The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,116

her knife from its sheath and handed it hilt-first to Rin.

“I don’t need that,” Rin said.

“Blades are quieter,” Daji said. “Fire agonizes. And you don’t want their screams to disturb the sleeping.”

Rin dealt with the Monkey Warlord first.

Gurubai had known she was coming. He was standing in the tunnels with his officers, the only people in the cavern who didn’t appear to be asleep. They were quietly discussing something. They fell silent when they saw her approach, but they didn’t move for their weapons.

“Leave us,” Gurubai said.

His officers departed without another word. They kept their heads down as they filed past; none gave Rin so much as a parting glance.

“They’re good soldiers,” Gurubai told Rin. “You’ve no cause to hurt them.”

“I know,” she said. “I won’t.”

She meant it. Without Gurubai to lead them, none of his officers had any reason to betray her. She knew those men. They weren’t ambitious power grabbers; they were capable, rational-minded soldiers. They cared about the south, and they knew now she was their best chance at survival.

Gurubai regarded her for a moment. “Will you burn me?”

“No.” She drew the knife Daji had given her. “You deserve better.”

Gurubai raised his arms in the air. He didn’t reach for a weapon. He’d resigned himself to his fate, Rin realized. There was no fight left in him.

He had lost so thoroughly. He’d been cornered in the mountains and starved out by a boy general, and then his only salvation had been the Speerly he thought he’d sold to his enemy. If his gamble had worked, if Vaisra and the Republic had kept their word, then Gurubai would have become a national hero. The savior of the south.

But it hadn’t, so he would die a disgraced traitor. So cruel were the whims of history.

“You are the worst thing to happen to this country,” Gurubai said. His voice carried no anger or invective, just resignation. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. He was delivering his final testimony. “These people deserve better than you.”

“I’m exactly what they deserve,” she said. “They don’t want peace, they want revenge. I’m it.”

“Revenge doesn’t make a stable nation.”

“Neither does cowardice,” she said. “That’s where you failed. You were only ever fighting to survive, Gurubai. I was fighting to win. And history doesn’t favor stability, it favors initiative.”

She pointed the blade at his heart and jerked her hand forward in one quick, smooth motion. His eyes bulged. She yanked the blade out and stepped back just before he crumpled, clutching at his chest.

She’d aimed badly. She’d known that as soon as she felt the blade make contact. Her left hand was clumsy and weak; she’d pierced not his heart but an inch below it. She had put him in excruciating pain, but his heart wouldn’t stop beating until he bled out.

Gurubai writhed at her feet, but he didn’t make a single sound. No screams, no whimpers. She respected that.

“You would have been a wonderful peacetime leader,” she said. He had been honest with her; she might as well afford him the same in return. “But we don’t need peace right now. We need blood.”

Footsteps sounded behind her. She swiveled around, then relaxed—it was just Kitay. He stepped forward and stood over Gurubai’s silent, twitching form, mouth curling in distaste.

“I see you started without me,” he said.

“I didn’t think you wanted to come.” Her voice felt detached from her body. Her hand shook as she watched Gurubai’s blood pooling over the stone floor. Her entire body shook; she could hear her teeth clattering in her skull. She registered this physiological reaction with a bemused, distant curiosity.

What was wrong with her?

She’d felt this same nervous ecstasy when she killed Ma Lien. When she killed the priest in Arabak. All three times she’d killed not with fire, but with her own hand. She was capable of such cruelties, even without the Phoenix’s power, and that both delighted and scared her.

Gurubai grabbed at Kitay’s ankle, choking. Blood bubbled out of his mouth.

“Don’t be cruel, Rin.” Kitay took the knife from her hand, knelt over Gurubai, and traced the sharp tip along the artery in his neck. Blood sprayed the cavern wall. Gurubai gave a final, violent thrash, and then he stopped moving.

Rin caught Souji as he was trying to flee.

Someone in Gurubai’s camp had warned him to run. They’d been too late. By the time Souji and his Iron Wolves made it to the cavern’s western exit, Rin was already waiting in the tunnel.

She waved. “Going somewhere?”

Souji stumbled to