“The council hasn’t met in nearly sixty suns because they know they’re guilty,” Visha snarled. “They can’t show their faces. They won’t come.”
“They will,” Elena shot back. “Those vultures came to my coronation to size me up. Now they think I’m dead. If I suddenly appear at the council, they’ll know I’ve survived. They’ll know Farin tried to have me killed.”
“But we barely have enough leverage right now,” Visha argued. “What do we have? A couple hundred men? One city? Farin still has a fucking army camped out in the capital. You think he’ll just stand up and leave because the other kingdoms tell him to?Ifthey even come.”
“Let’s start with Syla first,” Samson said before Elena could retort.
She swallowed her bitterness as Visha returned her glare. Visha had not come to dig out the bodies along the wall, or even to attend the funerals after. And Elena could never forget her look of cold defiance as Visha said their orders were not to recover the dead, but to take the city. The strategist steepled her gloved fingers together and rested her chin on top in a mocking gesture. Elena scowled.
“We could send a hoverpod, with a gift.”
“Like what?”
The answer was already on her tongue, and it surprised Elena how quickly and easily it came.
“A Jantari prisoner.”
Chandi blinked, Samson smiled, and even Visha looked appalled.
“Now, that’s the ruthless queen I know,” he said.
She did not smile. “If there’s one thing Syla loves the most, it’s pawns to wield against Farin. Give him someone of note. The general, Edmund.”
At this, Samson’s face fell. He exchanged a glance with Chandi.
“What?” When they said nothing, she sat forward. “What happened to him?”
Visha laughed. It was a low, scraping sound, like sand whipping her skin. It grated her ears.
“He’s dead,” Samson said.
“What?”
“There was an accident,” Samson said. “An uprising of sorts. We had to shut it down.”
“So you executed him? You should have consulted me—”
“There was no time, Elena. I burned him.” His lips curled back, as if the admission itself tasted poisonous. “There is no body to mourn. But it stopped the Jantari rebellion.”
How easily he had burned through the men, how quickly she had crushed people along the wall. She remembered then how Saayna had looked at her with horror in her eyes.
I pray for the day when we will finally be free of you gods.
We did this, she thought. Just as Samson was complicit in the deaths of those along the wall, she was guilty of Edmund’s death.
Shame, hot and sticky, scratched her throat as he refused to meet her eyes. Shame, not just for herself, but ofthem. For what they were. It tickled her throat, but no matter how much she coughed or hacked, Elena knew she could never get rid of that phantomlike sensation.
“You—” she began, struggling to temper her voice. “We need to go about this strategically, Samson. Logically. Edmund wasleverage. If Farin finds out, he’ll use it against us.”
“I know,” Samson said. His mouth twisted up into a slant, and he still did not meet her gaze. “It won’t happen again.”
Visha continued to laugh.
“Will you shut up?” Elena and Samson snarled at once.
Visha stopped, but her smile was slow, catlike. She rose. Her hands skimmed along the edge of the table, and she paused in between their two chairs and leaned forward, draping her arms around their shoulders.
“You know what I think?” she said. “Send them a couple of bodies, their throats slit by urumis. Syla will get the message. And if he doesn’t, why, then we can send our precious queen, wrapped up in a pretty bow.”
