A Song of Wraiths and Ruin (A Song of Wraiths and Ruin #1)(3)
Nadia’s head snapped upward. “See what?”
“Up there, at the very top of the highest tower.”
Even the Outer Wall had been decorated in honor of Solstasia, with banners hanging from the towers depicting each of the seven patron deities—from Gyata the Lion, who ruled over the Sun Alignment, to Adanko the Hare, Malik’s patron, who ruled over the Life Alignment.
Each patron deity ruled over a single day of the week, and when a child was born, the midwife would carve the emblem of one of the seven gods into their left palm so every person could know their Alignment. It was said that a person’s Alignment decided every major moment of their life, from what kinds of work they’d be most suited for to who they were destined to spend their life with.
Nadia’s mouth fell open as she regarded the Sun Alignment banner hanging from the wall. “That’s my emblem!”
“It is,” said Malik. “Gyata is watching everyone who’s Sun-Aligned to see who the next Sun Champion should be. But he’s not going to choose you if you cry.”
“I won’t cry!” Nadia picked a stick off the ground and brandished it in the air. “And then, when Gyata chooses me as a Champion, I’m going to live at the palace with the sultana, and I’m going to eat whatever I want, and I’m going to ask Princess Karina to make it illegal for me to stand in a line ever again!”
“I don’t think the princess makes laws.”
Nadia’s cheeks puffed out once again, and not for the first time, Malik was struck by how alike they looked—the same coarse, black hair that fought any brush that tried to go through it, same tawny-brown skin, same wide black eyes that looked surprised no matter their owner’s mood. Moon owl eyes, Papa used to call them, and for half a heartbeat, Malik missed his father so much he couldn’t breathe.
“Well, what would you do if you met the princess?” demanded Nadia.
What would he do if he met Princess Karina? Malik pushed away the painful thoughts of his missing parent to consider the question.
One of the biggest perks of becoming a Solstasia Champion was living at the royal palace for the duration of the festival. Though Malik would never admit it out loud, he had fantasized once or twice about becoming a Champion and representing his Alignment for all the world to see. But it was a useless fantasy, as no Eshran had been chosen as a Champion since the Zirani occupation more than two hundred and fifty years ago.
Besides, rumor had it that Princess Karina Alahari was a volatile, irresponsible girl who was only heiress to the throne because her older sister had died in a fire nearly ten years ago. Princess or not, Malik wanted nothing to do with someone like that.
“I don’t think the princess and I would get along very well,” said Malik.
Nadia huffed. “You’re boring!”
She jabbed Malik in the gut, and he fell over in exaggerated pain.
“Ow! I yield!” he cried. “If I tell you a story, will you stop trying to kill me?”
“I’ve heard all your stories already.”
Malik brushed the curls from Nadia’s eyes. She had always been small for her age; now, after months of malnutrition, she was so tiny that Malik sometimes feared a strong enough breeze might carry her away forever.
“Have you heard the one about the little girl on the moon?”
Nadia’s mouth fell open. “There’s a little girl on the moon?”
Malik nodded, twisting his face into a look of comedic seriousness. “Yes. Her older brother put her there because she wouldn’t stop pouting.”
He punctuated the last word by flicking Nadia’s nose, earning an outraged giggle. Because Papa had left less than a year after Nadia’s birth, it had been Malik who had taken care of her while Mama, Nana, and Leila had worked the fields. He knew her better than anyone, like how she would drop everything to listen to a story, same as him. In the wagon, Malik had entertained her with tale after tale of the trickster heroine, Hyena, and when he’d run out of those, he’d created his own drawn from all the legends he’d absorbed over the years. He’d spun stories until his throat grew raw, anything to keep Nadia from crumbling under the weight of their situation.
Once again Malik gazed up in wonder at Ziran. Though the Eshran Mountains were part of the Zirani Territories, few Eshrans ever got to see the famed city itself. The price of passage papers was too high and the approval rates for said papers too low, to say nothing of the dangers that lurked in the Odjubai. Ziran may control every aspect of Eshran life down to who could live in which village, but Ziran itself had never been meant for Malik’s people to enjoy.
But there they were, standing at the foot of the greatest city in the world. All those nights spent huddling with his sisters under worm-eaten blankets, fighting off the biting winds and the wailing cries of people being treated like animals all around them. The soul-aching fear that he would never see their birthplace ever again—all that had been worth it.
In fact, he’d yet to see even a hint of the . . . creatures that had plagued him back in Oboure.
They were safe now.
Malik’s thoughts were cut off by a commotion from the line directly to the left of theirs as a battered cart pulled by a mangy donkey reached the platform. The old man driving it handed a stack of documents to the soldier overseeing the platform while the man’s family nervously peered out from the back. Malik’s blood ran cold as he recognized the familiar symbols drawn on the side of the cart—geometric patterns native to Eshra.