Children of Virtue and Vengeance

by Tomi Adeyemi

  Mammoth trees shoot up from the earth, blocking out the light though there is no sun. My magic bleeds through the dirt. The dreamscape shifts, a mirror of all my hurt.

  “Zélie, please!”

  Black tree roots explode from the ground, wrapping around Inan’s calf. They coil around his body like snakes, dragging him backward. I don’t know how I control Inan’s dreamscape, but I don’t care. I glide forward as the roots bind him against a tree, circling his waist, his chest, his neck.

  “Wait!” he calls out as I clench my hand. Black vines tighten around his throat, cutting off his words as he chokes. Blood drips down his back, oozing as the jagged bark scrapes into his skin. My own shoulders burn with an echo of his pain, but I don’t care if it hurts me.

  As long as it hurts him.

  “Zélie.” Inan’s eyes burn red as I tighten my fist. I squeeze the roots so hard he can’t even gasp. I squeeze so hard his collarbones snap.

  “Run,” I whisper through my teeth. “Pray.” I bring my face right up to his, clenching my fingers so hard my nails draw blood from my skin. “When I’m done with you, you’re going to wish you died that day.”

  With a final squeeze, his eyes roll back.

  The dreamscape shatters as he falls limp.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  INAN

  ZÉLIE, NO!

  My eyes fly open. My hands shoot to my throat. My body convulses with grating coughs, fighting me as I choke.

  I grip the nearest surface, trying to steady myself through the pain. There’s nothing beyond the darkness.

  Only the war in my brain.

  Run. Zélie’s voice rings through my skull. Pray. Her hatred anchors me in this moment. The vengeance she swore to claim. Though my lungs still gasp for air, I begin to see through the pain.

  It didn’t work …

  Magic lives again.

  The realization is like a sedative spreading through my skull. Though my head pounds, it numbs all pain. For an instant, every other thought dissolves.

  I gave up everything to stop magic’s return. I betrayed my sister and the girl I love. Father’s sword plunged through my stomach.

  Yet the poison still runs through my blood.

  Count to ten. I curl my fingers, exhaling a slow breath. I sink back into the sweat-soaked pillow as the pain in my stomach returns. My hands shake when I reach down and find the thick scar left from Father’s sword. The gruesome mark is still tender to the touch.

  As I run my fingers over the raised skin, I see the snarl on Father’s lips. Hear the growl in his throat. Rage burned through his brown eyes as he stabbed his majacite blade through my gut.

  How did this happen? I search the fog in my mind for answers. When I fell into a pool of my own blood, I didn’t think I would rise again. The last thing I can remember is Amari running to my defense, choosing to face Father herself.

  I don’t know how I ended up in the dying dreamscape. How much time has passed since that fateful day. What happened to my father and my sister. Where I lie now—

  Ha-woooooooo!

  My head snaps up at the deep and thunderous howl. The alarm begins as a steady rumble, but in seconds it blares with the force of a thousand horns. The bed around me shakes with its vibrations. The siren makes my blood run cold. It sounds like terror and bloodshed and death.

  It sounds like war.

  What in the skies? I scramble out of the silk sheets, my limbs moving like water. I try to stand, but my legs give out. With a lurch, I slam into the ground.

  I lift my throbbing head from a velvet rug as the horn blares. My body goes stiff when I come face-to-face with the piercing green glare of an embroidered snow leopanaire.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper, questions mounting by the second. My eyes start to adjust to the dim candlelight and I take in the crimson walls; the marbled archways and lush upholstery of Father’s royal quarters.

  I turn to the gold-paned windows as the alarm grows louder. Sharp screams echo through the thick drapes. Hairs lift on the nape of my neck as the sliver of night that peeks through the velvet folds begins to turn red—

  “Your Majesty, please!”

  The door slams open. Candlelight floods in. I stumble into the wall, blinded as a general and armored troops storm into Father’s room.

  “Quick!” The general runs to the bed. “We need to get him to the cellars!” But as the woman scrambles across the silk sheets, I realize that she’s not a general at all.

  It’s Mother.

  I hardly recognize her petite frame in the golden suit of armor. Her bone-straight hair now falls to her shoulders in frizzy waves. But strangest of all is the white streak that falls behind her ear.

  “Where is he?” she shrieks, tearing at the empty bed. “Where is my son?”

  Soldiers drag her toward the door.

  Then she spots me against the wall.

  “Inan?”

  The color drains from her face. A hand flies to her open mouth. Tears well in her amber eyes and she stumbles back, doubling over as if she’s been punched in the stomach.

  “You’re awake!”

  I can’t tell how much time has passed since we last saw each other. I feel lifetimes in our distance. She still has her bronze skin, her pointed chin. But the light in her eyes has dimmed.

  “Mother—”

  Before I can ask what’s going on, two guards lift her by the arms.

  “Put me down!” she commands, but her orders fall on deaf ears.

  “Get them to the cellars!” a lieutenant shouts. In seconds, soldiers lift me as well. Mother screams for me as they pull her back, carrying her and racing down the stairs.

  “What’s going on?” I yell. “Who’s attacking us?”

  Outside the palace walls, the horn blares louder. The night sky continues to burn red. The world passes in a blur as the soldiers drag me from Father’s quarters and carry me down the ivory stairs. But the more I see of the palace, the more answers I need.

  Gone are the spotless marble floors. The slender vases that lined every hall. Servants and soldiers sprint across the cracked tiles. Shattered glass and crooked frames stain the barren walls.

  When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I can’t believe my eyes. The entire east wing of the palace lies in ruins.

  Nothing more than mounds of rubble and broken columns.

  This is a dream. I close my eyes. A nightmare. Nothing more.

  But no matter how many times I blink, I can’t wake up.

  “What’s going on?” I shout, but no one acknowledges me. I can’t just run and hide.

  I need to get answers myself.

  I slam my feet down and throw my elbows back; the guards wheeze when I punch them in the throat. Their grips loosen and I break free, ignoring the way they scream as I sprint for the balcony.

  A painful spasm erupts from my abdomen, but I force my shaking legs to run. I push the sandbags away from the balcony door, clawing for the handle.

  How could this happen?

  Even as I live it, it all feels impossible. The last time these walls were breached, I wasn’t even born. Burners rampaged through the palace halls, killing every member of Father’s family. It was that attack that made Father get rid of magic. He vowed that the palace would never be attacked again.

  Father’s old stories fill my mind as the last sandbag falls away and I push open the door. My hands fall limp at the sight.

  Lagos is gone.

  “No…”

  I drop to my knees. It feels like the ground has been pulled out from under me. I don’t recognize the carnage before me. It’s like my city’s been ravaged by war.

  Gone are the pastel buildings of the merchant quarter. The colorful tents and carts of the bustling marketplace that sat at its border. Broken windows and blasted buildings lie in their wake. Helpless corpses line the streets.

  Half the divîner dwellings are up in flames, filling the night with the stench of ash. The wooden walls that used to surro
und them are no more than measly stubs. Giant mounds of rubble stand in their place, a barrier of destruction closing my city in.

  I grab my stomach, stumbling as it reverberates with pain. I can’t believe this is happening.

  I cannot believe this is my home.

  Ha-woooooooo!

  The alarm grows to its loudest blare yet and I finally understand its cause. A sphere of fire rises above Lagos’s rubble walls, the red sun growing larger by the second.

  Even from kilometers away, my skin prickles from the searing heat of its flames. The fire’s crackle fills the air.

  Then the red sun explodes.

  “By the skies…”

  My body turns to stone as countless balls of fire arc through the air. They explode when they hit the ground. It’s like flames raining from above.

  Screams ring through the night as the firebombs ravage Lagos all at once. A pair of flames rise over the destroyed palace gates. I try to back up, but my legs don’t move fast enough.

  “Get down!” someone shouts. Strong arms grab my shoulders, pulling me toward the balcony doors. The rasp in the guard’s voice makes me pause. I catch sight of the burn scars along the soldier’s neck as our perimeter turns red.

  “Ojore?” I don’t trust my eyes. I haven’t seen my cousin since he left the naval academy.

  He drags me inside, throwing me against the sandbags lining the wall. His armored body covers mine as the world is drowned out in a blinding flash of white.

  BOOM!

  The impact rattles me to the bone. Windows shatter with the force of the blast. Shards of glass rain down on our heads.

  The palace quakes with the force, subsiding as black plumes of smoke roll in. I grab my ringing ears as my cousin covers my nose, pulling me to my feet.

  “You alright?”

  I nod, though my head throbs more than it did before. Any part of me that didn’t already hurt screams with pain now.

  “What in the skies was that?” I ask.

  Ojore shields his nose, coughing as he drags me toward the cellar.

  “The Iyika,” he answers. “Welcome to the war.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ZÉLIE

  LIGHT BLEEDS INTO the blackness of my mind, stirring me awake. I groan as I slip back into consciousness, my body moaning with pain.

  My head throbs like a herd of rhinomes warring inside my skull. Fleeting images of the broken dreamscape fill my mind with each ache.

  “Hold her down,” a hoarse voice orders when I stir.

  I blink open my eyes as blurry faces come into focus. Tzain closes in, blocking out the rays of morning sun. Seeing him brings back the memory of running away with Nailah; of crashing into the tree before I fell into the dreamscape.

  “Tzain…” I try to sit up, but he forces me to stay down. Amari appears at his side, applying pressure to my legs though she won’t meet my gaze. A young maji with high cheekbones and wide-set eyes kneels between them, slender fingers pressed to my chest. Thick white braids fall to the small of her back as her hoarse voice continues to chant.

  “Babalúayé, ṣiṣé nípasè mi. Babalúayé, ṣiṣé nípasè mi.”

  Behind her, two more maji stand guard at the forest perimeter, eyeing the rising clouds of dirt in the distance.

  “They’re closing in, Safiyah,” one maji calls. “Be quick.”

  “The queen?” I grumble, and the maji shakes his head.

  “Her tîtáns.”

  The tangerine light around Safiyah’s hands turns dark as she releases more of the ashê in her blood. The spiritual energy heats her fingertips, increasing the strength of her magic.

  I feel the drain on my own ashê as a searing heat kneads itself into my chest. A needle of fire threads through my ribs. My muscles spasm with the sudden surge—

  Crack!

  I flinch as my ribs snap together like reunited magnets. My bones grind against each other as they heal. I have to clench my teeth to endure the burn. Though the pain is sharp, the pressure lifts from my chest; I relish the way my lungs expand. But as cool air comes in, my mind returns to Inan.

  He’s still alive.

  I bring one hand to my neck, picturing the vines I wrapped around his throat. I don’t know how he survived, but I feel his lifeforce in my gut. My eyes fall on Amari, and I wrestle with what to do next.

  How can I tell her that her brother lives after I caused her all that pain?

  “Safiyah, let’s go.”

  Sweat drips down the Healer’s brown skin as she removes her hands. Safiyah hangs her head back with exhaustion, taking slow, labored breaths.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “But we have to keep moving. Nehanda’s tîtáns have been rounding up every maji east of Zaria. Entire villages are being imprisoned in Gusau’s fortress.”

  Gusau? I think of the village a few days east. I wonder if their maji are locked in chains. If they’re carving into them the way they carved into me.

  “Thank you.” I rest my hand on Safiyah’s knee and she smiles.

  “My thanks goes to you, Jagunjagun. It’s an honor to heal the Soldier of Death.”

  My brows knit at the title as she and the maji move back into the Adichie Forest. No one meets the other’s eye when we’re alone. I force myself to break the tense silence.

  “How’d you find me?”

  Tzain nods to Nailah, curled at my back. “She came running to us in a frenzy. We flagged Safiyah down after Nailah brought us back here.”

  I frown at the shallow gashes in my lionaire’s skin, marks where gravel and branches cut through her golden coat. Her front paw lies wrapped in bandages, swollen from a sprain. Though it hurts, I reach up and pet her snout. She nuzzles me back, rough tongue sliding across my forehead.

  I direct her to Tzain and he closes his eyes, wincing as Nailah licks his face. “Is this your way of saying sorry?”

  “It is if it’s working.”

  Taking my cue, Nailah turns aggressive, slathering Tzain with wet kisses. He pushes her away, but he can’t fight the smile she brings to his face.

  “I’m sorry.” I reach for his hand. “I know I was out of line.”

  “I swear on Baba.” He shakes his head. “If you pull that dung again—”

  “I won’t.” I lace my fingers through his and squeeze. “You and me?”

  “You and me.” He nods. “Even when you’re an ass.”

  I grin, but it fades when Tzain glances at Amari. The bags under her eyes tell me she hasn’t slept all night. Her face is still flushed from crying.

  She looks away, running her fingers through the new waves in her hair. It grows curlier by the day. I wonder if her awakened magic is to blame.

  “I’m sorry.” I hang my head. Shame fills me from every horrible thing I yelled. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was just upset.”

  Amari nods, but her lips still quiver. I expose my aching ribs.

  “You can kick me if you want.”

  “Will that make us even?” she asks.

  “No. But it’ll be a start.”

  Though Amari still won’t meet my gaze, a small smile settles on her lips. I reach out and grab her hand. It makes her eyes brim with tears.

  I can almost see my apology ease the weight on her shoulders, but that doesn’t change the war we’re in. The countless soldiers and tîtáns who now oppose us. The powerful mother she might have to kill.

  “Do you still plan to take down Nehanda?” I ask.

  “I don’t see another way.” Amari’s shoulders slump. “But this is my fight. I won’t ask you to get involved again.”

  “We talked about it,” Tzain informs me. “If you really want to leave Orïsha, we’ll help you run. I may not agree, but you’ve suffered enough. I understand why you want to be free.”

  Free.

  The word already feels like a distant memory. Even from the grave, Inan had iron chains around my heart. With him alive, those same chains burn like majacite.

  Freedom doesn’t lie b
eyond Orïsha’s borders. Not while the little prince still lives. Still wins.

  If I want to be free, I can’t run.

  I have to kill him.

  “I’m not running anymore,” I say. “If war is what they want, then war is what we’ll give them.”

  Amari grips my thigh. She and Tzain exchange a glance.

  “I don’t understand,” she says. “What changed?”

  My muscles tense and I take a deep breath; I don’t want to hurt her again. But she has to know the truth. The other member of her family she fights against.

  “I think your brother’s alive,” I sigh. “And I’m going to be the one to kill him.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AMARI

  I THINK YOUR brother is alive.

  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?