Page 13 of The Last Strike

King Khalil cleared his throat. “I give you my word. If this information is indeed life-saving, I will not order another attack on Valencia.” Khalil would keep that promise as long as it suited him.

“You didn’t hear this from me,” Luang said with a hint of disgust—Khalil didn’t know if it was aimed at his own betrayal, or at Luang himself—"but your water system has been poisoned. That’s what Asher’s man was doing in your palace. He wasn’t there to kill you, at least not directly. You planned to poison Santina’s water system, and now Asher is teaching you a lesson.”

Khalil raised an eyebrow, thinking of the glass of water he’d offered Reed. Maybe it hadn’t been an act of defiance but an act of survival. He put down his own cup of tea, moving it far away from him.

Khalil stood, walking toward the door of his living quarters and put Luang on hold for a moment. He opened the door and addressed security. “Check the water supply and test it. Confirm if it has been poisoned. And shut off the water until we know for sure.”

The guards’ eyes widened. “Immediately,” he said and raised his radio, sending out commands.

Khalil returned to the conversation. “You’ve chosen the right side, Luang, but remember that if I think—even for a second—that you’re playing me, I will attack Valencia so viciously that it will forever be remembered in history.”

“That goes both ways,” Luang responded tightly. “If it gets back to Asher that I was the leak, I will expose your most dangerous skeleton in the closet.”

Khalil stilled.

Luang had known him a long time. Many years ago, their kingdoms had been allies. But the relationship had fallen apart and Luang had held this secret over him ever since.

“Not a word. But I will retaliate against Asher,” Khalil said.

“I assumed you would,” Luang said, his voice flat. “Stay away from Valencia, Khalil.”

Asher

Asher sat on the garden bench, tipping his face up to the blazing Santinian sun. They were only a few days into the war and already he was tired.

Tired of war and tired of playing games—but the games were just beginning.

His eyes dropped to his watch and he wondered what chaos was ensuing in Adani.

His thoughts turned to Reed. How was he holding up?

Asher felt responsible and now James would risk his life and the lives of the team he was taking with him, leaving Santina only marginally protected for a period of time.

His phone rang and he groaned. What now?

He pulled his phone from his pocket, his eyebrows lifting when he saw who was calling him.

“Hello, Luang,” Asher said.

“Hi. Have you seen the news?” Luang asked, sounding as tired as Asher felt.

“No. Why?” Asher asked quickly.

“Khalil attacked Valencia with sarin a few hours ago. My hospitals are full and people are dying on the streets,” Luang said.

Asher felt like the wind had been knocked from his lungs. He leaned forward, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand.

“Soon he won’t be a problem,” Asher said, knowing full well that wouldn’t make Luang feel better, and it couldn’t undo the damage that had been done. This was a retaliation attack by Khalil—a retaliation attack for a plan Asher had devised.

He felt violently ill.

“I told him, Asher. I told him his water supply had been poisoned,” Luang said and Asher stilled.

“What? We were so close!” Asher said, his mind reeling. Reed had risked his life for nothing.

“Because he was threatening me with more attacks—and they weren’t baseless threats. I’m sorry, Asher, but I had to make him believe my allegiance is with Adani. It was the only way. We’ll get another opportunity, but until then, I have to protect my people.”

Asher stood, barely able to breathe. He began to pace. He didn’t agree with Luang—he couldn’t.

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