Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2)(58)

“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 Jok?ye. 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 Or?sha. 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, t?táns 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 avenged.

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

I’ll finally be free—

“Jagunjagun!”

Mazeli’s voice stops time.

I whip around, praying he’s farther away than he sounds. Mazeli 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 Mazeli 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 Mazeli’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.