The Divide Series: War

By Magdalene Asante

Three Princesses.

Two Kingdoms.

Imminent War. 

When the lives of Sarai, Keyayle, and Adora are seized by an ancient curse that demands a life for a life; self-preservation and the fate of their kingdoms collide. 

Now they must decide between love and duty. For o

• Language: English
• Publisher: Talking Drum Publishing
• Release date: Aug 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733921312

Book preview

Prologue

The scent of cocoa permeated her lungs as Queen Malia lay dying on the edge of the Unia temple. She looked to the crescent-shaped woodland that stood gathered around the ancestral temple. They offered a bright light as they stood engulfed in a cool sapphire flame that never went out. The woodlands stopped just before the sooty sand that led to the temple, blackened under the coat of ash that had affixed itself over the decades.

Sounds of feet pounding found its way to her, and undoubtedly, she knew her sons were close. Hands gripped at her nape, lifting her head from the charcoaled ground as her oldest son Mano, propped her body into his arms. She gazed up to look into the amber eyes that contained so much remorse that it almost broke her. Almost.

She pushed her hand up to touch the chocolate skin that was her constant reminder that he wasn’t entirely hers and dropped it. The copper in her skin stood pale in comparison to his.

The deep ridges in his brow creasing with every wince of pain that escaped her uneven lips.

Mother, what have you done?

She felt Amu, her youngest son, stretch his small frame over her dying body to stare into her fatigued eyes. He wore her chestnut skin, but his brown eyes belonged entirely to his father; the king.

She felt his bare face press into the side of her hollow cheek and let it rest under the cage of her high cheekbone.

Why did you do this? Amu asked. Why did you come to the temple?

Gmiele reilo mo reqi vietil. Her words were slow, and barely audible between her two sons.

You know why. Someone had to step in and protect our people.

She felt Amu remain plastered against her now glacial skin and shook his head.

You have ruined us.

Queen Malia felt the outrage that lay dormant in her chest erupt.

Do you know what our people endured to get where we were? Do you know the blood that was shed in countless battles to win our freedom? Or the hands that worked the land to make it fruitful? The invasions? The raping and kidnapping of our people? Genocide? Do you know!

She paused. Steadied her voice to maintain her composure and continued.

Through it all, we rose. We became lions. We hunted our prey until our pride grew past the borders that our enemies tried to imprison us in. We fought until they could no longer ignore what we became.

The feared and respected Diatia. That's what they called us because we were strong. Unbreakable. We yielded power until it sat on our hips like a mother carries a child. A power you didn't earn, yet dared to abuse it.

Mother, Mano said calmly.

I am not done speaking. Her response was cold and quick.

I will not let you two destroy all that we have built with your ridiculous feud.

She drew in as much air as her failing lungs could hold and continued.

We were great until your fighting forced our people to choose between you two. You used your gifts and abilities not just against each other but on our land. You burned crops, destroyed homes, and drove our people to seek refuge in other kingdoms.

The queen watched as Amu’s countenance crippled before her. It was as if she could see his anger leap from its cage down into his belly, and grasp at the little control he usually had. She knew he felt helpless, but she couldn't allow herself to lead with love. Not anymore.

Amu stop this. Mano finally said as he rocked her in the little remorse that his body created.

She wanted to reach out to him. To ease up on her sons, but she saw Amu cringe at the touch of authority Mano’s voice still carried.

You will stop speaking to me like that. Amu commanded.

You choose to continue to fight me now? Our mother is dying.

She is not your mother! My parents found you laying in sackcloth deep in the village where animals don’t even feed. They clothed you, brought you into the palace, and you forgot who you were and where you came from. You will never be good enough to be king.

Amu!

Before the queen could respond, a deep voice called from the mouth of the temple; The Gatekeeper. She removed herself from the embrace of Mano and pitched herself slowly against the stairs. Queen Malia lifted her head high enough to see his feet cascading down the ancient stairs. Bringing forth a small man covered in cloth so dark that it rivaled that of the night. He pulled back his cloak to reveal a complexion that matched his cloth, and pale eyes that matched the moon.

I am her biological son, and the throne is my birthright. Amu said to him before he could speak.

Why should I not fight for it?

"You have been so blinded by power that you have forgotten what your birthright really is. I have watched the throne change hands for decades but your birthright, your source of power, what set you apart from everyone else, were your giftings. They covered and protected you and your people.

Your abilities to make dying things new were meant to fuel the land for crops. Your ability to shift and move things without having to touch them was to be used only in times of war. Your ability to read minds was supposed to allow you to discern wolves that came dressed as sheep within your flock. Gifts that were supposed to aid your people-

Instead you weaponized them, continued the queen.

So, she took them, the Gatekeeper finished.

Your mother took your gifts and power in return for the Inmakwe; the blood curse.

She cursed us? Mano asked sadly.

The Gatekeeper nodded as he peered over to the stoic queen.

She requested a condition be tied to your gifts; and she bound your souls to another. Only when you find the one uniquely tied to you, will they return.

The queen felt Mano slide his shaking hands into hers.

You must understand that I did this because I love you both, but, I love my people also. I must protect them, and this is the only way that I know how to.

You hope the woman we find will be like you. Mano said knowingly.

But we will never be you and father.

Queen Malia shook her head quickly as she stared intently at her sons.

I don't want you to find someone like me; you need someone to anchor, and keep you from giving into greed or tyranny.

How can you believe that? Amu asked through gritted teeth.

She will be your reminder of what it means to be completely vulnerable with someone else. To entrust your whole being into the hands of another, and hope that they will protect it.

Find a wife, and we get our gifting back. Amu repeated.

It won't be easy. The Gatekeeper added.

It will be nearly impossible to get your gifts back. You will stretch your eyes past the five kingdoms to look for the only woman who your gift is bound to. Your Other.

The queen watched Amu lift his heavy head up into the colorless complexion of the sky and frown.

Her tired hands reached for the fingers of her two sons, wrapping them in the little strength she had left.

Stop focusing on what you no longer have and look to the strengths you do have. Combine them and bring our kingdom back together. Remind them of what we once were.

I am sorry mother, but the kingdoms will remain as they are. I will rule Dunoro until I can take back the other half from Mano. I will find my Other at any cost.

Even if it means you perish? The Gatekeeper asked.

What? Mano asked. Mother what is he talking about?

The queen smiled victoriously, as blood filled her mouth until it canvassed her once brilliant smile.

If you take the Inmakwe, you will die.

Why? Amu asked quickly.

To keep you from taking it in the first place. Whether you reawaken depends on whether you find your Other or not. You will have only six weeks to find her. The amount of time it took you to destroy our land.

The queen stopped to spit out the blood that had gathered in her cheeks and inhaled the air that refused to settle in her lungs.

If you think you have found her, then she will have to decide if she wants to die with you. If she is the right one, your souls will join, and you will reawaken together. Two bodies, but one soul.

And if we find the wrong woman? Amu asked with his teeth clenched.

Then I will be greeting you both in death. The queen replied sadly.

She spoke for the last time and sat quietly in anticipation for death to claim her life as payment for creating the curse. Her regrets started to fade away like her heartbeat. At that moment, she knew she made the right decision giving her life to create her curse. Her breathing grew shallow as her two sons calling her name started to fade into the background. She breathed in her last breath. Filled with peace and contentment, Queen Malia let go.

Part I

Sarai

Chapter 1

100 years later

---

The Guardian Forest was known for the wild growth of Willow, Tupelo, and Banyan trees. They painted the sky with their vivid hues of gold, emerald, ruby, and honey leaves until they fell to the ground like rain. They stood in splendor as their limbs fought for space, creating a canopy that kept the sun from falling on Sarai. They were still awake, lively in the way that they hunched and bent under the puppeteering of the wind. She pushed her small frame through their slouching and elongated branches. Their leaves covered in water.

The Guardian Forest wrapped around the Zunoro Kingdom like a barrier. Coiling and covering it in its bountiful colors and outstretched branches. Sarai had to smile even though she found herself caged between mountains of heavy tree trunks, and drooping leaves. It would be a two-day trek to get to the capital. Despite this, Sarai maintained the smile on her face. After all, she was home.

The closer she walked, the stronger the sound of rushing water slapping against the ridges of rocks grew. She continued to push against the large leaves until the distance of falling rain turned into the heavy plunging of water. At its back stood clay rocks. Their tapered ridges wrenching from the earth to carry the weight of the waterfall.

The closer she drew, the heavier the downpour dropped into the strands of her now shrinking coils. The familiarity of the area only reminded her that she had reached the portion of the kingdom most dangerous to intruders. She walked slowly, conscious of the traps set in place for their enemies.

She remembered seeing them once when she was ten. They were the dark creations of her father; barbed, horned and spiked contraptions that would create a clean cut at the knee of any trespasser, too stupid to try the Zunoro Kingdom a second time. She would sit outside of the council room where no one would notice her little frame cupped behind a column. Then, she would simply listen to the twelve council elders discussing the unfortunate accidents of the farmers and landscapers that tended to the outer regions of their kingdom. Their stories never did move her father though. He merely paid them in sachets of gold and silver. No one knew why, but a week later he doubled the traps in the thickets at the edge of the kingdom.

She imprinted her tiny feet into the mud and inched herself towards the nearest town. Her eyes narrowed to scan the overgrown coppice and found a path camouflaged under a heap of leaves and wilting flowers.

Her mother’s favorite flower grew in patches underneath the waterfall, and they drew her attention and compelled her steps forward. The Allium stood arched in bulbs. Their purple shade clothing them in its rich complexion like they were royalty. They sprouted out of the ground, with their spines curved. Their way of avoiding the droplets of falling water.

As she reached to pull one from its roots, a movement at the corner of her eye shifted her gaze to a person darting by. She followed him with her eyes, dropping the bag containing her weapons to the ground, while she stood gripping her staff with both hands.

Hello, her voice called out to him.

Slowly stepping to the side, she searched for a better view of the stranger. Carefully, she inched her way closer to where he was hiding. She heard some more rummaging behind a rock, and then a moment later, a figure emerged.

His massive body pillared over her tiny frame leaving a shadow that fell over her. His honey eyes bouncing off his Umber skin. She almost reacted to the intense look on his face, his relentless gaze firing against hers as if it would crackle against her skin.

I just want to pass through. I mean no harm. He said cautiously, as the tension in his body settled in the sharp features of his square jaw.

He regained his composure, mumbling something under his breath before attempting to walk by her. Swiftly, Sarai pulled her staff up from her side, blocking his way. She recoiled a bit further, creating a more significant distance between them. She grew cautious of the stranger who continued to stare, but would occasionally shift his eyes to the path she discovered. There was something about his composure that troubled her.

My name is Ayize. He offered her.

You’re not from here. She said bringing the staff back to her side.

The kingdom forbade our people from coming this far into the woods after the attack on the palace. All paths have been strategically hidden from strangers, and only natives of this kingdom can navigate these paths without getting lost.

Like she anticipated, his eyes continued to dart back to the path she found earlier, and frowned, disappointed in herself.

You are lost, and I just led you to one.

We need to get out of here before the royal guards find us both out here.

She considered his words. Enough to turn to look at the path that led to the village.

I would rather they find us here than let a stranger into the kingdom.

Images of blood and chaos came to her instantly. She pushed it back, allowing her attention to drift back to the stranger. He bolted to the right, Sarai catching him at his knee with her staff before he could pass.

The last time strangers came into our kingdom they attacked the palace, and good people died that day. I don’t trust easily. Not anymore. So, unless you can tell me what you’re doing out here and why you want to go into that village so badly, I’m not moving.

I need to get out of here. His voice grew louder until it caused his body to protrude forward.

I don’t want to hurt you.

I’m not too worried about that. Sarai knew what he meant by that, and she readied herself with a clear stance.

I’m not moving. And without hesitation. He lunged.

The staff moved swiftly in her hands as she plunged it towards his abdomen, she whirled around, knocking him at the back of his knees. He stumbled slightly, regaining his composure before turning his immense body towards her. She placed the staff facing downwards, waiting for his next move.

Without missing a beat, he leaped forward, finding her position. He attacked the staff, trying to knock it out of her hand. Already sensing his movement, she spun around him lifting the staff above her head as she pierced the tip into his stomach. Sarai pushed until his body fell beneath the brush of fallen leaves. He fidgeted, trying to slither from underneath it. Without a second thought, Sarai leaped on top of him placing the staff directly on his neck, leaving him gasping for air.

She wanted to ask more questions, to know why he was so determined to make it into the kingdom without being found out, but, she heard them coming. She turned to see them trampling through the fallen branches and drooping leaves, their footprints demolishing everything they came in contact with. Their royal blue uniforms left a print as they headed towards the canopy.

Sarai cursed. Pushing the staff closer to the neck of the stranger she anticipated their arrival. A guard pulled at Sarai’s waist, swinging her in the air to separate the two.

Perfect!

The young man’s voice boomed forward as he tried to get on his feet. Lifting his body, he caught a glimpse of the tiny woman who also lay on the ground staring up at the faces of the uniformed men.

What is going on here?

A smooth voice called from behind, and though his voice was deeper, Sarai still recognized it. When they first met, he was newly selected to the royal palace as a guard in training. He was the only one close to her age at that time, and their bond had grown.

Hesitantly, Sarai stood to expose herself to him. She observed the look on his militant face and saw it falter. He stood tall, his bronze skin a replica of hers. His hazel eyes carefully pierced hers, though there was a reserved restraint placed over them like bars. Still, they carried an air of mourning that she would recognize in any eyes, for she too, wore it openly.

Asim, her voice was barely a whisper, and it left her reluctantly.

Sarai. His voice was steady in comparison to hers.

Sarai offered an awkward smile in response, as she watched Asim’s countenance change to a sneer. The guards narrowed their eyes to meet hers as they stood frozen, weapons in hand as they too examined the woman in front of them.

Don’t believe her. Princess Sarai is dead. Asim said while walking towards her. She’s just another imposter.

She still knew him all too well. Though he tried to sound firm, she could tell he was unsure of himself. His voice was unstable, and by the time he finished his statement, he was standing directly in front of her. They must have been on patrol, though they too, were very far from the capital.

Sarai watched him hesitate, his face contorting in a struggle that caused his body to stiffen. His hands rested at his side, opening and closing to a rhythm she had heard him humming many times, before turning to signal to his men to leave.

Take them both back to the caravan. Inform the king of what we found while we were out on patrol. I’ll stay behind and change the path.

Why do you think I'm dead? Sarai asked, with his back still turned to her.

Get moving!

I am not an imposter, she explained. I am Sarai.

For years, women like you have wandered out here, just outside of that village pretending to be her. They certainly looked like the princess-

But they lied. She finished, finally understanding his guarded demeanor.

I don’t do well with repeating myself. Asim said as he ordered the warriors once more.

Sarai didn’t know what to say. But she knew that she had to convince him somehow. That was the quickest way to get her to the palace now that her initial plan would no longer work.

So she searched for the perfect memory out of the place that she rarely visited. She remembered the nights that they would hang over her balcony under the roaring fire of meat skewers that the meat vendors sold right outside of her window. They would make up stories out of the stars that came out that night. Everyday, she convinced Asim that the story had to change. After all, the stars never did repeat the same pattern. So why did theirs?

He would smile reluctantly, as her stories became wilder by the night. He hated it. But she made it her mission to create magic out of the calm night sky simply because she liked to hear him laugh. Did he remember that? Would he still want to?

We used to be best friends. Sarai said, with an ache that surprised her. I would never lie to you.

Asim turned to face Sarai, and his face mirrored that of the soldiers that stood to gaze at her. Hesitant.

Get her out of here. Now.

I used to think that you were never comfortable with the sound of your laugh. You always laughed quietly and quickly, as if you were afraid that life would hear the joy in your voice and remember that it wasn’t done stealing from you yet.

His cheeks sunk deeper, hardening as Sarai continued to recite the intimate things of their youth.

Anyone can make up a story.

Sarai stared at him entirely too long, as the bird continued to whistle a tune almost reminiscent of a funeral song.

The day of the attack, we begged your sister to play with us. She said no. She met Mukvu and decided that she was getting too old to play with us. So out of spite we stole her dolls and buried them in the garden. We called it justice. Then the palace maidens lectured me for getting myself dirty and took me to get cleaned up.

As she finished talking, the forest fell quiet as if it were trying to listen to her story as well. A fimanya bird chirped in the background distracting Sarai from the nervousness that grew inside of her. Talking about that day still caused her pain, no matter how much time had passed.

That was the last time we saw each other.

Sarai waited for Asim to respond, but he continued to stare until his eyes brought forth a hope that traveled to the guards, and then as quickly as it came, it went away.

She turned. Pushing her hair upwards to reveal a tiny dot that sat perfectly centered in the middle of her neck.

You remember my birthmark, right?

Sarai felt Asim’s hand begin to trace the dot like he would permanently imprint his fingers into her neck if he could. She held her breath, as if the mark could prove her an imposter. As if, it would reveal her deepest inequities as a coward.

Then, it was over, and she found herself catching her breath and turning to meet his gaze. His eyes locked on hers as he examined every curve that lined her face. He traced the tilt of her round face and almond brown eyes.

He stood so close to her that she flinched at the occasional graze of her skin. His hands were now slightly cupped around her round face and pointed chin. The bronze in his hand seemingly melting into the melanin of hers.

She wanted to pull away, but she was drawn into his still familiar smell of sweat and rosewood. He waited for a second longer before turning his back on her.

In perfect view were his trained guards, dropping their weapons and their knees to the ground. Finally, confident that their princess was alive. In his eyes, she expected to see anything else but what was scribed there: hatred.

Sarai could tell that he was struggling to keep his composure, but instead, he nodded and commanded his warriors.

Someone stay behind and fix the path. I’ll go ahead.

He walked back up the path that he had traveled down. Exhaling, the palace guards hesitated before turning to follow their leader. The others waited impatiently. Unable to hide the confusion and burning questions that lingered on their lips.

Sarai wanted to call out to him and make things right, but she knew deep down that it wouldn’t matter. She broke everything between them when she left.

But as she watched him leave, she knew she couldn’t tell him the real why she left, or why she came back. Because as the fimanya bird continued to sing, she could only remember how heavy and red blood was, when it coated your skin like paint.

Sarai

Chapter 2

Awarrior Sarai vaguely remembered as a child tried to reach out for her, but she was on her heels trailing behind Asim. Parked on the outskirts on the gathering sands were six black caravans scattered around its edge. She shook her head, confused by the metallic foreign objects that stood humming in place. Confident that these were yet another handiwork of her father, she moved further away from