“For what? Not wanting me?” She smiled wryly; it stung more than she liked to admit. “You counterfeit it rather well.”
“I’ve had practice.”
She remembered Jodiya at the ball and glanced away. She didn’t have the luxury of regrets right now.
“Are you planning to kill me?” she asked, catching his eyes.
He arched an eyebrow. “I wasn’t-should I be?”
“The Viceroy has condoned my death. It seemed like a wasted opportunity back there.”
“Ah.” He stepped inside and latched the door. Steam drifted off his skin as water dried. “I have no orders to harm you. Not yet.”
“If you want to take the initiative, now would be a good time.”
He smiled. “It would be inconsiderate to wake the house. Besides”-his smile twisted-“I’d rather test my leash as far as I might.”
She swallowed half a dozen questions. Pressing him too far wouldn’t serve her now. Instead she turned, deliberately giving him her back, and fetched her shoes and stray underclothes from the bedroom.
“Will you attend the execution tomorrow?” she asked.
His lip curled. “So I am bid. There will be blood and death to go around this season.”
And likely more than he realized. But warning him of tomorrow’s attack was more leash than she cared to test.
“Good night.” She left him in the dark and returned to her own cold bed.
Chapter 14
The execution began at noon.
Isyllt gathered with the other spectators around the dais. Councillors mostly, she guessed, and other bureaucrats who worked at the Khas. Some observers from the city had been allowed in, and servants lingered on the skirts of the crowd, shifting nervously. The sky was gray in the lull before the afternoon rains.
Asheris stood with the Viceroy and executioner on the dais; Isyllt had never seen him in an Imperial uniform before. His face might have been a wooden mask.
The prisoners knelt on the stone-two men and a woman, stripped to the waist, their hands bound to posts behind their backs. They didn’t speak; one man kept his eyes closed, while his companions stared defiantly at the crowd.
When the last of the noon bells died, Faraj stepped forward to face the prisoners. His voice, however, was pitched to reach the crowd.
“Bai Xian, Yuen Xian, and Thuan Xian-Zhu. You are found guilty of conspiring against the Empire and the Khas Maram and murdering Khas soldiers. In addition, you have been implicated in the destruction of Imperial property, and the attacks on Amina Abbasi’s shop on Market Street and the Floating Garden, which resulted in the deaths of over thirty citizens of Symir. The sentence for these crimes is death. But you’ve been offered leniency if you renounce your allegiance to the terrorist organization called the Dai Tranh, and I’ll extend this offer once more. Will you repudiate these murderers and help us bring peace to the city?”
The woman, Yuen, spat on the stone. The others remained silent.
“Very well.” He turned to the crowd. “Before the sentence is carried out, is there anyone present who would speak, either for or against the condemned?”
The silence stretched, not even a muttered word to break it. But as Faraj drew breath to speak again, footsteps crunched on the gravel path and a murmur rippled through the crowd.
“I’ll speak.”
Spectators cleared the path to admit Jabbor Lhun. Two Sivahri flanked him and soldiers with drawn weapons surrounded them all. The three wore honor-blades at their hips and gray sashes at their waists. A pattern of tiger stripes decorated their bare upper arms-ocher paint on Jabbor’s dark skin, black on his companions’.
Isyllt bit down an annoyed sigh. All their plans would be for nothing if the Tigers got themselves killed or arrested on some foolish point of honor.
Faraj blinked, but recovered quickly. “And who do you speak for? More terrorists and murderers?”
“The Jade Tigers are no murderers and you know it. I speak for the Tigers, and also for Clan Lhun, since we are denied a seat in the House of the People.”
“Clan Lhun may claim its seat whenever it chooses to swear the council’s oaths. You stay apart by your own choice. But why are you here? Do you intend to defend the condemned?”
“I don’t condone the actions of the Dai Tranh when they cost innocent lives, but I know that these people were arrested days before the attack on the festival. If you mean to condemn them, perhaps you should choose crimes they might’ve had the chance to truly commit.”
Yuen Xian bared her teeth in an ugly smile. Faraj’s lips thinned.
“They have admitted their involvement with the Dai Tranh, and the Dai Tranh’s with these attacks. They choose to protect their compatriots and endanger the lives of still more innocents.”
“But their blood won’t undo the damage done, nor heal Sivahra’s wounds, will it?”
“No, but perhaps it can ease the pain of some of the victims’ families.” He raised a hand when Jabbor would have replied. “If you wish to continue this conversation, Mr. Lhun, you’re welcome to bring it before the council. We certainly have matters we’d like to discuss with you. But today, sentence has been passed and will be carried out.”
The soldiers tightened their circle around the Tigers, weapons steady. Faraj signaled the executioner and the man drew his sword. A kris-blade, long and waving; patterns rippled like water along the steel.
The swordsman stood behind the first prisoner, aimed the sword at the valley above the man’s collarbone. Down through the lung, into the heart-it would be a clean kill, at least, if done properly. The watchers held their breath.
Faraj lowered his hand, and the swordsman thrust. The prisoner gasped and shuddered but didn’t scream. A bubble of blood burst on his lips. The executioner twisted the blade and tugged it free. The man wavered on his knees for several heartbeats, crimson spilling in waves down his chest, then toppled over. Blood washed over the dais, seeping between the stones.
The swordsman wiped the blade with a cloth, but rust-colored stains clung in the patterned grooves. He moved behind Yuen and raised the sword again.
And fell with an arrow sprouting from his chest.
Someone screamed and the crowd scattered. Shots cracked from a rooftop and Asheris seized Faraj, hauling him off the dais. A wall of shimmering air enveloped them. Isyllt ducked against a tree trunk, dodging fleeing spectators. Arrows rained with the bullets, but more accurately. A councillor fell in front of her, a feathered shaft through his throat.
One of the soldiers beside Jabbor fell too, his face shattered by a bullet. Another stabbed at Jabbor, but the Lhun woman gutted him before the stroke could land. Cursing, the Tigers fought their way free and ducked behind a row of hedges.
Isyllt crouched, ready to run toward them, but movement on the dais distracted her. Yuen Xian had slipped her bonds and claimed the executioner’s sword. She freed her clansman, then turned on Asheris and Faraj. His shield would stop bullets and arrows, but could it turn a blade?
And screamed as flames encased her. The sword fell with a shower of sparks as she stumbled back and dropped to the blood-drenched stone, trying to roll out the flames.
But an instant’s distraction was enough to cost Asheris his shield. Another pistol fired and he fell.
And Isyllt, cursing herself for a fool, bolted toward him, ducking behind the edge of the dais. Faraj crouched with his back to the stone, face drained ashen.
Isyllt grabbed Asheris’s arm, hauled him into the dubious cover. Blood stained his left shoulder, spreading around the hole in his coat. Sweat glistened on his brow and his breath came short and sharp.
