With heavy steps, I followed Edan and Keton out of the room. My brother touched my shoulder and said, so softly only the two of us could hear, “It’s been a difficult week for both of us. I’ll stay and speak with him when he’s better.”
I nodded numbly, trying to hide my disappointment.
“Thank you, Keton,” I said, and I left him to join Edan.
“Don’t worry,xitara.” Edan kissed my cheek. “I was never very popular among A’landans, but I managed to win over the most important ones.”
I forced a smile, but that wasn’t what worried me. If Baba distrusted Edan for his magic, what would he think once he knew the truth about me?
What would he think, once he discovered his daughter was a monster?
• • •
In the aftermath of the battle, Khanujin’s corpse had been forgotten. His imperial robes lay in tatters, the enchanted cloak I’d made for him almost unrecognizable under the grime and dirt and blood. When I saw the emperor’s corpse defiled and overlooked, the resentment I’d once held for him faded.
“He deserves to be buried,” I said. “Many loved him…even though they didn’t know how cruel he could be.”
“He wasn’t a good man,” agreed Edan, “or a great ruler, but he cared for his country enough to make sacrifices for it.”
He crouched beside his former master. The sneer that used to twist the emperor’s mouth had eased into a gentle line, and he seemed more regal now that he was pale and gray in death.
Among the talismans on his belt, I spied Edan’s old amulet.
Edan picked it up and held it, running his thumb over the hawk engraved on the bronze surface. I thought he might keep it, but after a long pause he placed the amulet back on Khanujin’s belt.
“Even without the oath, I felt an obligation to protect him. I promised his father I would protect A’landi. I’ve failed themboth.”
“A’landi hasn’t fallen yet,” I replied. “We won’t let it.”
Edan nodded and started to reach for my hand again, but the arrival of Lady Sarnai and her entourage of soldiers cut off whatever he was about to say. The shansen’s daughter stood strong as any king, one hand on her hip, and the other on her sword’s hilt.
“What are you two doing here? With that—” Lady Sarnai couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge the dead emperor. Her expression hardened at us. “There’s work to be done. Make yourselves useful.”
Still kneeling next to Edan, I rose. I didn’t care to look up to her.
No doubt I was expected to obey immediately, but I did the opposite. “He deserves to be buried, Your Highness. You cannot leave him here to rot.”
“Who areyouto give commands?”
“He was the emperor,” I reasoned. “Whatever you felt about him, he died for A’landi.”
“A dishonorable death,” she spat. “His army was slaughtered. He allowed himself to be taken prisoner—”
“Would you rather he have run?” I countered. “Emperor Khanujin was no great man, but he was not a coward. He chose to stay with his country to the end.”
Whereas you did not,I left unsaid.
Sarnai’s face darkened at the insult I’d intentionally left hanging in the air.
“Have him washed and cleaned,” she ordered her men. As if an afterthought, she added, “Tailor, make him a suitable shroud for burial.”
She barely spared me a glance as she spun on her heel. Something flittered behind her, even as she tried to swat it away.
My bird.
“Come with me,” I said to Edan, and we trailed her to the Winter Palace’s audience chamber, which Lady Sarnai made her own simply by laying her bow on the pine table. Lord Xina and Khanujin’s surviving ministers were already there, waiting for her.
“Tamarin,” she said, glowering when she realized we’d followed her, her irritation heightened by the fact that her huntress’s ears hadn’t heard us.
