by R. F. Kuang
Bright lights flooded her vision. Wrenched down from the realm of the ethereal, Rin staggered at the sheer solidity, the physicality of the solid world.
Chaghan stood doubled over beside her, gasping.
Across the courtyard, Daji wiped the back of her mouth with her sleeve. She smiled. Her teeth were stained with blood.
“You are adorable,” she said. “And here I thought the Ketreyids were only a fond memory.”
“Stand back,” Chaghan muttered to Rin.
“What are you—”
“Run on my word.” Chaghan tossed a dark circular lump onto the ground. It rolled forward several paces and came to a rest at the Empress’s feet. Rin heard a faint sizzling noise, followed by an awful, acrid, and terribly familiar smell.
Daji glanced down, puzzled.
“Go,” Chaghan said, and they fled just as Ramsa’s signature poop bomb detonated inside the Autumn Palace.
A series of explosions followed them as they ran, ongoing blasts that could not have possibly been triggered by the single bomb. Building after building collapsed around them, creating a wall of fire and debris from behind which no one could pursue them.
“Ramsa,” Chaghan explained. “Kid doesn’t cut corners.”
He yanked her behind a low wall. They crouched down, hands clapped over their ears as the last of the buildings erupted mere yards away.
Rin wiped the dust from her eyes. “Daji’s dead?”
“Something like that doesn’t die so easily.” Chaghan coughed and pounded at his chest with his fist. “She’ll be after us soon. We should go. There’s a well a block down; Aratsha knows we’re coming.”
“What about Vaisra?”
Still coughing, Chaghan staggered to his feet. “Are you crazy?”
“He’s still in there!”
“And he’s likely dead. Daji’s guards will have swarmed the council room by now.”
“We don’t know that.”
“So what, you’re going to go check?” Chaghan grabbed her shoulders and pinned her against the wall. “Listen to me. It’s over. Your coup is finished. Daji’s going to come for Dragon Province, and when she does, we’re going to lose. Vaisra can’t protect you. You need to run.”
“And go where?” she asked. “And do what?”
What did Vaisra promise you? You must know you’re being used.
Rin knew that. She’d always known that. But maybe she needed to be used. Maybe she needed someone to tell her when, and who, to fight. She needed someone to give her orders and a purpose.
Vaisra was the first person in a long, long time who had made her feel stable enough to see a point in staying alive. And if he died here, it was on her.
“Are you insane?” Chaghan shouted. “You want to live, you fucking hide.”
“Then you hide. I’m fighting.” Rin wrenched her wrists from his grasp and pushed him away. She used more force than she’d meant to; she’d forgotten he was so thin. He stumbled backward, tripped on a rock, and toppled to the ground.
“You’re crazy,” he said.
“We’re all crazy,” she muttered as she jumped over his sprawled form and set off at a run toward the council room.
Imperial guards had swarmed the council chamber, pressing steadily in against the two-man army that was Suni and Baji. The Warlords had scattered from their seats. The Hare Warlord huddled against the wall, the Rooster Warlord crouched quivering under the table, and the young Tiger Warlord was curled in a corner, head pressed between his knees as blades clashed inches from his head.
Rin faltered at the doors. She couldn’t call the fire now. She didn’t have enough control to target her flames. If she lit up the room, she’d kill everyone in it.
“Here!” Baji kicked a sword toward her. She scooped it up and jumped into the fray.
Vaisra wasn’t dead. He fought at the center of the room, battling both Jun and the Wolf Meat General. For a second it seemed like he might hold them off. He wielded his blade with a ferocious strength and precision that was stunning to watch.
But he was still only one man.
“Watch out!” Rin screamed.
The Wolf Meat General tried to catch Vaisra off guard. Vaisra spun about and disarmed him with a savage kick to the knee. Chang En dropped to the ground, howling. Vaisra reeled back from the kick, trying to regain his balance, and Jun took the opening to push his blade through Vaisra’s shoulder.
Baji barreled into Jun’s side and tackled him to the ground. Rin ran forward to catch Vaisra just as he crumpled to the floor; blood spilled over her arms, hot and wet and slippery, and she was astounded by how much of it there was.
“Are you— Please, are you—”
She prodded frantically around his chest, trying to stanch the blood with her palm. She could barely see the wound, his torso was so slick with blood, but finally her fingers pressed against the entry point in his right shoulder. Not a vital spot.
She dared to hope. If they acted quickly he might still live. But first they had to get out.
“Suni!” she shrieked.
He appeared instantly at her side. She pushed Vaisra into his arms. “Take him.”
Suni slung Vaisra over his shoulders the way one might carry a calf and elbowed his way toward the exit. Baji followed closely, guarding their rear.
Rin picked her way past Jun’s limp form. She didn’t know if he was dead or alive, but that didn’t matter now. She ducked under a guard’s arm and followed her men out, over the threshold and toward the closest well.
She leaned over the side and screamed Aratsha’s name into the dark surface.
Nothing. There was no time to wait for Aratsha’s response; he was there or he wasn’t, and Daji’s guards were feet away. All she could do was plunge into the water, hold her breath, and pray.
Aratsha answered.
Rin fought the urge to flail inside the pitch-black irrigation channels—that would only make it harder for Aratsha to propel her through the water—and instead focused on taking deep and measured breaths in the pocket of air that enveloped her head. Still, she couldn’t ward off the clenching fear that the air would run out. Already she could feel the warmth of her own stale breath.
She broke the surface. She clawed her way up the riverbank and collapsed, chest heaving as she sucked in fresh air. Seconds later Suni exploded out of the water, depositing Vaisra on the shore before climbing up himself.
“What happened?” Nezha came running up to them, followed closely by Eriden and his guard. His eyes landed on his father. “Is he—”
“Alive,” Rin said. “If we’re quick.”
Nezha turned to the two closest soldiers. “Get my father on the ship.”
They hoisted Vaisra up between them and set off at a dash toward the Seagrim. Nezha pulled Rin to her feet. “What just—”
“No time.” She spat out a mouthful of river water. “Have your crew weigh anchor. We’ve got to get out.”
Nezha slung her arm over his shoulder and helped her stagger toward the ship. “It failed?”
“It worked.” Rin stumbled into his side, trying to keep pace. “You wanted a war. We just started one.”
The Seagrim had already begun pushing away from its berth. Crewmen at both ends hacked the ropes keeping the ship tethered to the dock, setting it free to drift with the current. Nezha and Rin jumped into one of the rowboats dangling by the hull. Inch by inch the boat began to rise.
Above, deckhands lowered the Seagrim’s sails and turned them toward the wind. Below, a loud grinding noise sounded as the paddle wheel began to churn rhythmically against the water, carrying them swiftly away from the capital.
Chapter 10
The Seagrim’s crew operated under a somber silence. Word had spread that Vaisra was badly injured. But no news emerged from the physician’s office and no one dared intrude to ask.
Captain Eriden had issued only one order: to get the Seagrim far away from Lusan as quickly as possible. Any soldier not working a paddli
ng shift was sent to the top deck to man the trebuchets and crossbows, ready to fire at first warning.
Rin paced back and forth by the stern. She didn’t have a crossbow or a spyglass, and in her state she was more of a hindrance than an asset to deck defense—she was too jumpy to hold a weapon steady, too anxious to comprehend rapid orders. But she refused to go wait belowdecks. She had to know what was happening.
She kept looking down at her body to check that it was still there, was still working. It seemed impossible to her that she had escaped an encounter with the Vipress unscathed. The ship’s physician had cursorily examined her for broken bones but found nothing. Aside from some bruising, she felt no serious pain. Yet she was convinced that something was deeply wrong with her; something deep, internal, a poison that had wrapped around her bones.
Chaghan, too, seemed badly shaken. He’d been silent, unresponsive until they pulled out of harbor, and then he had collapsed against Qara and sunk to the floor, knees drawn up against his chest in a miserable huddle while his sister bent over him, whispering words no one else could understand into his ear.
The crew, clearly unsettled, gave them a wide berth. Rin tried to ignore them until she heard gasping noises from the deck. At first she thought he was sobbing, but no—he was just trying to breathe, jagged gasps rocking his frail form.
She knelt down beside the twins. She wasn’t sure whether she ought to try to touch Chaghan. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Chaghan raised his head and took a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes were ringed with red. “She was—I’ve never . . . I never imagined anyone could be so . . .”
“What?”
He shook his head.
Qara answered for him. “Stable.” She whispered the word like it was a horrifying idea. “She shouldn’t be so stable.”
“What is she?” Rin asked. “What goddess is that?”
“She’s old power,” Chaghan said. “She’s something that’s been alive longer than the world itself. I thought she’d be weakened, now that the other two are gone, but she’s . . . if that’s the Vipress at her weakest . . .” He slammed a palm against the deck. “We were fools to try.”
“She’s not invincible,” Rin said. “You beat her.”
“No, I surprised her. And then for only an instant. I don’t think things like that can be beat. We got lucky.”
“Any longer and she would have had your minds,” Qara said. “You’d be trapped forever in those illusions.”
She’d turned just as pale as her brother. Rin wondered how much Qara had seen. Qara hadn’t even been there, but Rin knew the twins were bonded by some odd Hinterlander magic. When Chaghan bled, Qara hurt. If Chaghan was shaken by Daji, then Qara must have felt it back on the Seagrim, a psychic tremble that threatened to poison her soul.
“So we’ll find some other way,” Rin said. “She’s still a mortal body, she’s still—”
“She will squeeze your soul in her fist and turn you into a babbling idiot,” Chaghan said. “I’m not trying to dissuade you. I know you’ll fight her to the end. But I hope you realize you’re going to go mad trying.”
Then so be it. Rin wrapped her arms around her knees. “Did you see? In there, when she showed me?”
Chaghan gave her a pitying look. “I couldn’t help it.”
Qara looked away. She must have seen, too.
For some reason, in that moment Rin felt like it was the most important thing in the world for her to explain herself to the twins. She felt guilty, dirty, like she had been caught in a terrible lie. “It wasn’t like that. With him. With Altan, I mean—”
“I know,” Chaghan said.
She wiped at her eyes. “It was never like that. I mean—I think I wanted—but he never—”
“We know,” Qara said. “Trust us, we know.”
Rin was stunned when Chaghan reached out and put his arm around her shoulder. She would have cried, but she felt too raw inside, like she had been hollowed out with a carving knife.
Chaghan’s arm rested at an odd angle over her back; his bony elbow joint dug painfully into her bone. After a while she shifted her right shoulder, and he withdrew his arm.
Hours passed before Nezha reemerged onto the deck.
Rin searched his face for clues. He looked wan but not grief-stricken, exhausted but not panicked, which meant . . .
She hastened to her feet. “Your father?”
“I think he’ll pull through.” He rubbed at his temples. “Dr. Sien finally kicked me out. Said to give Father some space.”
“He’s awake?”
“Sleeping for now. He was delirious for a bit, but Dr. Sien said that was a good sign. Meant he was talking.”
She let loose a long breath. “I’m glad.”
He sat down and rubbed his hands down his legs with a small sigh of relief. He must have been standing beside his father’s bedside for hours.
“Watching something?” he asked her.
“I’m watching nothing.” She squinted at the receding outline of Lusan. Only the highest pagoda towers of the palace were still visible. “That’s what’s bothering me. No one’s coming after us.”
She couldn’t understand why the riverways were so calm, so silent. Why weren’t arrows flying through the air? Why weren’t they being pursued by Imperial vessels? Perhaps the Militia lay in wait at the gates at the province’s edge. Perhaps they were sailing straight toward a trap.
But the gates were open, and no ships came chasing after them in the darkness.
“Who would they send?” Nezha asked. “They don’t have a navy at the Autumn Palace.”
“And no one in any of the provinces has one?”
“Ah.” Nezha smiled. Why was he smiling? “You don’t understand. We’re not going back the same way. We’re headed out to sea this time. Tsolin’s ships patrol the Nariin coast.”
“And Tsolin won’t interfere?”
“No. Father’s made him choose. He’s not going to choose the Empire.”
She couldn’t understand his logic. “Because . . . ?”
“Because now there’s going to be a war, whether Tsolin likes it or not. And he’s not putting his money against Vaisra. So he’ll let us through unharmed, and I’ll bet that he’ll be at our council table in under a month.”
Rin was frankly amazed by the confidence with which the House of Yin seemed to manipulate people. “That’s assuming he gets out of Lusan.”
“If he hasn’t made contingency plans for this I’ll be shocked.”
“Did you ask if he had?”
Nezha chuckled. “It’s Tsolin. Asking would be an insult.”
“Or, you know, a decent precaution.”
“Oh, we’re about to fight a civil war. You’ll have plenty of chances to take precautions.” His tone sounded ridiculously cavalier.
“You really think we can win this?” she asked.
“We’ll be all right.”
“How do you know?”
He grinned sideways at her. “Because we’ve got the best navy in the Empire. Because we have the most brilliant strategist Sinegard has ever seen. And because we’ve got you.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m serious. You know you’re a military asset worth your weight in silver, and if Kitay’s on strategy, then that gives us excellent chances.”
“Is Kitay—”
“He’s fine. He’s belowdecks. He’s been chatting with the admirals; Father gave him full access to our intelligence files, and he’s getting caught up.”
“I guess he came around pretty quickly, then.”
“We thought he might.” Nezha’s tone confirmed what she already suspected.
“You knew his father was dead.”
He didn’t bother denying it. “Father told me weeks ago. He said not to tell Kitay. Not until we’d reached Lusan, anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because it would mean more if it didn�
�t come from us. Because it would feel less to him like manipulation.”
“So you let him think his father was alive for weeks?”
“We’re not the ones who killed him, were we?” Nezha didn’t look sorry in the slightest. “Look, Rin. My father is very good at cultivating talent. He knows people. He knows how to pull their strings. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about them.”
“But I don’t want to be lied to,” she said.
He squeezed her hand. “I would never lie to you.”
Rin wanted desperately to believe that.
“Excuse me,” said Captain Eriden.
They turned around.
For once, Eriden did not look immaculately groomed, was not standing at perfect attention. The captain was wan and diminished, shoulders slouching, lines of worry etched across his face. He dipped his head toward them. “The Dragon Warlord would like to see you.”
“I’ll go right now,” Nezha said.
“Not you,” said Eriden. He nodded to Rin. “Just her.”
Rin was surprised to find Vaisra sitting upright behind the table, wearing a fresh military uniform free of blood. When he breathed, he winced, but only slightly; otherwise he looked as if he had never been injured.
“They told me you dragged me out of the palace,” he said.
She sat down across from him. “My men helped.”
“And why would you do that?”
“I don’t know,” she said frankly. She was still trying to figure that out herself. She might have left him in the throne room. Alone, the Cike would have a better chance at survival—they didn’t need to ally themselves with a province that had declared open war on the Empire.
But then what? Where did they go from here?
“Why are you still with us?” Vaisra asked. “We failed. And I thought you weren’t interested in being a foot soldier.”
“Why does it matter? Do you want me to leave?”
“I would prefer to know why people serve in my army. Some do it for silver. Some do it for the sheer thrill of battle. I don’t think you are here for either.”