FOR A WHILE, everything is still. No one speaks in Roën’s absence. Deep down I know we need to put as much distance between us and Mother as possible, but I can’t bring myself to move. Roën’s threat hangs over my head, joined by Mother’s declaration.
If all of Orïsha is hunting us, where can we possibly go?
“I’ll figure it out.” I force myself to speak the words, though I don’t know if they’re true. “I-I’ll find a way to stop Mother. I’ll get Roën his coin—”
“Take a beat.” Tzain walks over, putting his hand on the small of my back. “You’ve been through a lot. You don’t have to find the answers tonight.”
I want to believe him. To hide in the safety of his arms. But the comfort of his touch doesn’t erase the sound of Zélie’s tears. Despite the pain that rips through my heart, all I want to do is take away hers. I slip from Tzain’s grasp and kneel by Zélie in the dirt.
“I’ll fix this,” I whisper. “I promise. I know my mother better than anyone. If I can figure out her strategy, I’ll know how to counterattack.”
“Counterattack?” Zélie tilts her head as if I’m speaking a foreign language. “She sent a dome crashing down on our heads. How in Oya’s name are we supposed to beat her?”
Zélie’s voice shakes with a terror I wish I could defuse, but I don’t know what I can say. I’ve never heard of a power like the one Mother wielded today. Even as a tîtán, it shouldn’t be possible to rip the magic from someone’s veins.
“Mother’s magic may be strong,” I speak slowly. “Perhaps stronger than any magic that’s come before her. But every great power has a weakness. With time, we can find hers.” I think back to the tîtáns she drained, wondering if that’s where our answer lies. “If we build our forces and learn how her ability works, we can dismantle her advantages. We can make her surrender the throne.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Tzain asks.
When she doesn’t?
I dig my nails into my scalp; I don’t want to speak the words. Mere hours ago, I had the cheers of kosidán, maji, and tîtáns ready to become one. In seconds, Mother turned that unity into chaos.
If she stays in the picture, every maji will be killed. Countless Orïshans will suffer. With her on the throne, all this kingdom will ever know is war. I have to stop her.
Even if she is my mother.
I rise to my feet and extend my sword, hands shaking as I stab it into the dirt.
“If my mother refuses to back down, I’ll take her out,” I declare. “I’ll end her war and ascend the throne.”
An uneasy silence follows in the wake of my vow.
“What about the nobility?” Tzain asks. “All those soldiers and tîtáns on her side?”
My stomach churns at the thought of ending all those lives. I don’t want to fight my own people, let alone tîtáns like me. There have to be hundreds aligned with her war on the maji. Maybe even thousands. If I attempt to take them all out, I’ll be no better than my father. I’ll just be another monster.
“Before my mother showed up at the rally, I had the kingdom on my side. Once I take her down, they’ll fall in line.”
“No, they won’t.” Zélie’s voice brings a new chill to the windy night. “We’ve already lost this fight. The monarchy has magic now and they still hate us. It was never about magic at all!”
“Zél—”
“The answer isn’t to kill your mother,” Zélie cuts her brother off. “Kill her and another maji-hating monarch will just rise in her place. It’s time to let this go. Be free. Leave Orïsha while we can still breathe!”
The yearning in her voice takes me off guard. I don’t understand. It’s not like Zélie to cut and run.
“I know the odds are against us,” I push back. “But we can’t abandon these people to Mother’s reign. We have to save the kingdom. We don’t have a choice—”
“Yes, we do.” Zélie rises to her feet. “We do. We tried to save the kingdom. Twice. Now it’s time for us to save ourselves!”
“I am Orïsha’s queen,” I say. “Their queen even if they don’t want me. No matter how hard it gets, I don’t get to run. It’s my duty to serve and protect every person in this kingdom!”
Zélie looks at Tzain for help, but he crosses his arms.
“Zél, she’s right. Baba died so we could fight—”
“Baba died for a lie!” Zélie slams her fist into a tree. “He gave his life for magic, and look who has it? Nehanda was stronger than any maji I’ve ever seen!”
Her voice rings through the trees as she forces herself to take a deep breath. Her anger breaks for a moment, allowing me to see the pain that swells under its surface.
“I’m tired of choosing the kingdom, the magic, the maji—everyone and everything but me. This is our chance to be free! It might be the only chance we’ll ever have.”
She looks at me and it’s as if I have her heart in my hands. All I want to do is heal it. To take away her pain. But it’s not just her pain I must erase.
I close my eyes, preparing for the wrath that I’ll ignite. Orïsha waits for no one.
Not even the girl I love.
“Zélie—”
“For gods’ sakes!” She throws her hands into the air, stumbling as she stomps off.
“Just take a beat.” Tzain tries to calm her down. “We’re too tired and hurt to figure this out now.”
“No, we’re not.” The ice in Zélie’s voice extinguishes the warmth in her brother’s gaze. “That gas didn’t hurt you. It doesn’t hurt them.” She nods at me, and I clench my fist.
Them.
That word stings worse than any of Mother’s did.
“What happened to the gods’ plan?” I ask. “What happened to always being on my side?”
“How can I be on your side when Baba died so your wretched mother and her tîtáns could rise?”
“That’s not fair.” My cheek burns from the slap of her words. She glares at me like I’m the monster. Like I shot the arrow that killed her father. “I’ve lost people in this fight, too.”
“Am I supposed to cry for your bastard of a father?” Zélie asks. “Pity the weakling you called a brother? I can’t look at my own back because of what your father did! Because of you and your family, both my parents are dead!”
Zélie limps to Nailah’s side and pulls herself up even as her muscles shake with exhaustion.
“Don’t compare your scars to mine, Princess. You’ll lose every time.”
“I’ll lose?” I charge forward. “I’ll lose? You had two parents who loved you till their dying breath. A brother who stands by your side. Both my parents tried to kill me with their own hands! I took the life of my own father to protect you and the maji!” My voice shakes with the tears that want to break free, but I don’t let them fall. I won’t let her win. I will not allow her to bring that out of me.
“I am sorry for everything my family’s done,” I continue, “but don’t you dare act like my pain isn’t real. You’re not the only one with scars, Zélie! My family’s hurt me just as much as it’s hurt you!”
Zélie’s face goes cold, and I stop in my tracks. I want to fix the chasm between us, yet every word we speak drags us further apart. She stares at me for a long moment, that horrible, empty look in her silver eyes. Then she turns and guides her ryder down, low enough so that she can mount.
“Zél, stop.” Tzain walks after her. “This has gone far enough. We’re all upset. We’re all hurting. The last thing we need is to turn on each other!”
Zélie pushes her tongue into her lower lip as she settles on Nailah’s back. “How quickly ‘you and me’ became ‘you and Amari.’”
“Gods, Zél—”
“Did you hear me?” she cuts him off. “When my skin was burning and I couldn’t breathe? Did you hear me scream your name, or were you too busy looking after Amari?”
Tzain’s lips part. His forehead creases with shame. “That’s not fair,” he says. “You know that’s not fair!”
“You two deserve each other.” Zélie squeezes her thighs, commanding Nailah to rise. “Say hello to her mother for me. I’m sure she loves poor fishermen’s sons just as much as she loves maji.”
“I swear to the gods—”
“Yah!” Nailah shoots forward at Zélie’s command, sprinting through the trees.
“Zélie!” Tzain runs after her, but within moments she’s too far away to be seen. He digs his hands into his scalp before pounding his fists against the nearest tree.
“She’ll be back,” he mutters into the bark. “Just let her breathe.”
I nod, but as I sink to the ground, I don’t know who he’s trying to convince.