by Mimi Yu
And landed hilt first in Lu’s hand with a reassuring smack.
For a moment no one moved. Then, all at once, a hodgepodge of makeshift and scavenged weapons materialized in the hands of his sister’s people.
“Ay!” Nok yelled, instinctively leaping toward Lu and pushing her sword hand down. “She means no harm!”
He turned to Lu and hissed, “Put the sword down. Down now. On the ground.”
The urgency of the situation, it seemed, had not yet dawned upon Lu. She looked positively livid, though she at least had the wherewithal to whisper as she rounded on him. “This is a four-hundred-year-old sword. One does not throw it on the ground.”
“They do now.” Nok grabbed her by the wrist and her fingers opened. Down fell the sword, impaling itself in the damp earth. “Nasan, call them off. She meant no harm! It was just an accident.”
“An accident?” Nasan was looking at Lu. There was something shivering behind her eyes—a hungry infant thought, clawing its way toward the light of day. Then she smiled, looking pleased as a cat. He knew that look. No good had ever come of it.
“Clear off,” his sister called abruptly. “Everyone back to work, except Lieutenants Ony and Matton. You’re coming with us.”
Two of the others—Ony, and a boy who must’ve been Matton, moved forward as the rest of the crowd dispersed in a flurry of excited whispers. He got a better look at Ony now, small and stocky, with a black plait streaked red and gold falling down her neck and the clever face of the Ungor fox etched upon her arm. She grabbed Lu roughly by the collar and shoved her in the opposite direction—back from where Nok and Nasan had come.
The boy Matton took Nok’s arm, almost companionably.
“Where are we going?” Nok demanded. Matton grunted in response.
“He’s not being rude,” Ony said. “The imperials cut out his tongue.”
Nok looked sharply at Matton, who opened his mouth in an exaggerated manner, waggling a scarred pink stump.
“Oh,” Nok said politely. Matton had no tattoos—perhaps he was one of the ungifted orphans his sister had mentioned.
Nasan led them back toward a large, central tree house. She immediately began climbing, swinging herself up barely visible footholds carved into the trunk. Nok and Lu were taken up in the pulley basket by the others.
As soon as they were safely inside with the door closed, and Matton and Ony stationed outside, Nasan rounded on the princess.
“My brother tells me you’re headed north.”
Lu’s eyes flicked toward Nok. She seemed to weigh her options, but he knew she wouldn’t try for denial or weak deception—it wasn’t in her nature. “We were. What does it matter to you?”
Nasan was pacing, regarding her with wary, calculating eyes.
“My brother also tells me you’ve got no love for our new emperor, this Set,” she said. “Rumor has it, he’s coming up this way with some forty thousand troops to help ‘expand’ the northern territories. Within a month, this whole encampment—our home—will be nothing but a wasteland. The trees fodder for your factories.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Lu asked warily.
Nasan rolled her eyes. “You’re the ‘Girl King.’ Even around here, everyone knows you were bent on being your father’s heir. And I don’t know if what they say is true—that you killed him to take the throne—”
“It’s a lie!” Lu growled. “I loved my father.”
Nasan held up a bored hand. “Frankly, I don’t care either way. What I care about is that you’re ambitious, and you have a chance at overthrowing your cousin. Now, if you’re up this far north, I can only imagine you’re running away, or you’re looking to find an ally with an army. You don’t seem like the type to run away, and the only armies around here belong to the Hana—not a chance they’d back you over their favorite son—and the Yunians.”
Seeing the flicker of surprise that crossed Lu’s face, Nasan smiled. “It is the Yunians, isn’t it? Interesting. You’re more desperate than I thought. You think you can convince them to give you an army if you call a cease-fire and withdraw the mining colonies from the steppe, don’t you?”
Lu frowned, reluctant to give Nasan anything. “And if I am?”
“I can help you get there,” his sister said, dangling the bait. “If you can help us keep our home.”
Lu stared, expressionless. “Why not just turn me in to my cousin? Try to barter for your lands in exchange for me?”
Nasan snorted. “My brother here tells me that raid on the labor camps a few months back made waves in the capital, yes?”
Lu nodded.
“That was us. Me.”
“What does that have to do with selling me to my cousin or not?” Lu’s voice was light, but Nok could tell she was impressed.
“Princess, we killed twenty soldiers and made the administration in Bei Province—including your cousin—look pretty foolish. They know it was us; they’re too embarrassed to admit it publicly. I don’t think Emperor Set’s going to forgive us anytime soon. Plus,” she said with a shrug, “I don’t trust imperials.”
“I’m an imperial,” Lu pointed out.
“Yes.” Nasan grinned. “But you’re the imperial that happens to be in the palm of my hand. Right now? You live or die at my say. That tends to make people compliant. It would take a little more work to get that kind of control over your cousin.”
Lu glanced at Nok. For a moment, he saw a glint of uncertainty in her eyes. She was wondering where he stood. This was his sister, after all.
“Look,” Nasan said impatiently. “Like I said, you haven’t got much of a choice, here. I told you what I’m after, now you tell me what you want. I help you, you help me. Simple.”
“What makes you think we need your help?” Lu said guardedly.
“We captured you, didn’t we?” Nasan demanded. “That means half an army of trained imperials can, too. And there’s a lot of them between here and Yunis. Smarter than the men that were bringing you up this way, that’s for sure. I know which routes to take to avoid their encampments and which passes in the steppe are unguarded.”
“We have a map,” Lu countered. “With that, and a little sharp thinking, we—I can manage.”
“It’s not that simple,” Nasan said flatly. “There’s a reason no one’s seen a hint of the Yunians for the last seventeen years. No one finds Yunis unless Yunis wants to be found.”
Nok felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, as though his body sensed a secret, a hidden danger that his mind did not yet perceive.
“What makes you so sure you can find it, then?” Lu asked immediately.
“I’ve been there before,” Nasan replied simply, letting the words hang in the air before she continued. “The city didn’t fall, you know. They just hid.”
“So why’d they show themselves to you?” Lu demanded.
Nasan shrugged. “The ties between Yunis and the Gifted go back thousands of years. Our altars to the beast gods were kept in the city. Of course, we lost contact with them after you lot went to war with them and burned the city. But I guess they heard about us, our group here.” She gestured about as though to indicate the camp. “One day, they sent a messenger to me. He brought me to the city gate and told me to wait. Then, he brought us some supplies—medicine, food, that kind of thing.”
“So,” Lu said impatiently. “You know where the city gate—the real gate—is, then. Tell us, and in exchange, when I win my throne, I give you and your lands protection.”
“Thing is, the gates of Yunis aren’t the easiest to find, direction-wise,” Nasan said with grimace. “I can’t just tell you where they are.”
Lu rolled her eyes in a rather unregal manner. “I thought you said you knew? I imagine the direction is north, for starters.”
Nasan shook her head. “Don’t think north. Think up.”
“Isn’t north the same thing as up?” Nok said. “On a map, at any rate.”
“Not ‘up’ as in that w
ay,” Nasan replied, gesturing with an arm in the vicinity of north. “ ‘Up’ as in …”
She pointed up to the ceiling. To the sky.
Lu barked out a laugh. “Is this a joke?”
“I’m deadly serious,” Nasan said. “I know you Hu lost the old magic, but it’s still common as ice up north.”
“So,” Lu said doubtfully. “How do we get there? Fly?”
Nasan rolled her eyes. “It’s not quite like that. When you get to the gate, you have to be invited in. The place where the Yunians have hidden the city … it’s like, we’re here, right? And there are the heavens above us. Well, there’s a space called the Inbetween.”
“And that’s where Yunis is,” Lu finished for her.
“That’s where Yunis is.”
“Have you been in?” Lu pressed.
Nasan shook her head. “Like I said, only to the gate. They come out to see us when they want to meet.”
“Then how do we get them to let us in?” Lu demanded.
“That’s up to you to figure out,” Nasan said blithely. “I just said I’d show you the way.”
“You’re asking a great deal in return for what amounts to mostly talk.”
“Look,” his sister said. “You don’t get what you want, neither do I. Do we have a deal, or not?”
Lu watched her through narrowed, reluctant eyes. Then, she nodded. “We have a deal.”
Nok sighed as the two girls shook on it, not sure whether to feel relieved or wary.
CHAPTER 28
The Inbetween
Nasan turned Omair’s map over in her hands. She frowned and squinted at it.
“It works better if you look at it right side up,” Lu told her, fighting to keep the impatience from her voice.
“The route you two chose was pretty inefficient,” Nasan replied, ignoring the comment. “You must have walked east for three days straight at the Keian Bend, then doubled back again. Stupid.” She folded the map up and handed it back.
Lu slid the folded paper into her satchel and tried not to bristle. “We had to stay off the main roads,” she pointed out. “We chose safety over speed.”
“Should’ve shot for a little less of one, a little more of the other,” Nasan said. “All in all, it looks like you added a good week or more to your travels.”
Lu bit her tongue. They’d done what they had to do, but she couldn’t argue that they were making slower progress than she’d like. As it was, they’d had to spend two extra nights at the Gifted camp to let Nok heal and rest.
They had set out three—maybe four?—days ago from Nasan’s camp. Lu frowned. Time was running together in her head, blurred by the monotony of the trail they struck. Lu had started out the journey trying to track the roundabout route Nasan led them on, but with no way to write it down, she found herself forgetting more and more of where they had begun. It worried her a bit. She didn’t think the girl would betray them—she was Nokhai’s sister, after all—but she didn’t like the loss of control.
Each morning, the three of them rose early, fetched water if a creek was nearby, or otherwise took tiny sips from their skins until they found one. After an all-too brief breakfast of smoked squirrel and stale hotcakes, they were on the road again.
At night, they kept their fires small and discreet and took turns keeping watch in rotation: Lu, then Nok, then Nasan. They slept little, no more than they strictly needed. Most of their time was spent walking.
It was dull going, Lu thought as they trekked down yet another nondescript hillside scattered with stands of towering pines and eucalyptus. An old, narrow goat path—probably created by a Gifted Kith for their livestock long ago—helped them to pick their way through the parched, tall yellow grass here.
Lu spotted a rust-colored rodent darting in and out from one of the burrows that dotted the path like pockmarks. It was slight, no longer than her forearm, with a sweet face like a kitten’s, but it followed them so persistently and with such keen, brazen eyes that she started pulling out her bow until Nok assured her it meant them no harm.
“Just a weasel. They’re curious is all,” he told her.
She frowned doubtfully but re-slung her bow and asked, “Did it dig all these holes by itself?”
“These holes?” He pointed to where the little creature had disappeared. “No, those are from ground squirrels. The weasels move into the abandoned burrows.”
“How do you know so much about the animals around here?” she asked, falling into step beside him.
“I don’t know much about this particular kind of weasel,” Nok replied. “But there were similar ones along the autumn route our Kith took, through the steppe.”
It was the first time she had heard him speak so freely about his childhood home, and his words conjured a memory of her own: “You told me,” she said. “When we were children, you told me about those weasels. You said sometimes the older children would make a game of catching them with their cauls.”
To her astonishment, a smile split across his face. “I remember that,” he exclaimed. “You asked if they were good eating, and I said I didn’t know, because no one ever caught one, far as I saw.”
His words flooded her with effervescent warmth. It churned in her, then burst forth as a laugh. It wasn’t funny, but that didn’t matter. It felt like weeks since she’d had anything to smile about.
“Ay, lovebirds! Keep it down!” Nasan’s voice came unexpectedly close and loud. Lu jumped as the other girl cackled in her ear. “Thought you were supposed to be a skilled hunter, Princess,” Nasan said smugly. “That’s twice I’ve snuck up on you.”
Lu huffed in annoyance. “I was distracted.”
“Yes,” Nasan agreed. “By my brother.”
“If you tried even a little, Nasan, I bet you could be less of a pain,” Nok muttered, face flushing.
“I’m sure I could,” Nasan agreed amiably. “But what would be the fun in that?”
Lu took the first watch that night, sword unsheathed across her lap. Sleep came reluctantly to her lately, and when it came at all it was marred with dark, bloody dreams.
The wood was silent save for the even breathing of her sleeping companions, and the whine of the occasional mosquito. As they drew higher into the Yunian foothills the air had grown chillier—hard on their fingers and toes, but making for far fewer insects. It was an exchange Lu was glad to make, at least for now. She might be less glad of it if it got any colder.
“Hey.”
The voice came soft beside her. Instinctively, her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, but her fingers fell away when she looked through the dark and saw Nokhai’s face, wan and starkly shadowed in the moonlight. The worry of danger passed, but her heart quickened anyway.
He closed the distance between them and sat, near enough that she could feel the warmth of him radiating through his wool tunic. “You should sleep,” she whispered.
“Can’t.” He didn’t sound too concerned, though.
“Not surprising,” she said carefully. “You must have a lot on your mind.”
It was hard to know how far she could wander into his thoughts before he pushed her back out, but tonight he just shrugged. Let her stay.
“That’s one way to put it,” he said.
A pale slash of his face was visible in the moonlight, just enough that she saw the smile quirk quick across his mouth.
“I can’t help but feel like all of this means something, you know?” she said. “You finding your sister like this. It feels like …”
“Fate?” he said.
She looked sharply at him to see if he was mocking her, but the black pools of his eyes were wide and open. Earnest.
“Yes,” she said, her mouth dry. “Fate.”
She moved closer. He watched her with quiet interest but didn’t object, so she pressed her shoulder to his. She felt his breath puff against her cheek, in the shell of her ear, waiting for her lips to seek his. She didn’t make him wait long.
He kissed
her back. She pulled him closer, surprised at the hunger with which he met her. He touched her, just below her ribs, then his hand jerked away when he realized what he’d done.
“Sorry,” he whispered, the words warm against her lips.
She shook her head, making a wordless sound of frustration as she guided his hand back to where it had been. He opened his mouth in surprise and she covered it with her own.
A ways off, Nasan snorted and mumbled something blearily. They froze, but she lapsed back into deep, even breaths.
“Do you think she’s really asleep?” Lu murmured.
“Nasan?” He pulled back and made a face. “Do we have to talk about my sister right now?”
Lu laughed, nudging his chin with her nose before burying her face against the heat of his neck. “She doesn’t seem to like me much.”
He stiffened. “Did she say something?”
Damn. “No,” Lu said quickly. “No, of course not.”
“Not everything is about you,” he told her. He pulled back, the cold of the night air quickly filling the void left by his body. “Nasan’s been through a lot.”
“I know—”
“You don’t,” he cut her off. “You can’t.”
Lu pursed her mouth and stared at him, but he either didn’t notice her gaze through the dark or refused to meet it.
Later, bedded down sleepless on the cold ground, she would think: He is a boy covered in hidden wounds. Each time she thought she had figured out how to safely embrace him, her fingers probed across his skin and found a new break.
Two days later, Nasan halted their trek to tell them unceremoniously, “There’s a lake over the next ridge. The gate is along its shore.”
“You’re certain?” Lu pressed.
“Of course,” Nasan retorted, clearly offended. “I know where I’m going, Princess. Don’t expect to see much, though. Like I said, Yunis only appears when it wants to.”
Lu rolled her eyes. “So you’ve mentioned a few hundred times.”
