Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2)(85)

“Shut your mouth!” I smack his arm as my ears heat. “How can I lead a battle if I lack the coordination required for one measly kiss?”

Tzain takes my shoulders and guides me down to his chest. “Here,” he murmurs. “Let me help.”

My fingers curl the moment his lips meet mine. I sink into him, tasting the sweet remnants of palm wine. But as he runs his hands through the waves in my hair, a pit of guilt sinks into my stomach. While we sit here, Zélie’s probably floors above. Grief-stricken and alone.

“Where’d you go?” Tzain asks. I blink as he pulls away.

I pick at a hole in his tunic, not wanting to meet his eye. “Do you think Zélie will ever forgive me?”

“If my lips are on yours, can you try not to think about my sister?”

I smile as Tzain touches my cheek. “I’m sorry. I just hate knowing how much I’ve hurt her.”

“She needs time,” Tzain sighs. “Space. But you’re doing the right thing. Not just for her. For Or?sha. The kingdom you’re going to build … it’s something that needs to be fought for, even if she can’t fight anymore.”

He takes my hand and it erases the entire world. My stomach flutters when our lips meet. His stubble scratches my chin as I press into him. I think of how many times I’ve imagined this moment. Imagined being here with him. My pulse races as I slip my fingers under the hem of his tunic, but Tzain stops me, grabbing my wrists.

“Am I doing something wrong?” I ask.

Tzain shakes his head, staring at the lines in my palm. “I don’t want you doing this just because you’re scared.”

“Scared of what?” I pull my hands back.

“Dying.”

He looks the other way and I exhale. That word is a tidal wave, washing away every escape he brings. The battle ahead of us taints the air as we sit back up.

“I’m sorry.” Tzain pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. But I can’t let you do that. I care about you too much.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” My heart warms as I press my nose to his cheek. “But you’re wrong. I’m not scared. At least not right now.”

Tzain tilts his head as I put my hands on his cheek, staring into the haven that lies in his warm brown eyes. I think of every moment we’ve had since we first met. The way he fought for me when I was only a princess.

“Tzain, I don’t want to be with you because I’m afraid of dying. I want to be with you because I love you.” I smile. “I feel like I always have.”

With a courage that doesn’t feel like my own, I rise to my feet. My fingers fumble as I remove my tunic and release the band of my skirt. He stares when both fall to the floor.

“Say it again,” he demands.

“Say what?” I ask.

“You said you love me.” He rises to meet me. “Say it again.”

My smile spreads so wide it makes my cheeks hurt.

“I love you.”

“One more time.”

“I love you,” I repeat.

“I don’t think I caught that—”

“Tzain, I love you!” I speak through my laughs, giggling when he lifts me into the air. It feels like I’m floating as he carries me inside and lays me on the bed. He kisses me and every single restraint melts away.

“I love you, too.” His lips brush against mine with every word.

The moment I feel his touch, I pray it never ends.





CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE


ZéLIE


AS I STAND outside the dining hall doors, I wonder why I bothered to show up. Inside, the halls are filled with drink and song. In the face of Mazeli’s death, it feels wrong.

It’s hard not to hear his giggle through the crowd. To picture the way he would shimmy up and down the hall. He always lit up when someone cooked súyà for dinner. If he were here with me, he’d probably eat too much and throw up.

Don’t be sad.

I close my eyes, wishing I could take his advice. I know he would want me to walk in. He would hand me a cup of palm wine. We would laugh and dance and he would declare his future as the greatest Reaper to ever live. He was so ignorant of how great he already was.

“You should join them.”

I freeze at the sound of Mama Agba’s voice. As her staff thuds near, my throat closes up. I haven’t seen her since that day in the infirmary. I don’t want to see her now.

“If not for yourself, go for your Reapers.” Her words carry a new rasp. “They are still here, Zélie. They still need you to fight.”

When I don’t react, Mama Agba places herself between me and the door. I have to turn my head away. I still can’t bear to look her in the eye.

“Can we talk?” Her voice shakes. “I have a special bench in the gardens.”

“I don’t care about anything you have to say.”

“Zélie, I am sorry.” Tears spill between the wrinkles in her cheeks. I hate how much it hurts to see her in pain. How much I want to take it away.

“There was no saving him,” she pleads. “Without a sacrifice to bind your connection, you both would have died. I need you to understand—”