Page 24 of Eyes of Kings

“Don’t bepathetic, Anton,” Otta yells, and a wave of qi ripples from her body to the ground, shaking the earth. “San-Er killed your father while he was still mortal, but it didn’t kill you. The old gods have healed their heavenly qi.Take from it!”

A projectile flies across the battlefield. It strikes Otta in the chest with a brief white flash, and she slams back into the vestibule, half the entryway catching aflame alongside her. She was distracted; she didn’t have time to pull her qi and block the hit. But she is already getting up, barelyaffected despite her bleeding shoulder, her charred silk blouse. Anton tosses the firearm aside and lunges for Calla, pulling her into his arms in one sweep.

“We’re going,” he says to her, as if she might be able to hear him. Then, louder, to the Crescents, “We’re going! Retreat!”

CHAPTER 11

In the aftermath of the attack, August Shenzhi surveys the base without any sense of accomplishment. He took the advice to stay put, and this is the outcome. Three dead guards and half his elite forces injured.It’s the first critical step of the battle plan you are drawing, his sister assured him.

Seiqi Weisanna is dead. She joined the defensive line in spite of August’s warning. It was understood that there would be casualties, but some guards are more expendable than others; he didn’t want Weisannas marching into the attack. He would have pulled back all of them if that hadn’t been suspicious. Just as he has put spies inside San-Er, the opposition will have planted people in August’s camp to report back.

August closes the door to the war room. His guards have been murmuring about him these past few days. He hears it, even if he says nothing in response. They do not understand why he would consult Otta Avia for battle strategy. They do not understand why he hears reports about San-Er preparing an attack, about the provinces revolting against palace guards—and he does not move, does not act further than a wave of his hand in dismissal.

A slight throbbing has started in August’s head. Not enough water. Not enough air. He has not left his office, sleeping in the corner during the night and pacing during the day. The exception he made was filching a bottle ofbleachfrom the supplies volleyed out of San-Er, finding it tucked inside the medicalsupplies that went to the infirmary. Anton’s idiotic work was easy to erase. He would have used the cheapest vegetable coloring from the kitchens. While Seiqi took it upon herself to call into the infirmary and send reports on how Galipei was faring, August was busy burning his scalp, reverting his hair to a harsh white blond. He wears no divine crown, so he is forced to settle for a metal circlet and these abrasions he scalded into his temples.

Galipei still hasn’t woken, but there’s hope…

He kicks the wall abruptly. He can’t think about it. Otherwise he’ll end up like Seiqi Weisanna. If she weren’tdead, perhaps August could have elevated her stature after Galipei made a healthy recovery, thanked her with a higher position. Instead, she decided to go out of her way caring for him, causing a disturbance everywhere she went asking about his health. She hurried to the front line as soon as there was news about an attack, and August knows that Seiqi had it in her head that Calla needed to answer for how she hurt Galipei. Of course he knows. He feels it a thousand times fiercer than Seiqi Weisanna did.

“Fuck,” August whispers under his breath. He places his palms flat on the table, letting his head drop forward.

Since Otta arrived at the camp, August has felt the razor spool winding tighter and tighter around him. The blade long broke skin, gliding through every part of his exterior left soft. They are biding their time to enact a battle plan, yet August is right within distance of San-Er. The throne he earned, the kingdom that he fought for. All of it, taken from underneath his nose, and for what? Not better governance, certainly. Rural dwellers have been passing the base in hundreds each day, heading for the cities. The capital will overload. The kingdom will break from the center.

All to avoidhim? The son of a rubber-factory owner? They will tolerate three generations of Shenzhis and Tuoleimis, but August is where they want to draw the line, after these years he spent planning tosavethem?

A knock. Before he’s turned to face the door, it’s already opening, bringingOtta inside. Her blouse is bloodied. She’s undone the top three buttons to make room for the enormous bandage wrapped around her shoulder.

“What happened to you?” August asks.

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern, brother,” Otta returns. She’s picked up a gossamer sash for her uninjured shoulder, trailing a path after her. “I thought I told you to stay put.”

August is aware that this arrangement will not work for long. Otta treats him like her subject—Otta, his half sister, has always held some level of disdain for him, starting from when they were both mere palace residents who entered aristocracy only by their aunt’s marriage. At least the truth, finally, casts some sense onto this attitude.

“Iwasstaying put,” August returns dryly. “I went outside only after the battle ended.”

Given how early she was invaded, the true Otta Avia was gone before anything mattered. He doesn’t know when it happened: the day of the royal wedding when August was eight and Otta was ten and the palaces gathered together to allow an interaction between Otta and Calla Tuoleimi, or earlier, during one of those invitations when August and Otta were invited to visit their aunt in the Palace of Earth and Calla, too, was wandering the halls by happenstance, newly returned from Rincun with an age-old queen tamped under her qi. August doesn’t know which recourse is harder to believe. Whether Sinoa was so perceptive as to target Otta Avia long before August had started his crusade for the throne, or she waited for years in an occupied body she couldn’t control, surviving until she could slip out unnoticed.

Because it is convenient, is it not? As far as August’s sense of familial loyalty is concerned, Sinoa Tuoleimi has always been his sister. Otta was the face she wore until she could resume her fight, her second chance for her throne.

And here she is now.

“I would count this a success,” Otta remarks. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” August says. “There was a moment where it seemed you wanted to take the body back.”

Otta stiffens. She tosses a portion of the sash over her injured shoulder, covering the blood.

“I said I wouldn’t.”

This is why she didn’t want him watching. Just in case the opportunity arose, and she couldn’t resist.

“You spoke with Anton for quite some time too. What was that about?”

“If he is acting as their general, then he is the one who should be most afraid of me. When he feels threatened, the Crescents pick up on it accordingly.” Otta drops into a chair. The plastic hinges creak in protest. “They surrendered and fled. There’s our goal achieved. And I counted fewer than twenty, which is one temple acting alone. After this, no temple will care to support her.”

Because Calla took the throne in alliance with the Crescent Societies, August has to be very careful. The smarter way to wage war isn’t to fight them both, but to drive them apart first. Wield Otta’s power as a shock, frighten the religious lunatics so that they are no help to Calla any further than a formality. Proceed into the provinces, concentrate his effort and his forces there. Secure each yamen and halt resources into San-Er. Starve the twin cities until they revolt against the Crescents.

Then haul Calla in.