The boy blinked, his tiny fingers curling around the coins and the tracker. A small, almost knowing smile touched his ash-streaked face. Yassen turned on his heel and did not look back.
The city was mostly empty. The attack had shaken Rani to its core, and most of the residents—save the orphans and the shobus—hid in their homes after curfew. Yassen sidestepped shards of glass and crumpled petals. In a broken storefront window, a banner from Elena’s coronation hung limply.
She had been close to death. Yassen wondered if Elena had realized this as he turned into a narrow alley, walking to an unmarked door at its end. People changed when they saw death’s dark face, when they were inches away from its cold grasp. He had. And he had seen it two times already. Each encounter had leached a portion of him, but it had also ignited something—adrenaline and a rush to defy the odds, to defy death itself. Yassen felt that rush now as he rapped on the door, a simple two-beat knock. It swung open, and Yassen stepped in.
The storefront windows were shuttered; shadows filled the old bakery. Yassen could still smell the faint scent of bread and fried gujiyas lingering in the air.
A shadow moved, and a flame flickered. Yassen saw two scarred hands cupping a lighter. Then a man bent into the light, touching the yron in his mouth to the spark; the flame revealed his harsh Ravani cheekbones and dark eyes. He inhaled deeply and blew out smoke. It curled like a writhing dragon, and Yassen smelled the sweet scent of narcotics.
“I trust you weren’t followed,” Akaros said.
“No,” Yassen replied.
His old master nodded. “And the Yumi woman?”
“Dead,” Yassen said, keeping his voice flat. “They found her body among the wreckage. She managed to nick a few of our men before she died.”
“That’s a Yumi woman for you.” Akaros chuckled. The end of his yron glowed in the dark like a red eye. “It’s a good thing you notified us about the change to the tea shop. Swift feet, Knight. And the princess?”
“She was only grazed by a pulse,” he said, surprised at the depth of his relief. When he had pushed Elena into the hoverpod, Yassen had seen a deep, animal fear in her eyes. He recognized the look; he had worn it when he first saw death on his mother’s burnt face.
“Good,” Akaros said. “Then everything is falling into place.”
“Our captured men—”
“Giorna will be freed once we take the city, along with the others. Maya’s already slipped out of the city. I’m sure Muftasa will love that.”
“We were supposed to be tracking down Maya to bring her in. What should I tell them?”
Akaros shrugged. “Tell them she spooked after Jangir’s arrest. Thought there would be too much scrutiny and security.” He paused and exhaled smoke from his nostrils. “Speaking of, you spooked too in the square. One of the snipers told me you tried to warn Ferma before he shot her.”
Yassen stilled. He remembered the glint of the sniper’s rifle, the sound of the pulse as it ripped past him. In that moment, he had forgotten who held the gun. All he had wanted was Ferma to move, to retreat, but he had been too late.
The Arohassin had been careful not to give too much detail. He had only known that there would be a small explosion, ataste, as Akaros had put it, of what was to come.The heir will not be harmed,he had said.Just… frightened.
Yassen had known about the snipers, known that he was leading Elena to danger, but he hadn’t expected Ferma to die. He still remembered the look of horror and shock on Ferma’s face as he held her. Her blood on his hands.
Regret, thick and thorny, wrapped around his throat. Yassen forced himself to meet Akaros’s gaze, his voice carefully composed.
“You never told me you were going to kill her,” he said. “I was just… selling it.”
“Hmm,” Akaros said. “And did you?”
Too well.Elena had stood beside him before the pyre, and though he had pretended not to notice her tears, he had silently wept with her. He still could feel her hand hovering next to his.I’m sorry, he had wanted to tell her.
“Yes,” he said simply.
“And you’re her head guard now, yes?”
Yassen nodded slowly. “Is that why you called me?”
“Yes,” Akaros said. “Now that we’ve eliminated the Yumi, you’re handling her escort to the temple. When she is crowned, we will strike. I want you to remain by her side and help her escape down this path.” He withdrew a holopod. The blue light of the holo illuminated the space and threw long shadows across the former bakery’s bare walls. A map of the Agnee Range floated before them with a red-marked path snaking down the mountainside. “Lead her to it. Make it seem safe. And then when the time comes, our boys will take care of the rest.”
His words filled the empty space. They weighed down the shadows, the air, Yassen himself. He supposed he should feel relief. At least they did not ask him to carry out the assassination. He would not have to dirty his hands with Elena’s blood. But her blood had already stained him. Her blood still soaked his ruined uniform, the one he could not bear to wash.
Akaros exhaled, and tendrils of smoke brushed Yassen’s face. “Well?”
Yassen looked at him, a bitter taste filling his mouth. When he had made his plea to the Arohassin, bargained for his life after he had been burned, after he had been deemed expendable, they had given him one last task in exchange for his freedom—to destroy Ravence once and for all.
