“Well?” Beta Sinta asks. “What is?”
“Freedom. Choice.” I face the target and throw, hitting the knot again. There are no more knives, so Carver sheathes his sword and goes to retrieve the daggers, returning three to Flynn, three to Kato, and Beta Sinta’s to him. I don’t get to play this time. Maybe Carver’s afraid I’ll stab his brother.
“What are freedom and choice without honor?” Beta Sinta demands.
“What honor is there in keeping me against my will?”
“What honor is there in letting go of an important weapon just because she complains all the time?” he practically snarls.
“I don’t complain all the time!”
His eyes flash silver. “You do!”
My jaw drops, but before I can respond, Kato jumps in. His voice rises, mimicking mine. “I hate this rope. I want bread. There’s no more fruit. It’s too bloody hot. Let me gooooo!”
“That doesn’t sound anything like me!” I punch Kato in the arm. Hard. “And I do hate this rope! And I want bread. And fruit. You people eat meat at every meal, even for breakfast. It’s not normal. And don’t get me started on all that goat cheese!” I make a face because I just can’t help it.
“Cat, you know things, things about Magoi and royals. Things about Giants, and Oracles, and Dragons from the north. Things we know next to nothing about. Plus, there’s your Kingmaker power. You’re very valuable to us.” Beta Sinta flicks his hand toward the birch. “And you’re not bad with a knife.”
Not bad? Not bad! I cross my arms, sullen. “It all comes down to how much use I can be.”
“That’s what it comes down to for everyone. How much use we can be.” Beta Sinta comes toward me until I have to tilt my chin up to look at him or step back, which I refuse to do. His gray eyes are stormy, and a tremor runs through me. It isn’t fear, and it makes me want to squirm.
“I conquered a kingdom and found a treasure.” His voice turns gravelly, low. “I won’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”
A fluttering stirs deep in my chest. Something new. Something strange. I beat it down and turn, nodding to Flynn to get his daggers ready. “Yeah, I get it. You won’t let me go.” I guess I’ll just have to escape.
So why is some small part of me considering helping these people? Sinta has been both a home and a refuge. I’ve watched Sintan faces split wide with wonder and delight. I’ve given advice and seen what’s in a thousand hearts. Most of it’s not bad. I’ve been protected—by Selena, by loyal friends, by Cerberus guarding our gates, by Poseidon when he feels like it. Most Sintans have no magic and no refuge, and the Magoi royals were like Gods. They maimed, struck, killed, and rewarded at their fancy. Sintans didn’t necessarily live badly, but they lived in fear. The takeover has been a source of new hope. For the first time, a Hoi Polloi family is in charge, and the majority of Sintans think that will be better for them.
I can’t help thinking they’re right, and it’s making me sloppy. I keep letting things slip, as if my mouth and my brain aren’t connected anymore. Last night, I told the men all about Dragons. The Fisan royals have Sybaris, a terrifying She-Dragon whose favorite pastime is to chomp mortals. They don’t use her to take over Tarva only because Tarva has Scylla, the She-Dragon’s sister. They’re both magic-bound to protect their realms, but the two won’t fight each other. Generations ago, Dragon use turned into a giant stalemate with lots of huffing and fiery puffing, but no army eating. Most people don’t even remember the Dragons are still there. Sinta had Echidna, the third sister, to ward off the other two. As soon as royal magic wasn’t containing her anymore, anyone with an ounce of sense and some knowledge of Thalyrian history knows Echidna must have flown off to the Ice Plains. Before, everyone had a Dragon. Now Sinta is the only realm without.
“How do you fight a Dragon?” Beta Sinta’s voice is deep and right in my ear. I have two feet of rope and not enough space.
“With another Dragon.”
“How do you get a Dragon?”
“With magic.”
He looks at me, but I don’t look back. My eyes follow the sparks popping from the campfire.
His tone grows clipped. “And if you don’t have magic?”
“Then you don’t have a Dragon.”
My wandering mind snaps back to birches, daggers, and Sintan warriors. “Find me fruit and bread, and I’ll consider being less of a pain. And no more goat cheese!”