“Thank you.” I dig for my voice, but I’m all shock and stutters. I’ve done it. I’ve asked them to follow me. I’ve vowed to lead them and they’re trusting me. A crowd of silent stares wait, staring, unblinking. “The plan. O-oh, right. So, we will lure the Chancellor and his men inside our lair. Let them think they found us. But the walls will be lined with lead, so their stolen magic will not work.” Gasps pop like firecrackers. “But the trick is, my magic won’t work either.”

Many eyes widen in fear.

“We have the fiercest warriors on the island,” I say.

“Ya!” they cry.

“Their only advantage is that they have magic. When we strip them of that, they are nothing. They stand no chance! So we fight them as equals. And as their onyx is removed, Bri and Julius”—Bri waves her hand and Julius throws a chin up—“will collect the onyx and get it to the grave site.” I explain how the lead worked for the Macazi and heads nod in understanding. “Let’s gather up and head back. It’ll be too bright to be out here soon.”

People jostle around me. The Seer meets my eyes. I nod at her and she smiles in return. I settle down in the dirt on my knees, palms up, in the posture of prayer and gratitude to the Ancestors. I can’t leave this site without sending up a prayer for favor as we walk into what’s next. Thanking them for believing in me, for pushing me to do what I didn’t believe I could. Zora crosses my mind, and I think of how she used to feed me the words when I’d forget. But the words come to me easily when I reach for them this time. Some Ghizoni join me, echoing my prayers, while the Macazi wait in neat lines in silent reverence.

When the prayer is done, I catch myself looking for Jhamal when Julius’s face slips into view.

“I’m proud of you,” he says in earshot of Rojala and Bri, who come over too.

I squeeze his hand, all words escaping me right now. “This is only the beginning,” I manage. “We still have to win this thing. But for now, we lie low and bait them to come.”

“How do we know they’ll come?” Bri asks.

“Oh, they’ll come.” I pull the thin bobby pin from my pocket that Rojala gave me and squeeze. A red light beeps on the end of it. “It’s a tracker that’s been following us, reporting our location.”

Rojala gasps.

“Yep, someone planted this on us, who knows how long ago.”

And I’m not so sure it wasn’t Jhamal.