Page 51 of Eyes of Kings

Otta takes a lock of her hair, twirling it around her finger. “Such little time you have spent in power,” she says, “yet how quickly you take to it.”

“I have been preparing for this my whole life.” Long before he was named the crown prince. Perhaps long before he stepped foot in the palace, beginning from his childhood, when he was forced to bear witness to his father’s noble clients cheating and deceiving his business without consequence. Since the moment he could comprehend the life-blood of this kingdom, August has been ready to inject himself at its very top. “Do not provoke me into proving myself.”

“I would never. I understand. I understand more than anyone.”

Otta’s attention drifts off. Wherever she goes in her mind’s eye, she is somewhere August cannot fathom. Some bygone era of the kingdom.

“Otta,” he says, because he refuses to call his half sisterSinoa, regardless of accuracy. “Youlostonce already. Let’s not forget that.”

“I don’t forget.”

“And therefore”—he gestures to the map—“either I take the lead this time, or we will have a problem.”

“What happened to our alliance?”

“What will you do in lieu of an alliance with me, Otta? Will you join Calla instead?”

He has her cornered. Of course she will not.

“Perhaps—”

“Majesty!” Marra’s harried call booms into the tent before she puts her head through. She makes a quick scan, almost looking relieved to find August present. “There’s a woman approaching the base. Rural dweller.”

“Warn her that this is a private installation,” August says calmly, “and that she is to turn back.”

“We tried.” Marra can’t seem to catch her breath. “She… she pushed us back. With qi.”

Despite their existing friction, August and Otta exchange a glance. It cannot be an attack coming from Calla if it is only one individual. Otta seems to agree with the way her attention darts off, beyond the tent.

“Let me see,” she decides.

Otta strides out from the tent before August contributes a word of approval. He makes to follow.

“I would advise that you stay back, Your Majesty,” Marra urges.

“I’ll stay back,” August returns. He doesn’t need to wander far from the tent. He has a fine view of the path—as well as the woman walking forward, passing the five Weisannas she’s tossed aside, all groaning and rendered incapacitated.

This kingdom has transformed before August’s very nose. Despite his years and years of planning, he went out of commission for a few weeks, and suddenly Talin doesn’t recognize him anymore.

“Right there is fine, please,” Otta says from the end of the path. The woman has not tried to attack Otta yet. She is short, her hair cropped at her neck, her sallow appearance indicating middle age. An unfamiliar face. Nothing of her clothes or the color of her eyes speaks to her identity. But the sort of power necessary to attack Weisannas could not belong to an ordinary rural dweller. This tangible use of qi is not natural outside those who have been experimenting with sigils, and as far as August is aware, only insurgent groups have gotten their hands on such defenses.

He takes a step forward. Marra hisses under her breath and puts her arm out.

“Stand down,” August says.

“Your Majesty—”

“Stand down,” August repeats.

The Weisanna lets him go. It is possible he has taken Galipei for granted all these years. There is a fine line between being his protective detail and beingdomineering. Hard as it is to point out the minute shift between the two, Galipei never annoyed him like this.

August is not the only one moving toward the commotion. The Weisannas have not warned off the two councilmembers. From different directions, they inch closer on the path. The woman, meanwhile, has stopped where she is, her hands shrugged into her pockets.

“Wasn’t that easy?” Otta continues. “Would you like to identify yourself next?”

“If you were as powerful as you’d like to believe,” the woman bellows, and her voice is so loud that August is taken for genuine surprise, his stomach dropping from underneath him, “you’d already know.”

This does not sit well with Otta. The clouds darken overhead. Otta cannot control this rain—else she certainly would have put a stop to it rather than let her shoes squelch the entire journey up from Eigi—but she can add to it. August has noticed this. He has refrained from pointing it out, because he does not want her to try on purpose.