The moment I rose to my feet, Ruck appeared with a bundled coat of woven leaves tucked under one arm. He met my eyes briefly before his gaze flitted to Mitzy. In one jerky movement, he thrust the coat out in front of her.

Mitzy shook her head no, but as Ruck dipped back to leave, she flipped a hand toward the empty space on the bench. With a shrug, Ruck slid his arms through the sleeves of the coat and shambled over to plop down beside her.

For a moment, I watched rain sluice over the two burly statues and speckle the world beyond. Then I started toward Niako's cabin.

Niako answered the door after three knocks, eyes bleary and curls tousled.

I shuffled back a step, gripping the fingers of one hand in the other. "Sorry, were you sleeping? I can —"

"No, I wasn't sleeping." He propped the door open wider, but his tone was hesitant, and he dipped his head to examine me from under his long lashes, appearing strangely shy — maybe even nervous. "You can come in. I mean, if you want."

I shouldered into the room and drew the door shut behind me. Niako dropped onto the bed and examined his hands in his lap, and I leaned back and fluttered my fingers against the door. Rain tap-danced on the roof, a percussive backdrop as uneven as my thoughts. After bracing myself for another fight, I wasn't sure how to handle the way Niako was acting.

Without lifting his gaze, Niako said, "You are very wet."

I glanced down at the tunic plastered to my skin and the puddle forming below my sopping trousers. "It's raining."

The little crooked smile chased his lips for a moment, and I heard a laugh in his voice. "So it is."

He would gladly give up all his gold in exchange for a smile.

My fingers stopped fluttering, and I pressed my palms against the door. "Niako, about earlier —"

"I'm sorry." He pushed the words out quickly, as if afraid they might stick in his throat. "For.... everything. When they... whipped you, I was... it was..." He swallowed, squinting at his hands as though hoping to find answers written there.

"I know," I said. And I did know, yet hearing him say it aloud lifted a weight in my chest I never realized I was carrying.

Another silence settled over the room, resting more easily than the last. My earlier tension gave way to a relaxed giddiness that strummed through my veins like prak. When thunder rumbled in the distance and rain battered the roof like nails, an unexpected offer slipped from my mouth.

"Do you want to see the Thunderstorm Dance?"

His eyes flitted up to meet mine. "What is the Thunderstorm Dance?"

I stepped forward. "If you stand up and face me, I'll show you."

He raised his eyebrows. I cocked my head, waiting. With another small smile, he planted his palms on the mattress at either side and pushed up to standing. When he swaggered over to face me — posture proud, shoulders squared, and hips loose — a delicious warmth lit me up inside. So even as my mind prepared to perform the usual rendition, my body made other plans.

My body decided the Thunderstorm Dance should be sexy.

"Lightning come get me, I won't frown" — shimmying my shoulders suggestively

"Light me up and strike me down" — sweeping up an arm and then folding at the waist

"Thunder roll through me, I won't fuss" — gyrating my hips with a thrust on each beat

"You might scare me" — hands on my chest

"But you can't scare us!" — hands on Niako's chest

His eyes flicked down to my hands and then up to my face. "Well, that... that was..."

"That was what?"

"That was adorable."

My hands dropped to my sides. "You're mocking me."

"No, Toom. I'm not."

I studied his face. He was smiling, but his gaze looked distant. Almost sad.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, "Except that I am completely in love with you."

My heart tripped into a freefall as I stared at him. The warmth now spilled over me in excessive quantities, overriding every body function. When I finally managed to speak, my voice was breathless.

"And is that so wrong?"

He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug belied by the biting of his lip. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"I don't think it's wrong at all."

Then I pushed him back against the wall behind him and covered his mouth with mine.

As his soft lips yielded and reciprocated, every point of contact between us sizzled. His hard thigh between mine. His warm, dry chest against my wet one. His hands trailing up my shoulders to cradle the back of my neck.

Through the steam fogging my mind, I belatedly registered an invigorating development.

He hadn't flinched.

Niako's hands slipped down to my hips. "These trousers are very wet."

"They are."

"I should probably take them off."

I managed to choke out, "You probably should."

His fingers deftly unbuttoned the pants and peeled the wet fabric down to my knees. Then he lowered himself down one knee at a time in the same steady, deliberate manner with which I had kneeled before him the day I washed his feet.

When his hands settled on my thighs, he paused.

"Toom, I've... never done this before."

A shamefully large part of me wanted to encourage him onward, but an even larger part of me did not want him to feel any pressure. "You don't have to do it now. Or ever."

"I want to do it. I just don't want you to be disappointed."

I released a breathless laugh that slipped into a groan halfway through. "I'm pretty sure that's not going to be a problem."

His hands slipped under my shirt to splay over my slick abdomen, and my muscles flexed beneath his light touch. When he leaned forward and I felt the brush of his lips, I gasped.

He pulled back. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"Ha. Remember after the Day of Challenge when you asked whether I could defend myself if you decided to kill me?"

He lifted his gaze, and the sight of his eyes on mine as he kneeled before me threatened to push me overboard. Neutrally, he said, "I remember."

"Right now, you have me completely at your mercy."

Niako huffed a laugh, and his breath puffed over my exposed skin. "Toom, I just told you I love you. We can probably stop talking about killing each other."

* * *

The next morning, aggressively bright sunlight battered the ship, blending fine features just as much as the rain had the night before. As the sun crawled directly overhead, we passed through the river delta into the endless teal canvas of the Paksha Sea. And when the sun folded back into the horizon, a pot-bellied Trogolese began to strum a twangy stringed box.

Lan hunkered down next to the musician and began to whack out a rhythm on the middle of his own stool. The musician acknowledged the uninvited addition with a head tilt and shrug, the closest thing I had seen to Trogolese approval.

An impromptu crowd soon gathered on the main deck, and jovial chatter punctuated the plucky tune. A few Trogolese even engaged in conversation with Najilans, though they maintained a judicious distance. Then Trebalda stepped up onto a platform just above the deck, and the conversation and music faded as everyone turned to hear what she would say.

A wind sifted through Trebalda's puffy black hair and ruffled the sleeve tucked into her waistband. With shoulders back and chin held high, she appeared larger than life. Unstoppable.

"As you all know, we will dock tomorrow morning on the border of Fooja and Rakim, where our Fooja representatives will regroup with their forces. As Rakim begins the Day of Blessings celebration the following evening, Fooja will enter Rakim from the south while Bund, Busk, and Kulas attack in the northeast. Rakim will finish their ceremony by celebrating with prak, and that is when we will strike the colosseum. In just two days, Najila will be ours."

A raucous cheer broke out across the crowd. Near the center, a Trogolese man called out, "And tonight, we celebrate by drinking?" Murmured agreement rippled over the crowd.

Trebalda tilted her head down and covered her face with her hand. But when her hand dropped away, a reluctant smile flitted across her lips. "Moderately, please."

An even louder cheer rattled my eardrums, and within mere seconds, barrels cracked open and liquor splashed the bottom of mugs. Then the drinks passed from hand to hand through the crowd, slopping dark liquid onto the wooden floor. Rona lifted a drink toward me, and the potent odor burned my nostrils. I waved the drink away with a smile.

"Here's to the one true queen of Najila," a voice rang out above the hubble.

Beside the platform, Alaski chimed in, "A queen who will free the slaves!"

"A queen who will forge peace with Trog!" Rona belted out near my side.

And then, even louder than the rest, a man cried, "The Three-Legged Lion who will lead us all to victory!"

A roar of approval ended with mugs meeting lips and the recommencing of the music. As the bodies around me began to sway in time to the beat, my eyes caught on Niako at the outskirts of the crowd. Ignoring the occasional elbow jostling me, I watched him chat with a Trogolese man, stance relaxed, gestures fluid, and white teeth catching the moonlight. But when I spotted Zaria edging toward him, I cut through the crowd.

I reached Niako just before Zaria did and planted myself between them facing her. Zaria dropped back a step and inclined her head with a sigh.

"Don't worry, Prince Toom. Her Majesty Queen Trebalda already informed me that if I so much as touch Niako again, she'll kill me herself."

Before I could respond, Niako stepped to my side to address Zaria. "Trebalda told you that?"

She jerked up her shoulders in a shrug. "Does it surprise you?"

Niako's brow furrowed. "It's just not very... logical."

Zaria cocked her head, white-blonde ponytail swinging. "Neither was sending soldiers to retrieve you from Rakim even after you refused to join her."

"I suppose she was rather foolish in that one instance."

"I heard she sent for you five times." Zaria propped her fists on her hips. "I don't understand. If you don't approve of your family's actions, why did you refuse to leave?"

"Because I didn't deserve her." The words spilled from him like an overflowing mug. "I couldn't understand why Trebalda loved me. I never did anything for anyone. And if I had gone to her tribe, I would have only been a burden."

For a breathless moment, Zaria and I both stared at Niako. When Zaria spoke again, her voice was soft. "Niako, you may have... accidentally... given the entire nation the wrong impression. I don't think even Queen Trebalda knows you stayed in Rakim not because you didn't care but because you did."

Niako raised his eyebrows. "That's not quite what I said."

Zaria shrugged again, and the jerk of her shoulders now felt like an apology. "But it's what you meant."

Niako shook his head and parted his lips to respond, but I cut him off by squeezing his forearm. "Where is Trebalda?"

He dipped back a step to scan the crowd. Then he snagged my hand and dragged me away from everyone.

"You're right," he said as soon as we were out of earshot from the now riotous gathering. "It's not like her to disappear like this."

"Where do you think she could be?"

He jerked on my hand, pulling me toward the cabins. Inside the corridor, he rapped on the first door. "Trebalda?"

When silence greeted us, he tugged my hand again. I followed him through the corridor to the top deck and back to the bow of the ship. With each step, his clasp on my hand grew tighter.

Then, at the stern of the ship, the moonlight silhouetted a lone statuesque figure. Her loose shirtsleeve rippled in the wind as she gazed out at the sea behind us.

I started toward her, but Niako yanked me to a halt. And then I noticed her shaking shoulders.

The movement was slight, more a repressed tremble than a convulsion, but Niako's entire body froze and eyes widened. He whispered, "Trebalda?"

Trebalda's shoulders stiffened and then drooped, followed by a single brusque sniffle. But when she turned toward us, she appeared utterly composed.

"Hello, Niako. Hello, Toom. Am I needed for something?"

I glanced at Niako, but he only stared at Trebalda. I cleared my throat. "Are you alright, Chief?"

"Yes, of course, I'm..." Her voice trailed off as she met my eyes. After three beats of silence, she jerked her head once to each side. "I'm fucking terrified."

Dread crept into my chest. "Do you fear we will lose?"

"I..." She hesitated, gaze trailing the distant shoreline over her shoulder. Each crest of a wave flashed silver in the moonlight. "I don't know. The plan is solid, but I worry something will go wrong, and I won't be strong enough to save everyone."

For a moment, I pushed my tongue against the inside of my teeth, considering her words. Then I said, "Chief, the Three-Legged Lion didn't defeat the Fallen Gods; the people did. The Three-Legged Lion was only the inspiration, and you've already inspired so many."

Trebalda captured the superfluous fluttering sleeve, but rather than tuck it into her waistband, she simply watched the material fold and twist in her fingers. "They follow me because they believe I am blessed and we cannot lose. But I am not the Three-Legged Lion, and Goddess Rashika did not send me to deliver the people on the Day of Blessings." She sucked in a jagged breath. "I'm just a flawed and jaded woman who happens to be missing an arm."

A silence followed as I contemplated her declaration. Though I knew every word she said was true, I found none of it alarming. Instead, newfound respect blossomed in my chest. I struggled to justify my own reaction and formulate a response.

Niako broke the silence.

"Trebalda... I don't believe in Goddess Rashika. But I believe in you."

* * *

At sunset the next morning, we docked just on the Fooja side of the Fooja-Rakim border. Along the neverending craggy ridge, the border was identifiable only by a towering gold statue of Goddess Rashika, open palms splayed before her glimmering bosom.

I disembarked alongside a handful of others. Mitzy and her two Fooja guards joined to support Fooja's efforts, Lan joined to provide extra protection, and Niako joined because we all knew we would not be able to dissuade him.

On a patch of sparkling sand at the base of the ridge, a gaunt woman with stringy yellow hair scrambled to her feet. She waved vigorously, knobby elbow jerking and wrist flicking. "Mitzy!"

"Idly." Mitzy strode forward to embrace the greeter, swallowing Idly's scrawny frame in her broad one. "Where is Commander Pooj?"

Idly disentangled herself from Mitzy. "He is waiting for you in the lighthouse just down the shore." Then her eyes flashed my way and widened almost comically, perfect circles set into a face of sharp angles. "Prince Toom — er, King Toom — how wonderful to see you! I heard you escaped Rakim, but I didn't dare to hope I would meet you here today."

"I am here, but I am neither prince nor king. I now follow Queen Trebalda."

Mitzy said, "Toom must declare his support for the rising Queen before our captains to clear up any confusion about who will claim the throne following our victory."

Idly gave a deep nod, blonde strands of hair swaying like ropes. "How prudent. The ranks are a bit divided at the moment." Then her eyes slipped past me to Niako and narrowed. "You still have Niako hostage?"

I shook my head. "Niako is here under my protection."

"It turns out we were all wrong about him," said Mitzy. "He is on our side."

Idly flashed a yellow-toothed smile. "Wonderful to hear. In that case, I will lead Toom and Niako to where the captains are gathered while you meet with the Commander."

Her easy acceptance should have pleased me. Instead, I found myself inexplicably unsettled. 

Mitzy trudged down the shoreline accompanied by the two Fooja guards, and Niako, Lan, and I followed Idly inland. The soft sand gave way to packed dirt at the base of the bluff, and the rising rock before us blocked out the sun and sucked the warmth from the air. Then we ducked through a crack in the bluff and climbed a stairway of inlaid platforms carved into the foundation.

In several places, the chiseled rock bore an uncanny resemblance to Makash's face.

At the top of the bluff, Niako and I paused to scan the area before us. Idly flashed a smile, her yellow teeth gleamed gold in the full morning sunlight. Then she flicked a hand to beckon us and set off into the woods.

We wove through trees, damp soil sagging under our feet with each step. Behind us, Lan whistled a breathy, out-of-tune song as he plodded along. As I watched Idly's spry, lithe movements ahead of us, unease prickled my scalp. I looked at Niako for reassurance, but his face was turned away to study the sun through a gap in the trees on our right.

"Where exactly are we going?" he asked. Beneath the polite curiosity in his tone, I heard a barely suppressed anxiety.

As she hopped over a log and started down a slope into a pit, Idly said, "We are almost there. The generals are waiting just a few minutes from here."

I furrowed my brow as cold sweat condensed on my hot palms. "Generals? I thought we were meeting the captains."

When she turned to flash me a smile, sweat dripped from her upper lip. "Did I say generals? Silly me. I meant captains, of course." She tittered a shrill laugh.

The moment Idly faced forward again, Niako and I exchanged a glance. I whispered, "We should get out of here."

And he said, "You should get out of here."

Then the cold sweat broke out over my whole body. Someone else once told me those same words. And then he died.

"I'm not leaving you, Niako."

Idly jerked her head back toward me. I forced a smile and nodded at her, and she turned ahead once more.

Niako pulled closer to me, his profile cutting sharp, grim lines against the backdrop of green and brown. "Lan and I can buy you time, Toom. Run, please. Before it's too late."

But it was already too late.

That second, an arrow zinged past our heads. One startled gasp later, Lan's body thumped against the ground. And by the time I drew my sword, a dozen archers aimed bows at us from across the pit.

"Well, well, well, well, well." The deep sing-song voice carried down the slope and his gold robe of silk swished over the ground as he strode toward us. "Now as King, I really should be preparing for tomorrow's Day of Blessings ceremony — and that pesky attack our sister is planning — but I'm a bit of a sentimental man, so I really could not miss this reunion with my dear little brother."

I clenched the hilt of my sword and glared at him, even as the hideous truth wheedled through my gut and sunk claws into my heart.

We had already lost.

Makash stopped twenty feet from us in front of Idly, shadowing her completely. "Idly, was it? So glad you decided to betray your people to save your own life."

Idly stiffened and staggered back one step. "May I leave now, Your Majesty?"

"Leave already? We barely got to know each other. Tell me one thing about yourself."

Idly's head tilted toward the ground. "Uh... one — one thing about me, Your Majesty? Well, every year on the Day of Blessings, I... I make cinnamon cake crisps. For my children."

He smiled down at her, a twinkling smile so bright the black gap of his missing tooth almost disappeared. "How lovely. And would you like to know something about me, Idly?"

Idly swallowed so loudly I could hear the sound from twenty feet back. "Ye — yes, Your Majesty, of course."

"I fucking hate traitors."

And then he jerked out his sword and sliced off her head.

The body collapsed to the soft underground, spattering the lush green with glistening red droplets. The head rolled down several feet before nestling between a few fallen sticks.

As my gut clenched and bile forced its way up into my throat, a portly guard with a shell of bushy grey hair picked her way down the hill. She passed Makash's side and carefully stepped around the body and head. Silver cuffs dangled from her belt loop slapping her thigh with each step, and burgundy stained one corner of the gold Head Guard badge on her vest. Near Niako, she slid one set of handcuffs from her belt loop and twisted her head toward Makash.

Makash rolled both his eyes and his head in a gesture of impatience, and he flipped his hand toward Niako and then me. "I thought this went without saying, but... you'll need to drop those swords."

With one more glance at the straining bows pointing our way, I crouched to lay my sword near my feet and raised my hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Niako let his sword droop slightly, slipping to the ends of his fingertips.

And then he sprang toward the Head Guard and thrust his blade to her throat.

Makash swiveled toward the archers. "If the Claimed moves, shoot him." Then he paced toward me.

I fidgeted, eyes dropping from the archers to the sword half-hidden in foliage a few feet from me. Perhaps it was better to die here than to accept whatever Makash had in store for us. I drew my gaze up to Niako. Without meeting my eyes, he shook his head no.

Before I could further contemplate, Makash lunged behind me and locked an arm of solid steel over my chest. Cold metal licked my throat.

"Release the Claimed," said Niako, "Or your Royal Guard will need a new Head."

Fabric rustled behind me as Makash rolled up his shoulders. "Go ahead. Guards are quite replaceable."

"The Claimed are even more replaceable."

Makash chuckled, a deep rumbling sound like an earthquake. "Ah, but this one is not, is he? I don't know how I didn't see it before. You'd rather watch him suffer than watch him die, true, but you'd also rather die than watch him die. Wouldn't you, little brother?"

Niako's gaze skewered Makash, body tight with tension. When I jerked against the hold, the vice grip tightened, and the sword pricked my throat.

"Oh, dear fallen prince," Makash rumbled, spilling hot breath into my ear. "I once had such high hopes for you. But don't worry — I don't blame you. Why, even my sister fell under his spell. I won't harm a single hair on your head..." Rough fingertips grazed the side of my neck and threaded through my hair, sending slippery shivers over my body. "Provided Niako does everything I ask."

"Don't listen to him, Niako," I bit out.

Niako's eyes tracked Makash's fingers in my hair, and his throat worked. "What do you ask?"

"You see, there has been a little... misunderstanding, and some in Rakim seem to believe I killed our father. So on the Day of Blessings, you will explain the truth to everyone in the colosseum. You will tell everyone you were the one responsible for his death."

Before I could fully process, Niako responded. "And then what?"

"And then there will be a public execution, of course."

"No, Niako." The blade nicked my throat, but I didn't stop. "Don't do it. He wants you to die as a villain and have everyone think —"

"But what about Toom?" said Niako.

"'Toom,' you say?" A grin crept into Makash's voice. "I thought he was 'The Claimed?'"

Niako drew a slow breath. "If I do what you ask, what happens to Toom?"

"As soon as Trebalda leaves Rakim, Toom will return to his home in Fooja. A peace offering, of sorts." Makash's voice was smooth and cordial — an adult humoring an unruly child. "Unless, of course, you'd rather he die. Then by all means, slice off that guard's head. Anyway, as you said, the Claimed are quite replaceable."

Still not meeting my gaze, Niako lowered his sword and let it flop to the ground. "Alright. I'll do it."

I had never heard Niako sound like that before. Not sad. Not angry. Not afraid.

Empty.

Makash's hold remained tight, blade still pressing my throat. "You'll do what?"

"I'll do whatever you ask."

"You'll do whatever I ask, what?"

"I'll do whatever you ask, Master."

The blade slid a few inches down from my neck, but I remained frozen, drowning in icy-hot horror. And when Makash spoke again, my stomach, lungs, and heart all seized up in protest.

"Good. Welcome back, Silver."