“And I should use the Arohassin to kill him? The same people who killed my father and my Yassen?” Elena’s voice hardened. “Be grateful, gamemaster, that I’m not telling of your transgression to the Black Scales. This is your warning. If you speak of this with me again, you and your like will be driven into the earth.”
Jaya snorted. “So, you’re protecting him.”
Something cold and sharp flickered across Elena’s face. Her mouth twisted into a half snarl, half smile. “He is my Prophet.”
She turned to go, and Jaya licked her lips, thinking,Just say it.
“Your Agni is stronger than his.”
Elena stopped short. “What?”
“I—I have been studying Agni. For suns now. The nature of its heat, its burning point, the life force it demands. How one can differ from another.”
“How?”
“From scrolls. Some from the black market, others stolen from the Royal Library.” Elena scowled at that, and Jaya shrugged. “What else can you expect? You royals keep all the knowledge to yourselves and, even then, fail to learn it.”
Elena’s voice was a low growl. “And what did you learn?”
“Agni is a force. One rooted in elemental nature, powered by the gods themselves. And the gods are not equal. They are jealous and vicious and fight each other for more. There are even rumors of gods learning to devour and steal each other’s power.” She held out the metal lotus. “This will help prevent Samson from taking your power. See, it can form any weapon.” She demonstrated, the black sand hissing into a slingsword, thena chakram, then an urumi. “It might come to your aid, if he turns against you. Again.”
Elena studied her for a long moment, her body completely still. Then she drew in a deep breath and left.
Jaya stood alone, the sand gently susurrating around her.Damn it.She had been sure Elena would take the bait. But something nagged at her. For as much as Elena had claimed her allegiance to the Prophet, Jaya had noticed her gaze slide past her to the broken vestiges of the Phoenix. And the look in her eyes wasn’t one of piety.
It had been of pain.
This would be a slow game, then. No matter.
Those were her favorite.
CHAPTER 39
SAMSON
I have seen too much pain, too much sorrow. Take this from me, O Great Serpent. Allow me the mercy of your waters.
—fromThe Lament of Seshar: A People’s History
He abandoned them beneath the earth.
Turned against his own men.
What else can you expect from a rustblood?
He had heard them. Ravani and Sesharian alike, whispering of his shortcomings, his sin. He had hoped his appearance with Elena would help to show that the Prophet and the queen were one.Something to bridge the gap, he had said. Something to show he was not afraid of their judgment. But he still heard their voices over the roar of the flames. He still heard them crying for help.
Samson hugged his jacket tighter as he slowly climbed the high temple steps. A chill lingered in his bones, threading through his veins with ghostlike fingers and disappearing as soon as he tried to pin it down. He had tried everything. Coals on his naked skin, layers of sweaters untilhe sweated underneath the winter sun. Still, the chill persisted. Short of siphoning Elena’s Agni, only the Eternal Fire remained, and he could hear it rumbling just over the landing, calling him home.
Saayna bowed at his approach. “Prophet.”
“Saayna. How have you kept?”
Her eyes skittered over his sunken cheeks, his pale lips, and he thought he saw a flicker of worry—or was it doubt?—cross her face before she bowed once more.
“Well, now that we have been honored by your Divine Presence.”
Divine Presence.His stomach curdled.Would the divine leave his people like so?
