However, fear of his sister’s anger was not the only thing that held Malik’s tongue. Discussing the raid would mean recalling the rain-sweet smell of Karina’s hair and the softness of her skin beneath his fingers. It would mean wondering why he’d faltered when she’d turned her back to him, even though striking her down should have been the easiest decision of his life.

Even now, the memory burned with shame and disgust. These were bad thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. He’d hesitated because any rational person would hesitate before killing another human being. That was all there was to it.

Tunde met Leila’s standoffishness with a winsome smile. “You two were the lucky ones, then. Being forced to learn the balafon is a specific kind of torture I would never wish on even my worst enemy.” He picked up an ornamental headdress clearly meant for some kind of dancer. “Adil, dance with this on and use the bag to receive coins from your adoring fans. They’ll never see that coming.”

Leila’s scowl deepened. “Forgive my rudeness, but I don’t understand why you’re going so far out of your way to help my brother.”

Malik had been wondering the same thing. Tunde had been unusually helpful, even teaching him the layouts of each of the main temples in case they had a challenge there. However, rich people never did anything unless they had something to gain from it. Tunde put down the headdress, a thoughtful look on his face.

“As I told Adil last night, given my history with our darling princess and genuine apathy toward ruling, I have no desire to win Solstasia. However, the only person I want to see win less than myself is Driss, who unfortunately has the best chance of doing so.”

For the first time since Malik had known him, the smile slid off Tunde’s face.

“Driss’s family believes that the only true Zirani are those who can trace their lineage back to the time of Bahia Alahari, like theirs. I was born and raised in Ziran, but because my parents immigrated from the Eastwater savanna, as far as Driss is concerned, someone of my background doesn’t belong here, and I never will. Having a bigot like him on the throne . . . no way. I’m going to do whatever I can to keep that from happening.”

Malik obviously knew the plight of non-Zirani living within the Zirani Territories, but he had never considered what life was like for Zirani of foreign descent. It was the last place he’d expected to find common ground with anyone in this city, and when the Water Champion looked up again, there was a new understanding between them.

Tunde held Malik’s gaze as he said, “I don’t think Dedele is going to be here much longer after the stunt she pulled this morning, and the Great Mother knows the only thing Khalil is good for is kissing his own ass. Besides, Adanko chose you out of every person in Ziran. If you’re our best chance at keeping Driss away from the throne, then so be it.” A solemn silence passed, then Tunde’s usual smile returned. “Also, Driss is just kind of a jerk, and I think it’ll be hilarious to watch him lose.”

Heat rose in Malik’s chest. Him . . . as the next King of Ziran? He could never be anyone’s king, much less Ziran’s.

A sharp pain jolted through his core—Great Mother help him, those weren’t his emotions he was feeling, but a very real, very painful heat. The Mark had circled itself over his heart and was growing warmer, a firebrand embedded into his flesh.

“Are you all right?” asked Tunde, lowering the chamber pot in his hands. Leila took a concerned step forward, and Malik forced his face into the calmest expression he could muster through the pain.

“I’ll be back. I just need to . . . I’ll be back.”

Malik all but ran into the Azure Garden, and he didn’t stop running until he had reached the small temple at the back of the riad. In the center of the circular space was a massive altar bearing an idol of the Great Mother, her face veiled and head covered in a wreath of living white butterflies. Malik raced up the rickety staircase leading to the seven prayer rooms on the second floor, and Malik locked himself inside the one meant for Adanko. This was the only place he was certain he would not be spied on; no one would interfere with a Champion while they were praying to their god.

Splotches of color danced in Malik’s eyes as the Mark expanded, the inky lines spreading out from his chest. He tried to scream, but the tattoo had reached his mouth, cutting off all sound. His last thoughts were of Nadia as he squeezed his eyes shut and let the Mark swallow him whole.

It was nighttime when Malik opened them again. Or perhaps it was always nighttime in the desolate realm Idir called home, for this was where Malik now found himself. The Mark returned to its normal size and scurried under the hem of his tunic as Idir loomed in his human form.

“Solstasia afeshiya, Life Champion Adil.” The obosom circled him, hands clasped behind his back. “Though I must say, this new name is not as impressive as your old one.”

Malik forced himself to his knees, his head swimming as he instinctively moved to cover his body in case Idir tried to attack him. The land around them was so barren that he could see for miles in every direction; Nadia was nowhere to be found. Malik’s heart dropped down through his stomach.

“Where is Nadia?”

“Your sister remains unharmed. For now. Though I have upheld my end of our agreement, it seems you are having difficulty upholding yours.” Idir snorted at the shocked look on Malik’s face. “Oh yes, I know all about your moment with Princess Karina during the raid. For what it’s worth, I’ve found that bonding with your target before an assassination rarely makes the task any easier.”

“I didn’t realize who she was.” The words sounded pathetic even to Malik. “If I had known, I would have done it.”

“Then why didn’t you kill the girl when you did know?” Idir’s tone was equal parts amused and condescending, which only unsettled Malik further.

“There were too many people around. I wouldn’t have gotten away with it.”

Malik’s hand twitched toward the band on his wrist as Idir continued to circle him. There was something predatory about the obosom’s movements, as if no matter what form he took, his body never forgot its serpentine origins.

“There is a wisdom in understanding your own limits, boy,” said the spirit. “If you would like to save everybody a lot of trouble and forfeit the task now—”

“If you want the princess dead so badly, why don’t you do it yourself?” Malik snapped, immediately regretting it. It wasn’t like him to lash out at anyone, much less somebody with this much power to harm his loved ones.

Idir’s eyes darkened. “Three days as a Champion, and you’re talking to me like I’m one of your little playmates.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I—why does the princess have to die at all?” Malik wasn’t sure if Idir could be reasoned with, but he had to try. “Killing Bahia Alahari’s descendants won’t restore your river to the way it was before.”

“You think I’m doing this because . . .” Idir threw back his head and laughed. “Stupid boy, I hate Bahia Alahari for a plethora of reasons, but diverting the Gonyama River is not one of them.”

Malik bit the inside of his cheek. If reasoning with Idir wasn’t going to work, then maybe he could force him to let Nadia go. There had to be an illusion scary enough to cow even a spirit.

“I understand that nothing I say could change your mind,” began Malik, his magic stirring in his chest. “It’s just there are such worse things out there to contend with, monsters that would worry even you.”

In his mind’s eye, Malik imagined a hellish creature as fierce as a lion and strong as a rhino, powerful enough to face Idir head-on. The illusion came to life with a low growl, all gnashing teeth and bloodstained claws straight from a nightmare, and bellowed in the obosom’s face so hard the world shook. But Idir just snarled back.

“Really? You dare insult me with your paltry, infantile excuse for magic?”

The obosom twisted his hand, and Malik’s magic spiraled inward, bubbling and hissing as it drowned him from the inside out. He clawed uselessly at his throat, gasping for air that wasn’t there.

“I help you regain your magic, and you dare to use it against me!” screamed Idir, and Malik’s vision turned dark. “You humans are always the same ungrateful little beasts!”

All at once, Malik’s magic returned to stasis, and he fell to his knees gasping. Years of beatings froze him in place. As a child, Papa’s silence after a tirade often meant something worse was about to come.

“Would you like to see your sister?” asked the spirit, his voice unnervingly calm.

Malik was too scared to speak. Idir waved a hand, and shadows coalesced in the space between them. When they pulled away, Nadia stood there in the flesh, eyes wide with shock.

“Malik?”

The world might have fallen to pieces then and Malik would not have noticed. In seconds he was on his feet, arms stretched toward his baby sister. Just as he reached her, her body lurched into the air with a scream, and the shadows deposited her into Idir’s waiting hands.

“No!” she screamed, fighting against the obosom uselessly. “Get away from me!”