“Elena,” he said. “Gods’ Blood, is it good to see you.”
He kissed three of his fingers and pressed them against her forehead.
“Syla,” she said, breathless as a sudden vicious pang cramped her throat. She missed familiar faces frombefore, before the fall, before everything had greatly and irrefutably changed.
Syla squeezed her shoulder.
“You have been so strong, young queen,” he said softly.
Elena took one shuddering breath and nodded. She drew herself together, swallowing the bittersweetness of tears. “A bit too strong. I’m afraid I forced Kirri to stay behind because I thought this was a trap.”
Syla laughed, thick and booming, and it brought back those sweet, aching memories of warm nights sitting with him and her father in the courtyard, drinking wine and sharing stories.
“Leo taught you well,” he began, but then his face sobered as he caught his words.
The cramp in her throat intensified. “I still have much to learn.”
Samson cleared his throat, and she remembered his presence. She gestured to him.
“This is Samson Kytuu, general of the Black Scales. He helped me regain Magar and sent my message to you. He is”—her voice faltered as Samson stepped forward—“my fian—friend.”
Syla’s eyes coolly slid to Samson.
“I’ve heard the Jantari call you Butcher,” he said. “They want to hang you for your crimes against the nation and personally against the king.”
Samson smiled, quick and knifelike. “Well. I’m disappointed they didn’t list more reasons.”
Syla regarded him with a slow wariness. “Come,” he said.
They ducked inside the hoverpod and entered a large landing. A stone table sat in the middle. Below, banks of holos hugged the dark windows. Two soldiers snapped to attention and drew chairs for Elena and Syla. Samson drew his own seat.
“Syla, I need—”
“How did you escape?” the king asked suddenly.
The question caught her off guard. “Escape?”
“I sent out messages to the palace. To you, your Astras, and even your generals. Then I learned the Arohassin had killed you and your father in the temple.”
“Generals?” She sat upright. “Are they alive? Muftasa? Anyone?”
Syla shook his head. “None that I know. They were all gathered in Rani when the Arohassin attacked. They took out everyone.”
Her hope, small and desperate like a match flame, died just as quick.
“The Arohassin weren’t behind the attack,” Samson said, and Syla turned to him. “It was Farin.”
“How so?”
“He promised to help the Arohassin establish a new government in Ravence if they killed the royal family and gave him the mountains,” he said. “But Farin broke that promise. As he always does.”
“Why did Farin want the Agnee Range?”
“To mine for metal.” Samson gestured to the windows, to the mountains beyond. “The Ravani haven’t touched them because the mountains are sacred to their Phoenix and their temple. But to Farin, they’re untapped potential.”
The king settled back in his chair, a mildly curious expression flitting across his face. “So. The Butcher knows all things, then.”
Elena looked at Samson in warning.Let me lead, she thought. He caught her gaze. Something passed in his eyes, dark and furtive, before he turned his attention back to the king.
