Page 98 of Eyes of Kings

Of course August tried to warn him. Pulled him aside and told him that his sister was not to be trifled with. His sister would gulp down the whole world if she could. It was one thing to crave power, attention, resources. But Otta was avoid.

“Wherever Calla is,” August says, “you ought to fetch her.”

Anton scoffs. “You’re threatening me?”

“No, I’m warning you. We were once dear friends. And I can admit that we only find ourselves here today because I had no sympathy for you. After everything you had given up, after the fool that Otta played you for, you were offered no lenience. Perhaps that was my mistake.”

The window behind him shatters. August, though he resists his flinch, cannot stop himself from biting down inside his cheek. The taste of iron floods his tongue. Fiercely metallic, coating the backs of his teeth.

“You two have prattled on for long enough,” Otta says.

No—she has shed all falsities. It would not do to play pretend for the sake of civility anymore. It is Sinoa whose hair lifts off her shoulders as she grips the window ledge, her expression frozen in a snarl.

“Where,” Sinoa says slowly, “is she?”

“She’s not here,” Anton replies. A cut has opened on his forehead. Loose glass dusts the floor around his feet.

Sinoa throws out a hand, shoving Anton with her qi. There’s a heavycrackwhen his head collides with the wall, leaving a fissure in the wood. He slumps into a heap. In tandem, a tremendousboom!shakes nearby, and the Weisannas outside stir into a clamor, shouting at one another to get moving.

“Idiot,” Sinoa hisses, looking at Anton. “If she’s not here, why are her rebels attacking us?”

CHAPTER 45

When Bibi first arrived in Laho, she was always crawling around. It drove the Dovetail elders mad. She was too old to justify it, scuttling about like some small bear. But being on all fours meant she was less likely to be seen. Less likely to be picked on, pushed around.

There’s still a bit of that instinct sometimes. She climbs to join the hubbub atop San’s wall, and she wants to curl in on herself, to stay close to the ground. Keep her belly protected, her qi near the earth. The storm has stopped, at least. No more rainfall clogging their drains, their floorboards, their very ears. Though the dark clouds have not cleared, that isn’t so much a feature of poor weather and more the twin cities’ default state.

“Any movement?” Bibi asks the nearest Crescent.

The woman turns, briefly, to identify who is speaking to her. “Nothing. It’s as though they walked themselves into view and stayed put.”

In the distance, a dark line has formed. It reminds Bibi of sea-foam, frothing along the edge of a wave and dragging upon the shore. The Crescents would have written them off as mere rural dwellers, only they refused to come any closer once they appeared. The Crescents even tried waving them in, saying that the wall was open, that the Crescent Societies were receptive to all who sought to join their ranks, but the bodies—there surely have to be over a hundred to make a line that long—did not move. At that point, growingnervous, someone asked to fetch Buira Makusa, because she could see a littlemoreinto someone’s qi, and when Bibi climbed the wall, she couldn’t hold back her gasp.

Heretics or old gods, it doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever they are, they’re powerful enough that Bibi can see a mist surrounding their offense line—excess qi inundating the atmosphere. Each time Bibi blinks to clear it from her vision, the mist forms again after mere seconds.

“Buira.”

Bibi’s attention snaps to the watchtower at the end of the walkway. Her stomach clenches, but she makes her way over to Tsosia, careful on the wet bricks.

“The palace is closed,” Bibi reports. She hesitates, then says, “I would recommend sealing the capital too. Close the entrances. It creates one additional barrier on top of every—”

“The clerics do not agree,” Tsosia interrupts. “We cannot go against what we have always worked for.”

“But we must protect the capital before we can protect those seeking refuge from the provinces,” Bibi returns. “The people waiting out there arepowerful.”

“The Weisannas are busy enough with August Shenzhi’s war. Perhaps these are individuals who only wish to monitor the situation in San-Er.”

Bibi swallows hard. Some of the Crescents are rushing down the ladder, calling among themselves to get more crossbows—hurry up, there has to be a weapons shop with a stash somewhere.

“I know you don’t believe that,” Bibi says. “Galipei Weisanna acted alone, not on August’s instructions. You understand it too. I saw you interrogate him on the cameras.”

Tsosia’s glare whips to her. “You make a habit of watching those?”

“I’m on duty over his capture—yes, I’m going to make a habit of watching those.”

Tsosia doesn’t appear pleased. “You should have told us he was captured from the beginning. To think we only found out from tattling prisoners.”

It is an admonishment without sting, because Tsosia has always known who Bibi is, and Tsosia alone understands that Bibi is not a Crescent, that she should not be expected to behave like one. Tsosia and Bibi worked together best when they were plotting the ruin of the palace—after that, Bibi grew tired of the back-and-forth between clerics each wanting a say in what came next.