The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War Trilogy #2)
The Dragon Republic: Part 1 – Chapter 6

“What the fuck?” she screamed.

“Hello to you, too,” said Nezha. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

She couldn’t do anything but stare at him. It seemed impossible, unthinkable, that he was really alive, standing before her, speaking, breathing.

“Captain,” Nezha called. “The ropes.”

Rin felt the pressure around her wrists tighten briefly, then disappear. Her arms dropped to her sides. Blood rushed back into her extremities, sending a million shocks of lightning through her fingers. She rubbed her wrists and winced when skin came off in her hands.

“Can you stand?” Nezha asked.

She managed a nod. He pulled her to her feet. She took a step forward, and a dizzying spell of vertigo slammed into her like a wave.

“Steady.” Nezha caught her arm just as she lurched toward him.

She righted herself. “Don’t touch me.”

“I know you’re confused. But it’ll—”

“I said don’t touch me.”

He backed away, hands out. “It’ll all make sense in a minute. You’re safe. Just trust me.”

“Trust you?” she repeated. “You bombed my ship!”

“Well, it’s not technically your ship.”

“You could have killed us!” she shrieked. Her brain still felt terribly sluggish, but this fact struck her as very, very important. “You fired opium onto my ship!”

“Would you rather we fired real missiles? We were trying not to hurt you.”

“Your men bound us to the mast for hours!”

“Because they didn’t want to die!” Nezha lowered his voice. “Look, I’m sorry it came to that. We needed to get you out of Ankhiluun. We weren’t trying to hurt you.”

His placating tone only made her angrier. She wasn’t a fucking child; he couldn’t calm her with soothing whispers. “You let me think you were dead.”

“What did you want, a letter? It’s not like it was terribly easy to track you down, either.”

“A letter would have been better than bombing my ship!”

“Are you ever going to let that go?”

“It’s a rather large thing to let go!”

“I will explain everything if you come with me,” he said. “Can you walk? Please? My father’s waiting for us.”

“Your father?” she repeated dumbly.

“Come on, Rin. You know who my father is.”

She blinked at him. Then it hit her.

Oh.

Either she’d been hit by a massive stroke of fortune, or she was about to die.

“Just me?” she asked.

Nezha’s eyes flickered toward the Cike, lingering briefly on Chaghan. “I was told you’re the commander now?”

She hesitated. She hadn’t been acting much like a commander. But the title was hers, even if in name only. “Yes.”

“Then just you.” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I’m not going without my men.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

She stuck her chin out. “Sucks, then.”

“Do you seriously think any of them are in a state for an audience with a Warlord?” Nezha gestured toward the Cike. Suni was still asleep, the puddle of drool widening under his mouth. Chaghan stared open-mouthed at the sky, fascinated, and Ramsa had his eyes squeezed shut, giggling at nothing in particular.

It was the first time Rin had ever been glad she’d developed such a high tolerance for opium.

“I need your word you won’t hurt them,” she said.

Nezha looked offended. “Please. You’re not prisoners.”

“Then what are we?”

“Mercenaries,” he said delicately. “Think of it that way. You’re mercenaries out of a job, and my father has a very generous offer for your consideration.”

“What if we don’t like it?”

“I really think you will.” Nezha motioned for Rin to follow him down the deck, but she remained where she stood.

“Feed my men while we’re gone, then. A hot meal, not leftovers.”

“Rin, come on—”

“Give them baths, too. And then take them to their own quarters. Not the brig. Those are my terms. Also, Ramsa doesn’t like fish.”

“He’s been operating out of the coast and he doesn’t like fish?”

“He’s picky.”

Nezha muttered something to the captain, who adopted a face like he’d been forced to sniff curdled milk.

“Done,” Nezha said. “Now will you come?”

She took a step and stumbled. Nezha extended his arm toward her. She let him help her to the edge of the ship.

“Thanks, Commander,” Ramsa called behind them. “Try not to die.”

The Hesperian warship Seagrim loomed huge over their rowboat, swallowing them completely in its shadow. Rin couldn’t help but stare in awe at its sheer scale. She could have fit half of Tikany on that warship, temple included.

How did a monstrosity like that stay afloat? And how did it move? She couldn’t see any oars. The Seagrim appeared to be just like the Cormorant, a ghost vessel with no visible crew.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a shaman powering that thing,” she said.

“If only. No, that’s a paddle-wheel boat.”

“What’s that?”

He grinned. “Have you heard the legend of the Old Sage of Arlong?”

She rolled her eyes. “Who’s that, your grandfather?”

“Great-grandfather. The legend goes, the old sage was staring at a water wheel watering the fields and thought about reversing the circumstances; if he moved the wheel, then the water must move. Fairly obvious principle, isn’t it? Incredible how long it took for someone to apply it to ships.

“See, the old Imperial ships were idiotically designed. Propelled by sculls from the top deck. Problem with that is if your rowers get shot out, you’re dead in the water. But the paddle-wheel pushers are on the bottom deck. Entirely enclosed by the hull, totally protected from enemy artillery. A bit of an improvement from old models, eh?”

Nezha seemed to enjoy talking about ships. Rin heard a distinct note of pride in his voice as he pointed out the ridges at the bottom of the warship. “You see those? They’re concealing the paddle wheels.”

She couldn’t help but stare at his face while he talked. Up close his scars weren’t so unsettling, but rather oddly compelling. She wondered if it hurt him to talk.

“What is it?” Nezha asked. He touched his cheek. “Ugly, isn’t it? I can put the mask back on, if it’s bothering you.”

“It’s not that,” she said hastily.

“What, then?”

She blinked again. “I just . . . I’m sorry.”

He frowned. “For what?”

She stared at him, searching for evidence of sarcasm, but his expression was open, concerned.

“It’s my fault,” she said.

He stopped rowing. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it was.” She swallowed. “I could have pulled you out. I heard you calling my name. You saw me.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Yes, you do. Stop lying.”

“Rin. Don’t do this.” Nezha stopped rowing to reach out and grasp her hand. “It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you.”

“You should.”

“I don’t.”

“I could have pulled you out,” she said again. “I wanted to, I was going to, but Altan wouldn’t let me, and—”

“So blame Altan,” Nezha said in a hard voice, and resumed rowing. “The Federation was never going to kill me. The Mugenese like to keep prisoners. Someone figured out I was a warlord’s son, so they kept me for ransom. They thought they might leverage me into a surrender from Dragon Province.”

“How’d you escape?”

“I didn’t. I was in the camp when word got out that Emperor Ryohai was dead. The soldiers who had captured me arranged to trade me back to my father in exchange for a safe exit from the country.”

“Did they get it?” she asked.

He grimaced. “They got an exit.”

When they reached the hull of the warship, Nezha hooked four ropes to the ends of the rowboat and whistled at the sky. Seconds later the boat began to rock as sailors hoisted them up.

The main deck hadn’t been visible from the rowboat, but now Rin saw that soldiers were posted at every corner of the ship. They were Nikara in their features—they must have been from Dragon Province, but Rin noticed they did not wear Militia uniforms.

The Seventh Division soldiers she had met at Khurdalain wore green Militia gear with the insignia of a dragon stitched into their armbands. But these soldiers were decked out in dark blue, with a silver dragon pattern visible over their chests.

“This way.” Nezha led her down the stairs to the second deck and down the passageway until they stopped before a set of wooden doors guarded by a tall, spare man holding a blue-ribboned halberd.

“Captain Eriden.” Nezha stopped and saluted, though according to uniform he should have been the higher rank.

“General.” Captain Eriden looked like a man who’d never smiled in his life. Deep frown lines seemed permanently etched into his gaunt, spare face. He dipped his head to Nezha, then turned to Rin. “Hold out your arms.”

“That’s not necessary,” said Nezha.

“With all due respect, sir, you are not the one sworn to guard your father’s life,” Eriden said. “Hold out your arms.”

Rin obeyed. “You’re not going to find anything.”

Normally she kept daggers in her boots and inner shirt, but she could feel their absence; the Cormorant’s crew must have removed them already.

“Still have to check.” Eriden peered inside her sleeves. “I’m to warn you that if you dare to so much as point a chopstick in the Dragon Warlord’s direction, then you’ll be shot full of crossbow bolts faster than you can breathe.” His hands moved up her shirt. “Do not forget we also have your men as hostages.”

Rin shot Nezha an accusing glare. “You said we weren’t hostages.”

“They aren’t,” Nezha said. He turned to Eriden, eyes hard. “They aren’t. They’re our guests, Captain.”

“Call them whatever you like.” Eriden shrugged. “But try anything funny and they’re dead.”

Rin shifted so that he could feel the small of her back for weapons. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Finished, Eriden wiped his hands off on his uniform, turned, and grasped the door handles. “In that case, I’m to extend you a welcome on behalf of the Dragon Warlord.”

“Fang Runin, isn’t it? Welcome to the Seagrim.”

For a moment Rin could only gape. She couldn’t look at the Dragon Warlord and not see Nezha. Yin Vaisra was a grown version of his son without scars. He possessed all the infuriating beauty of the House of Yin—pale skin, black hair without a single streak of gray, and fine features that looked like they had been carved from marble—cold, arrogant, and imposing.

She’d heard endless gossip about the Dragon Warlord during her years at Sinegard. He ruled the richest province in the Empire by far. He’d single-handedly led the defense of the Red Cliffs in the Second Poppy War, had obliterated a Federation fleet with only a small cluster of Nikara fishing boats. He’d been chafing under Daji’s rule for years. When he’d failed to appear at the Empress’s summer parade for the third consecutive year, the apprentices had speculated so loudly that he was planning open treason that Nezha had lost his cool and sent one of them to the infirmary.

“Rin is fine.” Her words came out sounding frail and tiny, swallowed up by the vast gilded room.

“A vulgar diminutive,” Vaisra declared. Even his voice was a deeper version of Nezha’s, a hard drawl that seemed permanently coated in condescension. “They’re fond of those in the south. But I shall call you Runin. Please, sit down.”

She cast a fleeting glance at the oak table between them. It had a low surface, and the high-backed chairs looked terribly heavy. If she sat, her knees would be trapped. “I’ll stand.”

Vaisra raised an eyebrow. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“You bombed my ship,” Rin said. “So yes, a little.”

“My dear girl, if I wanted you dead, your body would be at the bottom of Omonod Bay.”

“Then why isn’t it?”

“Because we need you.” Vaisra drew out his own chair and sat, gesturing to Nezha to do the same. “It hasn’t been easy to find you, you know. We’ve been sailing down the coast of the Snake Province for weeks now. We even checked Mugen.”

He said it like he’d meant to startle her, and it worked. She couldn’t help but flinch. He watched her, waiting.

She took the bait. “What did you find?”

“Just a few fringe islands. Of course, they had no clue of your whereabouts, but we stayed a week or so to make sure. People will say anything under torture.”

Her fingers tightened into fists. “They’re still alive?”

She felt like someone had taken a bar to her rib cage. She knew Federation soldiers remained on the mainland, but not that civilians were still alive. She’d thought she had put a permanent end to the country.

What if she hadn’t? The great strategist Sunzi cautioned to always finish off an enemy in case they came back stronger. What would happen when Federation civilians regrouped? What if she still had a war to fight?

“Their invasion is over,” Vaisra reassured her. “You made certain of that. The main islands have been destroyed. Emperor Ryohai and his advisers are dead. A few cities on the edges of the archipelago remain standing, but the Federation has erupted into frothy madness, like ants pouring out of a hill once you’ve killed the queen. Some of them are sailing off the islands in droves, seeking refuge on Nikara shores, but . . . well. We’re getting rid of them as they come.”

“How?”

“The usual way.” His lips twitched into a smile. “Why don’t you sit?”

Reluctantly, she drew the chair out as far from the table as she could and sat at the very edge, knees locked together.

“There,” Vaisra said. “Now we’re friends.”

Rin decided to be blunt. “Are you here to take me back to the capital?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“Your services.”

“I’m not murdering anyone for you.”

“Dream a little bigger, my dear.” Vaisra leaned forward. “I want to overthrow the Empire. I’d like you to help.”

The room fell silent. Rin studied Vaisra’s face, waiting for him to burst into laughter. But he looked so terribly sincere—and so did Nezha—that she couldn’t help but cackle.

“Is something funny?” Vaisra asked.

“Are you mad?”

“‘Visionary,’ I think, is the word you want. The Empire is on the verge of falling apart. A revolution is the only alternative to decades of civil warfare, and someone has to start the ball rolling.”

“And you’d bet on your odds against the Militia?” Rin laughed again. “You’re one province against eleven. It’ll be a massacre.”

“Don’t be so certain,” Vaisra said. “The provinces are angry. They’re hurting. And for the first time since any of the Warlords can remember, the specter of the Federation has disappeared. Fear used to be a unifying force. Now the cracks in the foundation grow day by day. Do you know how many local insurrections have erupted in the past month? Daji is doing everything she can to keep the Empire united, but the institution is a sinking ship that’s rotted at the core. It may drift for a while, but eventually it will be dashed to pieces against the rocks.”

“And you think you can destroy it and build a new one.”

“Isn’t that precisely what you want?”

“Killing one woman is not the same thing as overthrowing a regime.”

“But you can’t evaluate those events in a vacuum,” said Vaisra. “What do you think happens if you succeed? Who steps into Daji’s shoes? And whoever that person is, do you trust them to rule the Twelve Provinces? To be any kinder to people like you than Daji was?”

Rin hadn’t thought that far. She had never bothered to think much about life after she’d killed Daji. Once she’d gotten Altan’s revenge, she wasn’t sure that she even wanted to keep living.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” she said.

“Then think of it this way,” Vaisra said. “I can give you a chance to take your revenge with the full support of an army of thousands.”

“Would I have to take orders?” she asked.

“Rin—” Nezha started.

“Would I have to take orders?”

“Yes,” Vaisra said. “Of course.”

“Then you can fuck off.”

Vaisra looked confused. “All soldiers take orders.”

“I’m not a soldier anymore,” she said. “I put in my time, I gave the Empire my loyalty, and that got me strapped to a table in a Mugenese research lab. I’m done taking orders.”

“We are not the Empire.”

She shrugged. “You want to be.”

“You little fool.” Vaisra slammed his hand against the table. Rin flinched. “Look outside yourself for a moment. This isn’t just about you, it’s about the future of our people.”

“Your people,” she said. “I’m a Speerly.”

“You are a scared little girl reacting from anger and loss in the most shortsighted way possible. All you want is to get your revenge. But you could be so much more. Do so much more. Listen to me. You could change history.”

“Haven’t I changed history enough?” Rin whispered.

She didn’t care about anyone’s visions for the future. She’d stopped wanting to be great, to carve out her place in history, a long time ago. She’d since learned the cost.

And she didn’t know how to say that she was just so tired.

All she wanted was to get Altan’s revenge. She wanted to put a blade in Daji’s heart.

And then she wanted to disappear.

“Your people died not because of Daji but because of this Empire,” Vaisra said. “The provinces have become weak, isolated, technologically inept. Compared to the Federation, compared to Hesperia, we are not just decades but centuries behind. And the problem isn’t our people, it’s their rulers. The twelve-province system is an antiquated, inefficient yoke dragging the Nikara behind. Imagine a country that was truly united. Imagine an army whose factions weren’t constantly at war with one another. Who could possibly defeat us?”

Vaisra’s eyes glimmered as he spread his hands across the table. “I am going to transform the Empire into a republic—a great republic, founded on the individual freedom of men. Instead of Warlords, we would have elected officials. Instead of an Empress, we would have a parliament, overseen by an elected president. I would make it impossible for a single person like Su Daji to bring ruin upon this realm. What do you think of that?”

A lovely speech, Rin thought, if Vaisra had been talking to someone more gullible.

Maybe the Empire did need a new government. Maybe a democracy would usher in peace and stability. But Vaisra had failed to realize that she simply did not care.

“I just finished fighting one war,” she said. “I’m not terribly interested in fighting another.”

“So what is your strategy? To roam up and down the coastline, killing off the only officials who have been brave enough to keep opium outside their borders?” Vaisra made a noise of disgust. “If that’s your goal, you’re just as bad as the Mugenese.”

She bristled. “I’ll kill Daji eventually.”

“And how, pray tell?”

“I don’t have to tell you—”

“By renting a pirate ship?” he mocked. “By entering into losing negotiations with a pirate queen?”

“Moag was going to give us supplies.” Rin felt the blood rushing to her face. “And we would have had the money, too, until you assholes showed up—”

“You’re so terribly naive. Don’t you get it? Moag was always going to sell you out. Did you think she would pass up that bounty on your heads? You’re lucky our offer was better.”

“Moag wouldn’t,” Rin said. “Moag knows my value.”

“You’re assuming Moag is rational. And she is, until it comes to great sums of money. You can buy her off with any amount of silver, and that I have in abundance.” Vaisra shook his head like a disappointed teacher. “Don’t you get it? Moag only flourishes while Daji is on the throne, because Daji’s isolationist policies create Ankhiluun’s competitive advantage. Moag only benefits as long as she operates outside the law, while the rest of the country is in such deep shit that it’s more profitable to operate inside her boundaries than without. Once trade becomes legitimized, she’s out of an empire. Which means the very last thing she wants is for you to succeed.”

Rin opened her mouth, realized she had nothing to say, and closed it. For the first time, she did not have a counterargument.

“Please, Rin,” Nezha interjected. “Be honest with yourself. You can’t fight a war on your own. You are six people. The Vipress is guarded by a corps of elite soldiers that you’ve never gone up against. And that’s not to mention her own martial arts skills, which you know nothing about.”

“And you no longer have the advantage of surprise,” said Vaisra. “Daji knows you are coming for her, which means you need a way to get closer to her. You need me.”

He gestured to the walls around them. “Look at this ship. This is the very best that Hesperian naval technology can offer. Twelve cannons lined on every side.”

Rin rolled her eyes. “Congratulations?”

“I have ten more ships like it.”

That gave her pause.

Vaisra leaned forward. “Now you get it. You’re a smart girl; you can run the calculations yourself. The Empire does not have a functioning navy. I do. We will control this Empire’s waterways. The war will be over in six months at worst.”

Rin tapped her fingers against the table, considering. Could they win this war? And what if they did?

She couldn’t help but balance the possibilities—she’d been trained too well at Sinegard not to.

If what Vaisra said was true, then she had to admit this was the perfect time to launch a coup. The Militia at present was fragmented and weak. The provinces had been decimated by Federation battalions. And they might switch sides quickly, once they learned the truth about Daji’s deception.

The benefits of joining an army were also obvious. She’d never have to worry about her supplies. She’d have access to intelligence she couldn’t get on her own. She’d have free transportation to wherever she wanted to go.

And yet.

“What happens if I say no?” she asked. “Are you going to compel me into service? Make me your own Speerly slave?”

Vaisra didn’t take the bait. “The Republic will be founded on freedom of choice. If you refuse to join, then we can’t make you.”

“Then maybe I’ll leave,” she said, mostly to see how he would respond. “I’ll go into hiding. I’ll bide my time. Get stronger.”

“You could do that.” Vaisra sounded bored, like he knew she was just pulling objections out of her ass. “Or you could fight for me and get the revenge you want. This isn’t hard, Runin. And you’re not really considering saying no. You’re just pretending to think because you like being a little brat.”

Rin glared at him.

It was such a rational option. She hated that it was a rational option. And she hated more that Vaisra knew that, and knew she’d arrive at the same conclusion, and was now simply mocking her until her mind caught up to his.

“I have more money and resources at my disposal than anyone in this empire,” Vaisra said. “Weapons, men, information—anything you need, you can get it from me. Work for me and you will want for nothing.”

“I’m not putting my life in your hands,” she said. The last time she had pledged her loyalty to someone, she’d been betrayed. Altan had died.

“I will never lie to you,” said Vaisra.

“Everybody lies to me.”

Vaisra shrugged. “Then don’t trust me. Act purely in your own interest. But I think you’ll find it clear soon enough that you don’t have many other options.”

Rin’s temples throbbed. She rubbed her eyes, trying desperately to think through all the possibilities. There had to be a catch. She knew better than to take offers like this at face value. She’d learned her lesson from Moag—never trust someone who holds all the cards.

She had to buy herself some time. “I can’t make a decision without speaking to my people.”

“Do as you like,” Vaisra said. “But have an answer for me by dawn.”

“Or what?” she asked.

“Or you’ll have to find your own way back to shore,” he said. “And it’s a long swim.”

“Just to clarify, the Dragon Warlord does not want to kill us?” Ramsa asked.

“No,” said Rin. “He wants us in his army.”

He wrinkled his nose. “But why? The Federation’s gone.”

“Exactly that. He thinks it’s his opportunity to overthrow the Empire.”

“That’s actually clever,” Baji said. “Think about it. Rob the house while it’s on fire, or however the saying goes.”

“I don’t think that’s a real saying,” Ramsa said.

“It’s a little more noble than that,” said Rin. “He wants to build a republic instead. Overthrow the Warlord system. Construct a parliament, appoint elected officials, restructure how governance works across the Empire.”

Baji chuckled. “Democracy? Really?”

“It’s worked for the Hesperians,” said Qara.

“Has it?” Baji asked. “Hasn’t the western continent been at war for the past decade?”

“The question isn’t whether democracy could work,” Rin said. “That doesn’t matter. The question is whether we enlist.”

“This could be a trap,” Ramsa pointed out. “He could be bringing you to Daji.”

“He could have just killed us when we were drugged, then. We’re dangerous passengers to have on board. It wouldn’t be worth the risk unless Vaisra really did think he could convince us to join him.”

“So?” Ramsa asked. “Can he convince us?”

“I don’t know,” Rin admitted. “Maybe.”

The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. She wanted Vaisra’s ships. His weapons, his soldiers, his power.

But if things went south, if Vaisra hurt the Cike, then this fell on her shoulders. And she couldn’t let the Cike down again.

“There’s still a benefit to going it on our own,” said Baji. “Means we don’t have to take orders.”

Rin shook her head. “We’re still six people. You can’t assassinate a head of state with six people.”

Never mind that she’d been perfectly willing to try just a few hours ago.

“And what if he betrays us?” Aratsha asked.

Baji shrugged. “We could always just cut our losses and defect. Run back to Ankhiluun.”

“We can’t run back to Ankhiluun,” Rin said.

“Why not?”

She told them about Moag’s ploy. “She’d have sold us to Daji if Vaisra hadn’t offered her something better. He sank our ship because he wanted her to think that we’d died.”

“So it’s Vaisra or nothing,” Ramsa said. “That’s just fantastic.”

“Is this Yin Vaisra really so bad?” Suni asked. “He’s just one man.”

“That’s true,” said Baji. “He can’t be any scarier than the other Warlords. The Ox and Ram Warlords weren’t anything special. It’s nepotism and inbreeding all around.”

“Oh, so like how you were produced,” said Ramsa.

“Listen, you little bitch—”

“Join them,” Chaghan said. His voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but the cabin fell silent. It was the first time he had spoken all evening.

“You’re debating this like you get to decide,” he said. “You don’t. You really think Vaisra’s going to let you go if you say no? He’s too smart for that. He’s just told you his intentions to commit treason. He’ll have you killed if there’s even the slightest risk you’d go to anyone else.” He gave Rin a grim look. “Face it, Speerly. It’s join up or die.”

“You’re gloating,” Rin accused.

“I would never,” said Nezha. He’d been beaming the entire way down the passageway, showing her around the warship like some ebullient tour guide. “But glad to have you on board.”

“Shut up.”

“Can’t I be happy? I’ve missed you.” Nezha stopped before a room on the first deck. “After you.”

“What’s this?”

“Your new quarters.” He opened the door for her. “Look, it locks from the inside four different ways. Thought you’d like that.”

She did like it. The room was twice as large as her quarters on her old ship, and the bed was a proper bed, not a cot with lice-ridden sheets. She stepped inside. “I have this all to myself?”

“I told you.” Nezha sounded smug. “The Dragon Army has its benefits.”

“Ah, that’s what you call yourselves?”

“Technically it’s the Army of the Republic. Nonprovincial, and all that.”

“You’d need allies for that.”

“We’re working on it.”

She turned toward the porthole. Even in the darkness she could see how fast the Seagrim was moving, slicing through black waves at speeds faster than Aratsha had ever been capable of. By morning Moag and her fleet would be dozens of miles behind them.

But Rin couldn’t leave Ankhiluun like this. Not yet. She had one more thing to retrieve.

“You said Moag thinks we’re dead?” she asked.

“I’d be surprised if she didn’t. We even tossed some charred corpses in the water.”

“Whose bodies?”

Nezha stretched his arms over his head. “Does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” The sun had just set over the water. Soon the Ankhiluuni pirate patrol would begin to make its rounds around the coast. “Do you have a smaller boat? One that can sneak past Moag’s ships?”

“Of course,” he scoffed. “Why, do you need to go back?”

“I don’t,” she said. “But you’ve forgotten someone.”

By all accounts Kitay’s audience with Vaisra was an unmitigated disaster. Captain Eriden wouldn’t let Rin onto the second deck, so she was unable to eavesdrop, but about an hour after they brought Kitay on board, she saw Nezha and two soldiers dragging him to the lower level. She ran down the passageway to catch up.

“—and I don’t care if you’re pissed, you can’t throw food at the Dragon Warlord,” said Nezha.

Kitay’s face was purple with anger. If he was at all relieved to see Nezha alive, he didn’t show it. “Your men tried to blow up my house!”

“They tend to do that,” Rin said.

“We had to make it look like you’d died,” Nezha said.

“I was still in it!” Kitay cried. “And so were my ledgers!”

Nezha looked amazed. “Who gives a shit about your ledgers?”

“I was doing the city’s taxes.”

“What?”

Kitay stuck his lower lip out. “And I was almost done.”

“What the fuck?” Nezha blinked. “I don’t—Rin, you talk some sense into this idiot.”

“I’m the idiot?” Kitay demanded. “Me? You’re the ones who think it’d be a good idea to start a bloody civil war—”

“Because the Empire needs one,” Nezha insisted. “Daji’s the reason why the Federation invaded; she’s the reason why Golyn Niis—”

“You were not at Golyn Niis,” Kitay snarled. “Don’t talk to me about Golyn Niis.”

“Fine—I’m sorry—but shouldn’t that justify a regime change? She’s hamstrung the Militia, she’s fucked our foreign relations, she’s not fit to rule—”

“You have no proof of that.”

“We do have proof.” Nezha stopped walking. “Look at your scars. Look at me. The proof’s written on our skin.”

“I don’t care,” Kitay said. “I don’t give a shit what your politics are, I want to go home.”

“And do what?” Nezha asked. “And fight for whom? There’s a war coming, Kitay, and when it’s here, there will be no such thing as neutrality.”

“That’s not true. I shall seclude myself and live the virtuous life of a scholarly hermit,” Kitay said stiffly.

“Stop,” Rin said. “Nezha’s right. Now you’re just being stubborn.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Of course you’re in on this madness. What did I expect?”

“Maybe it’s madness,” she said. “But it’s better than fighting for the Militia. Come on, Kitay. You know you can’t go back to the status quo.”

She could see it in Kitay’s eyes, how badly he wanted to resolve the contradiction between loyalty and justice—because Kitay, poor, upright, moral Kitay, always so concerned with doing what was right, couldn’t reconcile himself to the fact that a military coup might be justified.

He flung his hands in the air. “Even so, you think I’m in a position to join your republic? My father is the Imperial defense minister.”

“Then he’s serving the wrong ruler,” said Nezha.

“You don’t understand! My entire family is at the heart of the capital. They could use them against me—my mother, my sister—”

“We could extract them,” Nezha said.

“Oh, like you extracted me? Very nice, I’m sure they’ll love getting abducted in the middle of the night while their house burns down.”

“Calm down,” Rin said. “They’d still be alive. You wouldn’t have to worry.”

“Like you’d know how it feels,” Kitay snapped. “The closest thing you had to a family was a suicidal maniac who got himself killed on a mission almost as stupid as this one.”

She could tell he knew he’d crossed the line, even as he said it. Nezha looked stunned. Kitay blinked rapidly, refusing to meet her eyes. Rin hoped for a moment that he might cave, that he’d apologize, but he simply looked away.

She felt a pang in her chest. The Kitay she knew would have apologized.

A long silence followed. Nezha stared at the wall, Kitay at the floor, and neither of them dared to meet Rin’s eyes.

Finally Kitay held out his hands, as if waiting for someone to bind them. “Best get me down to the brig,” he said. “Don’t want your prisoners running around on deck.”

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.