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‘That she is our blood,’ he clarified.
The Koel shrugged. ‘It’s an emptiness that I’ve learned to live with. My music and singing help, as does subverting her plans by working against her without her knowledge.’
Killen studied her, letting his hawkstone scan her.
In response, her lodestone burnt bright with no shadow.
She is all light and pure.
He nodded to himself as his hawkstone quieted.
‘What does she think you’re doing most days?’ the Kíríga asked.
Kamilla cocked her head. ‘What else does a young, single noble woman do in Katáne? From dawn to dusk, I give the illusion that I shop, eat at fancy restaurants, and party like a privileged and plumed girl. It makes a good cover for my art between watching and listening in to the machinations of my stepmother.’
Killen’s brow rose. ‘What do you have to share?’
She slipped off her wrist tab and tapped on it.
A holo shimmered into sight.
‘I’ll set the scene,’ the koel said. This was at one of the recent K?thi matches in the Sab?r Arena, in the royal booth at the centre of the grand noble’s wing.’
The vision was of a group clustered around a table, all leaning in, their faces intent.
‘Present is Kishan, my stepbrother,’ Kamilla clarified, ‘Kalila and the rogue commanders, KaKos and Koto. Who are in service to Kassian.’
In seconds, their conversation filtered through.
‘Where is the fokkin usurper?’ the shrill voice of the sharp-faced Kalila asked. ‘KaKos, Koto, someone will need to rise and take the throne if the Hawkstone is lost forever. Who fights for us?’
The two men across from her shared glances, their krests aquiver. Their faces were weathered, battle-worn, and twisted into a permanent hardness.
‘Kassian is assembling his forces in the north,’ KaKos whispered. ‘He will soon have enough hawkmen to storm Kos and the Karthian kambí of the mutineer army. Plus, we have our kíndunas plant in place, and he reassures me that at the right time, chaos will rain down on the Sab?r Kainôs army. He awaits your signal, Kalila.’
‘I’m not sure it’ll be that easy,’ Kalila replied. ‘We need a sure-fire victory.’
‘What do you suggest?’ This time, the portly Koto spoke in a voice that was a cross between a hiss and a hoarse cough.
Kalila leaned in with a vicious smile. ‘I will consult with my personal arokí seer, to discuss what he and I can rustle up to track down the usurper. I’m sick and tired of hearing of sightings of him lurking all over Katáne. His name is being whispered in corners and causing strife throughout the Thousand-Mile Lands. How have we not met, seen or heard from him yet? Where is he hiding? All the kantinas are dripping with hearsay about him and his plans to take the throne. So why can’t we find him? Is he just a bad rumour?’
Kishan frowned. ‘He’s no rumour mother. It’s what I’ve been warning you for weeks now.’
Kalila snorted. ‘We need to get rid of him wherever he fokkin’ is. If indeed the usurper lives, I’ll rout him out and tear his innards with my talons.’
‘But isn’t he your blood, mother?’ KaKos asked. ‘Didn’t the Kia Malkia, your niece K’Elisa, claim he was her own when they fought the Kíríga? May he soar in peace on Devansi.’
The royal woman turned to her son with a sneer. ‘I care not who he is, this so-called half-wing. He is not Katánian; he has a diluted blood right if that, and does not deserve the great lodestone. If it on his head, as some say, I will tear it and his brains from him, in part for what he did to my brother and also because he does not warrant it.’
‘You always were so cutthroat, Kalila,’ Koto tittered.
His laughter was interjected by the crowd’s roars as a bout began in the arena below.
The vision disappeared as the holo shimmered off.
Killen grunted. ‘Who else is on her side?’
‘Some of the older and former Kiama council members,’ Kamilla replied. ‘Just last week, she forced Kishan and me to visit one of their eyries with her, where I witnessed her stirring up dissent and making deals. As Kalila admitted, she has partnered with the arokí to devise dark kätu íkantations to rout you.’
