She steered her horse around the steaming pile.
The army rode onward into the countryside, making good time. The rice paddies were green and flooded with water, and the terraces on the hills behind it were lined with what were probably sweet potato plants. The tiger pearls from the Striped Coves were one facet of Kichona, and these quiet farm communities were another—different, yet equally important. Sora tried to envision what would happen to them if Prince Gin won this fight against Empress Aki.
He would begin wars against other kingdoms, and their soldiers would come to Kichona’s shores in retaliation. In her mind, Sora saw foreign warriors lighting the sweet potato terraces aflame, burning a sickly, syrupy smoke. She watched the rice paddies dry up, their plants uprooted, farmers’ bodies impaled by hoes. She heard the screams of scared children, and of even more frightened mothers who tried to protect their babies’ innocence while enemies pushed up the women’s skirts against the farmhouse walls.
She also saw that the ryuu could do the same in other countries. Right now, they restrained themselves from too much destruction, because Prince Gin needed to preserve the kingdom he meant to rule. But she remembered how easily Prince Gin had beheaded the harbormaster at Tiger’s Belly, how he’d designated Hearts throughout Kichona—including babies!—without a thought to sacrificing their lives, and how he’d told the Black Widows they could have their way with their prisoners once the war began. If this was what restraint looked like, the Dragon Prince and his ryuu would be disastrous abroad.
How was Sora going to stop them?
Prince Gin’s army could control the ocean’s waves. They could summon hordes of stinging wasps. They could unleash fire as if from a dragon’s mouth, suck the air out of lungs, and boil the water inside a man until he burst from within. And that was just a sampling of the ryuu’s abilities.
The taigas don’t stand a chance. The answer set in like rot, rank and damp.
But then Sora adjusted her posture on her saddle and sat taller. The taigas might not stand a chance fighting the ryuu as they were. But what if I could find a way to undermine the ryuu’s magic? It would level the playing field, at least a bit.
In front of her, Shitstorm lifted his tail again. Sora pulled her horse’s reins to the left and trotted around the gelding.
There was always more than one path to get where you needed to go. And if anyone could find it, Sora could.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Daemon and Broomstick rode up to the behemoth gates at the Citadel. A dozen guards perched in watch stations above, arrows aimed at those who dared approach. Others were poised to drop down and attack, should they be needed.
“Who goes there?” the lead warrior asked.
Daemon and Broomstick dismounted. They fell to their knees, splayed their hands wide before them, and pressed their foreheads to the ground.
“Welcome back, apprentices,” the warrior said upon recognizing them. There was a pause. Then he asked, “Broomstick, where’s the rest of the team that went to Dassu Desert?”
Broomstick remained on the ground for a moment before he had the strength to rise and answer. “They’re dead.”
The guard froze as he processed this.
“All of them?”
Daemon nodded. It was too complicated to explain what had happened to Sora and Fairy. Besides, that report should be directed at the Council.
In grim silence, the guards opened the fortress gates. Daemon and Broomstick entered.
As they returned their horses to the stables, Broomstick said, “Do you really believe she’s still alive?”
They hadn’t talked about it the entire journey back from Copper Bluff, but it had loomed over them. Fairy had been so incredibly brave to pose as the empress. She’d known that death might be the price. But Daemon refused to acknowledge it. He could remember the smell of her hair, like plums and sweet cream. He could hear her voice, lilting and teasing, always something scandalous to say just to get a smile out of him. He stopped working to unsaddle his horse. “I . . . I have to believe Fairy’s alive.”
“But what if . . .” Broomstick cast his eyes downward and fiddled with the reins still in his hands. “What about the possibility that Sora is one of them?”
“No.” Daemon left the saddle and turned to Broomstick. He met his gaze and didn’t let go. “I can resist the Dragon Prince’s charm somehow, and Sora seems to benefit from my immunity. I feel her constantly through our gemina bond now, not like before, when she was hypnotized. If she’s still with the ryuu, she has a very good reason for it.”
Broomstick said nothing.
Conviction swelled in Daemon’s chest. He put his hands on Broomstick’s shoulders. “If we don’t believe in each other,” Daemon said, “what have we got left? Prince Gin wants to tear the Society apart. But we have control over this. We get to decide whether we stand with one of our best friends. It’s been the four of us since we were kids. We can’t abandon each other now when we need our friendship the most.”
Silence.
“Fairy will be okay,” Daemon said. “So will Sora. They are the strongest, most tenacious people we know.”
Broomstick kicked at the dirt on the stable floor. But he nodded.
A Level 8 apprentice ran into the stable. Daemon and Broomstick spun to face him.
“Wolf and Broomstick, the Council requests your presence immediately.”
Daemon leaned on his horse. This was going to be a very difficult report to give.
“Do we have time to change into our formal robes?” Broomstick asked.
“No. They want you now.”
“All right,” Daemon said. “Tell them we’re on our way.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Aki’s rooms at the Citadel were more spartan than she was accustomed to, but she didn’t complain. She didn’t need much, and besides, the Society was equipped to house warriors, not empresses pretending to be in Dassu Desert. The taigas had done as much as they could to make this feel like home while she was in hiding. They had knocked down a wall between two suites to form a single enormous one, with a receiving room, an office, a parlor, a meditation room, and of course, her bedchamber. The floors were done simply in reed mats as with the rest of the quarters in the building, and the furniture was utilitarian, but the walls of her temporary rooms had been repainted navy, and they’d found gold fabric to pin up as drapery.
The windows, however, remained papered in black, which took some getting used to after spending a lifetime in the bright, crystalline light of Rose Palace. Nevertheless, these were trifling details. After all, Aki’s kingdom was on the brink of war.
One of her Imperial Guards stepped into the receiving room, where Aki sat on a simple bamboo chair, reading the latest reports from the taigas around the island. All major outposts had been evacuated. Many of the squadrons were coming here, to the Citadel, on Aki’s orders. Whether or not a temporary cease-fire was reached in Dassu Desert, she suspected Gin would eventually march to Rose Palace to try to take the throne.
“Your Majesty, the Council is here.”
They might have an update on whether her brother had agreed to a cease-fire and further discussions, or if he’d killed her decoy. Aki’s stomach swan dived in the most unregal way.
“Thank you,” she said, barely keeping her voice steady. “Send them in.”
Glass Lady, Strategist, Bullfrog, Renegade, and Scythe filed in. They had two apprentices with them. Broomstick had been one of the rogues she’d appointed for the mission. For a moment, Aki dared to hope that it had gone well.
Except Fairy and the Imperial Guards who’d gone to the desert weren’t here.
Aki’s hope plummeted.
The councilmembers and apprentices lay on the ground in deep bows. “Your Majesty.”
Aki pulled herself together as best she could and nodded as they rose. “You have word on my brother?”
“Yes,” Glass Lady said. “As you predicted, Prince Gin wanted you dead. However, there is a bit of a twist we did not foresee. Broomstick and Wolf will report to you, since they were there.”
Wolf shuffled his feet.