“It is Samson and hisSesharianmen who helped me free this city. It is Samson and hisSesharianarmy that will take those mines and deliver its steel to your king. If you are to use them and give them no freedom, how are you any better than the Jantari?”
Silence coiled like a noose around them. Kirri stared, shock written clearly over his face. Slowly, Samson turned to her as Elena dropped her hand and pointed to the horizon beyond.
“We all have one common enemy, and I will be damned if we turn into someone like him,” she said. “When we take the mines, we will ask for the exchange of all prisoners, including Sesharians, or we will not take the mines at all.”
Kirri seemed to find himself, because he sputtered, walking forward. “Your Majesty. Forgive me, I spoke out of turn. It—it is not my place to decide the fate of these prisoners. I will leave that up to you and our king.”
A smart countermove, to lay the blame on your king and not yourself, Samson thought darkly.
“Of course you must.” Elena smiled, her eyes clouded and unreadable. “Come. Let us walk the wall, alone.”
Kirri nodded quickly, as if grateful to be removed from the situation. Elena waited until he was out of earshot and turned to Samson.
“I was afraid you were going to cut his head off,” she said.
“I had half a mind to,” he said. “Chicken-livered jackass.”
“You can say that again,” Chandi muttered.
“Chicken-livered jackass.”
Elena laughed, and the sound of it, short and quick and airy, fastened something in his chest in a way he did not understand.
“Just let me handle him.”
As Samson watched her go, her Agni and its warmth fading, he had the sudden, wild urge to rush after.
“Wait!” he called. He jogged to meet her. “You…” he began and found the words disappearing from his tongue as she half turned to face him.
“Yes?” she said.
“Don’t scare him off” was all he could manage. Her gaze met his, and for a moment, there was something akin to regret there, so quick he could have imagined it, but then Elena dipped her head.
“I’ll see you later tonight, Prophet,” she said and left.
CHAPTER 22
ELENA
When Queen Akira squashed the Red Rebellion, she hung the heads of the rebels on the White Lotus until its petals stained red.
—from chapter 42 ofThe Great History of Sayon
She found the Cyleoni ambassador walking the northern wall, his soldiers and a group of Black Scales standing watch.
“Your Majesty.” He bowed as she neared, but she caught how his eyes skittered past her. “I truly do apologize. I spoke out of turn.”
“It is nothing, Kirri,” she said hastily. She dismissed the guards, save the Cyleoni.
“I heard your trip to King Syla was successful.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard many things. Walk with me.”
The early-winter sun perched precariously above the canyons, washing out the deep reds and carving shadowed faces into the rocks. A wind nipped at her scarf. Elena wound it tighter, hiding her swollen cheek, as Kirri watched her with a wary alertness.
“The general. I fear I’ve upset him.”
“Samson has thicker skin than you think. Though, it would be better if you didn’t insult Sesharians in his presence.”
