Page 9 of Children of Virtue and Vengeance

Tzain’s voice is like shattered glass. His presence frees me from my mental cage. The pain fades ache by grueling ache.

I blink to find myself on the tarnished floor, half-dressed with my silk tunic clenched in my hand. The blood that smeared across the mirror is nowhere to be found.

My scars remain closed.

Tzain covers me with a shawl before taking me into his arms. I brace myself against his chest as my muscles turn heavy, winded from the burst of magic.

“That’s the second time this week,” he says.

Actually, it’s the fourth.But I bite back the truth when I see the concern in his gaze. Tzain doesn’t need to know it’s getting worse. No one does.

I still don’t know how to feel about these new gifts. What it means to be a Connector; to be a tîtán. The maji had their powers restored after the ritual, but tîtáns like me have never had magic until now.

From what I can tell, the tîtáns come from the nobility: royals unaware of their maji ancestry. What would Father say if he knew his own children carried the blood of those he hated most? The very people he regarded as maggots?

“Gods,” Tzain curses as he inspects my palm. The skin is red and tender to the touch, dotted with yellow blisters. “Magic’s not supposed to hurt. If you’d just talk to Zél—”

“Zélie’s not even using her own magic. The last thing she needs to see is mine.”

I tuck away my white streak, wishing I could just chop the lock from my hair. Tzain may not notice the way Zélie looks at it, but I always catch the snarl it brings to her face. For so long, she had to suffer because of her gift. Now those that hurt her the most wield that magic themselves.

I can understand why she despises it, but at times it feels like shedespises me. And she’s supposed to be my closest friend. How will the rest of the maji feel when they learn that I’ve become a tîtán?

“I’ll figure it all out,” I sigh. “After I’m on the throne.”

I burrow back into Tzain’s neck, running my fingers against the new stubble along his chin.

“You trying to send a message?”

A sly smile rises to my lips. “I think it suits you. I like it.”

He runs his thumb along my jaw, igniting a surge almost as powerful as my magic. I hold my breath as he lifts my face to his. But before our lips can meet, the ship groans into a sharp turn, jostling us apart.

“What in the skies?” I scramble to my feet, pressing my face against the smudged porthole glass. For the past three weeks, all it revealed were gray seas. Now vibrant coral reefs shine through turquoise waters.

Zaria’s coastline fills the horizon as the warship navigates the ivy-covered cliffs jutting out of the ocean. A lump forms in my throat at the number of villagers gathered on the white sands. There are hundreds of people.

Maybe even thousands.

“You’re ready.” Tzain comes up behind me, sliding his arms around my waist.

“I don’t even know what to wear.”

“I can help you with that,” Tzain says.

“You’re going to help me pick out clothes?” I arch my brow and Tzain laughs.

“I’ve spent a lot of time looking at you, Amari. You’re beautiful in everything you wear.”

Heat rises to my cheeks as he looks at the pile of rejects on my bed. “But no tunics today. You’re about to be Orïsha’s queen.”

He turns me toward the suit of armor I wore to the ritual grounds when we brought magic back. It’s still covered with the blood of everyopponent I cut down with my sword. Father’s blood stains the front, darkest along the royal seal.

“I can’t wear that,” I exclaim. “It’ll terrify people!”

“That’s the point. I used to see that seal and my chest would clench. But when you wear it…” Tzain pauses and a smile like sugar comes to his face. “With you behind the seal, I’m not afraid. I actually feel safe.”

He rests his chin on the top of my head, grabbing my hand again.

---