“I swear he’s still one of them,” said a general with a hatchet nose. “Your Majesty, why is he still alive?”
Leo sat in his chair, one leg draped over the other, and when he met the king’s gaze, Yassen felt a chill run through his body.
“You’re wasting our time, assassin.”
“Stepwells. Rasbakan.” Yassen stepped toward the king. “The Arohassin bombed one of your sand ports in Rasbakan, and Maya was behind the attack. They stole weapons—weapons including seventh-generation Ravani-issue pulse guns. Who do you think Giorna got hers from?”
Understanding slowly dawned in Leo’s eyes. “And the stepwells?”
“She’s referring to the Raja stepwell in western Rani,” Yassen said. “It’s a drop point, possibly the one Maya uses. If the Arohassin are planning an attack on coronation day, chances are, she’s still there, distributing weapons.”
“But we don’t know for certain.” The general came forward, glowering. “You gave us nothing.”
“He gave us a lead, Rohtak,” Samson said, stepping in front of Yassen. “We can work out the rest.”
Yassen gave Samson a silent thanks. He may not have been able to rescue Yassen from the Arohassin, but he was here now, protecting him. Like he had promised.
Samson turned to Leo. “We have a location now, Your Majesty. We can watch the area, track anyone who goes in and out. Maya is bound to turn up.”
Leo said nothing. Instead, his eyes found Yassen once more. And Yassen was struck by how weary they looked, how tired. Perhaps in his fear of Leo, he had forgotten that the king was an old man whose kingdom was full of rebels and traitors.
“Your Majesty,” Yassen said, surprising even himself by speaking up. “She’s there. I know it.”
Finally, the king turned. “Arish, share this information with Jangir. And send in trackers, discreetly. I have a feeling that she is one to spook easily. And, Yassen,” he said, his voice cold. Yassen stiffened. “You will bring her in, once she is found.”
Yassen knew a dismissal when he heard one. “Of course.” He bowed and departed, his heart beating fast.
After a while, he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Samson trailing behind him.
“Hey,” Samson said, grabbing his shoulder. He wore a white silk shirt that opened at the collar, and Yassen caught a glimpse of the scar that ran down Samson’s chest to his upper abdomen. “You did great back there. Splendid, really.”
“What will happen to her—Giorna?”
At this, Samson’s smile wavered. “I—I’m not sure. Does it matter?”
Does it matter?Yassen wanted to retort, but he stopped himself. Giorna meant nothing to them. Giorna meant nothing tohim. And yet… He could not forget the unnatural angle in her shoulders, her puffy eyes. The king may be tired, and though Yassen felt a twinge of pity for the man, he and his men would not hesitate to kill Giorna. To him, Giorna, Samson, Yassen, the rest, they were chess pieces. Men and women to be manipulated. Tossed aside when their purposes were served.
But I can do nothing for Giorna now. He just hoped that if they found Maya quickly, she would not suffer.
“Make it clean.” Yassen looked away, jaw tight. “Clean and quick, if it comes to it.”
Samson nodded. He touched Yassen’s wrist. “Nothing will happen toyou. I promise.”
Yassen turned to him, and in Samson’s eyes, he saw worry and a fierce sincerity, but something else, something deeper, older. Samson’s hand still remained on his wrist. Warm, familiar. And at this, Yassen felt his chest constrict in guilt.
“I believe you,” he said and pulled away.
As soon as his hoverpod docked, Yassen pulled on his jacket and sprinted to the western wings of the palace.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said as he arrived outside the studio, slightly breathless. Ferma leaned against the doorway, watching Elena. Yassen could see her reflections twirling in the mirrors around the room.
“I heard you got us a lead,” she said, her eyes on Elena.
“News travels fast.”
“Arish sent a message.” Finally, she turned to him. She was at least a head taller, and her hair fanned out, unbound. Yassen tried to edge back inconspicuously. “Oh, it’s all right, assassin. I don’t mean to hurt you.” Ferma smiled. “Arish believes you. So does the king, apparently. Maybe I misjudged you.”
Yassen blinked.Is this a trick?Ferma, like Elena, had kept a watchful eye on him, and often, he felt the weight of both their gazes. The sting of their distrust. But then Ferma laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, no darkness in her eyes, no hint of deceit in her grin.
