The Winner's Kiss (The Winner's Trilogy, #3)(103)

Which was how Kestrel realized that she was plotting something. That growing briar inside her was an idea.

“Kestrel.”

She blinked, then noticed the hurt shape of his mouth. Arin said, “Tell me.” She started to speak. He cut through her first words. “No deceiving,” he said.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Not again. After every thing. Don’t keep me in the dark.”

“Arin, for someone who wants me to tell him something, you’re doing an excellent job of not letting me speak.”

“Oh.” Rubbing a forefinger and thumb into his eyes, he gave her a rueful look. “Sorry.”

“Risha could be a trap. We’ve no proof of her true allegiance, and while I know she cares for Verex, this might only make her firmly on Valoria’s side. This story of the emperor at the Sythiah manor could be a distraction. Worse, it could lure us into an ambush. But I also believe that the emperor would leave the battlefield to stay in a luxurious manor known for its stained-glass windows. He’s let my father fight his battles for two decades. As Verex said, the emperor is here only for show. Valoria is likely to win this war—and given our loss at Lerralen, its path to seize Herran’s city is reasonably easy. Having destroyed some of their black powder helps us, but they still have the greater numbers and their tactical position is strong. Why should the emperor not quit the army camp for a feather bed and a view of the vineyards? It would be like him.”

“Then I’ll lead a small team there. Assassinate him. Death will guide me.”

“No. I have a better plan for how to win this war.”

She told him what she had in mind, then returned to the tent to ask Roshar for his help.





Chapter 38

In the rosy light of morning, Arin raked a fistful of dry grass and scattered the thin yellow blades. Again.

Kestrel, who sat near him, glanced up from what she was doing. She lifted one brow.

So he stopped, he knew it was pure anxiety, that if he didn’t do something with his hands they’d tremble.

Her hands were steady. She dipped a skinny paintbrush she’d made from horse hair, a twig, and twine into the small vial resting on a wide board that had become an impromptu table. A Bite and Sting set lay spread across the board, the tiles all faceup. She flipped four of them and painted their blank backs. The liquid went on clear.

“Kestrel.”

“Almost done.”

“I worry the emperor won’t agree.”

“I think he will.”

“But the stakes—”

“Will amuse him.”

“He’d gamble the outcome of a war?”

“Maybe, for the plea sure of beating me.” She laid the paintbrush on the board. “But he won’t win.” She turned a snake tile onto its face and moved it close to one that she’d painted. She studied the two blank ivory backs. They looked nearly identical, save that the painted one had a slight shine. She lightly tapped the paintbrush’s wooden end against the painted tile. It left no trace. The tile had dried.

Arin’s stomach was a wormy knot. “This game could go badly.”

“That’s why I’m cheating.”

“Even with the marked tiles.”

“It’s a good plan.”

“Yes, but he’ll agree to play only if he believes the outcome won’t matter, even if you win. That is what will amuse him: your expectation that he’ll keep his word. He won’t.”

“All part of the game.”

“If anything goes wrong, he’ll hurt you.”

Kestrel turned away from the board, saw him rake another fistful of grass. It sounded like cloth being ripped apart.

“Not this time,” she said.

Arin smelled smoke from Roshar’s pipe before he heard the prince approach from behind. The sun was going down. The sky looked candied.

“Pretty,” the prince commented.

“Storm colors. One’s coming.”

“I was thinking . . .”

Arin turned to glance at the prince, alert to his quiet tone. Roshar avoided his gaze, but his black eyes were large. Glassy. Arin was about to speak when Roshar cleared his throat and said, “Now is a good time to remind you how generous I am.”

Arin refused to be distracted into a meaningless conversation where Roshar simultaneously praised and mocked himself. He knew what troubled the prince. “Give Risha time. She’ll forgive you.”

Roshar continued as if he hadn’t heard. “The very soul of generosity. You ask for an ally in war, and lo, here I am. I dole out favors. Even to your ghost. She asks, I give. What’s more, I’ve selected five elite fighters to accompany her and my little sister to Sythiah’s manor. Truly, I’m confident that Risha would be enough to keep Kestrel safe, but I thought you’d appreciate the extra protection.”

Arin realized where this conversation was going, and it was as if the storm he’d predicted had already arrived. “No. Wait—”

“A small team is best for infiltrating the manor. Silently. Efficiently. No more than seven people.”

“Eight.”

“Sorry, Arin. You must remain with the army.”

“You can’t compel me to stay.”

“Am I not your commander?”