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The trial of Ang Tsolin took place the next morning on a raised dais before the palace. Republican soldiers crowded the courtyard below, wearing uniform expressions of cold resentment. Civilians had been barred from attendance. Word of Tsolin’s betrayal was common knowledge by now, but Vaisra didn’t want a riot. He didn’t want Tsolin to die in chaos. He wanted to give his old master a precise, cleanly executed death, every silent second drawn out as long as possible.
Captain Eriden and his guards led Tsolin to the top of the platform. They’d let him keep his dignity—he was neither blindfolded nor bound. Under different circumstances he might have been receiving the highest honors.
Vaisra met Tsolin at the center of the dais, handed him a wrapped sword, and leaned forward to murmur something into his ear.
“What’s happening?” Rin murmured into Kitay’s ear.
“He’s giving him the option of suicide,” Kitay explained. “A respectable end for a disgraceful traitor. But only if Tsolin confesses to and repents for his wrongs.”
“Will he?”
“Doubt it. Even an honorable suicide can’t overcome that kind of disgrace.”
Tsolin and Vaisra stood still on the dais, silently regarding each other. Then Tsolin shook his head and handed the sword back.
“Your regime is a puppet democracy,” he said aloud. “And all you have done is hand your country over to be ruled by the blue-eyed devils.”
A murmur of unease swept through the soldiers.
Vaisra’s eyes roved the crowd and fell on Rin. He beckoned to her with one finger.
“Come here,” he said.
She glanced around her, hoping he was pointing to someone else.
“Go,” Kitay muttered.
“What does he want with me?”
“What do you think?”
She blanched. “I’m not doing this.”
He gave her a gentle nudge. “It’s best if you don’t think too much about it.”
She shuffled forward, leaning heavily on her cane. She could still only barely walk. The worst was the pain in her lower back, because it wasn’t localized. The node seemed connected to every muscle in her body—every time she took a step or moved her arms, she felt like she’d been stabbed.
The soldiers parted to clear her a path to the platform. She ascended with slow, shaking steps. Every step pulled painfully at the stitches in her lower back.
Finally she stopped before the Snake Warlord. He met her gaze with tired eyes. Even now, even when he was completely at her mercy, he still looked like he pitied her.
“A puppet to the end,” Tsolin whispered, so softly that only she could hear. “When are you going to learn?”
“I’m not a puppet,” she said.
He shook his head. “I thought you might be the smart one. But you let him take everything he needed from you and just rolled over like a whore.”
She would have responded, but Vaisra spoke over her.
“Do it,” he said coldly.
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. She knew what he wanted from her. Right now, unless she wanted to arouse suspicion, she needed to be Vaisra’s obedient weapon of the Republic.
She placed her right palm on Tsolin’s chest, just over his heart, and pushed. Her curled fingers seared with flames so hot her nails went straight into his flesh as if she were clawing at soft tofu.
Tsolin twitched and jerked but kept his mouth shut. She paused, marveling at how long he managed not to scream.
“You’re brave,” she said.
“You’re going to die,” he gasped. “You fool.”
Her fingers closed around something that she thought might be his heart. She squeezed. Tsolin’s head dropped. Over his slumped shoulder, she saw Vaisra nod and smile.
Rin wanted to get out of Arlong immediately after that. But Kitay argued, and she reluctantly agreed, that they wouldn’t make it a mile out of the channel. She still couldn’t walk properly, much less run. Her open wounds required daily checkups in the infirmary that neither of them had the medical knowledge to conduct on their own.
They also didn’t have an escape plan. They’d heard only silence from Moag. If they left now, they’d have to travel on foot unless they could steal a riverboat, and Arlong’s dock security was too good for them to manage that.
They had no choice other than to wait, at least until Rin had healed up enough to hold her own in a fight.
Everything hung in a tense equilibrium. Rin received no word from Vaisra or the Hesperians. Sister Petra hadn’t summoned her for an examination in months. Rin and Kitay made no overt moves to escape. Vaisra didn’t have any reason to suspect her allegiances had shifted, so she was operating on a fairly loose leash. That gave her time to figure out her next move. She was a mouse inching closer to a trap. It would spring when she moved to escape, but only then.
A week after Tsolin’s execution, the palace servants delivered a heavy, silk-wrapped package to her room. When she unwrapped it she found a ceremonial dress with instructions to put it on and appear on the dais in an hour.
Rin still couldn’t lift her hands all the way over her head, so she enlisted Venka’s assistance.
“What the fuck do I do with this?” Rin held up a loose rectangle of cloth.
“Calm down. It’s a shawl, you drape it just under your shoulders.” Venka took the cloth from Rin and wrapped it loosely over Rin’s upper arms. “Like so. So that it flows like water, see?”
Rin was getting too hot and frustrated to care how well her clothes flowed. She snatched up another loose rectangle that looked identical to her shawl. “Then what about this?”
Venka blinked at her as if she were an idiot. “You tie that around your waist.”
The biggest injustice, Rin thought, was that despite her injuries, they were still forcing her to walk in the victory parade. Vaisra had insisted it was crucial for decorum. He wanted to put on a show for the Hesperians. A display of Nikara gratitude and etiquette. Proof they were civilized.
Rin was so tired of having to prove her humanity.
The robe was quickly wearing down her patience. The damned thing was hot, stifling, and so tight it restricted her mobility in ways that made her breathing quicken. Putting it on required so many moving pieces she was tempted to throw the whole pile in the corner and set it on fire.
Venka made a noise of disgust as she watched Rin fasten the sash around her waist with a quick sailor’s knot. “That looks horrendous.”
“It’s going to come undone otherwise.”
“There’s more than one way to tie a knot. And that’s far too loose besides. You look like you’ve been caught getting frisky with a courtier.”
Rin pulled at the sash until it pressed into her ribs. “Like this?”
“Tighter.”
“But I can’t breathe.”
“That’s the point. Stop only when it feels like your ribs are going to crack.”
“I think my ribs have cracked. Twice over now.”
“Then a third time can’t do much more damage.” Venka took the sash out of Rin’s hands and began retying the knot herself. “You are incredible.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How did you come this far without learning any feminine wiles?”
