But there was no answer. On the panel, a new pair of coordinates flickered, and the pilot banked toward the western mountains. Elena twisted just as the burning city slipped out of her view, and then all she saw were the black clouds of smoke slowly rising to meet the dawn.
They dove through the cliffs, hurtling past the twin queens, and up the western coastline. Elena frantically scanned the forests for smoke, but they remained untouched by fire. Had the fighting only been in the capital, then? She hailed the comms again, but no Yumi answered.
Suddenly, Elena felt a low pull in her stomach, a quickening in her blood not unlike when she summoned her Agni. As they descended, Elena caught glimpses of a river, the water so pure, so bright, it burned silver. The Yumi temple sat on its banks. It was greater than any Ravani temple, older, prouder, and looking upon it, Elena felt a finger curl underneath the base of her skull andtug.
She was out of the tanker the moment they landed, her heart thumping wildly, her blood a raucous call that seemed to answer the river’s song. The temple was made of two large pyramids stacked upon each other, one below, the other floating upside down above, their peaks meeting in a sliver through which only sunlight could pass. Four waterfalls fell between the corners of the pyramids in a never-ending stream. Elena stumbled, overwhelmed by the vastness of the two structures, the way the dark walls seemed to drink in the light and reflect it with a slight green iridescence.
Kirri called to her as the temple doors opened. Two Yumi descendedthe great steps. Twins, joined at the hip. They walked in perfect unison, their orange robes and black hair unfurling like flickering flames. They wore no jewelry, no ornaments, no weapons twined in their hair. Their robes were plain, spun of smooth silk. At first glance, there was nothing extraordinary about the priestesses.
But then Elena saw their eyes.
Heat seeped out of her bones.
They were black on black, so dark that it seemed shadows themselves lived within. The Yumi regarded her, unblinking.
Elena took a step back. “Who are you? Where is your queen?”
“There has been a glorious revolution,” they said, their voices lilting, echoing. “The queen is dead.”
“Dead?” Terror, anger, confusion rose and swept through her in rapid succession, followed swiftly by a cold and heavy dread. “At whose hand?”
“At our own.” Their lips twisted into a serene smile. “Welcome, Elena Aadya Ravence. Queen of Fire. Blood of Alabore. The Divine Grace of Desert and Sky. We have been expecting you.”
CHAPTER 25
SAMSON
It is foolish to believe that I am now among friends. The world has changed around me, and I find myself irrefutably altered with it.
—from the diaries of Priestess Nomu of the Fire Order
Samson stood between the open gates and waited for the enemy to appear. Ahead of him, alone in the wide entrance, leaned a limp white flag. He knew who would come. He had known as soon as Visha had uttered those godforsaken words:The Arohassin are here.
But still. It did not dampen the blow.
A tall man appeared behind the flag. In the low light, his face was smooth, serene. Beautiful even, with dark eyes and soft, polished curls that fell too neatly across his forehead. A trim beard hid the burn on his cheek, but Samson remembered its shape—curved, sallow, like a dying moon. He smiled, revealing teeth too perfect, too white.
“Hello, Sam.”
The same voice from the metal lotus, the same one that had haunted him from the Arohassin to the dark, miserable depths of the mines. A wildroaring built in his ears as he felt something ancient and rotten stir within his chest like a slumbering beast awakened.
“Akaros.”
Akaros folded himself into one of the chairs beside the flag and gestured to the other. “Sit.”
Stiffly, Samson sat. He dared not speak again, afraid that whatever would come out would somehow be radioactive, horrid. Akaros watched him closely. A light smile ghosted his long lips, his eyes still and yet always moving, always observing, always,always, finding his faults.
“So your little bird has gone and fled the coop?”
Samson bit back his reply. Elena’s sudden departure and her message had thrown him, but he’d barely had the time to process before finding himself here in this sham of a parley. So he said nothing.
Akaros sighed. “That’s the thing with these royals, Sam. Try as hard as you can, coerce them, break them, shame them—love them—and they’ll still choose themselves. Yassen learned that lesson. I’m surprised you haven’t sooner. You’ve worked with rulers longer than he worked with them.”
Carefully, Samson dug his forefinger into his palm, focusing on the sharp, uncomfortable pinprick of pain rather than the sudden vision of Yassen dying on the mountain, abandoned by Elena. Or of himself, watching the tanker disappear into the night.
“Hmm. Well. You boys were both self-sacrificial to a fault. Suppose she doesn’t come back. What are you going to do? What are you going to tell her people?” Akaros paused, his eyes sliding coolly to him. “How will you ever take those mines without her Agni?”
Samson’s throat ran dry. In the time between Elena’s departure and the Arohassin’s arrival, he hadn’t the time to consider that question. His confusion must have shown, because Akaros leaned back in his seat and smiled, and that alone destroyed Samson’s resolve.
