Page 75 of Children of Virtue and Vengeance

Mother runs forward, igniting the emerald glow in her chest. But Amari doesn’t back down. My eyes widen when a navy light flickers to life behind her ribs.

Magic swirls around Amari’s body like a typhoon, spreading through every limb.

“Ya èmí, ya ara!”she screams.

Blue light radiates from her hands in waves, pushing through the soldiers in her way.

Mother cries out, arching backward in pain. She grabs her head as she falls to the floor. Her golden mask skitters across the stone.

My chest clenches as Amari raises her hand to me, but when we lockeyes, she doesn’t strike. Even as our armies collide, I see my sister. I see my blood.

“Amari!” My steps falter as I try to slow, but Ojore drags me around the corner. I struggle to stay upright as he pushes me up a flight of stairs. We race down a long hall, my pulse spiking as the rumble of theIyikagrows near.

“In here!” Ojore pushes me into a cramped room, pressing a hand to my mouth. Sweat drips down my face as theIyika’s boots thunder toward us. I flinch when they pass.

Ojore doesn’t move until their footsteps die for good. I peek out of the room to see theIyikadisappear up another flight of stairs.

“Skies.” Ojore trembles, bracing himself against the stone wall. Though I try to breathe, my throat tightens the farther away Zélie gets. Her spirit tugs at mine. It’s as if she’s still anchored to my soul.

I attempt to pull her into my dreamscape, but when my magic sparks, a splitting pain erupts in my head.

“Are you okay?” Ojore grabs me as I double over, and I nod. But even in this temple, I can’t move into the dreamscape.

“Stay here,” Ojore orders. “I’m going back for the others.”

I hold the bronze piece tight as he turns to run back for my mother and Jokôye. When he disappears around the corner, I look to the stairs again.

I ignore every voice that screams at me to stop as I sprint after Zélie’s sea-salt soul.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

ZÉLIE

“ZÉLIE!”

My muscles tense as Inan’s voice echoes up the stairwell. I look back to find him standing in the hall. A crimson trail leaks from beneath his hairline and down his jaw.

The char of the explosion mars his breastplate. He wavers as he unfastens it and throws the armor to the ground. His voice escapes in a grated rasp.

“I just want to talk.”

Those five words are all it takes for me to snap. My fingers wrap around my staff. My vision flashes white as I charge at him.

The temple blurs behind Inan’s amber eyes. Shouts die under the roar of his lies. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have my scars.

Baba would still be alive.

“I don’t want to fight,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. I bare my teeth and throw my weight forward.

“Then stand still and die!”

The air clings as my staff collides with the hard metal of his sword. The familiar collision reverberates through my skin, propelling me to strike again.

My body moves beyond my control, the memory of Baba’s bloodconsuming all thought. Yet in my blows, I feel the echo of Inan’s touch. His breath. His kiss.

“Zélie, please!” he shouts. “We still want the same things! We can end this fight!”

As my staff collides with his sword again, I remember the fantasy of our Orïsha. The kingdom we were to rule together.

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