She turned to Samson and let her eyes soften. “A new era dawns upon Ravence. One in which we are not just defending our borders but strengthening them. With the help of my beloved, our future king, we will protect the dream of our forefathers.”
She turned back to the crowd. “So lend me your hearts. Let us work together to show the world what Ravence can really do. So we the blessed few.”
“So we the blessed few,” the crowd cheered. Their voices rumbled up the hill and rolled through Elena with such force that she took a step back. Her bones buzzed with the energy of their chorus. She laughed, stunned.
Samson offered her his arm. In the doorway, they turned and waved—the perfect picture of Ravence’s royal couple.
“I thought you said you were going to smooth the rough edges,” Samson said once they were inside.
“I made them sharper.” She smiled.
“Was the ‘countrymen’ your idea?” Leo asked, looking at Samson.
He shrugged. “It was merely a suggestion, but everything else was Her Highness.”
Her father turned to her, and Elena braced for his usual disapproval. But instead, he placed his hand on her head.
“Preaching unity was a smart move. You will make a mighty queen.” Pride colored his voice.
Elena blinked. His hand was heavy, but warmth fluttered in her stomach, making her feel buoyant. When her father left, she let her grin break free. Not even the sight of Yassen Knight could dampen her joy.
“We must take our leave.” Samson looked at Yassen. “We’ve some hunting to do.”
“Good hunting.” She squeezed his arm. “And thank you.”
CHAPTER 13
YASSEN
Belief is stronger than a god, more fragile than a feather.
—from the diaries of Priestess Nomu of the Fire Order
Yassen scanned the crowd in the meat bazaar as Samson’s men moved into position. It was a twisting street, wide enough for only three men to walk abreast. There were over thirty shops, brightly lit. Butchers tied up legs of hearty lamb and cuts of delicate hiran in glass-encased freezers as shoppers milled about, watching them work or trying samples of freshly roasted venison. The smell of meat hung heavily in the hot air. It made Yassen feel sick, but his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten dinner yesterday.
They were in old Rani, near Radhia’s Bazaar, a portion of the capital he had frequented when he was younger. His mother had grown up here, but had moved to the outskirts of the city at his father’s wish, to be closer to the wide expanse of the desert.
Yassen could not blame him. His father was as skittish as a hare, constantly searching for exits should the need arise. In old Rani, the buildings crowded each other; neighbors could hear conversations through the walls. Here, there was no escape.
He pulled his scarf tighter around his lower jaw as a man wearing a gold cap walked past. He did not give Yassen a second glance. Yassen shivered to think what would happen if the man had recognized him. Even though he served the Crown now, Yassen knew his presence in Rani was a closely guarded secret. The gold caps, though passionate followers of the king, would not respond kindly to knowing that the man who killed their beloved general now walked freely in their streets. And though most Ravani did not know his face, the gold caps did. Leo had made sure of it.
“He uses civilians,” Akaros had said when he first informed Yassen that his photo, captured by a stray holocam in a dark alley of Magar, had been sent to top-level gold caps.
“What?” Yassen looked at the holo. It was dark and grainy, and though his face was slightly blurred, he could make out the telltale flash of his hair, the angle of his jaw.Shit.
“He uses civilians as his spy network. Ropes them in by quoting god and country.” Akaros had laughed. “At least we have professionals to do our work. He would sacrifice any ordinary man. Fucking hypocrite.”
Yassen had said nothing then, but he wished he had had the courage to tell Akaros that he had been a civilian too. An ordinary man who had been given a gun so he could find purpose.
He had realized too late that the purpose would ruin him.
“Brother.”
Yassen froze as the gold cap returned, holding out an yron. “Do you have a light?”
“No. I don’t.” With a sweaty hand, he waved toward the shops. “Maybe someone inside does.”
The man narrowed his eyes, and for a moment, Yassen wondered if he had recognized him.
