Page 30 of Children of Virtue and Vengeance

“Everyone wants you dead.” Roën rolls his eyes. “I don’t blame them. But why waste your time jailbreaking fighters you can’t have when you can join the maji on the winning side?”

I give Zélie a pointed look, but she shrugs in response.

“What other choice do we have?” she asks.

Roën smiles at my defeat, waving at us to follow him as he takes the lead.

“Come along, Princess. Let’s see if theIyikawant to kill you as badly as your mother and my mercenaries do.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

INAN

STARING AT MY REFLECTION,I don’t know what to think. I don’t recognize the stranger who stares back.

The broken boy meant to be Orïsha’s king.

With all the weight I lost while unconscious, I drown in Father’s crimson agbada. The royal silk still reeks of his sandalwood cologne. Breathe too deeply, and I can feel his hands wrap around my throat.

You are no son of mine.

I close my eyes, muscles spasming in my stomach. The sharp ache makes my teeth grind. It’s like his sword is still buried inside. As I prepare for my first royal assembly, my fingers twist around the ghost of his sênet piece. I hate myself for missing it.

I hate Father more for giving it to me.

“Are you decent, Your Highness?” The oak door cracks open, and Ojore’s bearded jaw sticks through. “I’ve heard the legends of what greatness lies beneath your robes, but I fear I’m far too pure to see it for myself.”

Despite the pain in my side, my cousin never fails to make me grin. He laughs as I wave him over, smile bright against his dark brown skin.

“You’re looking good.” He slaps my shoulder. “Like a king. And look at that!” He pinches my face. “You’ve even got a little color in your cheeks!”

“It’s not real.” I push him away. “Mother made the servants use her powders and paints.”

“Anything to hide that horrible face.”

The warmth he carries into Father’s frigid quarters stirs something in my chest. Tall, lean, and handsome, Ojore looks like a portrait in his new admiral’s armor, but it doesn’t cover the burn scars feeding onto his neck.

We haven’t been together since he was my captain at the naval academy, yet he’s still like the brother I never had. He seems to sense my thoughts as he slings an arm around my shoulder, joining my reflection in the mirror.

“The admiral and the king.” He shakes his head, and I grin.

“Just like we planned.”

“Well, not exactly like we planned.” Ojore ruffles my hair, drawing attention to my white streak. Though he keeps his voice light, he can’t suppress his disdain.

“You hate it.”

“It.” He looks away. “Not you.”

I stare at the reflection of the jagged white line, the mark of my curse. Since I woke up, every time I reach for my magic it feels like someone’s driving an axe into my skull. I don’t know if it’s because of the way Zélie hurt me in the dreamscape, or if my abilities changed after the sacred ritual.

But after all that’s passed, I don’t even know if I want to use my magic. How can I when it’s the reason Father tried to wipe me from this earth?

“What about the tîtáns in your ranks?” I ask. “Mother wasn’t the only one wearing a golden suit of armor.”

“We’re at war. Are we supposed to charge at their fire with our swords?” Ojore rubs his thumb against his burn scars, still scaly after allthese years. “We may need the tîtáns to put those maggots in the dirt, but magic is still a curse.”

I almost want to laugh; moons ago, I would have said the same thing. But even after all I’ve learned, I know nothing could make Ojore see magic another way. His mind was set the day Burners tore through the palace and scorched his parents alive. He was lucky to escape with just those scars.

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