“Like I said. He is no hero,” the metal king said.
With her back still turned, Elena closed her eyes and took in a long, stabilizing breath before facing Farin. “Neither are you, Jantari.”
Their eyes met, and in that brief impasse, Elena felt their shared enmity, the dark, dense quality of their malice. Everything else became meaningless. The council, the attendants, even Samson and the killdoms. They had no need to hide their hatred, but every reason to pretend civility, because this was the theater of grandstanding and subterfuge, and Elena would be damned if she lost to Farin, again.
She rose. “I come with three simple demands to prevent a great war. King Farin stands accused of regicide and breach of treaty.” She turned slowly, meeting the gaze of each regent. “I have heard this council called spineless. Cowardly. But you as rulers have survived countless battles. You canfeelwhen someone plots against you, or you would not be here. So, make no mistake, council members. This is an attack. One cutting to the very structure of our rule. I merely ask you to take on a little courage and cut the hand that controls your strings.”
She walked out the door without waiting for their response. Let them stew. Let them believe she applied to their pride and ability as competent rulers. Let them believe they were safe. The doors clicked shut loudly behind her, and in their echoing ring, Elena felt the ache of her want grow, until her every cell trembled with it.
CHAPTER 58
JAYA
The most valuable soldier is not the warrior, medic, or leader. It is the strategist. She who sees the field and can turn it with the slightest touch.
—fromThe Gamemaster Manual
Jaya slipped onto the stone bridge and checked over her shoulder. The streets were empty, the canal below full of only darting fish, not boats. Janoon was a network of canals and alleyways that resembled the flowing locks of the goddess Tsuan, mother of the sea and the namesake of Tsuana. A goddess of peace, she was said to have ordained her followers to make a white city. A pure city, full of equality, justice. But the Tsuani guards had prodded Jaya like a market fish, and when they had finally let her deboard, she heard them whispering behind her.
“I’ve never seen a clipped Yumi,” they had said.
Cheeks burning, she had left the port.
“Any alms for the poor?” an old woman had asked her. She sat on the corner, brown limbs wrapped in a faded white shawl. An old headpiece of shells and rusted chains covered her rheumy eyes as she looked up at Jaya.
Jaya snorted. “Equality my ass,” she muttered and slid out her smaller pulse gun.
The woman’s eyes widened as Jaya pressed it into her hands.
“Now go off whichever bastard forced you to beg on the streets, ma,” Jaya had said.
The woman stared at Jaya, and then smiled. Jaya grinned back.
She had headed north then, past the twisting canals, beyond the merchants and tourist quarters. The streets began to widen. Quieten. Jaya had checked to see if someone had followed her, just in case, but there was no one else when she stepped onto the appointed bridge.
There was a strange silence in this part of the pearl city, the white buildings like stoic, luminescent knights in the falling sunlight, too still, too perfect. She wondered if they were waiting for the sword to fall.
Across the bridge, a small temple chimed softly. Jaya held her breath. Celestial ikara adorned the marble walls of the temple, their scales flashing iridescent then gold as the sun shifted behind the buildings and cast the street into a pale, silver shadow. Jaya waited. Slowly, the stone fish began to move.
They rose and fell like the crest of a wave, spinning gold in their wake. The bridge began to rumble. Jaya took in a long, deep breath before the stone pulled back and she dropped into the canal.
She plummeted, down, down, down.
So long, she thought it would never end.
But then she crashed into a tiny but deep pool, coughing and sputtering, and Akaros looked down, unimpressed.
“Did you close your eyes again?”
Jaya clawed herself up onto the tiled floor. A strand of seaweed stuck to her hair, and she attempted to grab the slimy tendril, but her fingers slipped over its oily surface.
“I thought you said you cleaned the chute,” she said, attempting to sound angry, but her voice came frail, cracked. She rubbed her chest, trying to remember the sensation of warm wholeness before the drop had sucked the air out of her.
“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a little busy.” He held out his hand, and with a sour grimace, Jaya took it. Gently, Akaros untangled the seaweed from her hair and threw it aside.
She followed him down a dark hallway, boots squelching with each step. Moss furred the walls. Jaya tried not to think of what else skittered in the shadows before they came to a steel door.
Akaros rapped thrice.
