Page 28 of Children of Virtue and Vengeance

Days pass, yet Zélie’s words remain trapped in my mind. They haunt me as we make our way through the Olasimbo Mountain Range, moving through the shadows of night. Blankets of fog sweep our feet as we hike up a dirt trail that will give us a view of Gusau’s fortress meters below. I need to focus on freeing the maji trapped inside to build my army and face my mother, but all I can think about is Inan.

I don’t know what to do if he still breathes. I know I cannot allow Mother to sit on Orïsha’s throne, but do I need to free the imprisoned maji in Gusau’s fortress if Inan sits there instead? If Inan is king now, will he still wage this war?

Watching Father drive a sword through my brother’s gut was a wound I felt in my own heart. If Inan is truly alive, I don’t want to fight him anymore.

I want to run into his arms.

“You’re thinking of him again.”

I blink as Tzain comes up beside me, his expression kind. He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear before tracing his fingers down my spine.

“How can I not?” I lower my voice, eyeing Zélie as she walks ahead. “If what she says is true… if Inan really lives…”

Just speaking his name aloud brings me back to every night spent alone after the ritual went awry. My sobs bounced against the cold iron walls of the warship. I cried so much, my sheets were constantly damp.

Despite all the pain he caused, I didn’t know how to breathe without my brother in this world. What in the skies am I supposed to do if he’s really back?

“Hold up.” Zélie raises a hand, forcing us to stop. The branches rattle ahead. Zélie reaches for her staff.

My pulse spikes as the footsteps draw near. Their approaching shadows loom large. But when the three bodies round the corner, my heart breaks.

The shadows belong to children.

“Arábìnrin, do you have any food?” A young maji steps forward, the tallest of the trio. Their clothes are weathered and worn. I don’t know if they’re related, or only linked by their white hair.

Zélie reaches for her leather bag, but I beat her to the punch. I remove a strip of dried hyenaire meat from my knapsack. I can always hunt for more.

“Thank you,Ìyáawa.” The girl smiles as she splits the meat between the three of them. I wonder if it was the rule of Father or Mother that left them alone on this path. Watching them walk away forces me back into the war, to our army waiting to be liberated meters below. Every day I don’t bring this fight to an end, my people suffer.

Inan or not, I have to bring my mother down and take that throne.

“There it is.” Zélie crouches along the cliff, the valley sixty meters below revealing our target. Gusau’s fortress matches Gombe’s in size, an iron prison along the farming town’s borders. Surrounded by fields of cassava plants, the fortress casts a shadow over its guards. Soldiers patrol every meter of the torch-lit tower, flickering flames lighting their stern faces.

“Open the gates!” a guard shouts. My throat goes dry as the torch flames pass over his golden armor. I don’t need to see beneath his helmet to know a white streak runs through his hair.

I tuck my own streak away as I count the other two tîtáns in their patrol. I wonder if any of them are as powerful as my mother.

“Look.” Zélie points to a panthenaire-pulled caravan as it passes below our cliff. When it docks, chained maji are forced out. Their heads hang as they pass through the barred doors.

My stomach churns as I take in the burns and bruises along the maji’s skin. Each broken face hits me with another wave of guilt. If I were queen, these people would be free. We’d be working together to build the Orïsha of my dreams.

“Magic’s been back all of five minutes, and your family’s already rounding us up.” Zélie smacks her lips. The resentment in her voice makes my stomach tight.

“Mother works fast,” I say. “That’s why we need to work faster.”

I know she hears the name that I do not speak, but I don’t care what she believes. I know my brother; if he’s alive, there’s no way he would sanction this. He’s been through too much to fight like Father.

We both have.

“Let’s stake them out,” I decide. “Learn their schedules and find the optimal time to attack. With all the maji raids, they’ve got to have more than they can manage. If we can free the maji, we’ll have the start of our own army.”

“Are you sure we’re strong enough?” Tzain asks. “When we stormed Gombe, we had Kenyon and my agbön friends to back us up.”

“You also weren’t at war.” A voice rings from behind. “This time, the military’s prepared.”

My blade cuts through the air and Zélie whips out her staff. But when the speaker emerges from the bushes, her hands fall limp.

“Roën?” Zélie steps back as the mercenary finishes his ascent up the dirt trail. He leans against a tree, moonlight passing over a new bruise on his cheek.

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