A part of him wished he had run, taken off after his wounds had been treated. He could have escaped to Moksh, the land of volcanoes and debris. He would be miserable there, but he would have been free. Free of Ferma’s death, free of Elena, whose eyes haunted him in the dark, in his sleep.
But the Arohassin were no fools. They would have tracked him down before he reached the port. He would have been lying facedown in rubble, body dead and forgotten. And then he would have never met Elena, never faced her torment.
Yassen did not know what would have been better or worse.
Akaros’s eyes were boring into him. His mentor waited silently, and in the silence, Yassen heard the unspoken threat. He glanced out the window, saw a shadow move.Don’t falter, he told himself.Not now.But the fear in Elena’s eyes, the way she had clutched his arm… He could not shake the feeling nor the guilt.
Shut it out, he thought.Shut it into a room and never open it again.
He had told Ferma the same when she had laid out her secrets to him. But what good had his advice gotten her?
“The princess knows how to hold fire,” Yassen said. He forced himself to not break Akaros’s gaze. “She found a scroll left by her mother, and now she can wield the flames.”
Akaros hissed, the end of his yron flaring. The map and its red path glowered between them.
Yassen reached out and touched the holo. It dispersed into blue dust.
“Ifshe’s crowned…” he began.
“She must be!” Akaros snarled. A hovercar passed by, and its headlights bled through the slats, revealing his burned skin. He dropped his yron and stamped it out. As Yassen watched the ash scatter across the floor, he wondered what the next owner of this bakery would think of the litter. But then, it was no longer a bakery. It was just a building filled with dust and memories.
“We can only kill her if she’s crowned. That’s what will make this siege legitimate. We need to officially end the Ravani line. The Jantari king wants her head at his feet when he sits on the Fire Throne. Wielder or not, she must die,” Akaros said. There was an urgency in his gaze, a conviction and, below it all, a deep, troubling fear.
“Jantari? Her head?” Yassen said, and this time, he could not stop the tremor in his voice. “I thought we were only meant to capture Elena and force her to host an election for the people.”
“Plans changed,” Akaros said. “Taran is thinking of the long game, and partnering with Farin during the war will help us clear everyone out for a new government.”
“Why must she die then?” Yassen said, and he bit his tongue, knowing at once that he spoke too much.
Akaros shot him a look. “Why do you care?”
He shouldn’t. Yassen knew he shouldn’t and yet, and yet…
My sweet Knight.
Her words felt like a dagger, sharper than the slingsword she had once held to his neck.
“I don’t, it’s just…” He paused, thinking quickly. “Is it true? If she can wield fire, do you think she’s the Prophet?”
Yassen was aware he sounded foolish, but a part of him did want to know. For most of his life, he had abhorred the Phoenix and Her vengeful fire. The Arohassin had taught him that the Ravani kingdom was built on a set of lies, of corpses and mindless mantras. There was no Phoenix. The Prophet had only been a power-hungry priestess obsessed with infernos. Ravence was only a desert because warfare had stripped it of its once lush forest. Fire only brought madness, death.
But Elena was not like that. He had seen her among the gold caps, in the sandstorm, felt her grief by the fire. She did not kill mindlessly—she fought for her kingdom, for her people.
Akaros snorted. “No, she’s not,” he said flatly. He did not elaborate further.
“But if she can wield fire, she’ll be harder to kill,” Yassen said.
“Nothing we can’t handle.” Though Akaros did not say it, Yassen saw the man’s eyes flit to his arm.
Yassen nodded. He took the holopod from Akaros and slipped it into his cloak. The badge of the palace guard glimmered on his chest; he had forgotten to take it off, a silly mistake.
“And, Yassen, give my greetings to Sam,” Akaros said.
It wasn’t until he had made his way back to the alley, until the door of the hovercar clicked softly beside him, that Yassen realized he did not know Samson’s fate. He knew death awaited Leo and Elena. It was the only way for the revolution to begin. But Sam…
Yassen looked out the curved windows of the hovercar. The shobus were gone. Rain drummed against the glass. He glanced down and again saw his badge glinting. Elena and Samson dead in one stroke—the thought shattered him. It opened a large, black maw that threatened to suck him in, and Yassen did not dare to even think what lay beyond it.
He gripped the edge of the control panel.Oh, Sam.After all these suns, after just reuniting, they would have to part once more. The injustice of it filled Yassen with a sudden, hot rage. Pain jolted up his arm, but he ignored it.
