father. She’d given him more of that bitter liquid he’d drunk before the stripping ceremony. It was the worst thing he’d ever tasted in his life. And he’d eaten everything from sand to chalk. Yet somehow, that horrible liquid had cleared his vision and given him enough strength to walk. Now, he needed more. He needed sleep. He needed L’?r?.
He’d done his best not to think about his best friend. She’d never forgive him, and she’d be right not to. He shook his head as if to shake thoughts of her, but it was too late; he’d cracked open the door, and his mind was flooded. He slammed his palm against his forehead.Oh gods, she actually got the tattoo. He’d so wanted to be there with her, to hold her hand as she flinched from every needle strike as he knew she would, and to watch as she flinched on his behalf while he got his. But the Order came for him sooner than he’d expected. He remembered designing the tattoo. Two suns intertwining with each other, beautiful on the paper when he’d sketched it out for her. Bloody and smeared when he saw it across her back.
Alawani didn’t know when he would next see L’?r? again, but still, he practised what he might say to her; how he’d start his apology, begging her forgiveness.I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for accepting the call.Nothing was good enough. Words wouldn’t fix this. He hated himself for so many things he’d done in the past couple of days, but most of all, the blood oath. As they swore loyalty to each other he’d already gotten his call and had known that he’d accept. He’d always known that he’d accept it, which was why he’d prayed that the call would never come. But it did, and he had no choice. He hoped she’d understand. She might. She had to. She wouldn’t. His fingers moved to his lips, and he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Now he had Milúà … and his grandfather, Àlùfáà-Àgbà, the once great regent of the kingdom. A man whom Alawani had spent most of his life avoiding, hoping that he’d forget about him. The old man had not. Alawani remembered the look on his face as he’d chased Milúà away that morning and sat next to his bed, and he knew his grandfather had been waiting for him from the moment he left the Red Stone. He shook his head, forcing out the thoughts, the words, anything and everything the man had whispered into his mind.
‘What are you doing here?’ a voice cut through his thoughts, and Alawani turned to find Milúà standing behind him.
He leaned over the balcony again, forcing air into his lungs. ‘Waiting for more of that horrible drink.’
Milúà sighed as she pulled out the gourd, offered him the drink and returned it to its hiding place beneath her dress. ‘If you must die, at least do it on the Red Stone. Not here. I don’t need any more damage to my reputation.’
She adjusted her skirt angrily and a long metal key fell to the ground. She quickly picked it up and tucked it inside her cleavage.
The look on her face told Alawani that he’d better pretend nothing had happened and not question her about it. She didn’t seem moved by the frown on his face either. ‘You should be in the lecture hall, or is it over?’ she said, changing the subject.
Alawani sighed. ‘You don’t know how it feels to have the very core of your soul, the thing that burns in your heart dulled into a coldness that leaves your bones aching. It’s ridiculous to ask us to sit in a hall and listen to lectures. They’re lucky any of us are alive.’
Milúà turned on him. ‘Everyone in this temple knows exactly what it feels like to have the life sucked out of them.Everyone from the priests to the maidens to the servants and scholars. Even those apprentices from Ìlú-Idán waiting in that hall are not just teaching you the old tongue; they’ve given their blood to the temple, bleeding just so that you can have the privilege of learning the tongue and the magic of the old gods. Besides, when you give up your agbára to the Red Stone, should you survive, how will you protect yourself without learning the old tongue?’
‘I know it’s important, I’m just – this isn’t the time to learn anything. I can’t think. I can hardly stand,’ he said. ‘Anyway, isn’t that what you’re here for? To protect your Àlùfáà?’
‘Within these walls, you’re not the ?m?’ba. There are no princes or princesses in this temple. So whatever privilege you had in your palace doesn’t extend to these grounds,’ Milúà seethed.
‘Maybe not, but you’re still mine to command?’ Alawani said before realizing he’d said the wrong thing. Her face contorted the same way a cat’s face would when its tail had been stepped on.
She moved in closer to him, her eyes filled with rage. ‘You can go back to the training on your own, or I can drag you by your hair. Your choice.’
‘I’d like to see you try,’ he said. He should’ve known better than to taunt a temple maiden. On his best day, even with all of his agbára flowing through his veins, he was unlikely to win a fight with her. Unlike the selection of the Àlùfáà, decided by the gods through the priests, no one knew how or why a maiden was chosen – but he’d yet to meet one without incredible agbára.
Milúà’s lips curled into a snarl, and Alawani glanced at the faint glow in her hands, which had formed fists by her side. He took a step back and raised his palms in the air to show surrender. ‘I don’t want to fight you. I just don’t want to goback there. Every single part of my body feels like it’s breaking and tearing away from the inside.’
She looked at him for a moment, then said, ‘You really don’t understand, do you? Do you think this is about you? This is how it has always been done. This is the path to proving that you’re not here because your grandfather wills it but because you are Àlùfáà!’ She smacked his shoulder, and he did his best to hide the pain that still jolted inside him like a spark every time he breathed.
‘You have no idea what I’ve given up to be here. I know how important it is, and I promise you nothing the priest is saying in there about the old gods is going to help me survive the final two stripping rituals on the Red Stone.’
Milúà went quiet and Alawani turned back to watch the horizon, feeling her glare on him. Even though she wasn’t yet officially bound to him and hadn’t said her vows of allegiance, she was still expected to be as close to him as his own shadow. He glanced at her tribal marks – one dash on each side of her temple. She was born in the Ìlú-?ba – the capital city. Her name was interesting. Adémilúà, the one whose birth shook the kingdom. Names were promises or prophecies, and unless the earth tore in half the day she was born, whoever named her had given her a tough one to live up to.
Like everyone else, he’d also heard rumours about the mysterious temple maidens. Her parents had probably offered her as a gift to the gods, or maybe she was an orphan that, by the stroke of luck or ill fate, wandered into the wrong house and got churned out as a maiden of the Sun Temple. Maidens who could never bear children. A law that, if broken, meant death for mother and child, but there had been no need for that since the Order found a way to make them barren.
From the end of the hallway, they both turned at the sound of footsteps approaching them. Milúà leaned into him, pulledout the key from her cleavage and tucked it firmly into the back pocket of his trousers. ‘Hide this,’ she whispered, looking into his eyes, and for the first time, Alawani didn’t see the fierce maiden whose words were always laced with anger. He saw a young girl, her black eyes wide with fear.
He held one hand behind his back, holding the key in place, and waited patiently until the High Priestess stopped before them.
Milúà fell to her knees quicker than he had seen anyone kneel before. ‘High Priestess À?á.’
High Priestess À?á’s gaze moved slowly to Alawani. Her eyebrows shot up in a wide arch, and even though she didn’t speak, he felt the force of her presence. Her dark eyes sent shivers down Alawani’s spine, and for some reason, he was sure she saw right through him to the key behind his back. Alawani noticed that the High Priestess had an intricate tattoo around her temples, obscuring her tribal marks – instead, black flames stretched from her eyes to her hairline. Alawani couldn’t tell where she’d been born. People only covered their tribal marks when they wanted to sever the connection they had with their hometown.
The High Priestess was the temple maiden bound to the Lord Regent and ruled alongside him. Everything about her presence displayed her position and authority, not just in the temple but in the kingdom. She wore a gold lace gown with a crown at least three inches high, a delicate design of suns and stars shooting for the skies. Thick layers of gold necklaces set with rubies adorned her neck, and huge gold bracelets covered her forearms. Her hair was pulled back in a tight beaded bun that lifted the corners of her oval face, accentuating her high cheekbones. Her skin glistened in the sun, shimmering as though she bathed in gold dust. One thing stood out among these details: a string of cowriessnaked along her legs from her ankles all the way up, peeking through the high slit in her gown, displaying the souls that had died by her hand. Behind her were six maidens of the Order dressed in blood-red attires identical to her. They looked right through him as though he wasn’t there.
