King Ihsan approaches the rail and glares down at me, a ruthless frown on his face. “You knew they were following you, yet you came to Uzul anyway? You took advantage of our kindness, knowing full well you were putting my people in danger?”
“W-we had no choice,” I stammer. “King Minoak—”
“Silence!” Ihsan cuts me off. “You failed to mention the Zemyans had taken Sagaan. You led me to believe the Sky King was our common enemy. Why?”
“Because we didn’t know for certain …” Serik tries to explain.
The shepherds shout over him: “We had no part in this! The Shoniin only want Enebish and Serik and vowed to leave Namaag in peace if we hand them over!”
Ihsan appraises us all with distaste. He shouts something in Namagaan and the people manning the water cannons retake their posts, hefting the bulky nozzles back over the railing.
We freeze. Even the sheep fall silent as we stare down potential death.
“This is a misunderstanding!” I cry. “We are friends. Allies.”
The Marsh King draws out the moment until it’s agonizing, maddening. “We are not allies,” he counters. Then he slashes his right arm downward. The Namagaans manning the water cannons angle the nozzles higher. Temujin and his Shoniin don’t even have time to turn before the deluge knocks them off their feet and sweeps them into the forest, dashing them against trees and fallen logs like debris in an avalanche.
I fall to my knees and begin to offer up my heartfelt thanks, when King Ihsan slashes his other arm. And the water cannons turn on us.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GHOA
ILIE ON THE FLOOR FOR HOURS,FINGERING MY NECK. Growing more furious every second.
Having the sorcerer’s illusions in my head and hot-spring water in my gut was bad enough. Knowing that his magic is the only reason I still draw breath is maddening. Unbearable. I want to open my veins and drain every tainted drop of blood. But that’s what Kartok wants: frenzy, desperation. He expects me to yield and crumble. But I haven’t descended that low. Not yet.
I still have one potential iron in the fire, one possible way to break free: Hadassah. She is the fault line—the fracture. If I can wedge my chisel into her, I can shatter the walls of this prison. She already despises and distrusts Kartok, and she doesn’t even know the extent of his ambition.
To attack and depose the First Gods.
I laugh because the notion is so absurd. How does one even go about killing a god? It doesn’t seem possible. And what would the repercussions be? Not that it matters, since they don’t exist. But Hadassah believes, and I have a feeling she’ll be willing to pay dearly for this information. It’s the precise sort of nefarious scheme she’s been desperate to uncover—the kind of revelation that’s worthy of drastic action.
If killing the Lady and Father were an acceptable way to end this war, Kartok would use his legions of magic-wielding soldiers to accomplish the task. But he’s skittering around this prison like a weaselly flea-bitten rat, which means he doesn’t have the empress’s blessing. If I wield this information correctly, Imightbe able to convince Hadassah to strike a bargain in exchange for my freedom.
I consider remaining sprawled on the floor in a hysterical, writhing heap so Hadassah is compelled to “help” me again when she comes. It clearly makes her feel useful and important. But I need the debt to fall in my favor this time, so I arrange myself in Kartok’s newly reconstructed chair—in the center of the throne room, atop spatters of gore and the splintered wreckage of the other chairs. It paints a striking scene—poetic, even. The chair and I were both obliterated and brought back together. Given new life through the generál’s unnatural magic.
“Merciful seas!” Hadassah cries as soon as she enters the room. “What happened now? Where did that chair come from?” She rushes to where I sit. I’d thought she might be squeamish, but she stares at the smears of blood and even drags a finger across a dried splotch on my arm.
“The generál and I had a most enlightening discussion,” I say.
Hadassah’s eyes widen. “About what?”
“I know what he intends to do.”
“What?” She waits expectantly, and I laugh.
“Knowledge is power. Knowledge iscurrency.And this information came at a high price. I won’t breathe a word of what I know unless you prove it will be worth my while.”
A dark cloud passes over her glacial blue eyes. “You know I can’t free you.”
“So don’tfreeme. Accidentally leave a door or two unlocked. Ensure the halls are clear for a moment. It could be an honest mistake.”
“An honest mistake that would ruin me! It would invalidate the trust and approval I’m trying to gain by exposing Kartok in the first place.”
“Why are you so concerned with trust and approval? You’re a servant!”
“Wrong!” The sliding door slams open, and Kartok blazes into the chamber, faster than the starfire Enebish threw at my chest. He seizes Hadassah’s upper arm and shakes her violently while he shouts in Zemyan.
