It will be me, she thought suddenly, with more vehemence than she expected. When she returned to Magar with the Yumi in tow, the people would flock to her, and she would accept them despite their betrayals and show them the power of a true leader. A queen, not a butcher.
“I will see you in Goldor, then, with the Yumi,” she said.
When the line cut, Elena turned back to the dark sea. Kirri sat beside her, and after some time, he spoke, the edges of his reflection furring within the glass.
“There’s a strange thing about this sea.” He sounded almost wistful. “It will hide nearly everything and everyone. A man could disappear out here, and no one would know it.”
Elena blinked as a cold shock washed through her. She had the sudden memory of standing on top of the dunes with Yassen as he gazed out over the desert.All the quiet, with no one to judge your shortcomings. A man could disappear out here, and no one would know it.Kirri must have noticed the alarm in her reflection, because his smile faltered.
“Oh—I—I don’t mean that I have something to hide—”
“I know what you mean,” she said in a hushed voice, thinking of Yassen in the moonlight and his simple wish to be free. Her heart ached. “It’s the illusion that enchants us. Here, we can forget ourselves and our duties and justbe.”
She was quiet after that, and Kirri had the good sense to leave her alone. She thought of Samson and his bitter rage, Chandi and her calculating patience, Visha and her subtle poisons—and her own withering pride. They were caught in a torturous dance to hurt and make others hurt worse than they had. She could not escape it. And she did not have the heart to tell Kirri that people like her, people like them, could never afford true freedom. There were worse ways to live and die than bleeding for one’s own home, but the thought of freedom—from it all—immobilized her.
Why are you running, Elena?Yassen whispered. His murky reflection flickered in the dark window.What shriveled version of freedom are you fighting for?
She turned, but there was no one beside her. Elena shuddered.
It took them over a day to fly across the Ahi Sea as they painstakingly avoided Ayoni airspace, so by the time Kirri shook her gently awake, Elena longed for the sight of land.
The mountains came first.
They broke the blue horizon like blackened knuckles. Bruised and vast. Deep red veins of cooling magma trickled down their southern faces. As they flew closer, she saw the infamous black beaches of the Mokshi coast where, centuries ago, a foolish Paguan king had waged an invasion, only to be sent back a boat full of his sons’ severed heads.
“Hailing Moksh,” the pilot called.
Elena only half listened to the pilot as she drank in the towering cliffs of the western coast and the great statues of the first queens carved within. Yamni and Yamsiya, the twin regents. The priestess and the warrior. Their large stone eyes seemed to follow her, and deep within her gut, Elena felt a strange warmth blooming.
“Tower, come in,” the pilot repeated. “Requesting clearance for landing.”
Silence.
Elena frowned, turning to the pilot, when she saw movement flicker in the south. Just there, beyond the cliffs, toward the famed capital of Azadi. She had never been to the Yumi city, but now she tasted its name on her tongue, pressing it against the back curve of her teeth for the last syllable.Azadi.It was a Yumi word, a word of power and consequence. The same cry the Sixth Prophet had taken as she burned down armies and kingdoms, singing her vicious call for freedom.
Azadi, azadi, azadi.
The ancient name, the ancient call offreedom, plucked something within her. She had heard of the city’s glorious black marble and silver-veined spires and its floating universities dedicated to the ancient teachings of the Great Goddess. And then there was the infamous palace, thin and long like a shard. But when they finally cleared the cliffs, it was not the palace, or towers, or universities that she noticed but a kingdom—burning.
Faint fingers of smoke writhed between the broken spires. Scorch marks marred the faces of some buildings, while rubble dotted the streets. She saw no armies, no pulse fire, no encroaching enemies, but she saw the evidence of an attack in the city.
“Shit,” Kirri said. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Pilot,” Elena called, but the soldier was already pulling away from the burning city.
“What is happening?” Kirri cried. “I thought you said Moksh called for you—”
“Pilot!”
“Your Majesty, no one is answering our hails. We must turn—”
A garbled voice broke through the static. “Reroute westward, Cyleoni.”
Elena grabbed the pilot’s comms. “Who is this? What happened in Azadi? Has there been an invasion?”
The static thinned, then doubled. “The general—” The voice broke, then chimed again. “—sister queen. We’ve sent the coordinates.”
“What about the queen? What has happened to her?”
