“It’s a diviner tax.” I grip the draped fabric of my pants, still haunted by the guard’s
touch. “They came for Mama Agba, too. Probably hitting every home in Ilorin.”
Tzain presses his fists to his forehead as if he could smash through his own skull. He
wants to believe that playing by the monarchy’s rules will keep us safe, but nothing
can protect us when those rules are rooted in hate.
This could be compared to / A message I take from this scene is not everyone is nice and trust worthy. Dont trust the guards cause they wont protect you they will fight you. Rules of the monarchy reflect their prejudice.
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