Page 6

ROYO

TOWN OF CETIL, YUSAN

T urns out Mikail was right: we needed to get the fuck out of Berm.

As we ran to the skiff, another soldier tried to stop us.

He faced off with Fallador, spinning and whipping around his nunchuka.

He was pretty good, but he was so focused on showing off that I was able to get behind him.

I grabbed a rock and bashed the guy’s skull.

I’m not sure if I killed him or what, but I pocketed the nunchuka—they’re the nicest I’ve seen.

A bell later and we’re back in Yusan on a small, rocky beach.

There’s a town above us built into the hillside.

This has gotta be Cetil. It’s nothing like Tamneki or Quu—it’s just a sleepy little spot.

Mikail wasn’t kidding when he said it’s real close to Gaya.

I can still see the island and even the walls of the city he called Jeul from here.

He said we’d be safe, but he also said that about Gaya.

I grip the nunchuka hanging from my belt.

I don’t trust this place, even if I trust Mikail.

I can admit I was wrong about him—he saved us all in Khitan. But I don’t trust his friends. We didn’t need new people with us—we already had enough issues.

“What’s this?” Aeri says.

She’s still standing next to the skiff. She reaches down and pulls out a long tube that had been hidden in the side of the Weian boat.

We all move closer as she opens it. Of course she rummaged through the compartments. Once a thief, always a thief. Same as being a liar.

She opens the tube and slides out a long cloth. Inside, there’s a wooden walking stick that’s about as tall as Sora.

Fallador strokes his chin. “What do you think that’s for?”

Aeri stares at the stick and then Mikail. Her tipped golden eyes shift, and she smiles. “I think Wei built this to hold the scepter—to disguise it. It’s the same size and around the same shape.”

Fallador’s eyebrows come together. “Why would they try to camouflage the scepter? Everyone knew they had an unsinkable navy with the relic.”

Aeri shrugs. “For the same reason they had this escape skiff—in case things went wrong.”

Mikail closes his fist around the scepter. He’s been weirdly possessive about it. But then he relaxes his hand and angles it closer to the walking stick. “It is around the same size, but how does the scepter fit in? Is there an opening at the bottom?”

Sora shakes her head. “I don’t see one.”

Aeri feels along the side of the walking stick, and then all of a sudden, it pops open. Just splits in half. She must’ve pressed a spring.

She smiles, delighted. I cross my arms and pretend it doesn’t pull at my heart.

I’m not going to act like I can turn cold to Aeri. I can’t, but I got enough dignity to keep my distance. She’s who she is, and all she’s gonna do is hurt me.

Prince Euyn is dead, and with him went hope.

People don’t change, and neither does the world.

We’re broken pawns on a crooked board in a game we didn’t ask for.

All I want now is to make sure whoever goes on the throne will free Hwan, and then that’s it.

I’ll walk away and be on my own. I’m better off that way.

Mikail studies the thing with his brow furrowed. He slides the scepter in and then closes the case. As he picks it up, it looks like a simple walking stick.

“Incredible,” Sora whispers.

“Now you’ll be able to carry the relic anywhere,” Aeri says, still beaming.

He smiles back at her. “I’m glad you found this.”

We follow Mikail as he leads us to a long stone staircase built into the hill.

When we get to the top, we’re in a cobblestone town square.

Now that we’re up here, I can spot a small harbor down the coast. We could’ve used that, but Mikail probably wanted to avoid us being seen after all the shit in Berm.

He strolls through the square like he knows it, but I guess when you’re a spy, every place feels like home.

It’s nice, though—not as hot as Gaya with lots of shade trees.

But we’re still south of the monsoons, so it’s sunny.

A market, temple, and shops line the square.

The houses in the hills are nice but small.

Mikail stops for a long time at a drinking fountain. His arms shake as he leans down, but then they stop. When he’s finally done, he leads us through the town and up a dirt road.

Fallador has looked over at him a few times. “This is where you grew up.” He smiles. “Where you could see Gaya over the water.”

Mikail nods.

Fallador stares at the island. “I see why you love it still.”

“Our people just need to be shown the truth, and the island will remember who they are,” Mikail says. “I’m sure of it.”

Gambria and Fallador exchange skeptical looks, but neither says anything back.

“Isn’t Gayan history written in their Temple of Knowledge?” Aeri asks.

“There isn’t a temple anymore,” Mikail says. “It used to be in the sacred tree of Alta, but Yusan burned it and the sacred woods to the ground at the end of the Festival of Blood.”

Anger and outrage stab at my chest, and I clench my jaw.

I grab the green temple key that’s still in my pocket, then force myself to let go.

Why am I mad about a bunch of books? It ain’t bread or ale.

Not blood or bone. I shake my head. I need to get it together.

So what if they burned a Temple of Knowledge?

Books are the least of anybody’s worries when men are dying.

Still, it’s a kind of violence to erase the history of a realm. It feels like something was pulled away from all of us, even though I’m not Gayan.

“I heard the temple still exists,” Fallador says.

Mikail turns and eyes him. “That’s not possible.”

I tap the key in my pocket. “Wait. The priest guy in Khitan said the key would work on Gaya, too.”

“You’re right, he did,” Mikail says. “But I thought he was speaking theoretically.”

“There were Gayan scrolls on the Rule of Distance,” Sora adds as we walk. “And that went into effect years after the Festival, right? The temple must still stand…somewhere.”

Mikail’s face takes on that look of his when he’s deep in thought and coming up with a plan that’s likely to kill a bunch of people.

We continue up the dirt road.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Aeri asks after a few minutes. She’s paused next to Sora, who’s now in the back. I can’t tell if Sora is out of breath or they both are.

“A safe place where we can wait until we hear news out of Quu,” Mikail says, slowing his pace. “It’s a little farther this way, up by those olive trees.” He points about fifty yards ahead.

We continue into an orchard. We’re in pairs like we were on the skiff again—Fallador and Mikail in front, Sora and Aeri together, and me stuck with Gambria. I’m not sure who’s got a bigger problem with this—me or her. But I’m not the one who ratted us out to the king’s guard, so she can fuck off.

Bees buzz, and it should smell like flowers and lemons, but it doesn’t.

I sniff. There’s the salt of the ocean and the loam of the earth, but something else is in the air.

It kinda smells like a campfire after you stomp it out.

I don’t know why, but it makes the little hairs on my neck stand and my skin prickle. I don’t like it.

“Just a little more up this way,” Mikail says, looking back at us. His eyes are bright, but there’s something in his voice. He sounds unsure, suddenly leery.

I shift a dagger into my hand, and I catch Sora doing the same. Gambria silently cocks her crossbow.

Yeah, everybody else feels it, too.

We all crest the hill at the same time. Mikail smiles, clearly expecting something nice, but then his jaw drops. There should be a house here, but there’s not. It’s just the charred remains of what had been one.

We circle together, pulling out weapons, and I scan for danger. Gambria puts her bow to her shoulder, but there’s nothing to shoot. It’s quiet. Whatever happened was a while ago.

Nobody’s here.

Still, we move as one because nothing about this feels right. There’s something on the ground up ahead. I’m not sure what it is, so we go slow.

When we get close enough, Aeri draws a breath. It’s a half-eaten donkey. The way the head is almost detached means men killed it, but other animals scavenged from the carcass. Probably those fucking hael birds.

Mikail falls on his knees next to the animal, and a swarm of flies lifts into the air. He looks like he’s going to scream, but he’s silent, his face all anguish.

I look from him to the house and back again. Why’s he so upset? Whose house is this?

A red stain by what had been the front door catches my eye. I draw my nunchuka, wishing I had an axe. Sora is by my side with her blade drawn. Gambria and Fallador stay back by Mikail. Aeri walks halfway to us but stops, torn between staying and going.

Sora takes a deep breath as we creep forward another step. Her other hand has a vial. Probably poison. Seems useless, but I saw what she could do with poison dust in the banquet hall in Khitan.

My stomach clenches as we keep moving, and I grip the nunchuka and my dagger tighter.

One step, another. I think we both expect the red stain to be blood like in the Temple of Knowledge. There’s gonna be a body, or a few of them.

We reach the door, and I see that it’s not blood—it’s paint. The word Baesinga is written in red on what had been the threshold stone. I look around, but there’s just rubble. No people, no corpses. I relax my shoulders although I’m still confused.

“What’s that mean?” I ask. “ Baesinga .”

“It’s an old word for traitor,” Sora whispers.

Mikail lets out a cry so loud, birds take flight. It’s the sound of inconsolable grief and raging anger, and it rattles me to my core. His hands dig into the dirt as his neck arches back. He screams until he doesn’t have air left in his lungs.

It’s the same sound he let out after Euyn died. Maybe worse.

Tears well in Sora’s eyes. Fallador and Gambria stand stock-still.

“I don’t understand,” Aeri says, moving around in a circle. “What happened? Whose house was this?”

“My father’s,” Mikail says on a ragged breath.

Oh fuck.

My stomach twists, and a cold dread like I’ve never felt before hits me. His father didn’t survive this. I just know it. Everything Mikail did to save him, everything we all did, and his father is still gone. Ten Hells. What if all the people we’re trying to save are already dead?