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She glared at him through blurry eyes. “Do you have to do that?”

“What, you don’t think it’s funny?” He put his arm around her. “Hey. Don’t cry—I’m sorry.”

She swallowed hard. She hadn’t meant to cry. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying—she didn’t know any of the bodies on the pyre, and she didn’t have any reason to grieve.

Those bodies weren’t her fault. She still felt miserable.

“I don’t like feeling this way,” she whispered.

“Me neither, kid.” Baji rubbed her shoulder. “But that’s war. You might as well be on the winning side.”

Chapter 35



Rin couldn’t sleep that night. She sat upright in her infirmary bed, staring out the window at the still harbor, counting down the minutes until dawn. She wanted to pace the hallway, but didn’t want the infirmary staff to find her behavior odd. She also wished desperately she could be with Kitay, poring over every possible contingency one last time, but they’d been sleeping in separate rooms every night. She couldn’t risk giving away any sign that she intended to leave until she’d made it out of the city gates.

She’d packed nothing. She owned very little that mattered—she’d bring along her backup longsword, the one that wasn’t lost at the bottom of the channel, and the clothes on her back. She’d leave everything else behind in the barracks. The more she took with her, the faster Vaisra would realize that she had left for good.

Rin had no idea what she was going to do once she got out. Moag still hadn’t returned her missive. She might not have even received it. Perhaps she had and elected to ignore it. Or she might have taken it straight to Vaisra.

Ankhiluun might have been a terrible gamble. But Rin simply had no other options.

All she knew was that she needed to get out of the city. For once, she needed to be a step ahead of Vaisra. No one suspected that she might leave, which meant no one was keeping her from going.

She had no advantages past that, but she’d figure out the rest once the Red Cliffs were well behind her.

“Fancy a drink?” asked a voice.

She jumped, hands scrabbling for her sword.

“Tiger’s tits,” Nezha said. “It’s just me.”

“Sorry,” she breathed. Could he read the fear on her face? She hastily rearranged her features into some semblance of calm. “I’m still twitchy. Every noise I hear sounds like cannon fire.”

“I know that feeling.” Nezha held up a jug. “This might help.”

“What is that?”

“Sorghum wine. We’re off duty for the first time since any of us can remember.” He grinned. “Let’s go get smashed.”

“Who’s us?” she asked cautiously.

“Me and Venka. We’ll go grab Kitay, too.” He extended his hand to her. “Come on. Unless you’ve got something better to do?”

Rin wavered, mind racing furiously.

It was a horrible idea to get drunk on the eve of her escape. But Nezha might suspect something if both she and Kitay refused. He was right—neither she nor Kitay had a plausible excuse to be anywhere else. All of them had been off duty since the Hesperians docked in the harbor.

If she wasn’t planning to turn traitor, why on earth would she say no?

“Come on,” Nezha said again. “A few drinks won’t hurt.”

She managed a smile and took his hand. “You read my mind.”

She tried to calm her racing heartbeat as she followed him out of the barracks.

This was all right. She could afford this one liberty. Once she left Arlong, she might never see Nezha again. She knew, despite their bond, that he could never leave his father’s side. She didn’t want him to remember her as a traitor. She wanted him to remember her as a friend.

She had at least until the hour before dawn. She might as well say a proper goodbye.


Rin didn’t know where Nezha and Venka had found so much liquor in a city that prohibited its sale to soldiers. When she’d made it outside the infirmary, Venka was waiting on the street with an entire wagon of sealed jugs. Nezha retrieved Kitay from the barracks. Then they pushed the wagon together up to the highest tower of the palace, where they sat overlooking the Red Cliffs, surveying the wreckage of the fleets floating below.

For the first few minutes they didn’t speak. They just drank furiously, trying to get as inebriated as possible. It didn’t take very long.

Venka kicked at Nezha’s foot. “You sure we’re not getting jailed for this?”

“We just won the most important battle in the history of the Empire.” Nezha gave her a lazy smile. “I think you’re fine to imbibe.”

“He’s trying to frame us,” Rin said.

She hadn’t meant to start drinking. But Venka and Nezha had kept urging her, and she hadn’t known how to say no without drawing suspicion. Once she started it was harder and harder to stop. Sorghum wine was only horrible for the first few swallows, when it felt like it was burning away at her esophagus, but very quickly a delicious, giddy numbness settled over her body and the wine began tasting like water.

It’ll wear off in a few hours, she thought dimly. She’d be fine by dawn.

“Believe me,” Nezha said. “I wouldn’t need this to frame any of you.”

Venka sniffed at her jug. “This stuff is gross.”

“What do you like better?” Nezha asked.

“Bamboo rice wine.”

“The lady is demanding,” Kitay said.

“I’ll procure it,” Nezha vowed.

“‘I’ll procure it,’” Kitay mimicked.

“Problem?” Nezha asked.

“No, just a question. Have you ever considered being less of a pretentious fuck?”

Nezha put his jug down. “Have you ever considered how close you’re standing to the roof?”

“Boys, boys.” Venka twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, while Kitay flicked droplets of wine at Nezha.

“Stop it,” Nezha snapped.

“Make me.”

Rin drank steadily, watching with lidded eyes as Nezha scooted on his knees across the tower and tackled Kitay to the floor. She supposed she should be afraid that they might fall off the edge, but drunk as she was, it just seemed very funny.

“I learned something,” Kitay announced abruptly, shoving Nezha off of him.

“You’re always learning things,” said Venka. “Kitay the scholar.”

“I’m an intellectually curious man,” Kitay said.

“Always hunkering down in the library. You know, I made a wager once at Sinegard that you spent all that time jerking off.”

Kitay spat out a mouthful of wine. “What?”

Venka propped her chin up on her hands. “Well, were you? Because I’d like to get my money back.”

Kitay ignored her. “My point being—listen, guys, this is actually interesting. You know why the Militia troops were fighting like they’d never held a sword before?”

“They were fighting with a bit more skill than that,” Nezha said.

“I don’t want to talk about troops,” said Venka.

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