Muftasa’s face was pinched. With a heavy hand, she pressed the panel.
The metal grate hummed.
The girl turned just as the hum morphed to a screech and a torch of fire flared out. It instantly leapt on her body, ate up the shadows, sucked in the air.
The girl screamed.
Beside him, he heard Arish gasp and Muftasa exhale a prayer. They stepped back.
But Leo did not turn away. He let the sight before him sear into his mind: the girl’s flailing limbs, the darkness of her body against the bright, hungry flames.
This was his price to pay. This was his sin to bear.
When it was over, Leo turned to Muftasa.
“Continue the search in the capital,” he said, his voice flat and toneless. His stomach churned, and he swallowed down bile. “We have yet to find our Prophet.”
CHAPTER 15
ELENA
At 0600 hours, the Hawk Patrol encountered a land mine hidden along the southwestern region of the wall. All six members were killed. This has put the total yearly death toll at sixty-five Ravani soldiers. Even our Sesharian recruits are beginning to balk. Ravence must make a move, and soon.
—a report from Colonel Akbar, stationed at Yoddha Base
Elena fanned herself with the edge of her sari’s pallu, which already was beginning to wilt in the sun. They stood on an embankment overlooking a shallow valley along the southern border. At its edge, Samson’s army prepared for the demonstration, weapons glinting in the harsh sun.
Tents surrounded them, media prepping their hovercams while dignitaries from Moksh and Teranghar talked softly, throwing glances her way. She had already greeted them upon her arrival. Accepted kisses on her hand. Exchanged polite formalities. Elena disliked small talk, like Leo, but she had more patience for it than him.
A dignitary hurried to her, bowing his head.
“Your Highness, my apologies on my late arrival,” he said, sweat glistening on his balding head. “And congratulations on your engagement. And—and thank you for the invitation to see the proceedings! When my office received word, I tell you, I wanted to stand up and salute you then and there. It’s time we show the metal bastards what Ravence can really—”
Elena listened politely, her hands fidgeting behind her. She snuck a glance at Samson, who wore a slightly amused expression. He was dressed in the military navy of his Black Scales. He had lined his eyes with kohl, a custom among the Ravani, and one that brought out the strange blue of his eyes.
“Thank you, Akash,” she said, finally interrupting the dignitary’s rambling. She smiled as he patted his forehead with a handkerchief. “You have served Magar well. Come, take a seat. She will show you your spot.”
A servant came forward as Elena beckoned. Akash bowed again and gave a brief salute to Samson before hurrying off.
“Is he usually like that?” Samson asked.
“Always,” Elena muttered.
“Skies above.” Samson tugged at his collar. “Damn this heat. I’m sweating already.”
“Then imagine the state of your poor men,” she said.
“They’ve handled worse.”
“Worse than the Ravani Desert?”
Samson smiled slyly, his voice a whisper. “The desert can undo any man.”
Elena looked away so he could not see the sudden flush rising on her cheeks.
Across the dunes, a wall of red sandstone jutted against the sky, separating the kingdoms of Ravence and Jantar. It had been erected centuries ago by King Farzand. Though the desert had outwitted the Jantari soldiers and ruined their invasion, Farzand had not wanted to take any chances. He had erected the wall after every single Jantari soldier had been killed or captured, and every Ravani ruler afterward had strengthened it. It was a part of her heritage, as much as the throne.
Elena gazed at the wall. She knew that on the other side, the Jantari watched, waiting, and she wondered if Farin was among them. She hoped he was. The half-metal king would not underestimate Ravence now. Not after this.
