The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War Trilogy #2)

The Seagrim’s crew operated under a somber silence. Word had spread that Vaisra was badly injured. But no news emerged from the physician’s office and no one dared intrude to ask.

Captain Eriden had issued only one order: to get the Seagrim far away from Lusan as quickly as possible. Any soldier not working a paddling shift was sent to the top deck to man the trebuchets and crossbows, ready to fire at first warning.

Rin paced back and forth by the stern. She didn’t have a crossbow or a spyglass, and in her state she was more of a hindrance than an asset to deck defense—she was too jumpy to hold a weapon steady, too anxious to comprehend rapid orders. But she refused to go wait belowdecks. She had to know what was happening.

She kept looking down at her body to check that it was still there, was still working. It seemed impossible to her that she had escaped an encounter with the Vipress unscathed. The ship’s physician had cursorily examined her for broken bones but found nothing. Aside from some bruising, she felt no serious pain. Yet she was convinced that something was deeply wrong with her; something deep, internal, a poison that had wrapped around her bones.

Chaghan, too, seemed badly shaken. He’d been silent, unresponsive until they pulled out of harbor, and then he had collapsed against Qara and sunk to the floor, knees drawn up against his chest in a miserable huddle while his sister bent over him, whispering words no one else could understand into his ear.

The crew, clearly unsettled, gave them a wide berth. Rin tried to ignore them until she heard gasping noises from the deck. At first she thought he was sobbing, but no—he was just trying to breathe, jagged gasps rocking his frail form.

She knelt down beside the twins. She wasn’t sure whether she ought to try to touch Chaghan. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Chaghan raised his head and took a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes were ringed with red. “She was—I’ve never . . . I never imagined anyone could be so . . .”

“What?”

He shook his head.

Qara answered for him. “Stable.” She whispered the word like it was a horrifying idea. “She shouldn’t be so stable.”

“What is she?” Rin asked. “What goddess is that?”

“She’s old power,” Chaghan said. “She’s something that’s been alive longer than the world itself. I thought she’d be weakened, now that the other two are gone, but she’s . . . if that’s the Vipress at her weakest . . .” He slammed a palm against the deck. “We were fools to try.”

“She’s not invincible,” Rin said. “You beat her.”

“No, I surprised her. And then for only an instant. I don’t think things like that can be beat. We got lucky.”

“Any longer and she would have had your minds,” Qara said. “You’d be trapped forever in those illusions.”

She’d turned just as pale as her brother. Rin wondered how much Qara had seen. Qara hadn’t even been there, but Rin knew the twins were bonded by some odd Hinterlander magic. When Chaghan bled, Qara hurt. If Chaghan was shaken by Daji, then Qara must have felt it back on the Seagrim, a psychic tremble that threatened to poison her soul.

“So we’ll find some other way,” Rin said. “She’s still a mortal body, she’s still—”

“She will squeeze your soul in her fist and turn you into a babbling idiot,” Chaghan said. “I’m not trying to dissuade you. I know you’ll fight her to the end. But I hope you realize you’re going to go mad trying.”

Then so be it. Rin wrapped her arms around her knees. “Did you see? In there, when she showed me?”

Chaghan gave her a pitying look. “I couldn’t help it.”

Qara looked away. She must have seen, too.

For some reason, in that moment Rin felt like it was the most important thing in the world for her to explain herself to the twins. She felt guilty, dirty, like she had been caught in a terrible lie. “It wasn’t like that. With him. With Altan, I mean—”

“I know,” Chaghan said.

She wiped at her eyes. “It was never like that. I mean—I think I wanted—but he never—”

“We know,” Qara said. “Trust us, we know.”

Rin was stunned when Chaghan reached out and put his arm around her shoulder. She would have cried, but she felt too raw inside, like she had been hollowed out with a carving knife.

Chaghan’s arm rested at an odd angle over her back; his bony elbow joint dug painfully into her bone. After a while she shifted her right shoulder, and he withdrew his arm.

Hours passed before Nezha reemerged onto the deck.

Rin searched his face for clues. He looked wan but not grief-stricken, exhausted but not panicked, which meant . . .

She hastened to her feet. “Your father?”

“I think he’ll pull through.” He rubbed at his temples. “Dr. Sien finally kicked me out. Said to give Father some space.”

“He’s awake?”

“Sleeping for now. He was delirious for a bit, but Dr. Sien said that was a good sign. Meant he was talking.”

She let loose a long breath. “I’m glad.”

He sat down and rubbed his hands down his legs with a small sigh of relief. He must have been standing beside his father’s bedside for hours.

“Watching something?” he asked her.

“I’m watching nothing.” She squinted at the receding outline of Lusan. Only the highest pagoda towers of the palace were still visible. “That’s what’s bothering me. No one’s coming after us.”

She couldn’t understand why the riverways were so calm, so silent. Why weren’t arrows flying through the air? Why weren’t they being pursued by Imperial vessels? Perhaps the Militia lay in wait at the gates at the province’s edge. Perhaps they were sailing straight toward a trap.

But the gates were open, and no ships came chasing after them in the darkness.

“Who would they send?” Nezha asked. “They don’t have a navy at the Autumn Palace.”

“And no one in any of the provinces has one?”

“Ah.” Nezha smiled. Why was he smiling? “You don’t understand. We’re not going back the same way. We’re headed out to sea this time. Tsolin’s ships patrol the Nariin coast.”

“And Tsolin won’t interfere?”

“No. Father’s made him choose. He’s not going to choose the Empire.”

She couldn’t understand his logic. “Because . . . ?”

“Because now there’s going to be a war, whether Tsolin likes it or not. And he’s not putting his money against Vaisra. So he’ll let us through unharmed, and I’ll bet that he’ll be at our council table in under a month.”

Rin was frankly amazed by the confidence with which the House of Yin seemed to manipulate people. “That’s assuming he gets out of Lusan.”

“If he hasn’t made contingency plans for this I’ll be shocked.”

“Did you ask if he had?”

Nezha chuckled. “It’s Tsolin. Asking would be an insult.”

“Or, you know, a decent precaution.”

“Oh, we’re about to fight a civil war. You’ll have plenty of chances to take precautions.” His tone sounded ridiculously cavalier.

“You really think we can win this?” she asked.

“We’ll be all right.”

“How do you know?”

He grinned sideways at her. “Because we’ve got the best navy in the Empire. Because we have the most brilliant strategist Sinegard has ever seen. And because we’ve got you.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious. You know you’re a military asset worth your weight in silver, and if Kitay’s on strategy, then that gives us excellent chances.”

“Is Kitay—”

“He’s fine. He’s belowdecks. He’s been chatting with the admirals; Father gave him full access to our intelligence files, and he’s getting caught up.”

“I guess he came around pretty quickly, then.”

“We thought he might.” Nezha’s tone confirmed what she already suspected.

“You knew his father was dead.”

He didn’t bother denying it. “Father told me weeks ago. He said not to tell Kitay. Not until we’d reached Lusan, anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because it would mean more if it didn’t come from us. Because it would feel less to him like manipulation.”

“So you let him think his father was alive for weeks?”

“We’re not the ones who killed him, were we?” Nezha didn’t look sorry in the slightest. “Look, Rin. My father is very good at cultivating talent. He knows people. He knows how to pull their strings. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about them.”

“But I don’t want to be lied to,” she said.

He squeezed her hand. “I would never lie to you.”

Rin wanted desperately to believe that.

“Excuse me,” said Captain Eriden.

They turned around.

For once, Eriden did not look immaculately groomed, was not standing at perfect attention. The captain was wan and diminished, shoulders slouching, lines of worry etched across his face. He dipped his head toward them. “The Dragon Warlord would like to see you.”

“I’ll go right now,” Nezha said.

“Not you,” said Eriden. He nodded to Rin. “Just her.”

Rin was surprised to find Vaisra sitting upright behind the table, wearing a fresh military uniform free of blood. When he breathed, he winced, but only slightly; otherwise he looked as if he had never been injured.

“They told me you dragged me out of the palace,” he said.

She sat down across from him. “My men helped.”

“And why would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” she said frankly. She was still trying to figure that out herself. She might have left him in the throne room. Alone, the Cike would have a better chance at survival—they didn’t need to ally themselves with a province that had declared open war on the Empire.

But then what? Where did they go from here?

“Why are you still with us?” Vaisra asked. “We failed. And I thought you weren’t interested in being a foot soldier.”

“Why does it matter? Do you want me to leave?”

“I would prefer to know why people serve in my army. Some do it for silver. Some do it for the sheer thrill of battle. I don’t think you are here for either.”

He was right. But she didn’t know how to answer. How could she explain to him why she’d stayed when she couldn’t articulate it to herself?

All she knew was that it felt good to be part of Vaisra’s army, to act on Vaisra’s orders, to be Vaisra’s weapon and tool.

If she wasn’t making the decisions, then nothing could be her fault.

She couldn’t put the Cike in danger if she didn’t tell them what to do. And she couldn’t be blamed for anyone she killed if she was acting on orders.

And she didn’t just crave the simple absolution of responsibility. She craved Vaisra. She wanted his approval. Needed it. He provided her with structure, control, and direction that she hadn’t had since Altan died, and it felt so terribly good.

Since she’d set the Phoenix on the longbow island she’d been lost, spinning in a void of guilt and anger, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was drifting anymore.

She had a reason to live past revenge.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she said finally. “Or who I’m supposed to be. Or where I came from, or—or . . .” She broke off, trying to make sense of the feelings swirling through her mind. “All I know is that I’m alone, I’m the only one left, and it’s because of her.”

Vaisra leaned forward. “Do you want to fight this war?”

“No. I mean—I don’t—I hate war.” She took a deep breath. “At least I think I should. Everyone is supposed to hate war, or there’s something wrong with you. Right? But I’m a soldier. That’s all I know how to be. So isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? I mean, sometimes I think maybe I can stop, maybe I can just run away. But what I’ve seen—what I’ve done—I can’t come back from that.”

She looked at him beseechingly, desperate for him to disagree, but Vaisra only shook his head. “No. You can’t.”

“Is it true?” she asked in a small, scared voice. “What the Warlords said?”

“What did they say?” he asked gently.

“They said I’m like a dog. They said I’d be better off dead. Does everyone want me dead?”

Vaisra reached out and took her hands in his. His grip was soft. Tender, almost.

“No one else is going to say this to you. So listen closely, Runin. You have been blessed with immense power. Don’t guilt yourself for using it. I won’t permit it.”

She couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. Her voice broke. “I just wanted to—”

“Stop crying. You’re better than that.”

She choked back a sob.

His voice turned steely. “It doesn’t matter what you want. Don’t you understand that? You are the most powerful creature in this world right now. You have an ability that can begin or end wars. You could launch this Empire into a glorious new and united age, and you could also destroy us. What you don’t get to do is remain neutral. When you have the power that you do, your life is not your own.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “People will seek to use you or destroy you. If you want to live, you must pick a side. So do not shirk from war, child. Do not flinch from suffering. When you hear screaming, run toward it.”