Children of Virtue and Vengeance

by Tomi Adeyemi

  He could’ve lived. He should’ve lived. It was my duty to keep him safe. But I failed.

  Now I have to live with the weight of my mistakes.

  Soft knuckles rap against my bedroom door. A painful spasm erupts in my chest when it creaks open.

  “Go away,” I wheeze. I can’t have Tzain see me like this.

  I crawl across the floor, trying to shut the bathroom door. But before I can, a bandaged hand props it open. I don’t know if I can trust my eyes when its owner walks through.

  “Roën?” I whisper.

  Black waves hang from the mercenary’s head, clumping along his square jaw. He kneels on the tiled floor and places callused hands on either side of my face.

  “What are you—”

  “Don’t talk,” he interrupts. “Breathe.”

  My eyes water as I fight to inhale. I curl forward when another spasm erupts in my chest.

  “Look at me.” Roën brings my face to his, firm yet tender in his grip. But I don’t want to meet his eyes. I don’t want anyone to see how broken I truly am.

  “Just look at me.” His voice drops to a whisper. “It’s okay.”

  It feels like pushing two mountains apart with my bare hands, but staring into his eyes, I manage to open my throat. Roën’s touch softens as I inhale, sucking in a feeble, strangled breath.

  “That’s it.” He moves his thumbs back, stroking the skin behind my ears. I stare at him, gasping until all the air in the room returns.

  “What’re you doing here?” I ask. The ache in my chest magnifies as Roën pulls me up and sits me down on the bathtub’s edge.

  “The elders summoned me. The lot of them pooled together every resource they had just to hire me to help.”

  He grabs a rag and cups my cheek, gentle as he wipes away the blood and dirt coating my face. I close my eyes and lean into him, inhaling his honeyed scent.

  “He’s gone.”

  My lips tremble as I speak the words. It sounds so strange to say it out loud. I only met Mâzeli two moons ago. I don’t know how he burrowed himself into my heart.

  “I never had a Second.” Roën wrings out the rag. “But I had a partner. The day I lost her is still the worst I’ve ever had.”

  He keeps his voice even, but his words don’t hide his scars. It’s strange to see this much of him. To peer into the heart he pretends not to have.

  “How’d you meet her?”

  A small smile rises to his pink lips, but it doesn’t last long. “She found me digging through trash. That girl practically dragged me out of the dirt. She’d probably still be alive if she’d just let me starve.”

  New tears well in my eyes and I have to turn away. I wonder where Mâzeli might be if we hadn’t met. If I’d escaped across the sea. I never wanted this war. This clan. After Baba died, I didn’t want anyone or anything.

  I just wanted to be free.

  “I have to get out of here.” I shake my head, pawing away my tears.

  “Out of the sanctuary?”

  “Out of the kingdom.”

  It feels like a betrayal to utter the words, but I can’t lie to myself. I was a fool to think that freedom lay on the other side of this war. The only thing I can count on is disaster and death. It follows me everywhere I go.

  Staring at the red bathwater, I know I can’t keep doing this.

  “I can’t keep burying the people I love,” I whisper.

  Roën’s hand hovers over my cheek as he digests my words. He avoids my gaze, dipping the rag into the water before moving to the blood on my hands.

  “Is that really what you want?”

  I nod, and Roën looks down at the floor.

  “If you really want to go, now is your best chance.”

  I tilt my head at his coded message. “How do you know that?”

  “I can’t say more.”

  As he brings the rag to my arm, I stop him by grabbing his hand.

  “Talk,” I demand. “What do you know?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  AMARI

  I HAVE TO MAKE THIS RIGHT.

  My chest aches as the entire sanctuary gathers on the third mountain. Though Mâzeli was the only maji killed in the attack, every space feels empty without his laugh. His death hangs like the gray clouds below.

  The elders move to the center of the bloodstone. It feels like a sin to stand among them. Every day since the attack, I’ve waited for the truth to come out. For people to punish me for my mistake. But Zélie still hasn’t revealed how the monarchy discovered our base. I don’t know why she’s protecting me.

  “We have to make a choice!” Nâo raises her voice over the unruly crowd. “The sanctuary is exposed. It’s too dangerous to stay here.”

  “Where are we supposed to go?” Na’imah asks. “No place in Orïsha is safe.”

  “We don’t go anywhere,” Kenyon shouts. “We fight!”

  I look up as Tzain joins the last of the maji walking across the stone bridge. When he catches my eye, he shakes his head. I worry Zélie will never leave her room again.

  I have to find a way to win this war. Now more than ever. If I can’t, Mâzeli will have died for nothing. There will be no point to our pain and suffering.

  “This started in Lagos.” Kenyon riles up the crowd. “It ends there, too. We keep pretending we’re defenseless, but we held off the royal forces with the moonstone. We know what we have to do!”

  “Zélie won’t use that power again,” I tell them. “Not after what happened to Mâzeli.”

  “Why does she get a choice?” Kenyon asks. “Someone drag that girl out of her room!”

  Tzain’s nostrils flare as he breaks from the ring of people around the bloodstone and storms toward the center. I run to intercept his path.

  “Don’t.” I put my hands on his chest. “It’ll only make things worse.”

  “Have some compassion,” he shouts over me. “She lost her Second.”

  “I lost a quarter of my clan!” Kenyon yells. “I didn’t get to sit around and mourn!”

  So many arguments break out at once, it’s impossible to keep track. I close my eyes, attempting to block out the noise. We can’t stay here, but we can’t blindly attack. The next time our forces meet Inan’s, we have to be precise.

  Only one of us can survive.

  “What’re you thinking?” Tzain asks. I lift my hands and stare at the scars left from my magic. I can almost hear Father in my head, whispering the words he tried to embed in me as a child.

  I’ve had the power to end this all along. I just didn’t want to use it against the people I love. But now I have no place to run.

  Orïsha waits for no one.

  “If I can surround myself with enough Connector tîtáns, I think I can take Mother down.”

  “No.” Tzain takes my hands. “It’s too dangerous to face her on your own.”

  “Who else can challenge her?” I ask. “Who else can suck the life from Inan’s veins?”

  I close my eyes, replaying my mistakes. All these years I thought Father was a monster, but what if ruling this kingdom forced him to act that way? War is a race to the death, and right now Mother and Inan are winning.

  I push past Tzain, walking into the center of the circle. I can’t allow any more of our blood to spill. I need to end the war at any cost.

  “I have an idea.” I raise my hand, quieting the circle. But before I can speak, a voice rings out from behind me.

  “Wait!”

  All eyes turn to Zélie as she comes sprinting out of the elder tower. Her purple kaftan flies behind her as she runs. Blood still mats her white coils.

  My face falls when she catches my eyes, but she doesn’t linger on me before addressing the crowd.

  “We don’t have to fight.” She holds up her hands. “There’s another way out of this war.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  ZÉLIE

  MY PALMS GROW SLICK with sweat as I prepare to address the maji. The elders stand in a broken ring around me. Tz
ain moves between me and Amari.

  My throat dries as I look at her, but I keep her role in our attack to myself. I can’t deal with her now. I don’t have much time.

  I can smell the maji’s bloodlust from here. Their desire to run right into battle. But the information I squeezed out of Roën creates a choice we’ve never had. For once, we don’t have to fight. We can live beyond this warzone.

  “The king isn’t in Lagos,” I shout. “He’s hiding in Ibadan. The monarchy’s expecting us to march on the palace and exhaust our forces in the wrong location. They plan to annihilate us when we’re divided.”

  “What does that mean?” Nâo’s forehead creases. “We go to Ibadan?”

  “We shouldn’t take the bait,” I respond. “We should take the opening.”

  I ball my fists, steeling myself for their reaction. It would be so much easier to run. To slip away in the middle of the night. But the thought of Mâzeli forces iron into my spine. He would never leave the maji behind.

  Neither can I.

  “If the monarchy’s forces are split between Ibadan and Lagos, we have a clear path to safety.” I address the crowd. “We can break for Ilorin’s coast. Sail beyond Orïsha’s borders.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Nâo stumbles back. “You want us to run?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I want us to live.”

  I’m not prepared for the flood of anger that is hurled my way.

  “You’re just going to let the monarchy win—”

  “This is our home! Where would we even go?”

  “What about the rest of the maji?”

  How do I get them to see the truth? That there’s more beyond this endless fight? What’s the point of staying here if we know we can’t win?

  “I’m not leaving.” Kenyon stomps forward, taking charge of the opposition. “I don’t care if you lost your Second. Burners don’t run.”

  “Then you’ll die.” I march up to him, meeting his fury head-on. “Who knows how many more cênters the monarchy has? After this last attack, they know exactly where to find us!”

  “Then let them find us!” Kenyon shouts, a battle cry others rally behind. “Let them come to our walls again! Let them try to capture us!”

  “Do you know what happens when they catch you?”

  Silk brushes against my skin as I yank my kaftan over my head, exposing my back to the world. A collective gasp runs through the crowd the moment I reveal my scars.

  My cheeks burn with shame, but I refuse to hide my pain. They have to understand that there is no winning this fight. Only bloodshed awaits us in a kingdom that will always see us as maggots.

  “Our enemies have no honor,” I say. “No restraint. When they find us, they will carve through our bodies. They’ll destroy us from within.” As I pull down the kaftan, I find Mári and Bimpe in the crowd. The sight of them pushes me on.

  “I made a vow to protect my clan. This is the best way I know how. I can’t keep fighting.” I lift my hands. “I can’t keep losing the people I love.”

  Heads hang in the face of my words. For a moment, the entire mountain stays silent. Even Kenyon backs away, returning to the circle of elders.

  “But this is our home.” Kâmarū steps forward, deep voice shrunk to a whisper. More than confusion, more than rage, he offers his heartbreak. I know he speaks the pain none of us want to face.

  “When the elders built this place, it was only bare mountaintops.” I look to the crowd. “It didn’t become a home because they filled it with towers. It became a home because they built it together. This land, these temples—they’re not what matters. As long as we have each other, we will carry Orïsha in our veins. No one can ever take that away.”

  I hold my breath as I wait for the elders’ response. The whispers start to shift in the crowd. I can almost see the acceptance I crave.

  But when Amari walks forward, her face lights up as a new idea takes hold in her mind.

  “Zélie’s right.” Her voice echoes in the silence. “This is the only chance we might have to escape. But it could also be our chance to win.”

  “What are you doing?” I grab her arm, pulling her until we’re face-to-face. My body still shakes at the sight of her, but I don’t look away.

  “Don’t do this.” I tighten my grip. “Please.”

  Amari presses her lips into a hard line. Her gaze settles on my hand. She exhales a long breath and closes her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t abandon my home without a fight.”

  “Amari, no!” I try to hold on. “This bloodshed has to end!”

  But she pulls herself out of my grip. The entire mountain hangs on her silence as she turns to face the crowd.

  “For once, we have the upper hand,” she yells. “We can work around their tricks. We don’t need to march to Lagos and take down the entire army. We just need to take out the king!”

  Her words run together as her excitement builds and she soaks in every gaze. I can almost see the glint of a crown in her curls.

  “Why run?” She throws up her hands. “Why risk the dangers that lie in the unknown when we can avenge the death of Mâzeli and fight for our home?”

  My body goes numb as Amari turns the tides before my eyes. Rumbles echo from all around. Even my Reapers latch onto her call for vengeance.

  “Let us rise!” She punches her fist into the air. “Let’s band together and end this war! Together we can win! Gba nkàn wa padà!”

  The Yoruba is slick on her lips, but it does the trick. The cry ripples from maji to maji until the entire mountain shakes.

  “Gba nkàn wa padà! Gba nkàn wa padà!”

  I sink to the bloodstone as my ears ring with the sounds of war.

  Gba nkàn wa padà.

  Take back what’s ours.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  AMARI

  THE NEXT FEW HOURS pass in a blur. Everyone comes together with new purpose, energized by the chance to win this war. With Zélie against our attack, command of the Iyika falls to me. My head spins as we sit in the dining hall, using every maji at our disposal to hammer out the final details.

  “I say we take everyone who can fight and storm the village.” Kenyon slams his fist on the table. “Nehanda’s probably with the king. We’ll need every maji we can get.”

  “You can’t storm Ibadan,” Na’imah retorts. “It’s sequestered in the mountains.”

  “And if we storm the city, we lose our biggest advantage,” I remind him. “We don’t want Inan to know we’re there until it’s too late for him to stop us.”

  Out of instinct, I wait for someone to push back, but they accept my every point. Every elder takes a moment, brainstorming stealth-based alternatives.

  “What if we only attack with the elders?” Kâmarū asks. “Most of their soldiers are still outside Lagos. We don’t need a massive force.”

  I nod. “Sneaking in ten people will be far easier than sneaking in a hundred.”

  “Are we sure there will be ten of us?” Na’imah purses her lips and all eyes fall on the empty seat. I haven’t seen Zélie since she walked off the bloodstone. I don’t even know if she plans to fight.

  Blush rises to my cheeks, but I force myself to move on. Would the Iyika follow my command if they knew Zélie’s heartbreak was my fault?

  “If we’re only taking the elders to Ibadan, then our Seconds should guide everyone else toward Lagos,” I decide. “We can keep them away from the fight while making Inan think we’re taking his bait.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Kâmarū rises and a small weight lifts off of my shoulders. After what happened to Mâzeli, I don’t want any other maji in harm’s way. At least this way, they’ll stay safe.

  “What about the villagers?” Khani presses. “They could still get caught in the fight.”

  “Or worse.” Jahi stares at the table. “The king and queen could use them as shields.”

  My throat dries as a tense silence falls over us. I feel the part of m
e that wants to argue that Inan wouldn’t sacrifice his people, but I no longer believe it. He and Mother don’t care who they hurt. They’ll kill anyone to win this war.

  “We should consider alternative plans.” Jahi speaks slowly, treading with care. “The same mountains keeping the king safe also lock him in a cage. We don’t need precision to win—”

  “We’re not like them,” I cut Jahi off before he can go any further. “We can take them out and keep the villagers safe. We just need an undetectable way in.”

  My gaze drifts back to the stool where Zélie should sit. She and Tzain grew up in Ibadan, but I can’t imagine she’ll help when she doesn’t want us to go at all.

  “Tzain!” I wave him over from across the dining hall. He takes a break from loading supplies with Imani, Khani’s twin and our strongest Cancer.

  “What’s going on?” He looks around the table and I gesture for him to sit down.

  “None of us have been to Ibadan, but we need a way to get in undetected,” I explain. “Is there anything you know that could help us?”

  Tzain’s lips part; it’s like a shadow falls over his face when he realizes who’s missing. A bitter taste settles on my tongue. It feels wrong to put him in this position.

  “If it’s too much—”

  “You’re trying to win a war.” He holds up his hand. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  We lock eyes across the table and my skin warms under his gaze. Tzain blows out his cheeks as he stares at the crude maps, searching for a way in.

  “Here.” He points to the lake north of the village center. “Zélie and I used to swim here all the time when we were children. Go deep enough and you’ll reach the underwater caves.”

  “How far out do they go?” I ask.

  “Find the right one, and you’ll be able to sneak in from outside the mountain range. I can show you the way.”

  It takes everything in me not to fling my arms around Tzain’s neck. The tightness in my chest begins to dissipate as the final pieces of our plan fall into place.

  Kâmarū can tunnel us through the mountain. Nâo can take us through the water. For the first time since my rally went wrong, victory hangs just beyond my fingertips. All I want to do is lunge forward and grab it.