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“With good reason! For my people to return home, we need Loha to power our Sails. Enough to transport everyone. The Empire has it—the living metal your Masks wear on their faces. I tried to trade for it. I sent messages to the Empress through Ankana, but she refused to negotiate with us.”
“There are other ways to make a life,” Quil said. “Other places you could go.”
Aiz was fascinated at how he battled his rage so that reason might prevail. Something about it made her sad—and disappointed. Even now, he sought calm. Control.
“Are you attempting to treat with me? We’ve scattered your population. Destroyed your cities. Aren’t you angry?”
“My people are dying. Of course I’m angry. But anger won’t help us reach an agreement—”
“If your aunt had traded with us, everything would be different. I offered to show your people how we manipulate the Loha—you hardly understand how to use it!” Aiz’s blood boiled thinking about the patronizing tone of the Empress’s letters. “She claimed to want a marriage alliance—offering you up like a lamb to the slaughter. All the while, she was spying on us and likely hiding your stores of Loha—”
“Thereareno stores of Loha,” Quil said. “We only have the masks our soldiers wear. When one dies, the mask releases and is given to the next. There is no way to give it to you without murdering our own troops.”
Aiz could feel the loathing rolling off Quil. She’d told him about Mother Div so he would understand. But it’d only made him hate her more.
“Is this Return you speak of worth the lives of Kegar’s children?” Quil asked. “Is it worth their hearts?”
Aiz stilled. She hadn’t told Quil of Div’s price. “How did—”
“Answer the question, Tel Ilessi. Are your children’s hearts worth the power that monster is feeding you?”
“I—I didn’t mean for them to—”
“To die for your cause?” At her dismay, Quil shook his head in disgust. “When you sacrifice other people’s children on the altar of your ambition, it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be willing to sacrifice your own. That’s how evil works, Aiz.”
“I had to bend the Triarchs and Hawks to my will!” Aiz burst out. “I had to ensure victory in our early battles with Bula and Armaana. We needed food, Quil. The deaths of a few to save the many is not a trade any should have to make. But I made it, and I will carry that burden if it means my people have a chance at a future. Do not think I take Ruh’s sacrifice lightly—”
Quil’s eyes went flat and despite herself, Aiz took a step back. “You keep his name out of your mouth,” he growled. “Ruh was never yours to sacrifice.”
Aiz’s face burned in sudden shame. There was so much she wished yet to tell Quil. Her loneliness. The hunger within her, the emptiness. Since she’d killed Tiral, that hunger had gnawed at her as if a starving rat had been let loose in her gut. Sometimes, before Mother Div fed, Aiz was so consumed with the hunger that she wanted to tear apart whoever was closest to her to make the feeling stop.
But looking at Quil now, Aiz knew she’d find no empathy. She’d been foolish to seek it out in the first place. She stood tall; the only thing the Martials respected was strength.
“I offered your aunt a chance to save both our people. I’m offering you the same. Give us the Loha and we will leave the Empire.”
“We don’t mine it,” Quil said, jaw rigid. “We don’t know where it came from. I told you that in the desert, and unlike you, I wasn’t lying with every sentence I spoke.”
Aiz looked down at his arms, strong and corded with muscles. She thought of how she’d once forgotten her troubles in his larch leaf eyes. She remembered the hot days and cool nights and his mouth on hers.She wondered if this woman, Sirsha, was his lover now. If she knewhowhe loved, with his whole body.
Aiz wished they could have met under other circumstances. Her, a cleric for a strong people seeking an alliance. Him, the wise prince, open to taking knowledge and offering it.
She shook the wish away. These were the thoughts of the girl she was. Not the Tel Ilessi she’d become.
“That metal came from somewhere,” Aiz said. “You will tell me. Or you will sing your secrets to my interrogators and be grateful for the tongue to do it.”
Quil looked away from her, as if the sight of her disgusted him. “It was better when I thought you dead.”
Aiz sighed. He was a good man. Kind and giving. Worth loving. But naive and hopeful and weak because of it.
In that moment, he lunged at her.
She’d scrambled for the wind, and his knife—where did he get the knife?—was a breath from her throat when she managed to slam him back into the chair so hard it splintered.
Her mind twitched, and with a suddenness that never failed to leave her gasping, hunger took over, worse than before, violent and overpowering. She could not stand it—she would die from it—
Then fullness, rich and satisfying, so pleasurable that she bit her lip so she wouldn’t make a sound.
Div had fed. And Quil was nothing against Aiz’s power. She immobilized him as easily as a child crushing an ant, then whipped his blade away with a rope of wind. “I regret,” she said, “that we couldn’t come to an agreement. Cero.”
