Page 7 of Eyes of Kings

“I understand the situation,” Bibi says evenly. “How auspicious it was. How grateful we are that Calla Tuoleimi picked up the crown that day and ejected August from the capital.”

“Ejected the Weisannas, most importantly,” Anton corrects. “And just as the Crescents reaped the benefits of Calla’s gambit during the coup, they should understand that it’s in their interests to continue supporting her war effort. If August gains momentum through the provinces and succeeds in marching back through San-Er, it is the end for the Crescents too.”

Bibi stops. Abruptly, she turns to face Anton, her expression tight. Rapid typing echoes from the surveillance room, its door left wide open.

“Anton,” she says, “I admire what you are doing here. But as you said, let’s be forthright. Even if San-Er names Calla TuoleimiKing-Killer, she is still a royal—and the last true one at that. The Crescents admire her, insofar as they are aligned with her. When she attacked her parents, she was their darling. When she killed Kasa, suddenly the balance tilted. The Crescent Societies find themselves in the precarious position of desiring her power and fearing it… and where do you think that leaves them?”

“Owing her,” Anton returns.

“No,” Bibi says, her annoyance visible. “They are not stupid. They understand their weight and power too. The Crescent Societies occupy San-Er on Calla’s behalf. She cannot be everywhere at once, so she needs them holding the capital while she engages in this fight for the kingdom. And they will not help her. They will let her tire herself out. Then when the time is right, they will move to kill her.”

Anton scoffs. Yes, he understands that this is what the Crescent Societies intend. Whether or not they can truly accomplish it is another matter.

“How will they do that?” he asks. “Prayer?”

“They do not need to pray. They already consider themselves gods.”

Bibi must notice that they’ve paused in the hallway to argue, because she waves for Anton to follow her, stepping into the surveillance room. It’s hectic enough that Anton’s presence goes unobserved. His sister sits down at a desk, gesturing that he should grab a seat and join. Anton is slow to find a plastic folding chair from one of the other cubicles.

He doesn’t quite understand what role Bibi plays among these rebels. She’s the one who approached Calla about cooperating with them. She’s the one who went undercover in the Palace of Union to orchestrate their attacks. Yet she is not one of them.

Anton sits down, the bag of hard candy crinkling in his hand. He sets it onto the desk.

“I don’t think you’re hearing me,” he whispers, resuming their exchange.“August hovers less than a day’s travel outside the wall. When the Crescents solicited Calla to be their figurehead, it was because they knew it would take them time before truly securing the capital. They have not recruited enough initiates. They have not accessed the financial district yet. If August succeeds with an attack right now, they’re fucked.”

“He won’t succeed with an attack,” Bibi intones. “This is San-Er.”

Anton pinches her arm. “You are being sodifficult.”

“It is the unconquerable stronghold for a reason.” Bibi whacks him away before he can pinch her again. “It is the playground for spies and scouts, but never has San-Er been hospitable to soldiers. Why would the Crescents worry?”

His sister turns to the computer then, tapping its side and waiting for the blue screen to wake up. Anton reaches into the bag of hard candy and crunches on a piece.

“How did you get in?” he asks.

The screen loads. Bibi’s fingers fly over the keyboard. “Killed a guard. Cried about it.”

“Before that.” Anton thought the candy would be sourer. Some part of his unconscious memory told him to brace for the taste more than he needed to. “I thought the Dovetail were leery of the twin cities and its horrible bureaucracy.”

“They are,” Bibi replies. “But then, one day, traders who recently departed Eigi brought news about the king’s games claiming Anton Makusa for a victim. I fell at the feet of my elders and begged that, whatever the cost, the palace would pay for my dear big brother’s demise. I needed to go back to the capital from which I was born.”

Anton crunches on another piece of candy, his brow raised. It would be a sweet sentiment. More than anyone has ever cared about him. If it weren’t a load of hot shit.

“I’ve wanted to come back to San-Er for years, but there wasn’t a good excuse,” Bibi says after a beat. “The elders consider our purpose to be the provinces.Our fight is in resisting the soldiers and the generals, not in the capital. It was only when unrest began in San-Er that the Dovetail thought it might finally be time to collaborate with the Crescents. I went in with the promise of storming the palace.”

“What a shock it must have been that I was alive after all,” Anton muses.

Bibi was only five when she was separated from Anton and pulled away to live an entirely different life. If his death was ever to serve as her motive, it is abstract before it is personal. The horror that the Shenzhis think themselves powerful enough to fell a line of Makusas.

“It sure makes my job harder,” Bibi deadpans. “After the Crescents stormed San-Er, I was supposed to go back to the Dovetail. I’ve had my fun in the urban labyrinth.”

“You can’t.” Anton doesn’t try to soften the demand. “We need you keeping them in check.”

Bibi taps a key. “We?” she echoes.

“Yes,” Anton replies. “I swore my loyalty to Calla.”

Her screen changes to show multiple video streams.