Seconds ticked by, the knife so close the edge of the blade kissed the hollow of her thoat. Her knees ached, and she couldn’t get enough breath into her lungs. It was too much like what had happened to her on the ship when Baat had almost killed her, that wound barely healed a fraction lower on her neck. Panic was creeping up her gut, lodging in her gullet. She couldn’t stay like this much longer.
“You mean the Odo Sedoh.”
“I mean Serapio!” she hissed, near tears.
A shout above them, and Iktan growled out a curse. “It seems you led the Shield to us.”
The Shield? But weren’t they Iktan’s friends?
“I imagine I have approximately twenty seconds before the people in that boat leave, with or without me. You can either stay here and explain to the Shield why you, clearly a lying foreigner, were down here with me, who is very much a spy and, honestly, worse. Or you can climb onto that boat with me and escape. On the condition that you tell me who you are and what you know about the Odo Sedoh.”
“Fuck off,” she spat through gritted teeth as the first tear leaked down her cheek.
Iktan’s smile was a murderous thing. “I will share a secret with you, Xiala, because I find you intriguing, if a little stupid. Carrion Crow are not your friends. They likely aren’t his friends, either. Whatever plans they have for him, they do not include you. So pick, Teek. Come with me and have a chance, or stay and face whatever mercy Carrion Crow might give you.”
Iktan released her and stepped away. She collapsed, hands on her knees and back bent, and when she looked up, xe was gone.
Mother waters, how had she ended up on the wrong side of this? Reason told her Iktan was right and that whatever words she might speak in her defense to Carrion Crow would fall on ears already decided. If fact, she had probably sealed her fate when she naively told the guard Uuna of her identity. She had no doubt she would end up in a dank cell somewhere deep in their Great House to rot until they got around to remembering she was there. Serapio would likely be married and crowned the king of crows or whatever he was by then. If she went with Iktan, it would be a setback but nothing as dire as jail. She could not, would not, go to jail again. The thought made her insides seize with dread.
But to walk away from Serapio when he was alone with those vipers, when he might need her most? She’d walked away before. Could she do it again and still look at herself without shame?
“I won’t leave you, Ser,” she whispered. “I promise it. I’ll come back. Just hold on.” And seven hells, don’t marry anyone.
A shout to halt from above. She’d been spotted. She had to decide now.
She followed Iktan, taking the steps two at a time. She hit the landing and ran, not looking back. Iktan was already aboard, the boat pulling away. She jumped the distance, not needing any aid to board a ship.
“There.” One of the sailors pointed her toward a small seat next to Iktan, well out of the way of the short rectangular sails they worked to cross the waters. She dropped to the seat, heart pounding. Odo faded behind them, the guards who had chased her left behind.
“Wise choice. Not so stupid after all.”
“Now tell me—”
Xe pressed a finger to her mouth and rolled eyes toward the two sailors meaningfully. “Quiet, now, until we’re in friendlier waters. We’ll have plenty of time to chat on the way to Hokaia.”
CHAPTER 13
CITY OF TOVA （DISTRICT OF ODO）
YEAR 1 OF THE CROW
A man divided against himself is profound only in his misery.
—Exhortations for a Happy Life
Okoa stood on the Great House terrace that overlooked the district of Odo and watched the masses come. The yard had been empty when he and the Odo Sedoh had flown back to Tova earlier in the day, but people had begun to trickle in soon afterward, no doubt on the word of their return spreading across the city. More followed with the Odohaa when they came to see for themselves. But it had been hours since Maaka, Feyou, and the others had departed, and still the masses grew. Now they stretched from the walls to the far cliffs that overlooked the Tovasheh, their campfires glowing in the unnatural twilight, their prayers a soft murmuring on the winds that buffeted the Great House.
Are they our salvation? Okoa wondered. Or our ruin?
Soft footsteps behind him had him glancing over his shoulder. Esa had changed out of her formal dress and was wearing a simple black robe that covered her sandaled feet and tied at the waist. Her dark hair fell loose down her back, and her face was scrubbed clean. He turned away.