Kingdom of Souls. Rena Barron
going to do it, do it for a better reason. Do it because you have no other choice.
It isn’t fair to judge the charlatans, but when I look at them, I see my own reflection. I see a yearning to belong. I see my desire to protect myself when the demon comes after me – for it will. I have no doubts about that now. Grandmother’s vision had been a warning for me.
Rudjek frowns. ‘I don’t need trinkets made from chicken bones.’
The charlatan sweeps his arms wide, rattling the bones. ‘Trinkets? These are genuine charms.’
‘Which tribe are they from?’ Rudjek arches one eyebrow at the tiny bones strung together.
‘Tribe Kes,’ the man says with a lazy wave. ‘Only the best bone charms from them.’
Rudjek rubs his chin. ‘Aren’t the Aatiri the bone charmers?’
The man grimaces, his expression so exaggerated that he belongs on a stage. ‘Where did you hear such lies?’
‘He heard such truths from me,’ I say, stepping forward.
Rudjek greets me in the way of the Aatiri, touching his forehead and flourishing a little bow. His cheeks flush and he’s grinning like a fool again. I can’t stop myself from blushing too. I try not to stare into his obsidian eyes or at his lips that look as soft as velvet, or his broad shoulders. Instead, I make the mistake of shifting my attention to the smooth brown skin visible between the slit in his elara. I catch a glimpse of the curve of his throat, his collarbone, and a pang of warmth spreads to my belly. So much for less conspicuous places.
‘She’s the expert on all things tribal.’ Rudjek nods at me, his deep voice rings in my ears.
‘Waiting for someone?’
‘You, of course,’ he utters under his breath.
‘And who are you …’ The charlatan cuts off mid-question when his eyes land on me.
He looks decades older and his hair is whiter since I last saw him at market, months before the blood moon. ‘Many blessings, young priestess.’ He bows, glancing to the ground. He must see my mother in my features. Most people do. The amber eyes, the high set of my cheekbones, the proud nose.
‘I meant no disrespect. May I offer a silver coin to the Temple to show my penance?’
I shift from heel to heel, looking everywhere but the charlatan’s face. He makes a show of digging in his pocket and his hand trembles so much that he almost drops the coin. Some of the other charlatans watch with curiosity. What do they expect me to do? I’m not my mother, nor will I ever be like her.
‘Please don’t curse another one,’ Rudjek begs me. ‘Not after what happened to the last one who crossed you.’
My lips purse in protest, but as much as I cringe in embarrassment, the charlatan looks equally distressed. People always believe Rudjek when he lies about my purported magic, even if I’ve never shown a drop of talent.
Before they realize who I am, strangers don’t give me a second glance. I’m only another person in the market to swindle out of a few copper coins, or a silver one if I’m foolish enough. When they find out who I am – who she is – people look at me with a mix of horror, admiration, and longing. A little envy too. Like the charlatan staring at me right now. It’s the same way I gazed upon the witchdoctors at the Blood Moon Festival, and for a moment I pretend it’s true. I pretend that magic will obey my every whim. And the first thing I’ll make it do is shove a rag in Rudjek’s big mouth.
I glare at him as he pulls me away. A shock of warmth flows between our hands and crawls up my arm. His hand’s much larger than mine, his skin callused from handling shotels in his father’s arena. My heart flaps like a skyward bird. Rudjek looks down at our interlocked fingers and blushes again as he lets go. We’re both doing an awful lot of that lately.
I huff a frustrated breath. ‘I wish people wouldn’t act like I’m her.’
‘Your mother inspires a special kind of terror,’ Rudjek says. ‘She and my father both.’
What Tam said about Fram, the orisha of life and death, comes back to mind. They saw life and death as different sides of the same coin. Our parents could be described that way. Both ruthless in their own right. No wonder they hate each other.
Rudjek touches my arm and warmth pulses between us again. We’ve touched many times before, and this should be no different. Yet I’m not mistaking the spark in his midnight eyes. ‘Everything okay?’
Several people take notice of how we are together and another blush creeps up my neck. It’s hard not to notice him. The Vizier’s son in his fine purple elara with gold-plated shotels at his sides. His mess of black curls. He starts to say something but bites his lip. An awkward moment stretches between us, until finally I nod.
As we wade through the market, I tell Rudjek everything in a rush that leaves me breathless. I talk for a long time, the distraction of weaving through the crowd and having him near making it easier. I wasn’t ready to talk about Grandmother’s vision before, but it’s a relief to finally get it all out. With Rudjek, I can let myself be vulnerable, I can let my guard down. ‘How could any of this be possible?’ I wonder once I’m done. ‘Demons … after all this time?’
He stares at me, stunned. Whatever he’d expected, it isn’t this. Ask a friend what’s wrong, and they’ll say they had an argument with their partner or they have a toothache. Ask me what’s wrong, and I deliver news that a demon’s come to roost in Tamar. It sounds grim even to my ears.
‘What you’re suggesting …’ Rudjek clutches the hilts of his shotels and cranes his neck to peer into alleys. Even Majka and Kira linger closer than usual today. They’re on full alert, eyes sharp, hands on their weapons, too. ‘Demons can’t be back … It would mean …’ He can’t bring himself to finish.
I cross my arms. ‘Why are you so jumpy, then?’
Before Rudjek can answer, a Familiar flits between his feet and slides into a shaded area behind him. Dozens of them crawl up closed doors and walls and merchants’ stalls. They perch like birds on the rafters of an apothecary as two guardsmen push through the crowd. Four fishermen travel in their wake, carrying another man on a stretcher. The man has a whale hook clear through his shoulder, and both Rudjek and I stare at him in shock. There’s so much blood that it overpowers the air. I hold my throat to force the acid back down. The men file into the apothecary and the Familiars follow them. There are always accidents on the docks, but I haven’t seen one this bad in a long time. I remember the story about the former Ka-Priest, how someone impaled him on a hook in the bay.
‘I wish you could see all the Familiars in the market right now.’ I shake my head in disbelief. ‘It’s an omen.’
‘Familiars?’ Rudjek tugs at his tunic. ‘You mean the wayward shadows?’
I wince, not wanting to hear another lecture about what the science scribes say. The scribes want us to forget about the souls that walked the world long before humans. But some didn’t ascend into the afterlife. They’re still here, hiding in plain view. Their presence pricks against my skin like needle points. There’s no time to argue with Rudjek about this again. The trail of blood left in the fisherman’s wake is making me light-headed.
‘I don’t care what your science scribes say,’ I snap.
‘People have been talking about the wayward shadows – the Familiars – since …’ Rudjek’s gaze darts around, and his voice drops to a husky whisper. ‘… since the first child disappeared. My father keeps dismissing the reports as tribal superstition. I … I wish I could see them too.’ His hands fly to the hilts of his shotels at a sudden commotion behind us. When he sees it’s only an overturned cart, he turns to me again, his eyes full of dread. ‘Another child was taken last night. The count is at six now.’
‘Six missing?’ My voice shatters as a young girl slips under a patron’s