The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,224

him get confused.

He alternated constantly between writing taunts and delivering pieces of accurate, important information. Rin couldn’t grasp what was going on in his mind. Was he just playing games? If so, it was working—the taunts redoubled her frustrations, made her furious that their mistakes were so visible they were obvious all the way across the strait; the pieces of advice were even more torturous, because she never knew whether to take them at face value, and spent so much time second-guessing his tips, trying to discover his underlying motives, that she got less done than if she’d never read them at all.

He always ended his letters with the same offer. Come to the negotiating table. The Hesperians always produce grain at a surplus—they’ve got machines doing the planting for them. They have food aid to spare. Just make a few concessions and you’ve got it.

It never sounded the slightest bit more attractive. The more missives she received, the more condescending they became.

Keep your grain, she wanted to write back. I’d rather choke than let you feed me. I’d rather starve to death than take anything from your hands.

But she bit down the impulse. If she sent Nezha any response, then he’d know she’d been reading his letters.

But he must have known anyways. Every missive was terrifyingly omniscient. He identified so clearly the same issues they were struggling with that he might have been standing over their shoulders in the war room. She knew he was trying to make her paranoid, but it worked. She didn’t feel safe in her own room anymore. She couldn’t get any rest—she and Kitay had to start sleeping in shifts again, guarding each other in the same bed, otherwise she was too overcome with anxiety to even close her eyes. She could hardly focus anywhere she went; her eyes were too busy darting about, watching for spies or assassins. She started spending each day holed up in the war room because it was the only place where she felt safe, with the only window three floors up, and its single door guarded by a dozen handpicked soldiers.

“You need to stop reading those,” Venka said.

Rin was staring at the latest missive, glaring at the characters until they felt seared into her eyelids, as if she could decipher Nezha’s intent if she stared at them long enough.

“Put that down, Rin. He’s just fucking with you.”

“No, he’s not.” Rin pointed. “Look. He knows we tried getting contraband grain from Moag. He knows—”

“Of course he knows,” Venka said. “That’s an obvious guess; what else are we going to try? You’re only letting him win when you read those. He’s just messing with you because he’s exiled on an island in bum-fuck nowhere and can’t do anything except squeal for attention—”

“Squeal for attention.” Rin lowered the scroll. “That’s an interesting phrase.”

There was an awkward silence. Kitay glanced up from a stack of trade reports, brows lifted.

Venka blinked. “Sorry?”

For a moment Rin just stared at her, expression blank, while her mind spun to catch up to the conclusion she’d just formed.

No cards left to play. She’d just read those words in Nezha’s handwriting—they’d caught her eye because it had been such a specific phrasing. I’m sure you think I’m just squealing for attention, but take a look at the ledgers and you’ll know I’m right. It hadn’t been in any of Nezha’s previous letters; she would have remembered it. And Venka hadn’t yet read the one she was holding in her hand, unless—

Unless.

The room seemed to dim. Rin narrowed her eyes. “How did you know that Nezha was going to make a stand at Xuzhou?”

Venka’s throat pulsed. “What do you mean?”

“Answer the question.”

“We intercepted their messengers, I told you—”

“You’re very good at that,” Rin said.

She saw the muscles in Venka’s face working, as if she couldn’t decide whether to smile and accept the compliment. She looked scared. Did that mean she was lying? It had to—what other reason did she have to be afraid?

“Answer this.” Rin stood up. “How do you think Nezha knew we were trying to reach the Trifecta?”

Venka’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.” Rin took a step toward her. Her ears were ringing. Her voice dropped low. “Do you know how many people knew about that plan? Five. Me, Kitay, Master Jiang, the Vipress, and you.”

Venka stepped back. “I don’t know what—”

“Rin,” Kitay interrupted. “Don’t do this. Let’s talk—”

Rin ignored him. “I have another question.” She wouldn’t give Venka a