The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)(59)

I anticipate he will inquire about the city’s fortifications or how best to infiltrate the palace, but he asks me nothing. I shuffle closer to Udug and the bread knife. “What part do I play in your scheme?”

“Mankind has no part,” he says, refilling his wine chalice. “You will all disappear when the evernight devours the lights in the sky.”

“And the bhutas?”

A blue flame flashes in Udug’s pupils. “Only Burners will be offered the choice to serve Kur or perish. His ancestry flows through them. They were born of fire and venom.”

A breath of his foul cold skulks over me. Opal thinks Brac got away from the army. But what if he didn’t? “My brother is a Burner. He’s missing.”

Udug’s lips pull upward patronizingly, an exact replica of Tarek’s condescending expression. “Is that why you’ve come? To find your brother? This is tragic. You came all this way, got that boy Galer killed, and yet your brother isn’t here.”

I lunge for the knife. My fingers brush the handle when a blue flame hits the plate. Cold bites into my hand. I rear back, clenching my teeth down on a howl. My struck fingertips turn white like hoarfrost. I puff out quick breaths to drive away the pain.

Udug pings the wine bottle against his chalice, a summons, and Manas appears. “I’m finished.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Manas jerks me from the tent.

I clutch my injured hand. Why are they keeping us prisoner? The army holds captives for few purposes: to await execution, exploit them for labor, or use them as ransom. None of those options are pleasant. “Manas, you have to listen to me. That isn’t Tarek. He—”

His fist drives into my gut, and I bowl over. He grabs my hair and yanks my head back. “You’re alive because of Kalinda. When the rajah realizes you’re worth nothing to her, I’ll finish this.”

“You can hit me all you want. The truth is still the truth.”

“The truth is you lost.” Manas grabs my tunic and hauls me to the wagon.

The ammunition is nearly unloaded. Soldiers position the last of the catapults in a line facing the wall. The army is hours away from launching its attack, yet no torchlights flicker in the city watchtowers. Where are the rebels?

Two soldiers guard the wagon. One unlocks the door, and Manas pushes me inside. I will have bruises from his handling, but they will hurt less than my frostbitten hand.

“Time for your appointment with my dagger, filth.” Manas leans inside and reaches for Opal. He means to let her blood and weaken her powers.

I slam my foot down on his hand, jamming it into the floor. He groans and tries to pull free, but I knee him in the jaw.

The two guards draw their swords. One stabs at me. I twist away, grasp his wrist with my unwounded hand, and pull down. The man tumbles inside the wagon on top of Manas. Yatin whams his elbow into the side of his head. The soldier goes limp.

The second guard attempts to run, but Yatin catches his neck with his bound hands and slams him into the door. Another guard is out.

I pin Manas to the floor, digging my knee into his throat.

“You’ll suffer for treason,” he rasps. “Rajah Tarek will drop you in a den of scorpions. You will feel the sting of a thousand—”

Someone outside the wagon whacks Manas over the head with the hilt of a dagger. I twist to see a soldier with a headscarf draped over the lower half of his—no, her—face.

Natesa lifts the headscarf. “He was irritating me.” She cuts Opal’s and Yatin’s bindings. He scoops Natesa up and kisses her. She tugs fondly at his beard. “We have to go right now.”

An explosion goes off across camp. Fire and embers brighten the night.

I climb out beside Natesa. “You’ve been busy,” I remark.

“Someone had to get us out of here.” She passes me her second dagger and notices my burns. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

Opal slides out, and Yatin helps her stay upright. We follow Natesa through camp. Soldiers rush about, preoccupied with the fire. A catapult blazes in the distance.

“Is that the catapult we pushed here?” I ask.

“I couldn’t let our hard work go to waste.” Natesa glances over her shoulder at her handiwork. “A little bit of lamp oil, and look at it glow.”

We skirt around a group of soldiers. I pick up a bucket, as though to gather water for the fire, and we leave camp. Opal starts to slow from her injuries, so Yatin carries her. I guide us across the sand dunes to the River Nammu that runs through the city. I toss aside the bucket and hurry down the bank. Natesa and I wade into the river.

The cool, shallow water mitigates my stinging burns. Opal hangs on to Yatin’s neck, and we swim upstream. Guards on the outer wall regularly monitor the river for intruders, but no one calls for us to halt.

We reach the culvert and pass through one at a time, fighting the current into Vanhi. I slog out of the water on the other side of the city wall. A stone walking path rims the riverbank. Past it lies a courtyard, and beyond that, the roadways are cramped with huts. I detect no signs, noises, or smells of the living. Everyone has long fled the warlord.

“Where to now?” Yatin asks.

My sight drifts up to the palace. Whether the rebels are with us or against us depends on the outcome of Kali’s meeting with Hastin. I still do not trust the warlord, but we have a better chance of allying with him than surviving another encounter with Udug. “We’ll use the old mine tunnels to sneak into the palace.”