“Of what? Not dying in custody?” said Nova.
“Say we make it to our friends in Muris. Muris manages to keep us secret, because if they don’t, Ixia attacks and obliterates the country. Then what?”
“We use whatever resources they grant us to make a play for the throne. Isn’t that what you want?” said Cutter.
“But do you think that’s realistic? Them having to mobilize in secret before Ixia realizes what’s happening? A land war isn’t possible. They’d be crushed just south of Beverre. And they’ve relied on the Ixian navy for generations.”
Cutter shook his head, and Yemi nearly lit into him about what had become a steady string of impertinence on his part. She wasn’t just his charge, some child who needed guiding away from her own impulses. She was his queen, unless survival’s necessity had snatched the title from her. It was this dismissiveness, as far as she was concerned, that had landed them all here in the first place.
“She’s right, Cutter,” Nova said before Yemi could snap. “They don’t have the military numbers to back our campaign for the throne, especially if Kespia is on board with the Drakes.”
“We might be putting Luzon in danger for no reason,” Yemi added.
“There are seventeen nations in this corner of the world who can be petitioned—” Cutter started.
“Only three on this continent, and they’re the only ones who give a shit about what goes on here,” Yemi insisted.
“The world does not turn on your whim! These things take time, and you’ve never been patient! Never,” Cutter barked.
“No, Cutter, you’re just too slow.” Yemi took a measured breath, if only because a moment of calm would justify her rage later. “I wanted the Drakes dealt with immediately because I knewthiswould happen. We’re not playing old-world games anymore. I don’t know what it’s going to take for you to see that.”
“Can we agree that this is something best shouted about when we’re not a mound of dirt away from armed soldiers who most likely want to kill us?” Nova interceded, hands pressed into her eyes like she was warding off a headache. “Let’s put our energy into the night. Get past the camp and across the border. The king of Muris probably has eighty-seven different rooms you can argue in. Won’t that be nice? We get to the palace, we grab a bath, you two duke it out in an area I’m not also in.”
Yemi relented, tossing the newspaper furiously onto the ground between them before turning away to watch the soldiers and bide her time until full dark.
Cloaked by the night forest, they crept toward the glow of campfire among the trees. Yemi emulated Cutter’s and Nova’s crouched stance, solid footfalls, heel to toe, spears aloft and balanced over the low brush of the forest floor. Her mother’s mask was little use here. A glint of moonlight would give away their position. They stopped at the edge of the camp, a collapsed tree trunk and a line of fidgety horses between them and their targets.
“Just five?” Nova scoffed. “I’m a little offended.”
“We keep this quiet,” Cutter whispered, looking pointedly at Yemi, who had insisted on helping. “Separate them, pick them off. Look for guns. Anyone gets a shot off,you run. North.”
They watched as one soldier walked off beyond the far side of the camp, likely to relieve himself. Another disappeared alone into a tent near the back.
“Moving,” Nova declared, edging around the log toward the tent.
Yemi hesitated, unsure of whether to follow or wait for her own target to present themselves. She didn’t know why she looked to Cutter for guidance. He might not ever let her live it down.
He nodded at her and gestured with his chin for her to follow Nova. “Eyes open. Go on.”
Quickly and silently, she rounded the back of the camp in time to see Nova disappear through the tent’s rear flap. She pressed herself against a tree on the outside, careful not to step on the spear Nova had left on the ground, as she watched for movement from the others still clustered around the campfire. Cutter disappeared from behind the log. She hoped the quiet sounds of rustling she heard were him moving into position and not, say, a bear.
Or an ambush,she thought.That would be inconvenient.
“The queen you serve. Name her,” she heard Nova say in a low voice.
And then there was the rasping of the wordharpybefore the wet squelching sound and rush of air that was a windpipe being severed, followed by the soft thud of a body being laid carefully in the grass.
Nova exited the tent the way she’d entered and looked toward the far end of the camp, where Cutter had just dispatched the second soldier.
“These are not friends,” she whispered, but the disappointment in her voice was still plain. Yemi felt her own rage simmering. How had these soldiers been turned so quickly? Did they owe her nothing?
The trio of soldiers was still talking around the fire, though one of them was now looking away toward their designated piss spot as if anticipating his comrade’s return.
“Stay here. Don’t make yourself a needless target,” Nova said. Yemi nodded curtly and kissed her, if for no other reason than it seemed they were overdue for it. Nova winked at her and took off for their original vantage point behind the horses.
Yemi entered the back side of the tent and was immediately crouched over the body of the woman Nova had killed. She’d folded over on top of her hands, vacant eyes gaping at nothing, the flicker offirelight through the front end of the tent illuminating the discarded dagger in her dark pool of blood.
Why was she so unbothered by grisly death? Yemi stared at the woman’s lifeless face, the hapless heap of her body. What was it about the odor, the liquid sheen of blood, that made her salivate? She pressed her fingers to the skin of the woman’s cheek and found its clamminess a curiosity, although it retained its bounce. Something in her, small and deep like a pilot light in the dark, wanted to bite it.
