Page 38 of Children of Virtue and Vengeance

“Your Majesty, your generosity is admirable.” General Jokôye steps forward. “But how do you plan to sustain the palace? The military? Yourself?”

“When I defeat theIyika, the roads will reopen. I am aware of the risks.”

“By the skies, we’ll starve!” Jokôye shouts.

“Everyone will starve if we don’t bring this war to an end.” I stare her down, forcing her to stay quiet. “I want a mobile distribution center set up in the marketplace by the end of the day. That’s an order.”

Everyone stirs as my words echo through the throne room, but I squeeze the bronze piece, staying firm. Though the nobles’ discontent swells, it can’t overpower the tears that fill the young woman’s eyes.

Mother squeezes my shoulder, and I feel the warmth of her pride. A smile comes to my face as a line forms before my throne.

“Alright.” I wave the next villager forward. “What do you need?”

ONE BY ONE, my people come forward, presenting their problems over the course of hours: the bodies in the streets; the orphaned children; the hundreds displaced by destroyed infrastructure. With additional rations as incentive, new workforces spring up. We organize groups to collect the dead. Under my pressure, nobles open their homes to displaced villagers and parentless children.

That’s it.I smile as a few tîtáns volunteer for Mother’s forces. With every order, I feel my new rank. The strength I wield as a king. A moon ago, declarations like these were figments of my imagination. Now, with one word, they become law. Even those who oppose me can’t oppose my rule.

“Your Majesty, if I may.” General Jokôye walks forward, hands clasped behind her back. Though petite, her presence is mighty. Guards stand taller when she walks past. “I admire your benevolence, but these are bandages, not solutions. TheIyikaare holding us hostage with their attacks. It’s only a matter of time before they return to finish what they started.”

The general’s words are like thick clouds blocking out the rays of sun. The flicker of hope that shone in the throne room extinguishes under the realities of war.

“We can scout their location—”

“Impossible.” Jokôye slashes her hand. “Every time we’ve sent a soldier into the forest, they’ve retaliated. And our scouts never return alive.”

I pull at my collar as sweat gathers at my neck. “Then we’ll launch a full-scale assault. Overwhelm them before they can strike—”

“To get our army out of Lagos would mean destroying the ruins that provide our only defense.” Jokôye adjusts her spectacles. “Do you really intend to take that risk when we can’t pinpoint theIyika’s location?”

Her words are like razors slashing through my solutions. She doesn’t bother to hide her disdain. The stench of disapproval gathers in the room.

“These are important questions,” Mother comes to my defense. “Ones best discussed behind closed doors.”

“Secrecy will serve no purpose when we’re all dead. Until we eliminate theIyika, all these efforts are in vain.”

I flip the bronze piece between my fingers and gaze out the long windows. Father always respected Jokôye most for her honest tongue. All conversation stops as people wait for my response. I take a deep breath before rising from the throne.

“Given more time, I’ll come up with a plan—”

Shouts ring from the main hall. I flinch as the sound of broken glass follows.

Though we can’t see what’s happening, the commotion might as well be theIyikaalarm.

Guards form a barrier around Mother and me as villagers dash for cover. Ojore sprints toward the noise in the main hall. The soldiers usher us toward the palace cellars. But before I take cover, I hear the assailant scream.

“Let me go!” she shrieks.

I double back, forcing my way through my guards. A broken vase lies on the tiled floor. Stale loaves of bread litter the main hall. The young thief struggles against Ojore’s hold as he forces her to her knees. When he removes her hood, a head full of bright white coils springs free.

“Your Majesty, stay back.” Jokôye removes her sword, holding it to the maji’s neck. She gestures to the red insignia on the girl’s chest that marks her as a member of theIyika. “She’s one of them.”

“At ease, General.” I raise my hand. “She’s just a child looking for food.”

“You weren’t here when Lagos fell,” Jokôye snarls. “When it comes to the maji, children might as well be fully trained soldiers.”

Staring at the girl, I don’t see the same threat. Her brown eyes crinkle with rage, but her breaths turn ragged as she hyperventilates. Mother tries to keep me by her side, but the bronze piece burns in my hand. I move Jokôye aside and approach the young maji, kneeling until we’re face-to-face.

“I don’t care if you’re the king,” the girl spits. “I’ll burn you where you stand!”

---