“Any luck?” Samson asked.
“I haven’t started reading yet,” she said.
“What do you think, Priestess?” Samson turned to Kruppa, slipping on a devilish smile. “Do you believe I’m your Prophet?”
Kruppa returned his smile, though Elena noted how she twisted the end of her dupatta. “Yes, um, Your Holiness.”
“Holiness?” He laughed. “I prefer Blue Star.”
“Blue Star?”
“It is the Great Serpent’s symbol.” He pointed to the darkening sky, at the stars slowly waking. “It lies just above the horizon, pointing true north.”
Kruppa hissed. Samson raised a brow, looking to Elena. She carefully slipped the scrolls back into their bag.
“The north is sacred to the Phoenix,” she said, glancing at Kruppa, who had stilled, aware of her blunder. “Even the palace has no northern tower, just the east, south, and west.”
“Ah, I noticed that. Well. Once we reclaim Rani, my rani, we’ll have to build a northern tower,” he said, holding her gaze as if to measure her.
She swallowed her retort. “Of course… Prophet.”
He motioned for her, and Elena stood, squeezing Kruppa’s shoulder, before following him into the inner office of the hoverpod.
Chandi and Visha snapped to attention as they entered. A bank of holos floated above the center table: reports, battle schematics, various maps. Elena pointed to the one closest to her.
“What’s this?” she said.
“An offer,” Samson answered.
He pulled out a chair, and warily, she sat down. He sat next to her, his hand resting on her armrest. As the others leaned forward, Elena had the strange sensation of being cornered in a pen, like a wild horse ready to be broken.
“An offer of what kind?”
“I think it’s time we contact Cyleon,” Samson said.
“I thought we were going to push forward and recover Teranghar and the Yoddha Base,” Elena said. The other southern city was smaller than Magar, and several miles of canyons stretched between them. But if they were to regain Teranghar and Yoddha, they could free southern Ravence before they marched onward to Rani.
She explained as much, and Samson listened patiently, his eyes seeming to drink her in. When she finished, he leaned back in his chair, but his hand remained on her armrest.
“Pushing the Jantari out of the south will help us gain a stronghold, but it will only prolong the war,” Samson said. “We need to hit Jantar where it hurts.”
“How does that include the Cyleoni?”
“What if King Syla were to help? He has resources, troops. Cyleon is Ravence’s ally, after all.”
“But—”
“We need to partner with Syla if we want to win this war,” Chandi cut in.
Elena turned to the commander as Samson scowled. Chandi ignored him, meeting her gaze. The blue light of the holos curved down Chandi’s neck, limning the skull hand around her throat. It was an odd tattoo. Garish, morbid, and utterly fitting. Distantly, Elena wondered of its significance.
“Cyleon has old mines in its eastern mountains that ran dry because Jantar sucked it all from their side of the range,” Chandi said. “Syla could do nothing. He lost his most valuable resource without the Jantari ever raising a weapon. He couldn’t call a war then. But he can now, with us. He is angry and bitter and needs the right excuse to move against Jantar. We can become that excuse.”
Elena shook her head. “Syla may be bitter, but he’s no instigator. He’d rather sit back and let someone else do the killing for him. He is a puppeteer—and we will not become his assassins. No. If we recruit Syla, we must be smart.” She drew a breath, steeling herself. “Syla has always loved playing the part of hero. So, we make him that. I think it’s time we call for the Council of the Second Continent. Syla and I can go in together. We paint him the shining savior, me the deposed queen. The other kingdoms may not care for Ravence, but once they hear that Farin tried to kill a living ruler, they’ll be afraid. They’ll think he’ll come for them next. Theywillmove against him.”
“Council?” Visha sneered. “Your precious council is a gathering of vain, chicken-livered rulers who did nothing when Seshar was attacked. They’re cowards.”
“The council—”
