Buildings loomed over three sides with the wall of the city on the fourth, all towering high to block the sanctuary from view. The campfires were few so as not to draw attention with smoke, and all conversation was soft. Families spilled out of shacks like produce bursting from a too-small crate; thin faces sipped bowls of water; a baby cried somewhere to Ben’s left.
The delayed arrival schedule meant everyone showed up in shifts, and chaotic shifts at that—other boats had arrived before Ben’s, by the look of it.
Gunnar nudged him. There, moving toward them in the crowd, were Nayeli and Edda.
Edda nodded toward the door Ben had come through. “Was Vex on your boat?”
“Or Cansu?” Nayeli added.
Ben’s throat was dry. Did Vex’s crew know who he really was? “No—I’m sorry.”
Nayeli released a string of curses in several languages. “I’m going to see if she’s shown up anywhere else yet,” she grumbled and spun off.
But a woman came up one of the roads, anger written in the creases on her face, and Nayeli stopped with another curse. Long gray hair trailed behind the woman, and when she hit the clearing, she whipped her head from side to side,eyes lapping up everything.
There was movement in the crowd, and another woman emerged, wiping her hands on the already soiled fabric of her skirt.
“You must be Fatemah Nagi. I am Kari Andreu—”
Ben’s eyebrows shot up. This was Kari. She looked like Lu—the same face shape and eyes, the same ferocity in her bearing.
“I know who you are,” Fatemah snapped. “The Senior Councilmember who will save the island. Again.” Fatemah switched to Thuti, the main language of Tuncay, as she glared at Nayeli. “Was she worth it?”
Did she mean for only Nayeli and the nearby Tuncians to understand her? Ben almost told her that he spoke Thuti, or at least enough to pass in diplomatic meetings.
“Was a Grace Lorayan councilmember worth losing Cansu?” Fatemah repeated. She shifted, the slightest movement, and her glare fell back farther, on Ben.
No. It had been a glare before. Now it was wrath embodied, fire and loathing.
“Wasthis,” Fatemah started, back in Grace Lorayan again, waving at the weeping children and bodies packed together, “worth bringing theCrown Prince of Argridinto the place we created to remain safe from Argrid’s reach?”
The people standing closest might’ve been acting like they couldn’t hear them, but at Fatemah’s words, they gasped.
“The Crown Prince ishere?”
“How? He’ll lead Elazar to us!”
“The councilmember did this. They’ve betrayed us again!”
Fatemah didn’t try to soothe the panic. She stood there, staring at Ben, then at Kari.
“Lock ’em up!” someone shouted. “Don’t trust Argridian rats! Don’t trust the Council!”
Kari lifted her chin, hands raised to show her surrender.
“My name is Kari Andreu,” she started. “We come to you seeking asylum. I am here first as a victim of Argrid, second as a councilmember. And Benat—” Kari looked at him, but he was already facing the crowd.
“My father imprisoned me,” Ben said, raising his voice as high as he dared. “I have no loyalty to him. I swear to you, I will not betray this place or these people. I—”
“Your words mean nothing.” Fatemah batted her hands in the air as though she could will the situation to comply. “I must take care of this mess you have made, bringing these people here. This is aTunciansanctuary. You have sullied our peace.”
She turned and marched away. Kari hurried after her, Nayeli too, and the crowd moved again, trying to arrange themselves or settle in or avoid Ben.
He almost followed Kari and Fatemah. They were the leaders here; he was too, in his own way. He needed to assert himself in their favor, make sure they knew he was on their side.
The people on Ben’s steamboat had kept away from him,scowling at him only when they thought he couldn’t see. Now the former prisoners trickling into the sanctuary whispered to each other and gave him tight glowers.
Ben fought the urge to shrink. What could he do to convince these people he was sincere?
