“The ikara have no hold on you.” Risha frowned. “When Bormani watched, he was drooling by the end. He’d forgotten the time and where he was.”
“Is that your play, then? Hypnotizing the others?”
Risha laughed, a soft tinkling sound, like bells under water, cold and forlorn. “No, dear Elena. The ikara tell me who can and cannot be easily swayed. And you prove to be stubborn.”
Elena blew out a steadying breath to calm her racing heart. She had thought—for a moment even feared—that Risha had another objective. But the shadows were free of Jantari warriors, and she did not smell the infamous grime of Farin’s oil.
“How did Farin fare?”
There was no noticeable change in Risha’s face, but Elena caught how the ikara reared away as if in disdain. Or was it fear?
“He said you would come to me, seeking help.”
A distant despair rang through her chest. Had Farin already beaten her to it? Had he met with the councilors and offered deals or threats theycould not ignore? She forced herself to meet Risha’s observant gaze with cool detachment.
“And what kind of help did he say I would seek?”
“He wasn’t sure.” Risha cocked her head, her headpiece swaying. The ikara fluttered above them. “He told me I would be a fool to help you. But I’ve never seen Farin so flustered.”
At this, Elena smiled. “He is not as invincible as you think.”
“And yet, you’ve asked for a private meeting, away from the prying eyes and ears of the council. Are you afraid of the council’s judgment, then?”
“I just worry about the sway he has over you. Over you all.” Elena gestured to the ikara. “He points, and the rest of you follow.”
“You think Tsuana is spineless, then.”
“Oh, not spineless, dear Risha.” She waved her hand carelessly. “Just shrewd. You always side with the strongest opponent, the one you know you have no chance beating. For a while, that was Jantar. But what if I were to tell you that Ravence will decimate Farin before the war is even at its end?”
Risha examined her slowly, and above, the ikara crowded forward, their pale, pupilless eyes watching her. “You mean with the warlord Samson Kytuu and his army?”
You disgust me.
His voice rang in her memory, and Elena felt her throat constrict. So be it. It would be better for him to hate her. It would be easier to drive the blade between his eyes like she had intended, like she had promised, but Elena found herself miserable at the thought. Why did he affect her so? He was nothing.Nothing.And yet his voice slithered in the gaps between her thoughts, pursuing her.
She felt Risha watching, and Elena forced herself to reel back her thoughts from the treacherous slip of Samson Kytuu.
“Not him,” she said.
“Then that is quite a presumption.”
“Say, for the sake of argument, it’s true. Say someone else has entered the game. Someone even the Jantari fear. Who would you pin your bet on then, the metalmen or the ones who can cut through steel?”
She saw the wheels turning in the queen’s head as the ikara dispersed in agitation, shooting from one end of the tank to the other, a whirlwind ofanxious silver. There was only one army with the strength to cut through steel. If the Yumi entered the war in aid of the Ravani, the Jantari would lose. Maybe not at once. It would be a slow death, a cruel death, one that drained the coffers and public morale until the people grew desperate and angry. And the Jantari would not be the only ones to suffer. Tsuana would too, with her dependency on the metal trade. Their fates were tied inextricably.
Elena watched Risha consider this, noting how her observation now took on a tinge of resentment, of fear.
“We’ve defeated the Yumi on this continent once before,” Risha whispered sullenly. “The Jantari have new weapons. New metal. We can beat—”
“Last time, you had the Prophet. But there are no prophets on your side, Risha. And neither you nor Farin can afford a long and costly war. None of us can.” She met her gaze. “Butyoucan change the fate of your nation. You do not need to make an enemy of the Yumi. Tonight, when I push for the vote, remember that.”
She turned to go when Risha cried out, “But Seshar! Surely you cannot demand freedom for it too. It is not your fight. Forget it. It will only drown you and Ravence. You finally have the opportunity for peace, and you should not squander it.”
Elena froze. How could she tell the queen the cost of that peace meant the subjugation and humiliation of a million other lives? Ravence would be free if Seshar remained chained. That would be her legacy. Her cruel, vicious legacy.
You’re even more ruthless.
Slowly, she turned to face the older queen. “You are right. Seshar is not my fight. It is not yours, or Bormani’s, or Syla’s. But neither is Ravence your fight, or your obligation. Yet, here you are, willing to listen. And that is all I ask from you, Risha. To listen to the Sesharians and hear their cry for freedom. We have ignored it for so long, me, you, my father, our ancestors. We can’t continue, or else there will be a day when someone less merciful than I will come to take what he is due.”
