Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2)(40)

I sink into the cot, rough fabric soaked with my own sweat. I still don’t understand what happened. My magic’s never caused me so much pain.

I didn’t even know what I was doing when I raised my hand. I just wanted it all to stop.

I didn’t think I could stun every Iyika at once.

“Give the king space.” Mother ushers everyone out before kneeling at my side. She shakes her head as she runs her fingers through my sweat-soaked curls. “I could kill you.”

“I’m sorry,” I croak. “We weren’t supposed to get caught.”

“You’re the king, for gods’ sakes! If you have a plan, you fight with soldiers. You fight with me!”

She presses our foreheads together, squeezing me tight. Her hands tremble at the base of my neck. She stiffens as she holds back her tears.

“Please, next time, let me be involved,” Mother whispers. “I just got you back. I can’t afford to lose you again.”

I nod and close my eyes; my mind still burning with the memory of the flames lighting Ojore’s face. But as it drifts, it takes me to the first time I discovered my power, stunning Admiral Kaea back in Chandomblé.

“Have you done that before?” Mother asks.

“Yes. But never that many people at once.”

“Well, don’t use it again,” she says. “Let your subjects bear this pain.”

“Your Majesty!” General Jok?ye enters our tent; something resembling a smile on her face. She pushes her spectacles up her nose and bows. “I am relieved that you’re alright.”

Ojore follows after her, bandages over his new burns.

“I owe you one.” He smacks my foot.

“You keep saving my ass. It’s about time I saved yours.”

“I had my doubts,” Jok?ye says. “But I am not afraid to admit when I am wrong. You’ve done an incredible job of subduing these rebels. With the liberation of Lagos, we can turn the tide in this war!”

I pull back the tented walls and peek outside. Our soldiers shout with celebration, pulling generous swigs from their flask.

In the center of it all, the captured Iyika kneel in the dirt. Each rebel is bound in majacite chains, heads covered with bags.

Staring at them, I want to feel my victory, yet something hollow sinks in my chest. Last time I saw maji with bags over their heads, it was Father leading the charge.

“Now, for answers.” Jok?ye straightens and puts her hand on her sword. “It’s time to locate and exterminate the rest of these maggots.”

She marches into their camp, waist-length braid bouncing against the small of her back. With a wave, she halts the celebration. The determination in her gaze makes a new coat of sweat break out along my skin.

“Remove the bags,” she orders, and her soldiers step forward, ripping the bag from each maji’s face. Crackling flames fill the silence as Jok?ye walks before them, inspecting every rebel.

“You’ve been efficient in your destruction,” she shouts. “Now it’s time for you to pay the price. Tell me where the rest of you maggots are hiding and I promise—your deaths will be quick.”

Some rebels hang their heads. Others try to hide their tears. But one Burner stares up at the moon, her white hair blowing in the night wind.

Jok?ye stops in front of her, teeth grinding at the girl’s defiance. I flinch when Jok?ye lunges for the Burner’s throat.

“I asked you a question.”

The girl struggles, choking under Jok?ye’s tightening grip. My general lifts her into the air. The sight makes my stomach twist.

“Answer me!” Jok?ye shouts.

The Burner gasps for air, but keeps her eyes fixed on the night sky.

“If I’m to die where we stand,” she chokes out, “then I choose the moon over your ugly face.”

Jok?ye throws the Burner into the charred dirt. The maji coughs as air rushes back in. But the way Jok?ye looks at her, I know her breaths are short-lived.

My scar throbs as Ojore hands the general a vial of black liquid and a hollowed-out needle.

It’s like watching Father torture Zélie all over again.

I start to get up, but Mother holds me back. She digs her hand into my thigh to keep me down.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” she hisses. “You already gave them a choice. You can’t save everyone.”

I know she’s right, but nausea still rises in my throat. This doesn’t feel like being a better king.

This doesn’t feel like being a king at all.

“Do you know what it feels like to have majacite in your veins?” Jok?ye’s voice rises as she fills the needle to the brim. Its metal glints in the firelight. “First it blocks the illness you call a gift. Then it burns you from within.”

Pressure builds like a bomb waiting to go off in my chest. Watching the girl, I see Zélie in chains.

I smell the way her flesh burned as Father’s soldiers carved through her back.

“You have a good heart, Inan,” Mother whispers. “It will make you a good king. But you will destroy yourself if you don’t distinguish between those you need to protect and those you need to eliminate.”

“But, Mother—”

“These rebels burned your city to the ground. They wanted you and your people to starve. They are the poison of Or?sha! If you do not cut off the hand now, eventually you will be forced to sever the entire limb.”