"Me too."
They fell back into silence as they slowly wormed their way around a cliff face. Khalem stumbled on the shale every now and then, sending a fall of rocks down the mountain face.
Isao fell deep into his thoughts, wondering about his father, the palace, and what would happen next.
"Isao!"
The guttural cry came seconds before Isao saw them: At least thirty people, hidden behind tribal masks with leering smiles, bulbous noses, and bright, frightening eyes. Simple leather skins and drapes of leaves adorned their bodies, and each gripped a club or wooden spear. Tattoos adorned their shoulders, arms and chests.
A smaller, child-like person held up two rocks in clenched hands.
Isao sucked in a sharp breath. Were the legends true? Did cannibals really haunt these treacherous slopes?
Celty and Khalem edged closer to Isao, their expressions grim. The three of them backed up into each other for safety.
Seconds later, the strangers started to shout in an odd, clicking kind of language. They held up their weapons, first waving them overhead, then poking them toward the small group before they pointed at a path that snaked up the mountain and far away.
"They want us to follow them on that path. I think . . . maybe they want to take us to their chief, or something," Celty said.
"How do you know that?" Khalem muttered.
"I don't know. I just think…that they would have killed us by now if not."
Khalem, instead of being afraid, appeared to think over what she said.
Celty's hands rested at her side, seemingly at ease, but with her knuckles white with tension.
Isao pulled in a deep breath. Could these people just kill them? He wanted to shout, but held it back. Yes, they could. And no one would know.
A determination to live gave him strength. He swallowed back his fear with the realization that he was far, far from home and all whom he knew.
Khalem sighed. "Fine. We'll follow."
Celty offered both hands up, showing her wrists. The closest person grabbed them, tied a rope around her, and shoved her toward the path. She hid a grimace, but Isao saw pain flare in her bright eyes.
Khalem and Isao were immediately disarmed by the other tribe members and tied at the wrists. They followed after Celty.
Hot acid rose in Isao's throat as he followed the mask-wearing strangers up the mountain, toward the mouth of a dark, wide cave. Where he could see nothing inside.
Yuna
Morning sunlight streamed into the meeting hall the next morning, spilling over Yuna’s shoulders and warming them.
Azuma stood next to her, a blank expression on his face. Like her, he’d woken up after only a few short hours of sleep, unable to succumb anymore. Then, once he arose, he polished his armor with a tightly set jaw and grim determination.
She left him to his thoughts, certain that she could put nothing there that he wasn’t already thinking. She hid her satisfaction.
What a beautiful day.
The sound of someone walking across the tile floor broke the stillness in the room.
Bramen Qin crossed the room, stopping in front of the two of them. There were heavy bags under his eyes. “You two look like hell,” he said.
“So do you,” Yuna said with a wry smile.
He returned it.
“Did they come?” Azuma asked.
Bramen motioned to his guard with a jerk of his head.
Two lanky figures stepped into the room wearing dark brown tunics with collars. A linen cloth covered most of their faces, revealing only eyes beneath heavy brows. Long black hair flowed onto the slender shoulders of the woman on the left. The man, on the right, had brown shoulders and a scar connecting his unseeing eyes. Neither spoke.
“They’re formidable,” Bramen said, “I’ll give you that. They’re from the Mavul Desert and belong to the Alqat caste.”
“Legendary killers,” Yuna murmured. “But a good killer needs his sight, at least. The woman seems as if she could barely carry a heavy tray. I wouldn't even hire her as a servant in my palace. I don’t think they can do the job at the price they requested.”
“I’ve heard stories,” Azuma murmured. “Stories about the Alqat that gave me nightmares when I was just a boy. If even half of them are true, they’re going to be formidable foes with . . . how do you say it? Special and unique qualities.”
“Among which sight and strength clearly aren’t two of them.”
Azuma shot her a hot glare, which she ignored.
There wasn’t time for incompetence. Not at this stage. Isao had to die, or all their plans and work would be for naught.
“Rumor says that behind that piece of cloth they hide demonic mouths. Or something worse,” Azuma drawled. “Would you like to find out?”
Yuna sent him a heavy glare. “I don’t care what they’re hiding as long as they do the job. How do they work if they’re small and blind?” she asked. "Even Isao could defeat a woman so slender."
Bramen waved a hand. The two assassins shifted, and the women directed her cold, glittering eyes at Yuna.
She’d never met anyone as equally ruthless as her, but she could see some of her own relentless ability in this woman’s eyes. Perhaps the assassins had a little value.
“Your target is Prince Isao,” Bramen said quietly, handing a familiar garment to the male assassin: Isao’s ceremonial robe worn during the wedding.
The man pressed it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Once. Twice. He sniffed the length of the garment, then turned to his sister and nodded.
The two of them backed away, hovering just near the door.
“Fine. Give the job to them, Bramen,” Yuna said. “We’ll pay them what they want. If they don’t finish? Then they’ll wish for death as well.”
Without another word, the assassins slipped out of the room, leaving nothing but a blanket of silence in their wake. Azuma tilted his head back and laughed maniacally, the sound expanding until it seemed to fill the whole room.
"He's going to die," Azuma sang, his eyes glittering. "He’s going to fall apart. They're going to slaughter him and bring us his eyes as a gift."
Hours later, a handful of guests with frightened, tear-stained faces stood before Yuna. She smiled at the owners with a weary but determined, expression.
She pulled in a breath, thriving on it.
"You have our deepest promise," Yuna murmured to the guests gathered in the great hall of the Imperial palace. "Azuma, Bramen, and I will not rest until we can bring these traitorous murderers to responsibility. Let us all remember that we are strong together. If we work hard, we can defeat the Ameya clan."
"We don't know who worked with the Ameyas!" someone called. "There could be traitors in our midst!"
" I will find out, I promise you," Azuma promised. He kept one hand on his sword, sheathed at his side. His jaw was tense, his entire body rigid, as he stood next to her, exuding a brute strength.
"We will demolish this plague, this evil," Yuna proclaimed. "We assure you that the Ameya will pay for what they have done." Her voice caught. She swallowed, blinking back tears. "They will not go free for murdering our beloved Emperor."
Next to her, Azuma stiffened.
"We support you, Yuna," said a man from the Mudra clan with eyes the color of coffee. Umber hair swept around his ears, dangled near his eyes. "We are grateful for your willingness to lead the Empire at this frightening time."
"You have our trust and our blades."
"We will fight."
The murmured responses of those present, as predictable as sheep, sent power spiking through Yuna. She nodded in humble acceptance, thrilled to accept her new role. "I cannot tell you what it means to have your trust," she said, reaching out to hold the hand of an older, trembling woman from the Horalu clan. "We will conquer together."