As I feel the metal mesh, I realize it must have been made by Weian forgesmiths.
Because of their common enemy, the Marnans have had a long alliance with Wei. Staraheli’s revolt against Khitan was thought to be financed and armed by the island nation. But I was never sure if that was true or just Khitan wanting to save face as their cities burned.
Now, I think it is.
After a few more tries, it quickly becomes evident that we can’t cut our way out of the net.
“Sora, you’ll have to find a way to disable the trap,” Mikail says.
She looks around and then up at me. I can just barely make out her face in the sliver of light, but she has hate burning in her eyes. She doesn’t move; instead, she seems to be weighing her options. If she leaves us here, we are dead men. That much is certain.
Mikail must realize at the same moment that she’s thinking about leaving us behind.
“Sora…” he says.
Her expression goes from hard to softening. She looks away and takes a breath.
I can’t honestly say I would’ve done the same if the situation were reversed and she’d hunted my father.
Carefully, she tiptoes to the other side of the mausoleum. Her steps are small as she edges along the wall, avoiding the center tiles. I wonder what she’s doing until I realize that each tile must spring a trap of some sort. I happened to step on the one that triggered the net.
There is a stone sticking out of the wall—the counterbalance. She presses on it with her hands, but it doesn’t budge until she leans on it with all her weight. The net falls on one end, creating a rope ladder to the door. Mikail tumbles down and lands gracefully on his feet. I…am not as smooth.
Sora meets us by the door. I wonder how she knew how to disarm the trap, as she’s just a girl and has no training as a spy. I also wonder why, in the end, she let me go. Alliances don’t last forever, especially not among killers.
Perhaps she wouldn’t sacrifice Mikail just to get even with me. Or she feared him hunting her if we survived. Maybe she simply believes she can’t save Daysum without us.
But she can.
Sora has the ability to seduce and poison her way to Quilimar’s hand with or without Staraheli’s head. There’s just more left to chance. But my sister is no more immune to beautiful women than anyone else in my family. With Quilimar dead, Sora could give the ring to Joon and claim all the spoils.
The realization is a bolt that sends my pulse pounding. Any one of them could betray us and take the ring to Joon. They seemed like they were all on board with Sora’s plan to start a war, but so did I.
And now, because Mikail decided we should split up, Royo and Aeri could succeed, get to Quilimar, and bring the ring to Joon themselves. She’s his daughter, and Royo would follow her to the ends of the South Sea. Perhaps Joon was planning on exactly that—all of us double-crossing each other again. Maybe he didn’t send a team of killers, but five separate assassins with one prize. And among them was his daughter, because she has the best chance of winning.
My thoughts of betrayal spiral until they’re interrupted by the tolling of alarm bells.
My heart races in my chest, and my stomach sinks. The Marnans know we’re here, and they’re coming.
Chapter Fifty
Royo
The Light Mountains, Khitan
What the absolute fuckisthat thing?
We’d done it. We’d taken the egg and made it off the Light Mountains, and now this…thingis in front of us. It’s focused on Aeri and the egg, but then it cocks its head at me and, yeah, that’s worse. Primal fear streaks through me, twisting my guts. This has gotta be an amarth, and I really wish I hadn’t seen its face.
This thing has human eyes, but they’re enormous. A disturbingly sharp eagle’s beak is where a nose and mouth should be. Instead of hair, it’s got white plumes that stand straight up, but the face is round and eerily human, even though it’s coated in short feathers.
I’m gonna see this in my nightmares—if I live long enough to dream. That doesn’t seem likely, though. Not when the talons of this thing are six inches long at the base of legs twice as thick as mine.
Aeri cradles the egg in one arm. Her other hand is by her neck. I shift my palm to the hilt of my sword, but I have a feeling it won’t do much good.
“Thieves,” it says.
Saysisn’t right. It’s not talking. The voice is echoing inside my skull.
