Thisis news. Someone killed aYoksa?
“Why is that?” I ask casually.
He shrugs. “It’s hard enough to figure out who the Yoksa are—you know how secretive the priesthood is. Figuring out who murdered a secret priest in Trialga Square is nearly impossible. All three realms claim to have had no hand, and the Outer Lands wouldn’t care. It violates all their edicts, though, to harm a priest of the God of Knowledge. Someone must not like what was written. Quilimar has ordered piteua of anyone involved and has offered a hundred-thousand-mark bounty.”
A hundred thousand. A fortune for the capture of someone who killed a commoner is awfully suspicious. But the priests aren’t ordinary people. Even in Yusan, the Yoksa are left alone. The treaties and edicts guarantee their safety. A war of the realms is supposed to occur if any ruler sanctions the murder of a priest. I don’t think Joon is behind this, although I don’t put it past him. With a bounty that large, it was likely Quilimar herself. I simply need more information, and the ambassador has nothing left to give.
“It’s always good to see you, Zeolin.” I slap his shoulder, and he cries out like I stabbed him.
He will miss that medal of valor, I’m sure.
I put my dagger away. “You’ll be bringing two guests with you to the banquet tomorrow. I suggest you keep them safe.”
He nods so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t snap his own neck.
I walk out of his office with more questions than information, but with a lead I just stole.
Chapter Eleven
Tiyung
Idle Prison, Yusan
Hana stands in front of me, her curves covered in a fine dress and cape. She’s illuminated by a lantern, but she doesn’t say a word.
“I’m losing my mind,” I mutter.
“That tends to happen in Idle,” she says.
It is Hana’s raspy voice, but it cannot be Hana. She died two years ago while trying to murder a nobleman for my father. But this woman has the same thick brown lashes and thick brown hair. Her skin tone is the same shade of brown, and she’s tall, nearly as tall as myself. Of course, she’s not Hana, but she could be Hana’s twin. She has the same extraordinary beauty that my father looked for in all of the girls he trained to be poison maidens.
All that to say, I am currently imagining a lantern and a dead girl. Perhaps I’m not doing as well as I thought.
I run my hands over my beard.
“Hana,” I say.
She stares at me and then looks around. “They held Prince Euyn in here, you know. You have royal accommodations. No chains, no torture, a private cell with a latrine—it’s practically a villa compared to the other places in this dungeon. I suppose your status matters even in the tenth hell.”
“Hana, are you really here?” I ask.
“My name is Zahara,” she says. But she meets my eyes and gives me a small nod. It really is Hana. I gasp. Somehow, she’s alive and standing in front of me. “You look terrible, Tiyung.”
“How? I thought…”
“Your beard doesn’t suit you,” she says.
“No, I mean…”
“Neither does prison. I could slip poison into your water.” She casually eyes my full tray. “End this internment for you.”
She speaks like she’s bored, and it’s in the same tone I remember. It really is Hana.
Or I’m having a very detailed hallucination.
“Why don’t you, then?” I ask.
“Why should I be kind?” she says. “Not to mention that Seok wouldn’t know it was me, and what is the point of that?” She pauses and shrugs. “Besides, you are the king’s captive—I am to leave you alive for now.”
