Page 58 of Eyes of Kings

Venus’s breath is coming fast. She tips her head up, and her throat is tight. A yellow glow is dancing where she walks, where she looks, but it would appear that no one else can see it, unless the old woman and her attendants are ignoring it on purpose. When Venus was hiding in the corner of those quarters like some beaten stray animal and Joselie entered to set down food, she only introduced herself, saying that she was nearby if Venus needed her. Maybe it’s palace training. Unreasonable politeness, to the point of pretending not to see unnatural qi.

“We have weapons, by the way.” One of the attendants pats the hard case that Venus had assumed was kitchenware.

They skirt by a sleeping body at the mouth of the alley. The stores haveclosed. One of the doors has a sign hanging on it, reading CLOSEDUNTIL THEBANKSREOPEN. I CAN’T DO BUSINESS WITHOUT MY MONEY!!!

“You’ll want to go to the palace in the mountains first,” Joselie instructs. “The path was marked when the Weisannas made their journey, so you only need to follow the yellow pins. Clear the place of valuables and take the excuse of delivering them to West Capital’s yamen. There, you may ask for a peace treaty. A free Rincun in exchange for their continued export into San-Er.”

Venus can barely open her eyes when they reach the wider thoroughfare. The attendants flank her sides. The people of San-Er stare quietly, pausing in their conversation, their business. It feels as though the whole of the twin cities is watching her, judging her for the light emitting from her body. She sees the crescents painted over the shop walls. The crescents drawn over the doors into restaurants and acupuncture studios. Venus wants to hide. She wants to return to her rooms.

“I can only escort you to the wall,” Joselie remarks. “Her Majesty’s cat needs feeding in the palace, and my bones are creaky. But I was told you have made the trip to Rincun multiple times, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Do you need a map?”

Venus flexes her hand. A spasm darts from her elbow to her fingertips. The last time she made the trip to Rincun, it was on horseback to shut down the province. They’re sending her out again, though she already proved incompetent in managing the world out there. Whowouldlisten to Venus Hailira? Who is Venus Hailira—why has she been afforded this milk and honey?

Her foot snags on the path. One of the attendants hurries to grab her elbow, helping her forward and preventing a fall. San-Er whispers to her in apology. Though Venus tries to ignore it, she’s gotten the city started now, and it continues hissing, indecipherable like some rural dialect pressed right to her ear. Her neck itches. Her skin is molting right off. Venus makes up her mind.

“I know the way,” she says.

The rain in Pashe has stopped.

His scouts reported movement on the Apian Routes. One carriage, heading north, holding Rincun’s councilmember. August expected some response from San-Er in the form of Calla’s exit, so the news bemused him. No matter. Whatever Calla and Anton have up their sleeve, it won’t stay under wraps for long.

August focuses his attention on what they can get out of Pashe. He hoped there would be palace soldiers to recruit despite Councilmember Naov’s death, but the barracks before him sit empty. Empty beds, the stables cleared and the horses taken, each trough overfilling with rainwater.

August sighs. Palace soldiers require maintenance. They will not wait for vague promises of food arriving within the next week—maybe a fortnight if the couriers on their wooden wagons aren’t paid quickly enough. They will abandon their posts at the first sign of strife. He should have known Naov was talking out of his ass. Pashe is usually a stronghold for produce. With the rain, the crops wilted early, and they can’t make do with drinking rainwater for the wet months to come. Soldiers leave; villagers pack up and relocate to their hardier neighboring provinces.

August exits the barracks and lifts his palm to the skies. Now there’s not even a rogue droplet. He has to imagine this is Seefin’s work.

“It’s not so impressive,” Otta declares when he walks toward her, his hand still held out. She is the only one who dismounted—the Weisannas remain alert atop their horses, readying to leave. As soon as they approached the barracks, the lack of greeting made it evident the place was deserted, but August wanted to ensure he wasn’t missing anything.

“No?” August asks. He drops his hand. “Areyoucapable of stopping this rain with a thought?”

Otta frowns. She clambers back onto her horse. “I need to speak to you.”

“Later.”

August signals for his guards to go ahead. Clear the path back to their base, where they will continue their march up to the Jinzi River.

“Now,” Otta hisses. When August climbs astride his saddle, she does not take his hint. She hurries to steer to his side, her horse whinnying in protest. “You cannot negotiate with a god. You will lose.”

Two Weisannas glance over. Their arms tense, readying to step in. August signals that they can take some distance. Outside of hearing range.

“Otta,” August says, “did you see what she did to Naov?”

“She took us by surprise. You maneuvered correctly in that moment while we were at risk, I understand. But we must pivot once we have what we need—”

“We will march north,” August interrupts. “We will reach an agreement with each province along the way to close their routes south. We will set up a temporary capital in Actia to control the provinces, and then we will starve San-Er until we can take it back.”

Otta frowns. Her cheeks carve hollow, her jaw clenching. She still looks exactly as she did when she was sleeping. Porcelain-clear skin, a countenance that would lead one to believe she could shatter upon a light tap. No wonder Anton tried so hard to keep her alive. He must have thought he was preserving the kingdom’s salvation.

“You must understand,” Otta says after a beat, “that if you allow a god to have any piece of Talin, there will be nothing left for us at the end. Offer a piece, and they will bite your hand clean.”

“We have no choice.”

“Wedo. You didn’t let me try.” Otta clicks her fingers at one of the Weisannas. “You. Come here.”

“Are we leaving?” he calls back.

“I said, come here.”