The Girl King (The Girl King #1)(76)

“When exactly is he coming?” she pressed, ignoring his condescension.

“Well,” Red Cap’s friend said. “He hasn’t left the capital yet. But he’ll come soon enough. Everyone’s saying as much.”

Nok and Lu exchanged dark looks. Did this mean he knew Lu’s whereabouts? Or did he simply mean to accelerate the pace of the war with Yunis? Either way, no good could come of it.

“You call it strength,” Red Cap was saying to his friend, “but how can we have faith in a Hana reign if their scion immediately abandons his post? He’s all but leaving the capital to the Hu. The heavens only know what plots his new wife will get up to in his absence . . .”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” his companion assured him. “From what I’ve heard, this younger princess is little more than a child. Soft as down. No father killer like the Girl King.”

Then he spat in the dirt, as though to express exactly how he felt about father killers and girl kings.

Nok grabbed Lu’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said lightly. She whirled on him in mute fury, but he just pulled her closer as though in affection and forced a bland smile onto his face. “This line’s taking too long, darling.” He nodded back at the two old men in a manner that he hoped seemed natural.

“I’m not done,” she protested.

“I think you are.”

When they were a safe distance away, she tugged her arm from his grasp. “You shouldn’t have done that. I don’t need you watching over me.”

“Tell me,” he said, shifting the bag of woolens to his other shoulder, “that there was no chance you were going to hit that old man. Go on. Tell me, and I’ll apologize.”

She glowered at him but said nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, and sighed. “Come on, let’s get back on the road before it gets dark.”



They picked up the horse at the stables, only to discover the town gates were closed, barring their exit. A wagon hitched to three massive, rickety wooden caravans stood in the central roadway, blocking the flow of merchants with their carts and farmers leading oxen. Nok craned his head to better see and glimpsed a row of men, all chained to one another, being prodded into one of the caravans.

“What’s going on?” Lu asked a woman standing beside them. Nok frowned at her—could she go a minute without attracting attention?—but it was too late.

The woman looked them up and down. A live chicken dangled upside down from one of her hands. “They’re clearing out prisoners from the jail to bring to the work camps up north,” the woman grunted. She was middle-aged, portly. The chicken was utterly still save for its yellow reptilian eyes, which flicked beadily toward them. “Good riddance, I say,” the woman continued. “Jail’s full, and they might as well put the criminals to work.”

“But why’s the gate closed?” Nok pressed. Their low profile was a lost cause by now, anyway.

“In case any of ’em makes a run for it,” the woman said, as though he was being intentionally stupid. “They’ll open it back up once they’re done. ’Til then, we can’t do nothing but wait.”

A group of men in matching orange tunics stood at the edge of the road, overseeing the traffic lazily, like well-fed cats watching mice stroll by. Nok’s gut went cold. “Are those imperial soldiers?” he whispered to Lu. He didn’t recognize these particular uniforms, but perhaps they were some rank with which he wasn’t familiar.

Lu’s head whipped around to follow his gaze, but her shoulders relaxed slightly when she saw them. “No,” she said, shaking her head. Her newly shortened hair flicked about her chin. “Well, not really. They’re local police. They must be helping out with this prisoner transfer.”

Nok chanced another look their way. A mistake. Soldiers, police, it made no difference. They were all predators by training if not by nature. And like any predator, they could sense when they were being watched.

The orange tunic closest to them locked eyes with him, then turned to whisper something to the officer next to him. Nok looked away, but not before the first man started toward them.

“Dammit,” he cursed. “They’re coming this way. Walk faster.”

Lu surged forward, pushing into the crowd. Nok grabbed her by the elbow.

“Walk faster, but don’t look like you’re walking faster,” he hissed.

She narrowed her copper-flecked eyes at him. “I hope you just heard yourself,” she muttered. “What do we do?”

“Just . . . act like everything’s fine.”

“Everything is clearly not fine—”

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“Hold up, there,” the orange tunic said, spinning Nok around. Lu stopped beside him, clapping one hand protectively around his wrist, the other still clutching the horse’s bridle. They were blocking the road, but the crowd moved around them, indifferent as a river flowing around a rock.

Not their business, Nok thought bitterly. He couldn’t blame them, though; he would do the same in their position. Would happily trade places with any of them right now.

“Stay,” the officer told him, all lazy, casual power. He lifted the horse’s head by the chin, inspecting its eyes, its teeth, before passing an appraising glance down the lean length of its body.