They sure as hell weren’t expecting us to bringnews.
Rizzo storms out of his tent like a man late to a knife fight. His beard’s longer, face more lined than I remember. But his eyes are sharp as ever—silver in a tanned face, like moonlight over scars.
“River,” he says. His voice lands like gravel in a drum.
She swings off her horse without breaking stride. “Miss me?”
He doesn’t smile. Just looks her over head to toe. Then glances at me. Flinches, just barely.
Still not used to seeing meuprightand unchained.
“Thought you were dead,” he mutters.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
He motions us into the war tent without waiting. We follow.
Inside, it’s dim, lit by oil lamps and one low brazier glowing like an angry eye. Maps sprawl across a table crusted with old blood and melted wax. There’s a bottle of something half-drunk nearby. It smells like regret and fire.
Rizzo plants his hands on the table, leans in. “Tell me.”
River doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just lays it all out.
The meeting with Skeela. The offer. The forged invite. Every word measured, every detail sharp as a blade. She speaks like someone used to people not believing her—clear, steady, defiant.
When she finishes, Rizzo lets out a long breath through his nose. “You’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that the half-blood daughter of the bastard who carved this war into our bones wants to play nice?”
“She wants power,” River says. “And she knows Laertiez won’t give it to her.”
“So she stabs him in the back and we hand her the throne?”
“No,” River says. “Weuseher to gut him from the inside. Then we figure out what comes next.”
Rizzo shakes his head. “I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to,” she says. “You just have to admit it’s our best shot.”
He looks at her for a long time. Like he’s seeing someone different. Someone older. Harder.
Maybe he is.
Then his gaze cuts to me. “And what doyouthink?”
I meet his eyes. Hold them. Don’t speak.
I don’t need to.
Whatever words I could offer wouldn’t matter. He doesn’t want my opinion. He wants to measure how dangerous I am. How loyal. Whether I’m her sword or her leash.
So I just stare.
Eventually he looks away.
River presses her palms to the table. “We don’t have to like her,” she says. “We just have to beat Laertiez before he burns the last of the world down.”
Rizzo nods once. Then again. But it’s grudging.
“You’re betting everything on her,” he says.
