Page 112 of Children of Virtue and Vengeance

“Zélie, please—”

I ignore the tightness in my chest as I turn my back on her.

“I should’ve died that day,” I say. “Just pretend that I did.”

Mama Agba sobs and it hits me in the heart. I’ve never heard her cry like that.

I nearly run away from her tears as I move up the stairs toward my quarters. Leaving my room was a mistake. There’s nothing for me out here.

“You’re back.”

I look up to find Roën sitting outside my bedroom door. Two thick bags hang from his shoulders, clinking as he rises. He gestures for me to grab the smaller one.

“Let’s go,” he says.

I roll my eyes and brush past him. “I’m going to bed.”

“No you’re not.” He follows me into my room. “I need your help.”

“Roën, please. Not tonight,” I beg.

“You get to ask for my help whenever you want, but the moment I need something in return, you’re too tired?”

I glare at him and he smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

I frown as he slides the smaller bag over my shoulder. “Will you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“Do you know whatZïtsolmeans in my tongue?” He tightens the bag’s strap before marching off. “‘Beautiful girl who asks far too many questions.’”

HOURS PASS IN SILENCEas we ride on the back of Roën’s cheetanaire. The jungle humidity leaves us first, followed by the mountain rock. We gallop across the Opeoluwa Plains, heading north from the sanctuary. I hook my chin over Roën’s shoulder, lifting my face to the biting winds.

“Can you please tell me what we’re doing?” I yell.

“I see no point,” he shouts back.

“Can you at least tell me if it’s legal?”

“Zïtsol, I never ask you all these silly questions.”

I roll my eyes and bury my face into his back. Forget it. It doesn’t really matter.

The farther away we get from the sanctuary, the better I can inhale. Mâzeli’s absence doesn’t strangle every breath. Beyond those walls, I can think of more than his death.

As we ride, I savor the break, not knowing when it will come back. I wonder if Roën always feels like this, unshackled from the weight of the world. From all those he’s lost.

“Here we go.”

I lift my head as Roën pulls on the reins of his cheetanaire. We stop along a thin stretch of the coast, meters before a rugged shore. Black waves crash against the shallow bluffs, foaming over the smooth and glassy rocks. The silver moon casts a path down the rippling water, beckoning me to come in.

“What’s going on?”

Roën takes both bags and walks across the shore, guided by the rays above. A wind-powered boat sits anchored against the coast, filled with more supplies.

“How far are we going?”

“Again with the questions.” Roën clicks his tongue. “It doesn’t matter. Get in.”

Though I don’t trust him, the prospect of the sea is far too great to pass up. The last time I saw the shore, we were racing from Zaria’s sands. My body itches to float above the rocking water. It only takes a few moments before we’re off. The boat’s hum intertwines with the crashing waves as we sail. I close my eyes and inhale the salt-filled air. I forgot how much I missed the sea. How close it made me feel to Baba.

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