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“You know what that is, Sigil,” Sorasa said, willing her to agree. “Make sure the Emperor knows it too.”
Be the final nail in Erida’s coffin. Bring the Emperor crashing down on her legions.
This time, the bounty hunter did not argue. Instead, she threw up her hands with a huff.
“And what about you?” she snapped. “The entire kingdom still hunts for an Amhara and an Elder.”
“We will be fine.” It felt like a lie in Sorasa’s mouth, but the hope of it was all she had. “When the time comes, you must be ready to go. So will we.”
Sigil gestured to the cramped deck of a pirate ship. “Gowhere, Sorasa?”
I don’t know.
But it went against everything in Sorasa’s nature to admit such a thing out loud.
“We will not leave Corayne to fight alone,” she snapped, turning from the rest of them.
On the wall, Meliz shifted at the mention of her daughter.
Undeterred, Sigil moved to block Sorasa’s path.
“And where is Corayne?” she demanded. “Neither of you have any idea!”
The once Amhara danced around the Temur woman, too quick and agile.
“That’s our problem,” she said over her shoulder, the steps of the lower deck passing beneath her boots.
The fresh air seared down her lungs, sharp as a splash of cold water. Sorasa nearly screamed when she heard Sigil’s boots behind her, stomping up the stairwell.
“It’s a rather large one!” she called, popping up onto the main deck.
Sorasa did not wait, already striding past the mast to reach the prow of theTempestborn. Crew scattered out of her path, eager to be out of her way, but close enough to eavesdrop. She paid them little attention, hoisting herself up onto the edge of the ship, letting her legs dangle over the side.
With a deep breath, Sorasa looked down to her hands, laying both palm up. Her tattoos looked back at her, the sun in her right hand, the crescent moon in her left. The symbols of Lasreen, her goddess. She let the ink still her.
All the world stretched between sun and moon, life and death. Everyone was fated to both.Everyone, with no exception.
It was another lesson hard-learned at the Guild. And learned a thousand more times over, in shadows and on battlefields.
She let Sigil join her, the bounty hunter taking the other side of the prow with a dramatic sigh. She leaned back against the rail, elbows braced against the wooden edge.
Voices echoed behind them, from the lower deck.
Wincing, Sorasa braced for the entire Temur retinue to follow. Instead, a low, deep voice rumbled up from below. She could not decipher his words, but she felt the intent.
“When did Dom get so perceptive?” Sorasa grumbled, eyeing the waterbelow. Annoying as Domacridhan’s Elder ignorance was, his newfound empathy was just as unsettling. “He seems almost mortal these days.”
“He had a long time to think in the dungeons,” Sigil offered. Her eyes darkened with memory. “So did I.”
“And what was I doing?” Sorasa shot back. A few of her newer scars itched, born of Erida’s jailers and Ronin’s interrogation.
“Screaming, probably.” Sigil rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “You never were one for pain.”
Their joined laughter echoed over the water, only to be lost to the waves and wind.
“I don’t enjoy this, Sigil,” Sorasa muttered, picking at the hem of her shirt. “I’d send Dom to Bhur if I could.”
Sigil stared at her across the bow, her lip curling into a sneer.
