“He’s spitting on everyone’s face, General,” Visha growled.
“Let him,” Jaya said. “Last time I checked, we don’t have ships.”
“But you do,” Elena said, looking to Daz.
They all turned to his projection, and the Yumi smiled.
“And why would I send my ships to you?” he asked.
Elena’s eyes shuttered, her lips thin and tight. She seemed to gather herself. Then, “Because I accept your proposal.”
“What proposal?” Samson asked.
“You will give me a seat at your council?” Daz said.
Elena nodded. “Syla and I will start the motion. Tsuana will likely agree, and Veran will fall in line simply because the king is afraid of angering Tsuana.”
Tsuana? Veran?Samson’s mind whirled. The politics and games of monarchs were not foreign to him, but this had unfolded so fast that he was not sure where to start.
“Elena, wait, let’s consider this together,” he urged.
But she ignored him. “I want those flesh crawlers destroyed on their way to Tsuana. Let Farin see his ships burn on the eve of the council. How is that for symbolism?”
“The Ayoni have built two new bounders in an older contract with my sister,” Daz said. “Meet us in Ayona. You will be granted safe passage there.”
“Hold on. Just—wait. Elena,” Samson said, and he stood, motioning for her.
She hesitated, then followed him outside, where the pale winter sun grazed the top of the canyons. Beyond the courtyard, he could hear the warbling call for rations. He had forgotten today was rations day. The Cyleoni had sent food along with medicine, and he wondered if it would be enough. If any of this would be enough so long as Farin reigned and hatred bloomed in the gnawing hunger of those without. He thought of the children, torn from the islands. The miners, buried in the earth. All that death, all that loss. How much longer would it take until they were freed?
“I don’t trust Daz,” Samson said.
Elena sat back against a pillar. “I don’t either. But what else can we do?”
“What if he plans to strong-arm the council into his own private demands? Or to prevent Seshar from gaining a council seat too?”
Elena looked up, her expression wary, guarded. “We will deal with it when the time comes.”
He sighed and sat down beside her. “The council kingdoms think we Sesharians are helpless. We couldn’t protect our own home. Couldn’t stop the Jantari from taking us to theirs. So they gave up on Seshar. But…” And here he faltered.
“But…?” Elena asked.
He blew air from his cheeks. “But if we take those killdoms, if we sail in bearing my flag, bearing your flag, then the world will see that both you and I and any other country taken for granted will not die in our own helplessness. That we can fight. And, more importantly,win.”
Elena said nothing for a long time. She stared across the courtyard, arms wrapped around her knees as if to hug herself and trap her thoughts. But even if he could not read her face, he felt her Agni. Sensed its seething spark, its voracious bitterness that mirrored his own.
They were the same, the Butcher and the Burning Queen.
Hungry to win, even in defeat.
“I’m afraid of the sea,” she said finally, softly, her admittance a quick, flighty thing. But he caught it and rested his arm on hers, as she had for him, and squeezed.
“There’s no need to be afraid. You have me. You have your Agni. Together, we are enough.”
“Are we?” she asked.
He met her eyes. For once, he found no trace of that relentless cold razoring down his spine. Only a calm, warm assurance of her Agni, and their connection between.
“We are gods. A thousand kingdoms could not make us bend, Elena Aadya Ravence. What is one king?”
