“Wait, Elena, you can’t—” Samson began.
“You’re coming with me. It seems like a second seat is available now.”
He paused, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “It seems there is.”
They followed the soldiers into the tanker and settled into their seats. As the ramp closed, Elena leaned toward Samson.
“When we see Syla, let me lead,” she whispered. “I’ll broach the topic of calling for the council.”
The smile on Samson’s face faltered, a quick slip of his lips, but then he righted it. “Right. Of course.”
“Samson—”
“You lead,” he said as the tanker began to lift. “You’re the queen. I’m but a humble servant, aren’t I?”
The soldiers did not speak to them as the sky darkened, though Elena felt their careful eyes tracking her every movement. She glanced at Samson. He warily regarded the Cyleoni, his Agni flickering in errant jerks like a snake, twisting on itself. She could see it better now, feel its shape. With all those lessons, all that time training beside Samson, she had grown to almost anticipate the flare of his Agni. Electric and sulfuric, like lightning. The intense vehemency of his desire charged through his sword.
Samson turned to the soldier closest to them. “Your king—”
“Hush!” the soldier whispered fiercely. The others grew taut as they scanned the windows.
“What—” she began, but then she saw a shape darker than the night itselfmove.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the shimmer of their shields. The tanker dipped, gradually, carefully. It was then that Elena realized the shape was aship, a thopter of some sort, long and missile-like with black wings that fluttered soundlessly. Liquid limbs grew out of its stomach like the legs of a bug, made of reflective panels that seemed to drink in and refract its surroundings.
The limbs flailed, tasting the night.
Her heart thundered as Elena focused her strength, her desire, her palms warming. She could feel Samson prepare too. If that thopter detected their tanker…
But then the legs curled back, finding nothing but empty air, and the ship flew on to resume its ghostly patrol.
When it was gone, the soldier beside her relaxed, wiping sweat from his brow.
“What was that?” she whispered, afraid to raise her voice.
“A Jantari phantom,” he rasped. “They’re geared to hear the vibration of voices. They usually patrol the airspace around Rani, but I haven’t seen one this far east before.”
“So the shields…” She glanced out the window, grateful to see their shimmer. “They’re hiding us.”
“Cloaks, not shields.”
She regarded the soldiers anew, this time wondering if Kirri had been honest. Perhaps they were for her protection. This was the first time she had heard of or seen a Jantari phantom. What other ships had the Jantari created for their invasion? How many more weapons would she come across? With a sickening feeling, Elena realized the depth of her ill-preparedness. They had regained Magar but remained in the dark as the Jantari pillaged and razed her country.
Elena caught Samson’s gaze. Slowly, he tapped his belted urumi. Then his lower stomach. His gaze was steady, assuring. They had their Agni. They had the power of the gods.
But hours later, when the tanker began to descend, she still could not shake off her sense of foreboding.
The pines rose to greet them like tall, silver ghosts. They were deep into the Agnee mountains, far more north than she had been in a long time. The tanker lowered into a small clearing. When she stepped outside, Elena caught a glimmer of dawn dusting the upper peaks of the trees.
The soldiers quickly covered the tanker with a tarp.
“This way,” one said.
They followed him through the forest, up a dirt path that led to a hoverpod hidden between two thick pines, camouflaged with green paint and leafy canopies. The door opened as they approached, and Syla strode out.
The Cyleoni king was dressed in battle fatigues: dark black jacket withlong trousers made specifically to hide knives. He looked older than what Elena remembered. More haggard. But his eyes still held the same sharpness she had seen since childhood.
Syla Cyleon had been a steady ally of her father.The only decent man remaining, Leo had said. She remembered how she had looked forward to his visits. He would bring bouquets of moonspun flowers for her mother, drinks for her father, and sugared sweets for her. When she had completed her registaan, Syla had sent her a wooden elephant, an animal once native to Cyleon. She had treasured it for many suns.
