He would not let their dream burn.
“There’s no time for redemption,” he said.
“Your Majesty—”
“I am not going to throw my hands up!” he snapped. “This ismykingdom.Mydesert. My people have fought for it, slaved for it. This Prophet has no claim to this land. She gave it up when she disappeared from this world. And by heavens,” he growled, “I will not let her take it.”
CHAPTER 23
ELENA
The art of the slingsword is not easy to master. It demands suns of practice, diligence, and failure. For one can only master the slingsword when they understand the sting of its blade.
—from chapter 14 ofThe Great History of Sayon
Elena craned her neck to see balloons of red and gold rise into the drizzling air. Dhols beat in the streets, echoing through her chest as people, most dressed in gold caps, jostled each other along the sidewalks, pushing against the guards as their hovercar procession wound through the city.
The Birdsong, the prelude of the Fire Festival, was supposed to be a small affair, but no citizen of Rani knew how to celebrate things quietly.
“Your Highness, I am sopleasedyou will be joining us,” Jangir said. He sat across from her, his gold cap perched on his head like a straight-backed soldier. “My men have organized everything. Down to the last details. And we have brought out the loveliest audience. Stalwart supporters of the king, real men of god and country. Everyone is just sodelightedto have you and your betrothed here.”
Elena gave a tight, polite smile but it took everything in her willpower not to stop the car and order her guards to imprison Jangir. He and his men were responsible for the murder of innocents, and yet here he sat, with his wheedling smiles.
Oh, Father, youareblind.
She knew it was Leo’s doing, having Jangir personally accompany her to the proceedings. At the Ashanta ceremony, her father had not brought up their argument, and afterward, he had disappeared without a word, only to send orders that he would not accompany her to the Birdsong festivities—Jangir would. But she saw the hidden meaning behind his words.
The gold caps are here to stay.
“I’m sure it will be a pleasant afternoon,” Elena said.
“Indeed, Your Highness. I don’t mean to spoil the surprise, but we have a ribbon-cutting ceremony of a brilliant new statue, which I’m sure you’ll bedelightedto see. Our men have found the best slingsword masters in the country for a demonstration—”
Elena stared out the window, tuning out Jangir.Varun, you fool, what are you waiting for?She had told Ferma to pressure Varun, meant to ask for an update after the Ashanta ceremony, but then there had been no time.I swear, if I see that fucking idiot here—
Yells erupted in the street, cutting through the dhols. Suddenly, Elena saw guards running toward a knot of bodies.
“What in the seven hells,” Jangir growled, turning to the window just as a rock slammed against the door.
Elena gasped, pulling back. The doors were reinforced, and the rock had not even left a dent, but she could only stare in shock, heart thumping wildly, as Jangir let out a lewd string of curses.
“Fucking bastards! Sons of whores! Lash them!”
“What?” she said. And then she saw.
A big fight had broken out in the corner. Men jumping on one another, trying to tear into the center of the knot, shouting. Guards muscled their way to intervene. The hovercar sped up, the guard in the passenger seat shouting orders in his comms, when Elena saw the young man in the center of the storm. He was shouting something she couldn’t hear over the din, a holosign projected above his head from the pod stitched into his shirt.
Relief and worry washed over her.
HOW MANY MORE LIVES UNTIL WE SEE JUSTICE? DEATH TO JANGIR!
“Your Highness, are you all right?”
It took Elena a moment to realize that Jangir was asking her a question, perhaps for the fourth time.
“Your Highness, are you—”
“Yes, yes,” she said. The guard twisted in his seat.
