The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,225

chance to collect her thoughts, to spin together a cover. She wanted to launch all her suspicions at once, to build a mounting case from every angle until Venka cracked from the pressure. “Why didn’t you tell us Nezha was going to bomb Tikany?”

Venka shot her an incredulous look. “How the fuck would I have known about that?”

“You made us think that we were safe once we’d taken the Beehive,” Rin said. “You told me Nezha was nowhere close to launching a southern strike. You said he was ill.”

“Because he was!” Venka’s voice rose several octaves in pitch. “Everyone was gossiping about it, I wouldn’t make that up—”

Kitay grasped Rin’s elbow. “That’s enough—”

Rin shook her arm from his grasp. “And yet two weeks later he was in Tikany, miraculously cured. Answer this, Venka: Why did they leave you alive in the Anvil? The Southern Army was under siege for months, but you came out just fine. Why?”

Venka’s cheeks went a pale, furious white. “This is bullshit.”

“Answer the question.”

“You think I’m a spy? Me?”

“Why did you leave Arlong that night?” Rin pressed.

Venka threw her hands up. “What night?”

“In Arlong. The night we escaped. We all had reasons to go, we were all running for our lives, except you. No one was coming after you. So why did you leave?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Venka snapped. “I left for you.”

“And why would you do that?” Rin pressed. This was all so obvious now; the pieces fit so well. Venka’s sudden change of heart, the implausibility of her motivations—the contradictions were so glaring, she was amazed she hadn’t seen it before. “You never liked me. You hated me at Sinegard; you thought I was dirt-skinned trash. You think all the south are dirt-skinned trash. What changed your mind?”

“This is fucking unbelievable,” Venka spat.

“No, what’s unbelievable is a Sinegardian aristocrat deciding to throw her lot in with southern rebels. How long has it been? Were you reporting to Nezha from the start?”

Kitay slammed a fist against the desk. “Rin, shut the fuck up.”

Rin was so startled by his vehemence that, despite herself, she fell silent.

“You’re exhausted.” Kitay grabbed the scroll from her hand and began ferociously ripping it to tiny, then tinier shreds. “You’re not reading these anymore. You’re giving Nezha exactly what he wants—”

“Or it could be I’ve just found his mole,” Rin said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped.

“You read that scroll, Kitay, you saw those words—”

“It’s a fucking turn of phrase—” Venka started.

“It’s a turn of phrase that only you used.” Rin jabbed a finger at her. “Because you wrote these, didn’t you? You’ve been drafting them all this time, laughing at us, watching us sweat—”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Venka said.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s what you want me to think,” Rin snarled. “You and Nezha both—”

Something shifted suddenly in Venka’s face. “Get down.”

Then she flung herself at Rin, arms reaching for her waist as if to pin her to the ground.

Rin hadn’t processed what she’d heard. She saw Venka advancing and her vision went red, locked into the fight response that had so far kept her alive, and instead of twisting and ducking to the ground, she grabbed Venka by the shoulders and brought her knee up against her thigh instead.

Afterward, she’d torture herself wondering whether it was her fault. She’d run through the list of all the things she should have done. Should have realized Venka’s last words were a warning, not a threat. Should have noticed Venka was unarmed, and that her hands weren’t going for Rin’s head and neck, the way they would have if Venka truly meant to hurt her. Should have seen that Venka’s face was contorted in fear, not anger.

Should have understood that Venka was trying to save her life.

But in that moment, she was so convinced that Venka was the traitor, that Venka was attacking her, that she didn’t notice the crossbow bolt in Venka’s neck until they’d both collapsed to the floor. Until after she’d already burned ridges into Venka’s shoulders. Until she realized that Venka was twitching, but she wasn’t getting up.

Too late, she noticed the figure in the window.

Another bolt shrieked through the air. Rin watched its path, helpless and terrified, but it missed Kitay by a yard. He dove under the table; the bolt buried its head in the doorframe.

Rin flung her palm at the window. Flames roared; the glass exploded. Through the blaze, she saw the dark-clothed figure tumbling through the air.

She wriggled out from under Venka’s body and ran toward the