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She restrained herself from kicking his skull in. She needed Souji’s face intact. Broken, maybe, but recognizable.
She and Kitay had decided not to kill him now. His death had to be a public display, a spectacle to legitimize her authority and to transform her takeover from an open secret to a universally acknowledged fact.
Daji, who had done this sort of thing quite often, had emphasized the importance of performative execution.
Don’t just let them fear, she’d said. Let them know.
“Tie him up,” Rin told the Iron Wolves. She knew, with certainty, she could trust them. No one wanted to burn. “Guard him in shifts during the night. We’ll finish this in the morning.”
At dawn Rin stood at the center of the cavern, right beneath the single shaft of sunlight that pierced through the cracked stone ceiling. She was aware of how absurdly symbolic this looked—the way her skin shone like polished bronze, the way she was the brightest figure in the darkness. It didn’t matter that the watching crowd knew this was orchestrated. This imagery would be seared into their minds forever.
Souji knelt beside her, hands bound behind his back. Dried blood crackled over every inch of his exposed skin.
“You may have asked where I’ve been these past months. Why I disappeared after the attack on Tikany.” She pointed to Souji’s bowed head. He didn’t stir; he was only half-conscious. “This man ambushed me and sent me to the Chuluu Korikh to rot. He betrayed me to the Young Marshal. And he betrayed all of you.”
The cavern was so silent that the only sound Rin heard in response was the echo of her own words.
The crowd was with her. She could see it in the grim set of their faces and the coldly furious glint in their eyes. Every person in this cavern wanted to see Souji die.
“This man trapped you in the Anvil. He tried to kill the only person who could save you. Why?” Rin aimed a hard kick at Souji’s back. He lurched forward and gave a muffled moan. He couldn’t speak up in his own defense; his mouth was stuffed with cloth. “Because he was jealous. Yang Souji couldn’t stand to see a Speerly leading his men. He needed to take charge himself. He wanted to own the Southern Coalition.”
She didn’t know where her words were coming from, but they poured out with ridiculous ease. She felt like a stage actor, chanting lines from some classical play, each dramatic phrase delivered in a deep, powerful voice that sounded nothing like her own.
When had she learned to act like this? Deep down, a fragment of her was scared that any minute the facade would drop, that her voice would falter, and that they’d all see her for the terrified girl she was.
Play the part, she thought. That, too, was Daji’s advice. You only have to wear this skin long enough for it to become a piece of you.
“The Southern Coalition is now finished,” she declared.
Her words met with dead silence. No one reacted. They waited.
She raised her voice. “Yang Souji and the Monkey Warlord are proof of the failures of coalition politics. They nearly destroyed you with their infighting. They had no strategy. They betrayed me and led you astray. But I have returned. I am your liberation. And now I alone will make the decisions for this army. Does anyone object?”
Of course no one objected. She had them in the palm of her hand. She was their Speerly, their savior, the only one who time after time had rescued them from certain death.
“Good.” She pointed down to Souji. She knew no one would try to protect him. Not a single person had spoken up in his defense. They weren’t watching to see whether she would kill him. They were watching to see how she would do it.
“This is what happens to those who defy me.” She looked to one of the Iron Wolves. “Remove the gag.”
The Iron Wolf stepped up and pulled the bunched-up rag from Souji’s mouth. Souji lurched forward, gasping.
Rin pressed the point of her knife under his chin and forced his gaze up to the crowd. “Confess your sins.”
Souji snarled and mumbled something incoherent.
Rin pushed the blade just a bit harder against Souji’s flesh, watching with pleasure as his throat bobbed tensely against steel.
“All you have to do is confess,” she said softly. “Then this all ends.”
Kitay hadn’t wanted her to force a confession. Kitay thought that Souji would rebel and lash out, that his dying words could only damage her. But Rin couldn’t let Souji die with his dignity, because then her detractors might take solace in his memory.
She had to annihilate him. Rin knew that his betrayal hadn’t been his decision alone—every person in this cavern was in some way complicit in his treachery. But she couldn’t execute them all. Souji had to be the scapegoat. His body had to take on the burden of everyone’s guilt. This leadership transition demanded public catharsis, and Souji was its sacrificial lamb.
She gave the knife another jab. Blood beaded on the tip. “Confess.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Souji said hoarsely.
“You sold me to Nezha,” she said. “And you trapped them in this mountain to die.”
That wasn’t strictly true. Souji had only ever meant to protect the south. For all she knew, Souji had made the best strategic decisions possible given the Republic’s overwhelming superiority. Souji certainly thought he was the only reason why the Southern Coalition had survived as long as they had. Perhaps he was even right.
But logic didn’t matter in this ritual. Fury and resentment did.
“Say it,” she demanded. “You sold me. You betrayed them.”
He turned to face her. “You belong in that mountain, you cunt.”
She just laughed. She wouldn’t lash out with flame, no matter how tempting that was. She had to maintain a facade of indifferent calm to exacerbate the difference between them—he the angry, snapping, cornered wolf and she the icy voice of unflappable authority.
“You sold me,” she repeated steadily. “You betrayed them.”
“You would have driven them to their deaths,” Souji said. “I did what I had to do to save them from you.”
“Then we’ll let the people decide.” Rin turned to the crowd. “Does anyone think this man saved you?”
Again, no one spoke up.
“Nezha told me he only wanted the Speerly.” Souji raised his voice to address the crowd. His voice cracked with fear. “He promised that’s all it would take, he said—”
Rin spoke over him. “Does anyone believe this man was stupid enough to make such a simple mistake?”
The implication was clear. She’d just accused Souji of collaboration. This was of course a lie, but she didn’t need to show proof. She didn’t even need to make a real argument. All she had to do was insinuate. These people would accept whatever narrative she gave them because they wanted to feed their anger. The judgment had concluded before the trial started.
“Show him.” Rin pointed to Souji like a hunter indicating a target to a pack of dogs. “Show him what the south does to its traitors.”
She stepped back. There followed a brief, anticipatory silence. Then the crowd surged forth, and Souji disappeared beneath a mass of bodies.
They didn’t just beat him. They tore his flesh apart. He must have screamed, but Rin couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t see him, either; she caught only the faintest glimpses of blood shining through the crowd. It was incredible, really, how easily a mass of weakened, half-starved men and women could together wrench entire limbs from a torso. She saw pieces of Souji’s uniform fly through the air. Beneath the feet of the crowd rolled what looked like an eyeball.
