Page 37 of Children of Virtue and Vengeance

“I found it on you after the ritual,” Ojore explains. “Almost tossed it, but I never saw you touch a single coin in your life. Figured if you carried this into battle, it had to be important. You were always doing something stupid with your hands.”

He drops the piece into my open palm, and my fingers close around the tarnished metal. I run my thumb over the cheetanaire engraved at its center. I’m surprised by how fast my throat closes up.

“You don’t know what this means to me,” I say. “Thank you.”

“It’s just a coin.” Ojore slaps my back. “No need to cry. Now let’s go. The people are ready to meet their new king.”

With a nod from me, the soldiers open the grand doors. Sunlight spills through the widening crack. The chatter inside draws to a halt as I walk through the frame.

Row after row of people fill the vast hall. The throne room is so packed, I can’t see the tiled floor. It seems half of Lagos stands before me. Dozens more wait outside the palace doors.

Skies…

The weight of their stares is like an elephantaire pressing on my chest. I can’t believe they’re all here for me. I can’t believe their well-being rests on my shoulders.

“Presenting King Inan Olúborí,” a lieutenant shouts. “The twenty-third ruler of Orïsha!”

It’s hard to breathe when the entire room bows, a wave moving through the crowd. But before I get lost in the moment, the sight of Father’s former advisors keeps me on guard. They stand at the front of the crowd, forming a hard line before the throne. I slow my pace as I take them in.

“Your Majesty.” General Jokôye bows, a petite woman with russet-brown skin. Though no taller than a broom, she commands respect as the leader of our army and the oldest of Father’s royal council. Suspicion pierces through her brass spectacles as she studies me. I can’t help noticing the new white streak running down the center of her signature braid when she rises.

“The general’s a tîtán?” I whisper to Ojore, and he nods.

“Jokôye’s a Winder now. She’s been working with your mother to bring more tîtáns into our forces. She’s even training them to work together.”

I give Jokôye a small tilt of my chin, inspecting the other advisors at her back. Typically a council of seven, only five members still stand after the attack on Lagos. The thirty nobles that used to sit in the front row are now only eleven strong. They all wait in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, Lagos’s battered landscape looming behind them.

I will win your approval. I press my thumb into Zélie’s coin as I ascend the marble steps of the dais that holds the throne. Ojore takes position to my left, offering protection. Mother stands by my side as I sit in the golden chair. I’m not a prince anymore.

I have to be the king my father couldn’t be.

“I know these are harrowing times,” I address the crowd. “I apologize for all you’ve suffered. All you’ve lost. The wounds I sustained from trying to stop the return of magic left me unconscious, but I’m here now.” I squeeze the arm of the chair, scanning the mass of kosidán and tîtáns sprinkled before my eyes. “I have a plan to liberate Lagos and beat theIyika. I promise to bring peace back to Orïsha!”

Cheers ring and my shoulders relax as I wait for the crowd to die down. I have to squeeze the bronze piece to keep the emotion from my face. At my side, Mother smiles.

“With the events of the past moon, there are more problems than I can count,” I continue. “But I ask that you present those problems to me now. I will help you however I can.”

“Excuse me.” A soft voice rings from the back of the room. People part for the young woman who walks forward, a mother with two children. She passes the nobles and advisors at the front of the crowd with a crying infant pressed to her chest. Her other child, a young boy with sunken cheeks, clutches her patterned skirt.

“Your Majesty.” The woman bows when she reaches the throne. From this distance, I can see the way their skin hangs from their bones. The horrible way their bellies protrude.

“I know it is not my place to ask,” she says. “But we’re living off scraps. If you could spare some food…”

Mother leans down, whispering to me under her breath. “The blocked roads have prevented food from coming in and the marketplace has been closed for weeks. It was destroyed in theIyika’s first attack.”

I nod, remembering the bazaar that was once full of scented spices and red meats. I inspect the crowd.

“Who else is in need?” I ask.

Hands lift throughout the hall and my chest falls. This is supposed to be the prosperous capital of my kingdom and yet in this war, my people starve.

“Captain Kunle.” I turn to Father’s tax collector, a balding man with bushy brows and ruddy cheeks. “How much food do we have in our reserves?”

“Around two moons’ worth, Your Majesty. But that’s meant to supply the palace. Any rations left over are distributed to the nobles and military officials.”

“Divide its contents,” I decide. “I want rations made for every civilian.”

Nobles rise to their feet at my declaration. Shocked whispers pass through the crowds.

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