The Girl King (The Girl King #1)(124)

For weeks, she had thought of nothing but reaching Yunis, of reaping an army, storming back to Yulan City wreathed in righteous triumph. That dream had kept her feet moving forward, kept her heart pumping. And Nokhai, with his single-minded desire to free Omair, had been the sole witness to that. Together, their entwined missions had made the dream seem like a reality.

Now her army was lost. And Nokhai was gone.

“I should gather people up for the night,” Jin said. “Will you—”

She waved him off. “Yes, I’ll come help you in a moment. I just need . . .”

He nodded and began to walk off. Then he paused. “Nokhai must have believed in you, as I do. To have fought by your side to the very end.”

Lu watched him go. Nokhai never believed in me. He fought for Omair.

Omair, who would remain languishing in prison. Another promise broken.

If only she could just reach the capital . . .

But the fact remained that she had no army.

Over Jin’s shoulder, Lu saw Nasan helping an elderly woman sit on a fallen log.

Jin might not have an army anymore, but Nasan did. Not an army that was big or strong or well equipped. But a capable one. Despite their numbers, they’d managed to infiltrate a heavily guarded labor camp. And those camps . . .

Lu walked toward her.

The Ashina girl gave Lu’s swollen eye an appraising look. She had the grace not to look proud of it, but neither did she apologize.

“What do you want, Princess?” she asked instead.

“We need to get everyone inside before nightfall,” Lu told her. “Can you help?”

Nasan’s mouth tightened. “Now? Sure. Tomorrow? I need to get back to my own people.”

There it was. “We have a deal.”

“We had a deal,” Nasan corrected cagily. “That deal was, I help you get to Yunis, you get a real army, which you then use to overthrow your horrible cousin and regain the power to grant my people back our land. But I don’t see an army anymore, do you?”

“I’ve seen yours.”

“Yes, and that’s the last you’ll see of them,” Nasan said warningly.

“Set’s dead; we’re closer now than when we began,” Lu pointed out. “And besides, you swore on your honor.”

“Well, the terms changed a little when your crazy sister put a split in the world and broke an entire plane of existence.”

“I thought you wanted to protect and help your people,” Lu said with exaggerated surprise.

“I certainly do,” Nasan replied flatly. “My people. These aren’t my people.”

“Nokhai—” Too late, she realized she should not say his name so soon, but Nasan barely flinched. Lu surged on. “Nokhai told me that the Gifted never saw themselves as unified, as one. But the way you live with your people, you call them all your own, no matter the Kith from which they came.”

“Of course.”

“And so, if no god or tradition or name binds you, what does?”

Your title, your station—your very existence—is built on the subjugation, on the suffering of others.

Nasan frowned as though she saw where this was going. “We all suffered the same under your empire.”

“Exactly. These Yunians are no different.”

“It is different,” Nasan persisted. “These people . . . they can’t—they aren’t Gifted.”

“Neither are you,” Lu said boldly. “Not anymore.”

“We might’ve been. Nok was a Pactmaker. But he’s gone now, isn’t he?” the Ashina girl snapped. “You let him die.”

I lost him, too. But Nasan would not understand that; she didn’t want to. Lu squared her shoulders. It was fine. She could let the other girl have that much. “We are not talking about what might have been. We are talking about what is.”

Nasan’s black eyes narrowed. “You still don’t have an army. That’s what is.”

“I still have my claim,” Lu said, threading steel through her voice. Don’t let her see you blink. “And I know you want that land. I can still give that to you once I’ve reclaimed my throne.”

“That land is ours by right.”

“And I’m sure whoever ends up pulling my sister’s strings would be happy to grant it back to you if you ask nicely.”

The other girl’s mouth set in a tight line. “My people alone won’t be enough to win against the imperial army.”

“No,” Lu agreed. “But your people are capable of infiltrating and liberating labor camps, are they not? You’ve done that before.”

Nasan scowled. “What’s your point?”

“How many people would you say each camp holds?”

Understanding flickered to life behind Nasan’s eyes. “Those people aren’t warriors,” she protested. “Most of them are half-dead with starvation or disease. I don’t know what they tell you in Yulan City, but slaves aren’t exactly coddled.”

“How many?” Lu repeated.

“In each camp? On average, a few hundred, give or take.”

“What about the largest? Camp nine, say?”

“A thousand. Easy. But like I said, they’re no soldiers.”