Page 29 of Vilest Things
She doesn’t need to add her silent follow-up, but it is heard nonetheless. Her hunger soaks into the air between them. It was there when she realized how easily Leida had jumped into the body of a guard standing on the other side of the meeting table. It was there when she watched the chaos that erupted in a few short seconds when there was no burst of light, when everything their kingdom knew was upended as those present merely imagined what Leida might be capable of doing.
Who taught you, Leida? How do I learn it too?
“Forget it, Your Highness,” Leida says. “Put me back in my cell.”
“If you want to do good, let me help.”
Leida chokes out a short laugh. Despite the sound, her expression is furious.
“You, helpmeto do good? Do you take me for a schoolchild? You are a Tuoleimi. You are one of the two bloodlines whose foot has been heavy on the neck of this kingdom for centuries.”
“And hasn’t that puzzled San-Er for years now?” Calla fires back. “I was next in line for Talin’s second throne, and I destroyed it.”
“You are no better than the others just because you didn’t like your parents—”
“Jump into me, Leida,” Calla interrupts. “I know you’re thinking about it.”
Leida stills, her arms easing lax. She must suspect a trick. The room is dark despite the hour, the curtains draped across most of the alcove window. It allows for no signal of day or night, allows in no wind or pitter-patter of rain. The in-out of their breaths is the only way to track the passing time. The faint creaking of the floorboards down the hall is the sole confirmation that the rest of the palace continues moving.
A brush of nausea crosses Calla’s chest. It twists her throat. Sours her tongue. Then, it’s gone. She watches Leida play through a myriad of expressions, unable to settle on what exactly has just happened. Eventually, she makes the undeniable conclusion. Eventually, after another attempt, Leida goes tense.
“You’re…” She trails off.
“Exactly,” Calla says. “I’m alreadyin.I’m your best chance.”
In a past lifetime, Bibi had quite a lot of people doing her bidding.
She’s learned how to keep herself alive in this one. Not by choice, truth be told. She would have preferred an easier option, a life that could be described as comfortable even if it doesn’t quite reach opulent, but when the inns in Laho have doors that open as easily when locked as unlocked, she’s gotten good at behaving like a roach. If an intruder isn’t looking too closely, they will rarely notice the occupant under the bed while they scavenge the valuables left on the table.
Bibi picks at the skin on her bottom lip. The city whispers have been abuzz since she entered. With King Kasa gone, San-Er’s denizens are not shy about running their mouths on the streets, chattering about how the palace had a traitor some few weeks ago—the captain of the guard drawing up a plot to kill civilians and blame it on the foreign Sicans past the borderlands. No one in San-Er, nor in most of the provinces, has met a Sican, but they all know to fear them. The wartook its toll on the kingdom, funneled most of their people into a tight corner and cut the heads off their resource bases. Despite Talin’s victory, those who remember their great-grandparents still recall the haunted eyes, the refusal to speak a word about the past they had endured.
Leida Miliu’s plan could have gone far. Crumble the monarchy. Stir enough dissent among the masses to cause lasting protest too great to be immediately crushed by Weisannas.
Then the cities’ attention turned to Calla Tuoleimi and Anton Makusa in the arena, and the people had more important bets to make.
Bibi trails along the outside of the coliseum, her grip tightening on her shopping bag. She’ll need to pick up some utensils. The marketplace is crowded today because the palace is hosting a gala. Not that anyone outside the palace is invited to attend, so she can’t fathom why people are craning their necks like that, but city folk will do strange things in proximity to wealth.
“You there!”
She turns over her shoulder. Palace guards. Two of them: one alert, the other bored.
“Yes?”
“Identity number?”
Bibi frowns. She peers into her shopping bag. All that’s of value inside is her apartment key—she’s rented one of those rare units that still use a lock rather than an identity number pad. Makes things a lot easier, given that she doesn’t have an identity number.
“I’m only doing my shopping,” Bibi says. “Surely this doesn’t require being checked?”
“We’re under instructions to log everyone around the palace. Please cooperate.”
The guard speaking has dark-orange eyes, the shade of sunset after a storm in the provinces, when the clouds clear just in time for nightfall. His companionis a Weisanna, though his eyes are drooping enough in boredom that Bibi requires a subtle double take to confirm the presence of silver.
“All right, all right.” She makes a show out of rummaging through her bag. “I’m new here. I was drawn through the lottery last year and just emigrated from Laho, so forgive me for not knowing the full number yet.”
It helps that her accent is strong. Provincial, even if the people in San-Er can’t tell the difference between rural dwellers north and south of the Jinzi River.
“Oh no,” she says. “I don’t think I have my card.”
