Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2)(67)

“Come, child.” Mama Agba waves me forward. “I may be able to help you understand.”



* * *



I’M STILL SHAKING with anger as we make our way into the gardens on the first mountain. Mama Agba rubs her hand up and down my arm, forcing me to exhale.

“Breathe, child.”

I take a deep breath as Mama Agba leads me through the entryway of the gardens. Located at the top of the main tower, they shine with a wild beauty, banana leaves in perfect harmony with the sunset blossoms hanging over our heads.

“Just ahead.” Mama Agba gestures to a weathered bench in the back ravaged by vegetation. “That one has always been my favorite. The moss forms an excellent cushion.”

As we walk the lanternlit path, I think of how the broken stone and unkempt greenery are so different from the manicured lawns of the palace. Overgrown vines weave themselves around the surrounding stone fixtures, creating natural tapestries around the old benches and cracked gazebos. They’re nothing like the royal gardens where only the most perfect carnations were allowed to grow. Like everything else in the palace, they were strangled. Controlled.

“I used to sit here all the time.” Mama Agba sinks into the moss as if it were a luxurious bath. “The temples were created for meditation, but somehow I always found the greatest peace right here.”

I wait for her to release whatever scolding she must be holding back, but she allows the chorus of jungle cicadas to ring out in our silence. As it stretches, I realize she’s not waiting to speak. She’s waiting to listen.

I open my mouth, but it’s hard to find the right words. It feels like I’m always fighting to be heard. I don’t remember the last time I was able to have a simple conversation about this war.

“Is it wrong to fight for peace?” I ask.

“I think life is more complicated than right and wrong,” Mama Agba answers. “I think you will never obtain peace trying to prove either one.”

I sink back down and stare out at the gardens. Across from us, two Tiders sit in a stone gazebo. One kneels while the other uses a knife to shave her head. As thick tufts of white hair fall to the gazebo floor, I realize the girl’s motivation. She’s shaving her head to match Nao’s. She respects her elder so much, she wants to mirror her.

“I know my brother has made mistakes,” I say. “More mistakes than most. But no one will ever understand what it was like to grow up with my father. Inan bore the brunt of his torture.”

“You empathize with him?” Mama Agba asks.

“I understand him. All he’s ever wanted was to be a great king. Even when he’s wrong, he thinks he’s fighting for the right thing.” I pick at the moss beneath my arm and sigh. “I know if we talk, we can reach an agreement. We both want what’s best for Or?sha. It’s Zélie and the Iyika who refuse to listen.”

Mama Agba purses her lips and I bite my tongue.

“I’ve gone too far?” I ask.

“I do not think you’ve gone far enough,” she says. “You speak of this war as if it is the start, but the maji and the monarchy have been fighting for decades. Centuries. Both sides have inflicted great pain on each other. Both sides are filled with mistrust.” Mama Agba runs her fingers along her wooden staff and closes her eyes. “You cannot blame Zélie for her actions any more than you can blame Inan for his past mistakes. You have to look beyond the surface if you truly want to achieve the peace you seek.”

I nod slowly, meditating on Mama Agba’s words. Though my anger toward Zélie fades, my desire to get into the dreamscape only grows. If the monarchy and the maji have been at war for centuries, this could be our only chance to end this fight for good. But how can I broker peace between both sides when every attempt I make gets struck down?

“Do you know the meaning of your name?” Mama Agba asks.

“My name doesn’t mean anything.”

“Every name means something, child. Yours means ‘possesses great strength.’” Mama Agba smiles, the skin crinkling at the corners of her large eyes. “A few moons ago you were a scared princess on the run. Now you’re an elder leading the maji through war. A queen poised to take her throne.”

Her words force me to think of everything I’ve done, how far I’ve truly come. I thought victory would only be achieved once I sat on Or?sha’s throne, but I suppose there is another victory in what I’ve already become.

“This all started the moment you stole that scroll. It was your courageous actions that brought us here at all. I know it’s difficult, but give it time. If anyone can bring about peace, I know it is you.”

She cups my chin and looks at me with such a warmth, I can’t help but smile. I don’t know when it happened or why, but I feel genuine love in her eyes.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Thank you is unnecessary.” She pulls me into a hug. “Your courage has given so much back to me. I am as grateful to you as I am to Zélie.”

She rises to her feet and I move to join her, but she sits me back down.

“When I was younger, this was the best place in the sanctuary for me to explore the extent of my powers. It may help you, too.”

“But I don’t have an incantation.” I scrunch my brows. “Zélie destroyed it.”