MY PALMS GROW SLICK with sweat as I prepare to address the maji. The elders stand in a broken ring around me. Tzain moves between me and Amari.
My throat dries as I look at her, but I keep her role in our attack to myself. I can’t deal with her now. I don’t have much time.
I can smell the maji’s bloodlust from here. Their desire to run right into battle. But the information I squeezed out of Roën creates a choice we’ve never had. For once, we don’t have to fight. We can live beyond this warzone.
“The king isn’t in Lagos,” I shout. “He’s hiding in Ibadan. The monarchy’s expecting us to march on the palace and exhaust our forces in the wrong location. They plan to annihilate us when we’re divided.”
“What does that mean?” Nâo’s forehead creases. “We go to Ibadan?”
“We shouldn’t take the bait,” I respond. “We should take the opening.”
I ball my fists, steeling myself for their reaction. It would be so much easier to run. To slip away in the middle of the night. But the thought of Mâzeli forces iron into my spine. He would never leave the maji behind.
Neither can I.
“If the monarchy’s forces are split between Ibadan and Lagos, we have a clear path to safety.” I address the crowd. “We can break for Ilorin’s coast. Sail beyond Orïsha’s borders.”
“You can’t be serious.” Nâo stumbles back. “You want us to run?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I want us to live.”
I’m not prepared for the flood of anger that is hurled my way.
“You’re just going to let the monarchy win—”
“This is our home! Where would we even go?”
“What about the rest of the maji?”
How do I get them to see the truth? That there’s more beyond this endless fight? What’s the point of staying here if we know we can’t win?
“I’m not leaving.” Kenyon stomps forward, taking charge of the opposition. “I don’t care if you lost your Second. Burners don’t run.”
“Then you’ll die.” I march up to him, meeting his fury head-on. “Who knows how many more cênters the monarchy has? After this last attack, they know exactly where to find us!”
“Then let them find us!” Kenyon shouts, a battle cry others rally behind. “Let them come to our walls again! Let them try to capture us!”
“Do you know what happens when they catch you?”
Silk brushes against my skin as I yank my kaftan over my head, exposing my back to the world. A collective gasp runs through the crowd the moment I reveal my scars.
My cheeks burn with shame, but I refuse to hide my pain. They have to understand that there is no winning this fight. Only bloodshed awaits us in a kingdom that will always see us as maggots.
“Our enemies have no honor,” I say. “No restraint. When they find us, they will carve through our bodies. They’ll destroy us from within.” As I pull down the kaftan, I find Mári and Bimpe in the crowd. The sight of them pushes me on.
“I made a vow to protect my clan. This is the best way I know how. I can’t keep fighting.” I lift my hands. “I can’t keep losing the people I love.”
Heads hang in the face of my words. For a moment, the entire mountain stays silent. Even Kenyon backs away, returning to the circle of elders.
“But this is our home.” Kâmarū steps forward, deep voice shrunk to a whisper. More than confusion, more than rage, he offers his heartbreak. I know he speaks the pain none of us want to face.
“When the elders built this place, it was only bare mountaintops.” I look to the crowd. “It didn’t become a home because they filled it with towers. It became a home because they built it together. This land, these temples—they’re not what matters. As long as we have each other, we will carry Orïsha in our veins. No one can ever take that away.”
I hold my breath as I wait for the elders’ response. The whispers start to shift in the crowd. I can almost see the acceptance I crave.
But when Amari walks forward, her face lights up as a new idea takes hold in her mind.
“Zélie’s right.” Her voice echoes in the silence. “This is the only chance we might have to escape. But it could also be our chance to win.”
“What are you doing?” I grab her arm, pulling her until we’re face-to-face. My body still shakes at the sight of her, but I don’t look away.
“Don’t do this.” I tighten my grip. “Please.”
Amari presses her lips into a hard line. Her gaze settles on my hand. She exhales a long breath and closes her eyes.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t abandon my home without a fight.”
“Amari, no!” I try to hold on. “This bloodshed has to end!”
But she pulls herself out of my grip. The entire mountain hangs on her silence as she turns to face the crowd.
“For once, we have the upper hand,” she yells. “We can work around their tricks. We don’t need to march to Lagos and take down the entire army. We just need to take out the king!”
Her words run together as her excitement builds and she soaks in every gaze. I can almost see the glint of a crown in her curls.
“Why run?” She throws up her hands. “Why risk the dangers that lie in the unknown when we can avenge the death of Mâzeli and fight for our home?”
My body goes numb as Amari turns the tides before my eyes. Rumbles echo from all around. Even my Reapers latch onto her call for vengeance.
“Let us rise!” She punches her fist into the air. “Let’s band together and end this war! Together we can win! Gba nkàn wa padà!”
The Yoruba is slick on her lips, but it does the trick. The cry ripples from maji to maji until the entire mountain shakes.
“Gba nkàn wa padà! Gba nkàn wa padà!”
I sink to the bloodstone as my ears ring with the sounds of war.
Gba nkàn wa padà.
Take back what’s ours.