The water hasn’t worked its way through my body to allow me tears. Yet I feel them anyway, ghosts of sorrow and gratitude and shame trailing invisible rivers down my cheeks.
“Yes,” I whisper, dragging my gaze from Azmar to Agga. “Y-Yes. I have it.”
Ichlad’s lip curls. He leans over to Yog, one of the Supras, and whispers something. I don’t need to make out the words to know it’s vile.
Qequan’s wide lips pull into an even wider frown. “Pitiful. Disgraceful. I can hardly stand to look at the two of you.”
A hard lump swells in my throat. I want to cross the room. Run to Azmar, find solace in his arms. But the glares of the council pin me where I stand. Sour fear bubbles between my breasts, tempting me to push it away, to share it, but I swallow hard.
I wish Azmar hadn’t confessed. I wish he’d protected himself. And yet I’m so relieved to see him. Stars, how did he say it? How did the council react? How long has he been here?
I finally manage a sliver of courage. “I-It isn’t illegal—”
Agga snaps, “Do not cite trollis law to me, human.”
“Illegal!” Qequan barks, slapping his hand on his armrest. “It shouldn’t have to be illegal. Here I foolishly thought Posta was an anomaly, but it seems her disease festers in the city still!”
I bite the inside of my cheek at the harsh words. Posta must be Perg’s mother.
Qequan swipes his hand as though he could erase me and Azmar from his sight. “Your filth will be dealt with after the war. I don’t need our troops distracted by scandal.” He focuses on Azmar. “Mayhap we’ll streamline things and put you on the front lines.”
I step forward. “No, please—”
Qequan stands from his chair and bellows, “Speak out of turn again and I will see your blood on the floor!”
I recoil at the power of his voice. Fear presses into my skin. Let me have him, it croons. Let me remind Qequan what we’re capable of.
The temptation is wild and enticing. Gritting my teeth, I drop to my knees and bow. “May I please address the council in regard to the war?”
Agga snorts. “She presses too far.”
“I think I know who leads the human army.” I squeeze my eyes shut, euphoric with fear, waiting for Qequan’s consequences.
He’s silent for several heartbeats. “And here this worm has defamed himself to prove your loyalty.”
“I am.” I dare to raise my head. Glance at Azmar. “I am loyal. But I’ve traveled to every human township east of the canyon. I know only one man who could muster the forces. Who would dare to attack a city as great as Cagmar. His name is Ottius Thellele.”
Qequan glances to Ichlad and Yog, his brow so low I can barely see his eyes. “And what good does this do us? You know his strategies?”
“I . . . don’t. But I know his allies, and his temperaments.” Though my father’s allies easily could have changed in the last seven years. Nearly eight, now.
An idea strikes me. If Azmar can sacrifice, so can I.
I dare rising to a kneel. “My lord, Ottius is aware of my abilities and has coveted them for himself.” My tongue feels like a sock in my mouth. “I-I believe I could earn his trust and wheedle information from him.”
I shove my hands between my knees so that the council will not see them shaking. I stare at Qequan’s chair, unwilling to look at Azmar, whose presence scorches like hot coal against my skin.
When the council doesn’t respond, I continue. “You know what I am capable of, and yet I kept my word never to use it again on your people. I could have, when Grodd pulled me down here. I could have, when you dragged me away.” I rush forward, not meaning to challenge them. “But I didn’t. Between Azmar’s . . . testimony, and that, surely you must believe me loyal to Cagmar. This is my home. I answer only to the council.” I bow my head again.
I can hear Qequan’s fingers drumming on his armrest. The muffled whispers of the council members. I bow for so long my legs start to tingle.
Finally Qequan says, “I’ll play your game, little Lark. The army was last seen in the East Leagues. Say you gather this man’s stratagems and deliver them to my messenger at the Pentalpoint by, oh, the twentieth, I might find it in my heart to show some mercy.”
Agga scoffs. “A mere two days.”
“And if you don’t, I will do far worse than front lines to this creature.” He gestures to Azmar. “And since you’ve shown such dedication to our little half-breed, he’ll carry out the punishment.”
My stomach clenches. Two days. If returning to my father isn’t arduous enough, earning his trust and gleaning the information in so little time would be impossible. And yet I must make good on my offer now. For Azmar’s sake. For Perg’s.
I meet Azmar’s eyes. They’re golden and sorrowful, full moons above pained and pinched features. I’m sorry, I want to cry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
The fist around my heart pulls, ripping it out fiber by fiber, unraveling every stitch of hope. Dizzy, I rise to half-numb feet. “I will do as you ask.”
I hear a grunt from Azmar—words unspoken, frozen before he can earn more of the council’s wrath. The fist starts to break the skin.
“Excellent.” Qequan leans back in his chair. “You will leave now. We’ll give you enough to see you there. And if the drought devours you, it’s no leather off my back.” He gestures with a finger, and Yog rises and knocks on the door I came through. Both guards enter.
Now. I’m leaving Cagmar now. To see the man I’ve spent years fleeing.
I’m leaving Azmar.
I turn toward Azmar. Take a step—
“I said now.” Qequan taps his fingers.
My cracking lips part. I stare at Azmar. Of course they wouldn’t allow us a goodbye. We disgust them. They hate us. Why would they let us have one more moment together?
I’m sorry, I mouth as tears blur my vision. Each guard takes me by a forearm. I’m so sorry. I love you.
Azmar reaches for me. I think he mouths, I love you, as well, but the guards pull me back and slam the door so swiftly I don’t see him finish.
The fist rips my heart free. I am bloodless as the guards drag me away from the only family I can claim, equip me with minimal provisions, and usher me to the hot surface. Past the scouts, southeast, until I’m clear of the watch. Then they drop me onto the dry sand and leave me there to rot.
Chapter 23
I waste little time burning beneath the afternoon sun. Time will not mend me.
The horizon, an eternity away, expands to emptiness, save for some hills and rock formations. Last seen in the East Leagues. How long ago was that? Did Qequan send me to my death to make it easier on him?
I should never have climbed the city. I should never have let my curiosity and the need to sate my own desires draw me to Tayler and a township that was far, far north of me, if I guessed correctly. But that doesn’t matter now.