Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2)(106)

“Not after we all connect. We’re going to end this war and destroy the monarchy once and for all. Even Nehanda won’t be able to stop us.”

Strike, Amari.

Father’s words shrivel in my chest. I don’t know what to say. What I should feel. The throne is where this all started. Perhaps it’s where this all ends. But the thought of the crown becoming nothing …

“You’ll throw Or?sha into chaos.” I shake my head. “The agony you’ll cause—”

“Anguish and anarchy are far better than the tyranny we’ve known,” Zélie says. “The future of Or?sha will no longer be corrupted by a crown.”

She frowns and I see the pity in her gaze.

She thinks that’s what happened to me.

I will be a better queen …

I release the vow I can never fulfill. I’ve gone beyond losing this war.

I’ve completely lost the right to lead.

“When do you leave?” I ask.

“Tonight.”

“After you connect?”

Zélie’s mouth falls open, but no words escape. The purpose of her visit becomes clear.

“You need a sacrifice.”

She rubs her arms and looks away, staring over the mountain’s edge. The wind whistles in her silence, giving me the answer I seek.

It feels like the entire mountain comes down on me at once. Terror grips my chest. I struggle to draw breath.

But in my punishment lies a certain release. A chance I thought I wouldn’t have. If I do this, I can make things right.

I can give them the power they need to save the kingdom.

“Alright.”

Zélie whips around, shock in her silver gaze. “I haven’t made a decision.”

“You don’t need to. I’ll do it.”

Speaking the words makes my heart lurch. My hands start to shake. But how else can I make up for all the pain I’ve caused?

“No.” Zélie shakes her head.

“What other choice do you have?” I ask. “It has to be someone. Someone you love.”

Though she keeps her face hard, her lips twitch with the emotion she fights back. It almost hurts more to know there’s a part of her that still cares about me after everything I’ve done.

“Zélie, please.” I grab the bars. “Let me make one thing right.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You should not have to.” A second voice speaks.

We look up as a distant thud comes near, the steady rhythm of wood hitting stone. My jaw drops when a cloaked figure emerges from the shadows, resting both hands on her cane.

“Mama Agba?”

The Seer looks between the two of us, sadness radiating from her heart.

“It is not your time, my child. Take me instead.”





CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR


ZéLIE


ANY RELIEF THE SIGHT of Mama Agba could bring quickly turns to despair.

“No.”

“This is not up for debate.” Mama Agba shakes her head. “Far too many children have perished in this fight.”

“I said no!” I turn around. “I’ll find a way. I just need time.”

“You do not have time.” Mama Agba grabs my shoulder, forcing me to face her. “Nehanda’s already declared the end of the war. The maji she captured have mere days before execution.”

“Mama Agba—”

“Tí o ò bá pa enu ù r? m?!” She raises her cane above my head. “Shut up and listen!”

I flinch out of instinct, waiting for the smack of her staff. Mama Agba’s nostrils flare as she sets it back down, using it to walk toward me. But when she nears, I can’t meet her eyes. My throat burns with everything I wish I hadn’t said.

“Look at me.” She lays her wrinkled hand on my cheek. “Zélie, look at me. You are my heart. There is nothing you could do in this world that I would not forgive.”

She wraps her arms around me, enveloping me in the smell of sweetened tea. More tears fall as I breathe it in, savoring the scent of her love.

“I won’t let you do this.”

“You have no choice,” she says. “Our people need you.”

“They need you more.” I squeeze the folds of her robes, thinking of all she built. All she saved. The maji would’ve died ten times over if it weren’t for every effort she made. My entire family would’ve perished.

Mama Agba takes my hand in her own, quieting my objections with her touch. She doesn’t speak as she leads me down the winding path away from Amari’s cell. She stares at the clouds that pass over the mountain’s ledge.

“Do you remember when I told you about my ìsípayá?” she asks. “When I ascended years ago, I saw myself kneeling on a mountaintop. Sky Mother welcomed me with open arms.” She turns to me, mahogany eyes shining. “At the time, I thought I was peeking into the beyond. Now I see my vision was of you all along.”

She kisses my forehead, using her robes to wipe my tears. She holds me as I sob, fighting the sacrifice she tries to make.

“I can’t.” My voice cracks. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You do not have to do this by yourself. You carry all of us in your heart.” She takes my hand and lays it over my chest, lacing our fingers together. “We shall live in every breath you take. Every incantation you speak.”