Page 93 of Queen’s Gambit

‘To kill him?’ he asked, and I smirked.

‘If all else fails. I’m offering to help you save Tangra… for a price.’

‘And that price is?’ The muscle in his jaw twitched every time he clenched his teeth.

‘The head of Ernesto Tivala, withdrawal of Tangrian forces, and a treaty stating your army will never invade again,’ I answered. I couldn’t demand less, and Siras knew it.

He was silent for a long time, his mouth opening and closing. In the end, it was I who spoke first.

‘You don’t have a choice. Not if you want your mother’s peach tree to blossom again,’ I stated. His shoulders dropped.

‘Will you swear to save my homeland?’ he asked, reaching out to me.

‘I swear that if there is a way to do so that doesn’t destroy Dagome, I’ll do everything I can to save it.’ I took his hand. His grip was firm, the skin dry and rough from sword work. He shook it once before the hint of a smile touched his lips.

‘If they find out I’ve allied with a mage, I’ll burn next to you. Don’t make me regret trusting you, Roksana,’ he said, proffering a sharp salute.

As he disappeared through the tent flap, I muttered after him. ‘Only I won’t burn, Prefect. I’m not sure I can even die.’

I heard them again, the voices murmuring in my head. They sounded like prayers, each one strengthening the power already coursing through me.

When I left the tent, Siras was organising his soldiers, preparing for the ride. Several of the men muttered when they noticed me.

‘My belt, Siras. Please?’ I asked, pointing to his saddlebags. ‘And my dagger.’

An officer stepped closer, raising his hand. Siras caught the man’s wrist, and the man howled when the bone cracked.

‘My orders were clear. Nobody touches her,’ he snapped, and his men found themselves very busy with the horses.

‘Sir, respectfully, she’s a mage. She shouldn’t be allowed to speak to you like that,’ the soldier answered, cradling his arm, sweat beading on his forehead. I was surprised—the soldier wasn’t protesting Siras’ brutality, but the way I spoke.

‘I said please,’ I remarked, grabbing my belt when Siras passed it over. The Prefect sighed.

‘Roksana, please don’t make this journey more unpleasant than it has to be. And tell your friends to stay away from my men. I assume you’re still in contact with them,’ he said, and I nodded. ‘Good. And where is Niersen’s body?’

This time I smiled, wide and vicious.

‘On its way to Tivalaran. I sent the old Duke a companion. Someone to remind him of his sins, and their cost.’

Siras bristled. ‘You told me he was dead.’

‘Niersen is dead; what is running towards Tivalaran is nothing this world has seen before.’ I enjoyed the look in his eyes a little too much. ‘Which is my horse?’

Siras didn’t spare the horses, so I surreptitiously drew a small sigil on each one on the only break we had, adding a little Aether to bolster their strength. The men I left alone.

By the time we emerged from the forest, I was aching all over, and my mood had soured as I wondered whether Irsha and Tova could keep up with such a blistering pace.

The Prefect stopped by my horse, pointing to the city in the distance.

‘When we enter, you are my captive,’ he murmured, ‘and I will treat you as such.’

‘We have a common goal. I can behave as a captive. I have plenty of experience to play the role convincingly,’ I answered, and relief spread across his face.

‘Good. Clericus Puris has his residence here, and there are other clergy…’ he said. I sighed.

‘Oh, lovely. So, should I start calling you Master, or do your kinsmen have their own special word?’ I asked, frowning, when he reached out.

‘No special word. Come, you have to ride with me, and please try to appear at least a bit intimidated.’ In the end, the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as I struggled onto his gelding’s back.