Yassen Knight may have the gait of an experienced warrior, and perhaps he was even trained in the ancient arts of the Unsung, but Elena had made it a point to sense her opponent’s weaknesses. It was a habit, drilled by her father. One of the few things she thanked him for.
“What are you playing at?” Ferma asked as Elena made her way to the window.
The bird was gone, the fountain still. She leaned forward, her elbows brushing the warm pink stone. Waves of heat shimmered above the distant dunes. Elena could feel the desert call to her.
“Inform the gamemaster,” she said to Ferma. “Let’s see how skilled our assassin really is.”
CHAPTER 8
LEO
During the Golden Reign of the Third Prophet, storms washed the world until it was bright and new. Crops burst into valleys and along mountainsides. Children knew not of hunger. The world knew not of war. Will a time like this ever return?
—from the diaries of Priestess Nomu of the Fire Order
Leo sat at the head of the war room table listening to his generals bicker about Yassen Knight. He had told them as soon as he entered that the assassin was in the palace, and the room had broken into an uproar.
“As soon as his list checks out, I say we hang him,” General Rohtak snarled. He was a big man with a hatchet nose and eyes of weathered steel. “Or better yet, flay him.”
“It’s true, there’s nothing better to bring the people together than a scapegoat,” General Mahira replied thoughtfully.
“In this case, it would only cause further insurrection. The Arohassin have burned his name in the sand. If we take his life, we cheat them of it,” said a thin voice. Leo turned to Muftasa, the head of his intelligence network. She was a small bird of a woman, dressed in all black, with a sharp nose and mouth that puckered as if she were perpetually dehydrated or scrutinizing those around her. After more than thirty suns, Leo knew it was both.
“He can be of use to us,” she said and looked pointedly at Samson.
Samson sat beside Leo, his leg propped up on his knee. Like Leo, he had been silent through the whole exchange, watching the generals with an amused expression. Leo had to give it to the young man. He knew when to wait and when to strike. But heavens, the boy had to rein in his pride.
“Yassen can be trusted,” Samson said. “You forget that he was born here. Sand runs through his veins.”
Leo was no fool; he knew Yassen Knight could not be trusted. He could feel it deep in his bones—an intuition that had never failed him.
But Yassen Knight was also a man tired of running, and that made him weak. He would do anything for his freedom, and that’s where Leo’s advantage lay. He had seen the look in the assassin’s colorless eyes. It was a look of desperation, perhaps even exhaustion. Either way, Leo would rip out every secret until nothing was left to give. Desperate men always made mistakes.
“My men are already taking their positions in the capital and the desert outposts as we speak,” Samson continued. “We’ve got holotracking sensors, desert suits, missiles, pulse guns, and slab grenades.” He smiled as Mahira let out a low whistle.
“Sounds like you’re building up your own army,” she quipped.
“I already have one,” he replied. His gaze never wavered, and eventually Mahira leaned back in her seat. “Every man of mine is ready to defend Ravence.”
“Show me,” Leo said suddenly. His eyes met Samson’s. “Let’s have a military exhibition on our southern border. Your Black Scales marching under the Ravani flag.”
“But, Your Majesty—” Mahira began.
Leo held up his hand. “Farin’s too smart to strike without a proper cause. He knows that going to war with us simply because we’re accepting more Sesharian refugees won’t stand among the other kingdoms. Cyleon, our friends in the north, would step in. Tsuana would call for a truce. But Farin’s growing impatient. He wants to move—and he won’t wait much longer to find his reason.”
Ravence’s borders met Jantar’s to the south and to the east. Sandstorms, especially around this time of year, made an eastern invasion nearly impossible, so Farin had increased his military presence along the south. He’d done it slowly and stealthily, but Leo had the reports. Of course, Farin was biding his time, waiting for the passing of the crown, for a moment of instability. But Leo would not give him that.
If the metal king saw Samson’s Black Scales with the Ravani army, saw the brute force of their numbers, perhaps he would falter. Perhaps that could buy Ravence more time.
“But, Your Majesty, should we not pursue peace talks as our first course of action?” Samson asked.
“Seshar tried that, before the Jantari invasion. How did it turn out for them?” Leo asked.
Samson fell silent, his eyes darkening. Even the generals shifted in their seats. General Mahira threw a look at Samson and then patted his hand.
“It’s all right,” she said quietly. “We all know the work of the Jantari.”
And that is why, Farin, Leo thought,your boy is not a puppet king.
