Page 12 of Four Ruined Realms (The Broken Blades #2)

Sora

City of Quu, Khitan

With so much hanging in the balance, it feels strange to be getting ready for a ball. Yet for the last three years, I’ve done this same routine to prepare to murder, so I suppose it’s normal for me.

I make up and perfume my face, arrange my hair, and don my heavy silver-and-blue dress as if it’s armor. I slide on my rings, necklaces, and earrings. All of the gems are owned by the southern count. All make me something different—a courtesan instead of a scarred girl desperate to save her little sister. Last, I put my fur cape over my shoulders. I debate for a second, then decide to apply poison lipstick, just as a precaution.

Beauty will be my only weapon tonight, as we won’t be able to bring in blades.

Aeri and I will attend a banquet while Royo, Mikail, and Euyn head to the Temple of Knowledge.

Mikail came back last night suspiciously soaked again, but at least this time it was only rain. He had a new plan for us: divide and conquer. We don’t have much time for a variety of reasons, but no one was comfortable with splitting up.

“I thought I was going with the girls,” Royo said, crossing his thick arms.

Mikail shook his head. “We may need your muscle.”

“Shouldn’t we all go, then?” Aeri asked, gnawing on her lip. I’m surprised her lips aren’t chapped from how much she’s been biting them.

“No,” Mikail said. “Unfortunately, both events are pressing. The banquet is tomorrow night, and at least one of you needs to attend. I’d rather not send anyone in alone.”

The Banquet of the Sky King is an annual celebration of the rains that occurs one full day after the start of the monsoon season. Mikail wasn’t sure when we could meet the general, but the ball is the perfect excuse. Even in my border village, we used to celebrate the monsoons and the life-giving water they provide. The rains also cause floods that destroy and kill, but life surges after destruction.

Hundreds of Khitan’s elite will attend the ball in the armory. I thought the men would stay at the inn, but someone murdered a Yoksa recently—a holy priest. As shocking as that is, Mikail feels certain it’s related to our mission here. Someone wants to alter history before we can read it. Which means there’s something to find, and we have to discover what it is before the information disappears.

The three of them already left for Lake Cerome. Aeri and I will try to probe the general for information tonight. And then we’ll meet back here.

I knock on Aeri’s door. She comes out in a high-necked forest green dress made of lace and satin and a heavy white fur cape, both of which we purchased this morning. She looks stunning, but her head is low and her eyes dart around. Without Royo, she’s nervous, I’m sure. I don’t blame her. I’ve grown accustomed to the safety of having Mikail nearby.

But we are on our own tonight.

“You look lovely,” I say. Her hair is swept up in the fashion of Khitan. It must grow very quickly, as it’s noticeably longer than when we first met.

She smiles. “You always do.”

We go downstairs and hire a private carriage to take us to the armory. In Khitan, the armory is not inside the palace. Instead, it’s a building across Trialga Square. The Khitanese kings are the Trialgas, the same way Yusan has the Baejkins. But Khitan has also had queens. Queen Quilimar is the sixth female ruler in their history.

We are nearly to the summit when the carriage stops. The view is breathtaking, even in the dusky rain. The villas on the hillside are lit up. Below that are the colorful houses of the harbor. And then there’s the vast, dark expanse of the East Sea.

Valets with umbrellas meet every carriage as it arrives, and we are escorted to the portico of the armory. I say thank you in Khitanese, and the valet stares. I’m not sure if it’s my language or my face. My village was close to the border of Khitan, so I learned quite a bit when I was young. Not as much as Mikail or Euyn, but certainly enough to be polite.

We pass through the arched entryway and follow the crowd into the main hall, and my eyes widen. The military headquarters is decked out in gold with gilded weapons hanging all around the walls and golden chandeliers illuminating the space in twinkling light. Even the ceiling is painted with gilded decoration.

There must be pounds and pounds of gold in here, but I suppose that’s what happens when you can create it with the touch of a ring.

In the center of the room hangs the purple flag with the golden eagle of Khitan, and long, linen-covered tables line the walls, creating a wide dancing space in the middle. There is no head table, but directly in front of us is where the general will sit—right in the center of the table facing the entry.

For all its similarities to a lavish banquet in Yusan, the atmosphere is markedly different—I could feel it from the second I stepped in the room. Women are not only attractive decoration here but active participants. They hold court—not just among themselves, but with men. Some wear suits and have their hair cut shorter than Euyn’s. They laugh and talk boldly and help themselves to the passed food and drink.

It’s very odd.

Is this the difference when women can hold their own money and title? Does it matter to this extent? Then again, we are still among the nobility. Who knows what life is like for women of low birth? Khitan is called a land of equals, but some are always more equal than others.

An older man, tall with gray hair, approaches us. He’s Yusanian and wears the decoration of an ambassador with a small red flag hanging from the pocket of his suit jacket and a medal decorating his neck. The medallion is a black snake wrapped around a blade.

“You must be Yunga,” he says, extending his hand. “I am Ambassador Zeolin.”

I smile and curtsey. Yunga was the name Mikail forged for me. “How did you know me?”

“Mikail said to look for the most beautiful woman in the room.” He smiles and his eyes are kind, but he is Yusanian nobility, so appearances are just that. “So that must be you. And who is this?”

“I am Narissa,” Aeri says.

He inclines his head to her as she curtsies, but then his eyes are on me again. “What brings you to Khitan?”

“I was an indenture in Yusan,” I say. “I recently escaped my binds.”

“Ah,” the ambassador says. “I can understand a man being unwilling to let you go, my dear. But you will find the freedom you dream of here. And what about you, Narissa?”

“I’m here to make my fortune,” Aeri says. “One I can own.”

It’s close to the truth, I suppose.

“Very Khitanese thinking.” He sniffs through his pronounced nose. “Well, you arrived just in time for the monsoons. Unfortunate weather, but that does allow you to be here for this banquet with the high society of Quu tonight.”

“And you are at the top as an ambassador.” I stare like I’m in awe and then look away demurely as if he caught me.

He raises his chin higher, puffing out his thin chest. These men can’t resist flattery, no matter how thick. “One of, but outside of the palace no one ranks higher than the general.”

“An army general?” I ask as if I’m confused by the concept. Noblemen like beautiful women to be smart enough to follow conversation but nowhere near as clever as themselves.

“General of the Armed Forces. That is General Vikal in the center behind the main table.” He turns his head because it’s rude to point in any realm. “It is different here than in Yusan. They value their military the most. And they allow women to serve, if you can believe that.”

I follow his line of sight. I’m not sure what I expected, but the woman in front of us is not it. For one, she is not in a military uniform. Instead, she has on a form-fitting silver dress and a zaybear fur cape fastened by a thick gold chain. She is a little taller than Aeri, which makes her quite tall. I think she’s probably forty years old, maybe a few years younger but battled-hardened. Her dark, curly hair is swept up and likely shoulder-length when it’s down. Her features are Khitanese, which is a mix of the indigenous people of the continent and the descendants of those who came over long ago from the Outer Lands. And there’s probably a touch of Yusanian in her lineage, too, judging by her cheekbones.

“I know… It is odd to have a female general, but that is how they do things here,” Ambassador Zeolin says with a sigh.

“Would you do us the honor of introducing us?” Aeri asks.

“Of course,” he says. “Our seats are at the same table.”

Pride and status ring in his voice. Aeri rolls her eyes when he can’t see her. I suppress a laugh.

We follow the ambassador as he glad-hands everyone we pass. Aeri and I look around. Because our cover stories have us just arriving in Khitan, we are free to gawk. The fashion here is far simpler than what I wear, so I am stared at more than usual. But it feels different. It’s hard to explain, but there isn’t the hunger, the same feeling of being prey that I’ve grown accustomed to in Yusan. Instead, the crowd is simply curious.

The ambassador relishes the attention. He is Yusanian through and through. They adore attractive courtesans they can use and discard at their leisure. Mikail told me there are no courtesans here in Khitan. Because women can inherit, there’s no need to produce male heirs. Just one rule has shifted an entire society. It makes me wonder what else is possible.

“General,” Ambassador Zeolin says. “May I introduce Yunga and Narissa, both formerly of Yusan.”

She gives us a small smile. “It is nice to meet you both.”

She speaks in perfect Yusanian, although it’s clear from her stiff posture and delivery that she doesn’t love these social events. The general is sharp, too direct for this kind of flattering ball. From far away, she looked slight, but up close, her arms are defined. She’s a woman of action. Mikail said she was the daughter of their naval commander. She rose to outrank her father and relieved him of his duties when she became general of the Khitanese armed forces. Her aura speaks of quiet but unquestioned power.

I part my lips to ask about the queen when someone else calls for her attention.

“I hope you both enjoy the banquet. And I wish you welcome to Khitan,” she says. “Please excuse me.”

Aeri and I bob our curtsies.

That…was it.

We didn’t accomplish much, but we still have the rest of the night. I turn and smile brightly at the ambassador as if I’m thrilled to have met someone so important.

We sit and dine on a meal of goose, califer, which is like caribou, whole spit-roasted boar, and other delicacies. Ambassador Zeolin talks about himself the entire dinner, but I am accustomed to that. Aeri isn’t. She keeps glancing over at me as if to say will he ever be quiet , and it’s all I can do not to laugh.

I’m glad she told me about what happened to her years ago. There are scars we display, and then there are the ones we don’t want anyone to see. Aeri trusted me with the darkest parts of her story, the deep, ugly wounds, and I think she’s more beautiful for surviving them. The darkness makes me appreciate her light.

Yet as the time passes, I’m getting more and more anxious. I look down the table at the general several times, but she is five people from me and constantly occupied in conversation. There’s no good way to get her attention, no means to get to know her.

After dinner is cleared, desserts are wheeled out and ice wine is distributed in gilded goblets. The musicians start—the instruments, of course, are gilded as well—and dancing begins.

My stomach drops. I still haven’t found a way to have a private conversation with the general. I don’t want to tell the others we failed, but as the night wears on, it’s clear that we’ll need to find another time to speak to General Vikal. Every single person in this room wants her ear.

I try to listen in on her conversations, but the ambassador is on my hearing side and constantly speaking. I catch bits and pieces, though. The nobility inquires about the queen and the prince, and the general firmly reassures them of their good health and safety. The queen is popular, which is surprising, given what Euyn and King Joon think of her. But General Vikal speaks with love and admiration in her tone. I can’t tell if it’s genuine or not.

After dessert, we rise from the table for air, and the ambassador excuses himself to use the bathrooms. I stare out the windows toward the palace and sigh. It would be so much easier if we could just arrange for an audience with the queen directly.

I spot a figure at the top of the palace stairs. Two, actually, protected by the portico and a cadre of guards. I squint because there’s a dash of purple. In Yusan, only the royal family can wear imperial red. Here, it’s any shade of purple.

My heart races in my chest as I realize that must be Queen Quilimar. She’s so close, but also a world away.

She holds the hand of a young child who must be her son. He leans into the skirt of her dress, and she picks him up, raising him in the air. Just from that gesture, that second of affection between them, I suspect that what we were told about Quilimar is wrong—at least about her stealing the throne from her son. This is a woman who loves her child.

So, what else was incorrect? People have a peculiar way of believing the worst about powerful women.

“Come, my dear,” the ambassador says, striding up to me. “Do me the honor of a dance?”

“Of course, my lord,” I say, because he isn’t really asking.

I glance at the palace again, but the stairs are now empty. Disappointment and frustration flow through me, but I smile them away.

The ambassador leads me to the middle of the room and puts his arm around my waist, holding me tighter and closer than necessary.

Music starts again, and the steps are easy enough to follow. Madame Iseul taught us many dances in poison school, as we might need them to charm our victims. We learned to dance in the same way she taught us to be good conversationalists and better listeners. To be knowledgeable about the world, in case more than a pretty face was required.

There were very few instances where more was necessary.

I spin around the room with the ambassador. He leans down so we are nearly cheek to cheek, but he wears so much cologne, I think I might faint. He must’ve applied more in the bathrooms. I breathe through my mouth.

“You should see the view of the city from my terrace once the rains end,” he murmurs. “My villa is not far from here.”

What he means is: I am important, and you should sleep with me soon.

“I’m sure it’s spectacular,” I say.

It’s noncommittal but not a rejection—rejecting this sort of man is dangerous. However, it’s not the enthusiastic yes I’m sure he expected.

“I—” he begins.

“Zeolin,” a familiar voice says behind me. The sound makes my blood run cold. Without even turning, I know exactly who it is. I just pray I’m wrong. Perhaps I’m hearing things, because there is no way the southern count is here in Khitan.

I keep my back to him, my spine rigid, as if I can change the stars by avoiding them.

“Ah, Seok! My old friend!” the ambassador says. He speaks louder than necessary because he wants people to know he is friends with one of the most powerful men in Yusan. “I thought I might see you here.”

“And here I am,” Seok says.

My heart hammers my chest, my dress feeling too tight. I want to tear it off and run. Instead, I plaster a placid expression on my face, because I know I’m about to be face to face with Seok. And I refuse to shudder or cringe.

“Yunga, I’d like to introduce you to Seok, the Count of Gain.” The ambassador smiles, wildly oblivious to the tension between us.

“Your Grace,” I say, turning. “It is a pleasure.”

I curtsy to the southern count, not taking my eyes off him. He looks handsome as ever in a black suit and white tie, especially when he’s smiling. And he is smiling as if he’s just met me. His coal-black hair is styled, and his dark eyes glitter as they drink me in. As I told Aeri, monsters can wear such charming masks.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Seok murmurs. “May I cut in?”

“Of course,” the ambassador says. He grins and gestures to me, although his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He was probably going to try to tempt me with more than a nice view. Jewels were likely the new offer in exchange for bedding him.

Seok puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close. My skin crawls and my breath comes in shallow sips, but I do my best not to show it. I don’t want to make a scene here. But I press my lips together, glad I wore poison after all.

“You’re looking well, Sora,” he says as we begin to dance. “I must admit, though, I’m surprised to see you here. You had me fooled.”

“Fooled?”

“I always thought Daysum meant more to you.”

The mention of Daysum sends chills careening down my spine. At the same time, panic floods my mind. I don’t flinch, but I want to. I want to flail and scream like I did as a girl.

“Where is she?” I whisper. My nails dig into his suit jacket. My breathing is rough, my heart thundering. The ringing in my ear is absolutely chiming as I wait for him to answer.

“Ah, you’ve forgotten the terms of our deal,” Seok says. “That’s unfortunate.” He frowns for a moment and then goes back to his unaffected demeanor.

“Where is she?”

I stop dancing, and another couple bumps into us. We all mutter apologies.

Seok pulls me into him, forcing me to keep moving. The way he’s forced me to dance through my entire life. But I don’t even care about him touching me right now, because where is my sister?

“I imagine she’s working at this point in the evening,” he says. “But I don’t keep track of my brother’s affairs.”

The realization hits me a moment later, just as intended. It’s a dagger to the gut, yanked straight up to my heart: he sold her. He sold Daysum to the brothels.

My sister, my only joy, the only good thing I’ve been able to protect in my life, is now fresh meat for wolves.

My face tingles as blood drains rapidly from my cheeks. My pulse thuds like it’s trying to break my neck. My vision spins.

No. Please, gods. Not Daysum.

This is worse than any poison I’ve ingested. Worse than anything I had to watch and endure in a dozen years. Because it is my sister. Because it is my fault. Just as we had freedom within our grasp, I failed her. I was supposed to save her, heal her, protect the only family I have, but I didn’t kill the king, and now she is a brothel indenture. Now she is alive in the deepest hell.

“You should’ve thought about her welfare before you fled,” Seok says. Then he smiles. Actually smiles.

Fury I’ve never felt before builds up in me until it burns. I’ve hated and feared Seok since I was a child, but this is something else. This is molten. Nothing matters more than hurting him. I would burn down the three realms just to see him singed.

I smile, but it’s more of a lioness baring her teeth. My lips shake because I want to kiss him so badly. But I wait. I make myself wait. If I killed him now, I’d doom the others. And a fast death would be too kind for Seok. He will suffer. He will plead to deaf ears.

“And you?” I say, staring into his eyes. “Have you thought about the welfare of your own?”

Seok falters a step—just one. He doesn’t know. He didn’t get my eagle post because he was here and not in Gain. No one has told him about his son.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He’s all bravado, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

Suddenly, I wish I had killed Tiyung. My feelings for him be damned. I wish I could tell Seok that his only heir died by my lips or at the end of my blade. I wish I could watch him crumble.

“He is rotting in Idle Prison,” I say. “ If he is even still alive. For all your schemes, you were outplayed by the king from the start. Tiyung will be tortured to death in there. Or maybe he’s been eaten by the iku.” I force myself to shrug about the fear that’s been torturing me since the throne room. “Either way, I wish you a long life, Seok, now that your title and your bloodline will die with you.”

With that, I walk away.

I make it three feet.