“I will. But not for you or your twin. The only way to stop the torture and persecution of Grisha is by locating those khergud laboratories.”
Ehri plucked a string on the khatuur that rested on the tea table. “We have a long road ahead of us, and none of us can make the trip alone. Let’s not waste the journey arguing. We have all suffered losses.”
Mayu rested her hand on the pommel of her talon sword. “What have you lost, Ehri?”
Ehri’s eyes were sad. “Don’t you know, Mayu? My sister.”
At that moment, fireworks burst over the city skyline in two bright showers of blue and gold. Ravka’s colors.
“That’s the signal,” said Tamar. “Queen Makhi’s messenger is on the move.”
* * *
It was said that no one knew all the secrets of the palace at Ahmrat Jen, but the Tavgharad knew more than most. There were hidden entrances for the use of both guards and members of the royal family, secret chambers where royalty could be watched over without being disturbed, and of course, secret exits in case of emergency or uprising.
Mayu led Tamar and Ehri down a hidden staircase to a tunnel that ran beneath the gardens, then emerged beyond the palace walls—or what had been the palace walls. The blight had struck here. This part of the garden and the orchards looked like the remnants of a blast site, but it felt like an old mine that had been worked until it had been stripped down to nothing, a place bled dry of any sort of life.
“What is this?” asked Ehri. “What’s causing it?”
“An enemy for another day,” said Tamar. “Keep moving.”
They followed her down a low slope into the plum orchards, where a coach was waiting, and climbed inside. Tamar spoke to two men on horseback. They were dressed as peasants but carried revolvers.
“To the queen,” Tamar said. But before Mayu could get a better look at the riders, they were off at a gallop, tearing across the fields.
Though the roads near the royal palace were all well maintained, to avoid attention the coach traveled on back-country cart tracks, jouncing with every rut and bump. Mayu and Tamar were both used to hard travel, but even in the shadows of the coach, Mayu could see the princess was miserable.
In her head, Mayu counted the miles of road, seeking landmarks in the dark. If the map in her head was right, they were headed toward the valley of Khem Aba. It was mostly known for farming and ranching, but there might be crags and canyons where someone could hide a government laboratory.
The coach slowed and Tamar opened the door, perching on the step to speak to another man on horseback before he rode on.
“The facility is a mile ahead,” she said as they rolled to a stop. “We should go on foot. We don’t know what might be waiting.”
“The airship?” asked Ehri.
“On its way.”
Ehri worried her lower lip with her teeth. “What if we’re wrong? What if there’s nothing there? If my grandmother—”
“The time for doubt has passed,” said Mayu. “We move forward.”
The night was cold and dark and quiet, the only sounds the singing of frogs and the rustle of the wind in the reeds. Mayu was glad to be out of the coach. She felt safer on her feet, ready to react.
A few minutes later, she saw a large structure with a peaked roof.
“What is that smell?” asked Ehri.
“Manure,” Tamar replied.
A low moo sounded from somewhere ahead.
“It’s a dairy,” Mayu exclaimed.
Tamar signaled them onward. “It was a dairy.”
Queen Makhi had hidden this secret facility in plain sight. And her messenger had led them right to the door.
She’d taken the bait. Ehri had made sure to tell Makhi that she’d left Grisha guards to protect their grandmother at the Palace of the Thousand Stars. They knew that threat wouldn’t stop Makhi, and they also knew that she couldn’t use her Tavgharad against Leyti Kir-Taban. They would never raise a hand against a Taban queen, even if that queen no longer sat the throne. So who could Makhi use against a fighting force of Grisha? Soldiers who supposedly didn’t exist: the khergud. To deploy them, she had to get a message to one of her secret laboratories, and Tamar’s scouts had followed.
Mayu could only hope Reyem was behind these walls. There were no obvious guard posts around the dairy, just what looked like a night watchman.
“Are we sure this is the place?” she asked.
Tamar nodded. “That watchman is carrying a repeating rifle. Unless the cows are planning a breakout, that kind of firepower is excessive.” She gestured to the right side of the yard, past the fence. “There’s a lookout posted in those trees.”
Mayu and Ehri peered into the shadows.
“How can you tell?” Mayu asked.
“I can feel his heartbeat,” said Tamar.
Heartrender. Mayu sometimes forgot. Tamar was deadly enough without her axes or a gun in her hands.
“Stay here,” she said.
“I’ve never done anything like this,” Ehri murmured as they waited in the dark. “Have you?”
“Only in training exercises,” Mayu admitted. She was Tavgharad. She shouldn’t fear death. She shouldn’t fear at all. But she’d never seen real combat, never been in a proper fight. Isaak had been the first person she’d killed.
What was waiting behind those doors? And if they were caught, what would she do? The answer came easier than she’d expected. She would fight to the death if she had to—for herself, for her brother, for Isaak who had died for nothing. She tried to summon the focus and quiet her instructors had attempted to drill into her.
Maybe she’d been in the city too long. She was unused to the deep black of the night, the spread of stars above them, the sounds of all this empty space—frogs, crickets, something chittering in the trees. She blew out an exasperated breath. “The country is much noisier than I anticipated.”
Ehri closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “This is what I long for.”
“A dairy?”
“Peace. I always dreamed I’d get to build my own home in the mountains, a canyon where I could place a little amphitheater, maybe teach music. You would have come with me, I suppose. You and my other Tavgharad.”
A silence fell between them, the memory of the women they’d both known.
“They didn’t scream,” Ehri said, a tremble in her voice. “I was the only one who cried out as they burned.” When she opened her eyes they were wet with tears, silver in the moonlight. “Would you have done it? If you hadn’t been in the infirmary and my sister had given the order?”
Yes. If not for Reyem. If not for the debt she owed him. Even now, she knew she was betraying the oath she had taken and that she had lived by—to protect the Taban queen over all others. She was in Ehri’s service, had lived in her household, but ultimately, Queen Makhi was the woman she was meant to serve. Mayu had loved that simplicity, that certainty. She would never have it again.
“I would have died with my sisters,” she admitted.
“And would you have sentenced me to death as well?”
“I don’t know.” Mayu thought of the confusion in Isaak’s eyes when he’d realized what she’d done. He’d tried to tell her he wasn’t the king. But it was too late by then. “I thought I understood death. I’m not so sure anymore.”