But we both know I won’t make it. And I could hardly stop theircharging cavalry single-handedly.
But I know something that can.
I grapple for the vial of neem-oil strapped across my chest—a potent blend that rids the bagrava of aphids and mites. Then I pinch a handful of fertilizer from the pouch at my hip and add it to the vial. Dropping to my knees, I hold my breath and thrust my hand into the flames devouring the nearby grass.
Pain scorches my fingers, and my body begs me to drop the vial, but I grit my teeth and make sure the oil catches. Then I hurl the burning glass into the space between the storehouse and the charging Vanzadorians.
Ringing fills my ears. Blood dribbles from my bitten lips. And my burning hand throbs as I watch the makeshift bomb arc across the yellow sky.
The Vanzadorians are less than five lengths from the storehouse when it explodes. A searing white blaze plumes into the air like a geyser, slamming the storehouse doors inward and beating the Vanzadorians back. Creating a trough between the enemy and our precious supply of bagrava.
“Traitors!” King Soren booms as his horse rears. “How dare you attempt to assassinate your allies!”
Bitter laughter rumbles in my throat. We haveneverbeen allies. Even if we were, I threw one tiny vial—well in front of them—while they’re sweeping our people into an abyss by the droves.
“Enough!” I shout, trying to channel Ro’s swaggering gait as I dodge through the wreckage and position myself in the gap created by the explosion. I’m thankful for the strangling smoke and the excuse it provides for my shaking voice. “I’ll go with you if you leave the bagrava—and my people—in peace.”
King Soren motions for his men to halt and squints down at me.
“Indira?” he says with a gruff chuckle. “I assumed you weren’t coming when you raced off into the palace with Mommy and Daddy. Do they know you’re out here, endangering yourself against theirwishes? And after they’ve already sacrificed so much to protect you?” He gestures to our burning fields.
I want to tell him he knows nothing about my parents’ wishes. If they shared a wish, I’m certain it’s thatIhad been the one to perish instead of Rowenna.
Focus, sister.Ro’s fingers slide beneath my chin, strong but gentle. Helping me stare brazenly up at her killers.
“I’m here now,” I say. “Let’s go.”
King Soren smirks and turns to his son. “It looks like you’re getting married today after all.”
It’s hard to see through the smoke, but I swear Alaric flinches—just the slightest—before flashing me a leering smile and joining in with his snickering guards.
“Now, all we need is our tribute, and we’ll be on our way. Leave your parents to clean up this little mess. Look, I’ll even help.” King Soren wags his gloved fingers, and giant swathes of dirt rise up and fall across the blaze, smothering it in less than a minute.
Bloodred fury clouds my vision. He could have extinguished the fires immediately. He could have saved my people so much suffering, so much destruction.
But he didn’t.
Because we’re easier to control when we’re broken.
I want to fly at King Soren and plunge my spade into his exposed stomach, but my hand is too slow and stinging from the burns, and Rowenna’s voice is too adamant.
Be patient. Bide your time.
It nearly kills me, but I watch silently as two of Soren’s guards move toward the storehouse. Several brave Tashiri rebels step forward to block the way, but I call them off. “Let the Vanzadorians pass.”
My people look like they want to stab me with their pitchforks, like I’m some sort of traitor to our country, but they have to see this is the only way.
“Better to let them take their share early than steal the entire supply,” I say through gritted teeth.
Grudgingly, they stand aside, and several minutes later, the Vanzadorian guards reemerge with two full bags of bagrava. Two more fields we won’t be able to condition.
After strapping the bagrava to their horses and mounting, one of the guards nudges their horse toward me and offers me a thick vambraced arm.
Before I take it, I steal a final glance over my shoulder—at my people’s anguished faces and the smoldering fields, trying to memorize their precise shape and color through the smoke. Truly appreciating, for perhaps the first and last time, this beautiful place Rowenna and I grew up in together. A place she died for.
A placeImight die for.
Before I lose my nerve, I reach up and allow the guard to hoist me across his saddle.
