“The Jantari blame the Arohassin for the attack on Rani, but in truth, the Arohassin are mere tools,” Samson said.
“They also blame you,” Syla said. “Farin was said to treat you like a son. He’s been taking your… betrayal quite personally.”
“I was going to be his puppet king,” Samson said, and there was an edge to his voice, brittle and sharp.
Syla arched a brow. “So why play along until now?”
“Because now I—we,” Samson corrected quickly, shooting her a glance. “We have the means to defeat Farin.”
“The Council of the Second Continent,” Elena said.
At this, Syla inhaled sharply. “You mean to call it.”
“With your help.” She leaned forward, resting her hands on the table. “Farin attempted to execute a living royal. Who is to say he won’t try to execute another? You? King Bormani? Queen Risha? He’s unstable, Syla. A threat to every royal family. Wemustcall a council and move against him.”
“The other rulers won’t come,” Syla said, matter of fact. “They are afraid. More importantly, they’re beholden to him. Do you know how much the others rely on his metal? If they lose access to the trade, their coffers will dry up. Their cities will shrink. Every kingdom, every trade on this continent, is fueled by godforsaken Jantari metal. And with the loss of the Jantari southern mines in Sona, things are already tense.”
Elena grimaced. She remembered the corrosive stench of burning metal. The roar of the landslides. The fading touch of Yassen’s hand on hers.
“Your father was smart to never dip into the trade,” Syla said ruefully. “He tried to tell me, but I was a fool to think my ore was safe from Farin. When the Jantari began mining their mountains along our shared borders, I was worried they would leech my ore supply. I dammed the river, so Farin had no water for his mines. I ordered my men to dig faster. But the bastard only chucked in more Sesharians and suckedmydeposits dry. Then he went deeper into his own mountains to find more. There are rumors that he’s creating an army ofmenmade of steel. That is what you’re going up against.”
“We can help you,” Samson said.
“With what?” Syla snapped. “Your little ragtag army of refugees? You don’t understand. The Jantari have been mining and stocking up their steel foryears. Who knows what monstrosities they’ve created.”
“We are not a ragtag army of refugees,” Elena said.
Syla checked himself. “Not you, Elena. Not the Ravani. I meant the Sesh—”
“I know what you meant,” she said flatly.
They fell silent, an awkward impasse settling between them. Elena remembered the crying Ravani mother and the stalwart Sesharian father, and she felt a deep bitterness then, for herself, her predicament, her need to submit before those who saw her as nothing more than a leader of a forsaken land. But she swallowed it. It burned her throat, wounded her pride, but Elena pulled on a beseeching look as she touched Syla’s arm.
“My people know how to fight,” she said. “And I know someone even the Jantari fear. Someone all kingdoms fear.”
Syla stilled. “Who?”
Samson shot her a look, but she ignored it as she leaned forward, her fingers pressing into his forearm. “The Yumi.”
Syla stared at her, waiting for her to deliver the punch line, but when her face remained as serious as before, his mouth shuttered. “Surely you are jesting. The Yumi kingdom has not involved itself in second-continent politics for centuries.”
“They will. And with you, me, and the Yumi calling, the other kingdoms will come to the council. Farin will be forced to attend too. If not out of fear, then out of curiosity. Imagine what a ruckus we’ll cause when Moksh sails into the Tsuani harbor.”
“But the Yumi—”
“—are the strongest, most lethal warriors of the land,” Elena said. “Their hair can cut through Farin’s metal. His army will stand no chance against the Mokshi.”
“But how will you manage to convince the Yumi to come?”
With power.
With fire.
Her Agni thrummed. Elena glanced down the table, her gaze crashing into Samson’s. Dark like the sea, entrenched with secrets. Ones they both shared.
But before she could speak, Samson slammed his fist onto the table, surprising her and Syla.
“We don’t need the Yumi,” he snarled. “All we need is the metal itself. And I can give you that—tenfold.”
