Children of Virtue and Vengeance

by Tomi Adeyemi

  “Zélie, promise me!” Amari grabs my arm and her touch makes the room spin. I reach for the nearest shelf as I stumble. Sweat leaks from my skin.

  “Are you alright?”

  I try to nod, but my head throbs. The pain makes my knees weak. I fall forward as my tattoos flicker with golden light.

  “Zélie!” Amari shouts.

  Bodies crowd around me, but I can’t see them through the blinding pain. I grit my teeth as my tattoos heat, searing like branding irons pressed into my flesh.

  Steam rises from my skin, and my body starts to shake. My hands go to my throat as my tattoos glow. In a flash, the sunset walls of the scroll room go black.

  No one moves when an explosion of light escapes from my mouth.

  The beam shoots from my lips like a snake breaking free from its cage. It coils around my head, so powerful I can’t breathe.

  A pulse of air radiates around my body and sends everyone flying into the walls. Amari slams into a scroll case so hard it crashes to the ground.

  “Jagunjagun!” Mâzeli shouts as the golden beam changes the room around us. Deep blues and purples swirl like night bleeding through the glassy walls. Glowing stars fill the air.

  I wheeze when the golden glow ignites in my chest, so stark it paints my rib cage in black silhouettes. My back arches toward the ceiling as my feet leave the ground.

  “Hold on!” Amari scrambles up from the floor, running across the scroll room. She climbs onto a fallen shelf as I rise. The golden light floods out of my eyes.

  Amari reaches for my hand, but the moment our fingers touch, a cobalt light ignites in her chest.

  “Zélie, what is this?” she screams, losing control as her feet dangle in the air. Though she fights, she rises by my side like she’s been plucked from above by an invisible hand.

  Cosmic energy leaks into the space between us, rainbows of smoke twisting through the air. With Amari’s touch, hundreds of voices fill my head, voices I haven’t heard since the sacred ritual.

  Àwa ni omo re nínú èjè àti egungun!

  A ti dé! Ìkan ni wá …

  As the incantation thunders in my head, dozens of heartbeats ring in my ears. They pulse harder and faster, growing as my tattoos spread along my skin. It’s then that I see the cobalt ribbon of light twisting from Amari’s chest.

  My eyes bulge as I remember my ìsípayá and all the colorful threads of power weaving together. The same sight appears before my eyes now, but instead of a rainbow of color, Amari’s ashê is all navy blue.

  The cobalt ribbons intertwine before her body, creating a sphere of energy so powerful its light flashes through the room. Blue ashê crackles around Amari’s form like lightning. Its glow shines through her amber eyes—

  In a breath, everything disappears.

  Pain rattles through my body as I fall to the floor with a heavy thud. Amari hits the ground across from me, flashes of blue sparking as she falls.

  I groan and grab my shoulder, rolling to the side as the soft orange light of the room reappears.

  “Jagunjagun!” Mâzeli rushes over. “Are you okay?”

  In seconds, the library returns to normal. There’s not one sign of the chaos I just unleashed.

  “What was that?” Dakarai asks.

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. I look down at the golden tattoos still glowing on my skin. No longer confined to my neck, the swirling symbols now spread across my shoulders and down my arms. I feel their searing heat all the way down my back.

  As they glow, everyone’s hearts beat like drums thundering in my head. The louder they pulse, the more I can see the ashê glowing under each maji’s skin.

  “By the gods…”

  I blink, bewildered at the sight. Ashê moves through everyone’s veins like blood, traveling a path intertwined with their skeletons. Emerald light flickers beneath Kâmarū’s heart like a flame. Mâzeli’s deep purple glow shimmers through his dark skin. But when I look to Amari, I can’t believe my eyes.

  Her navy light surges through every limb of her body like a torch.

  “What is it?” she asks.

  I can’t find the words. Ashê radiates from her heart like a star. It’s so dark with power it’s nearly black. With this much ashê running through her, Amari shouldn’t be able to survive two minutes, let alone two moons. I reach for her hand, igniting the navy glow in her chest again.

  “What are you doing to me?” Amari gasps when the navy light rises to her eyes. Cobalt waves drift through the glassy walls as her magic swells.

  As the scroll room changes again, I think of the blue ribbons of light that spiraled from her. The vision Oya showed me in my ìsípayá. That day, I didn’t know what I was looking at, but I understood the vast power all those intertwining threads of light had.

  I let go of Amari’s hand, turning to the other elders as it all clicks. Suddenly everything makes sense. The source of Nehanda’s vast strength.

  “This is what Oya showed me during my ascension,” I breathe. “I think I know how to beat the queen.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  AMARI

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” Mâzeli reaches for Zélie’s hand, but nothing happens. Her tattoos dim as Kenyon, Jahi, and Kâmarū take turns trying to cause a reaction.

  But when she touches my hand again, the cobalt glow ignites in my chest. I rest my fingers against my sternum and I can feel it: the vibration as my magic swells.

  “I can see it,” Zélie says. “Your ashê. There’s so much swirling around your body, more than one person could form alone.” She studies me, seeing something the rest of us can’t. “I think you might be able to absorb tîtán magic like your mother!”

  “What?” I squint. That doesn’t make sense. The way Mother moves, the way she casts—even at my strongest, I’ve never come close to that kind of strength.

  “Zélie, you were with me on that hill.” I say. “My magic doesn’t work like that.”

  “How do we know? You’ve barely spent any time around other tîtáns!” She drags me to the parting wall, forcing my hands open. “When Nehanda attacked at the rally, the other Grounder tîtáns were around her. She sucked their magic into her palms.”

  I start to pull my hand away, but stop when I feel something beyond the wall. My magic swirls in my chest, sending shivers through my bones.

  “Can you feel it?” Zélie asks, but I’m not sure if I can say yes. The pulse of distant heartbeats trickles into my ears when I press my hands against the closed wall.

  Three … four … five … I count the different rhythms in my head. They grow louder the more I concentrate.

  “Just try,” Zélie coaches me, putting her hands on my back. The navy light glows in my chest before softly shining out of my eyes. It builds in strength, coloring the world before me in shades of blue. I breathe deeply and concentrate on each heartbeat I sense beyond the wall.

  “That’s it.” Zélie lowers her voice. “I can see the magic growing inside your core.”

  My skin starts to burn as my fingers spark with dark blue light. I grit my teeth as my magic swirls.

  “Just a little more,” she pushes me. “Open your hands.”

  I stretch out my fingers and gasp.

  Wisps of blue ashê drift through the glassy walls.

  “By the skies…” I step back, staring at the magic that drifts into my hands. It nips at my skin, but the pain is warm. It almost feels good.

  “That should be impossible,” Kâmarū breathes. “For any maji or tîtán!”

  “They’re not tîtáns,” Zélie says. “Oya tried to show me in my ìsípayá. They can absorb the powers of tîtáns who share their magic type. They’re more like cênters.” She creates the term.

  “Skies,” I curse, realizing the implication behind her words. “If I’m like my mother…”

  “Exactly.” Zélie nods. “With enough Connector tîtáns, you could dominate her the way you overpowered Ramaya!”

  I stare at the magic i
n my hand, flickering around my skin like a blaze. I didn’t know how I would defeat Mother. What leverage I could use to end this war. But with this ability, I see the path to victory. The path to the throne. I never needed an army or the maji.

  I only needed my own gift.

  I close my fist and look back at the wall, imagining the army on the other side. I attempt to visualize their next move, picture how to counter their strikes.

  “Can you open the wall again?” I ask Zélie, and she nods. “Then everyone, keep gathering scrolls. I have a new plan.”

  * * *

  “EVERYBODY READY?” I call, and the others respond with tense nods. Zélie takes her place at the wall as we make the final arrangements. Kenyon positions himself on the other side of her.

  You’re getting out of here. I exhale, clenching and unclenching my fists. You don’t have a choice. You finally have the power to end this war.

  Jahi grunts as he pushes the last shelf against the far wall, creating our barricade. I join him in the narrow gap, holding my breath as I wait for Zélie to open the wall.

  “I may have misjudged you,” Jahi says. “You’re not half bad.”

  “Let’s see how you feel when we make it across that bridge.”

  I crawl forward and peek out of the triangular space until I can see Zélie’s face. She places her palms flat against the stone wall, almost frozen stiff as she waits for Kenyon’s incantation.

  “As soon as that wall opens, you run,” he says. “If you don’t, you’ll burn.”

  When Zélie nods, Kenyon holds out his hand. My muscles tense as the incantation flies from his lips.

  “Ìlànà iná, hun ara rẹ pèlú mi báàyí—”

  I shield my eyes as two streams of scalding fire shoot from his palms. They intertwine like ribbons, wrapping around themselves until they form a sphere at Zélie’s back.

  The air sears as the blaze grows, the ball of fire hanging in the air like a sun. As black spots form along its surface I shout.

  “Open the wall!”

  Zélie closes her eyes. The tattoos on her neck flicker as they light up. I hold my breath as the golden glow spreads to her fingertips before cutting through the metallic stone.

  She dives for an iron case as the invisible seam splits down the wall’s center. With a crack, the entrance erupts. Soldiers’ shouts bleed in from the hall.

  “Take them in!”

  The general’s shouts are muffled under a blast of howling wind. My hair ruffles as the gust builds, two cyclones of air shooting down the hall.

  Time slows as the cannons of air speed toward Kenyon’s growing blaze.

  My hands fly to my ears as the cyclones meet the flames.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  INAN

  EVEN FROM THE END of the hall, the explosion rattles me to my core.

  Unbearable heat sears my skin.

  Black smoke fills the air.

  “Jokôye!” I cough through the smoke and charred pieces of parchment that fly through the air. But Ojore drags me back. My eyes sting as he pulls me away from the fight.

  “Don’t let them escape!” Mother points at the seven figures who charge through the black clouds. As the smoke clears, I see the blanket of bodies on the floor. Jokôye lies unconscious, leg twisted in half.

  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 lock eyes, 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 the Iyika grows near.

  “In here!” Ojore pushes me into a cramped room, pressing a hand to my mouth. Sweat drips down my face as the Iyika’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 the Iyika disappear 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 blood consuming 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.

  I swing my staff at his neck, yet he only brings his sword up to defend himself. I can’t tell if he’s too injured to fight, or if he can’t attack because it’s me.

  Despite his hesitation, I hold on to my rage, stoking the fire in my core. He has to pay for what he did. If it weren’t for him, tîtáns and cênters wouldn’t exist at all.

  I shift my weight, twisting Inan’s sword from his hands. Before he can react, I extend my blades. My spear slices through his side.

  Inan cries out, pitching into the wall. Crimson blood leaks from between his fingers, dripping onto the floor.

  Now’s my chance!

  My nostrils flare as I drive my knee into his gut. He wheezes and falls to the ground. Pressure builds in my chest as I straddle him.

  “Zélie, please…”

  Magic nips at my skin, but I ignore it to position the blade in my staff above his heart. I don’t want my powers for this. I want to feel him take his last breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he chokes out the words. His warm blood seeps onto my skin. A lump forms in my throat. Moons ago it was Baba’s blood on my hands instead of his.

  “I’m not.” I speak the words, needing them to be true. Because when Inan’s gone, my scars won’t hurt. Baba’s death will be a
venged.

  When he’s dead, I’ll be able to breathe again.

  I’ll finally be free—

  “Jagunjagun!”

  Mâzeli’s voice stops time.

  I whip around, praying he’s farther away than he sounds. Mâzeli speeds down the stairs, lips trembling as he lifts his shaking hands.

  It’s only then that I hear the footsteps behind me. I turn to see an admiral charging forward, his sword poised to cut me down.

  “Ojore, no!” Inan throws me off of him, reaching for his blade. I prepare to defend myself, but Inan uses his sword to block his admiral’s attack.

  “What’re you doing?” Ojore yells. I wonder the same thing. But with Mâzeli in danger, I don’t have time to think.

  “Come on!” I grab my Second’s arm, pulling him down the hall. I glance back to see Inan collapse, unable to stand with the wound in his side.

  “I need a medic!” The admiral’s shouts echo as we run up the stairs.

  I squeeze Mâzeli’s hand as I struggle to hide my tears.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  INAN

  I WINCE AS OJORE ties the last bandage around my abdomen. With the help of another soldier, he moves me onto a canvas stretcher. The two grunt as they lift me up.

  I pretend to keep my eyes closed with pain as we move through the sacred halls. Without the threat of the Iyika, the only sounds around us are the moans of the wounded and the voices of medics who move to help them.

  What were you thinking?

  My heart thunders in my chest as I glance up at Ojore. He hasn’t said a word since my sword met his, but I know it’s only a matter of time. If he tells Mother what I did …

  I squeeze the bronze piece, banishing the thought. I’m the king.

  It’s his word against mine.

  “Inan!” Mother rises when we exit the temple grounds. She pushes off the Healer tending to her half-treated burns.

  “What happened?” she snaps at Ojore. “You’re supposed to protect him with your life!”

  “Mother, he did.” I rush to his defense. “Ojore stopped a blade from going through my heart.”