“Those are father’s words, Inan. His decisions. Not yours. We are our own
people. We make our own choices.”
“But he’s right.” Inan’s voice cracks. “If we don’t stop magic, Orïsha will fall."
His eyes return to me, and I tighten my grip on my staff. Try it, I want to bark.
I’m done running away.
Amari redirects Inan’s line of vision, her delicate hands cupping the back of his
head.
“Father is not the future of Orïsha, brother. We are. We stand on the right side
of this. You can stand there, too.”
Inan stares at Amari, and for a moment I don’t know who he is. The ruthless
captain; the little prince; the scared and broken maji? There’s a longing in his
eyes, a desire to give up the fight. But when he lifts his chin, the killer I know
comes back.
When I read this text it makes me feel sorry for both sides, they have been fighting for so long over something that belongs to the maji. When Amari is talking you can tell that Inan is really listing hard, and we get a hint of what is to come.
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