The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,156

had happened on the mountain. He clearly already knew; he’d greeted her with an impressed grin and a shake of his head. “Well done, Speerly. That was clever.”

“Thank you,” she said, pleased in spite of herself. Chaghan had never paid her a compliment before. For nearly the entirety of their relationship, since the day they’d first met at Khurdalain, he had treated her like some wayward child incapable of rational decisions.

Now, for the first time, he acted as if he truly respected her.

“Do you think they’re dead?” she asked him. “I mean, there’s no chance they—”

“Absolutely,” he said. “They were powerful, but their anchor bond kept them in command of their own bodies, which means they were always mortal. They’ve passed on. I’ve felt it. And good riddance.”

She nodded, relieved. “It’s what you’re owed. For Tseveri.”

His lip curled. “Let’s not pretend you did that for a blood debt.”

“It was a blood debt,” she said. “Just not yours. And now you must know what I have to do next.”

He exhaled slowly. “I can guess.”

“You’re not going to try to stop me?”

“You confuse me with my aunt, Rin.”

“The Sorqan Sira would have killed me on the spot.”

“Oh, she would have assassinated you long ago.” Chaghan ran his hand gently across the length of his horse’s neck. Rin realized that she knew the creature—it was the same black warhorse that Chaghan had ridden out of the forests by Lake Boyang the last time she’d seen him. He adjusted his saddle as he spoke, tightening every knot with practiced care. “The Sorqan Sira was petrified of the resurgence of Nikara shamanism. She thought it would spell the end of the world.”

“And you don’t?”

“The world is already ending. You see, the Hundred Clans know that time moves in a circle. There are never any new stories, just old ones told again and again as this universe moves through its cycles of civilization and crumbles into despair. We are on the brink of an age of chaos again, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. I just prefer to back certain horses in the race.”

“But you’re going to watch the rest from a safe distance,” Rin said.

She was being facetious. She knew better than to ask Chaghan to stay and help. She wasn’t that selfish—the Nikara had exploited Chaghan’s people enough.

If she had to be honest, she would have liked Chaghan to come south with her. She’d never been able to stand him before, but the sight of him brought back memories of the Cike. Of Suni, Baji, Ramsa, and Qara. Of Altan. Of all the Bizarre Children, they were the only ones left, both tasked independently with bringing order to their fracturing nations. Chaghan, somehow, had already succeeded. Rin desperately wished he might lend her his power.

But she’d taken so much from him already. She couldn’t demand more.

“With you, I’ve learned it’s best to keep a safe distance from the fallout.” Chaghan yanked tight the last knot and patted the horse behind its ears. “Good luck, Speerly. You’re mad as they come, but you’re not quite as mad as Trengsin.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s the only reason I think you might win.”

“Thank you,” Rin said, surprised. “For everything.”

He acknowledged that with a thin-lipped smile. “There’s one last thing before you go. I didn’t just want to say goodbye. We need to talk about Nezha.”

She tensed. “Yes?”

The horse, as if sensing her unease, whinnied in agitation and stamped its front hooves against the dirt. Chaghan hastily handed its reins off to the nearest rider.

“Sit down,” he told her.

She obeyed. Her heart was pounding very hard. “What do you know?”

He sat cross-legged across from her. “I started looking into the Yins after I heard what happened at the Red Cliffs. It was difficult to parse truth from legend—the House of Yin is shrouded in rumors, and they’re good at protecting their secrets. But I think I’ve gotten a better idea of what happened to Nezha. Why he is the way he is.” He tilted his head at her. “What do you know about where Nezha derived his abilities?”

“He told me a story once,” she said. “It’s . . . it’s odd. It’s not how I thought shamanism worked.”

“How so?” Chaghan pressed.

Why did it suddenly feel like her head was swimming? Rin pressed her nails into her palm, trying to slow down her breathing. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk about Nezha. She’d been discussing how to kill him with Kitay for months now.

But