The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,230

shout, a different voice. “Feed us first!”

A good leader, Rin knew, did not respond to the crowd. A leader was above hecklers—answering shouted questions only granted them legitimacy they did not deserve.

She cast about for the sentence where she’d left off, trying to resume her train of thought. “This opium will fuel—”

She never finished her sentence. A din erupted from the back of the crowd. At first she thought it was another bout of heckling, but then she heard the clang of steel, and then a second round of shouting that escalated and spread.

“Get down.” Kitay grasped her wrist to pull her down from the stage. She resisted just for a moment, bewildered as she faced the crowd, but they weren’t paying attention to her anymore. They’d all turned toward the source of the commotion, which rippled out like ink dropped in water, an unfurling cloud of chaos that dragged in everyone in the vicinity.

He yanked harder. “You need to get out of here.”

“Hold on.” Her palm was hot, ready to funnel flame, though she had no clue what she meant to do. Who did she aim at? The crowd? Her own people? “I can—”

“There’s nothing you can do.” He hustled her away from the riot. People were screaming now. Rin glanced over her shoulder and saw weapons flashing through the air, bodies falling, spear shafts and sword hilts smashing against unprotected flesh. “Not now.”

“What the fuck is wrong with them?” Rin demanded.

They’d retreated to the general’s headquarters, where she’d be safe and out of sight, out of earshot while her troops finished reimposing order in the square. Her shock had worn off. Now she was simply pissed, furious that her own people would act like such a brainless, petulant mob.

“They’re exhausted,” Kitay said quietly. “They’re hungry. They thought this war was over, and that you’d come home to bring them the spoils. They didn’t think you were going to drag them into another one.”

“Why does everyone think this war is over?” Rin’s fingers clawed in frustration. “Am I the only one with eyes?”

Was this how mothers felt when their children threw tantrums? The sheer fucking ingratitude. She had walked through hell and back for them, and they had the nerve to stand there, to complain and demand things that she couldn’t spare.

“The Hesperians were right,” she snapped. “They’re fucking sheep. All of them.”

No wonder Petra thought the Nikara were inferior. Rin saw it now. No wonder the Trifecta had ruled like they did, with abundant blood and ruthless iron. How else did you stoke the masses, except through fear?

How could the Nikara be so shortsighted? Their stomachs weren’t the only things at stake. They were on the edge of something so much greater than a full dinner if they’d just think, if they’d just rally for one more push. But they didn’t understand. How could she make them understand?

“They’re not sheep. They’re ordinary people, Rin, and they’re tired of suffering. They just want this to be over.”

“So do I! I’m offering them that chance! What do they want us to do?” she demanded. “Hang up our swords, throw down our shields, and wait for them to kill us in our beds? Tell me, Kitay, are they honestly so stupid they think the Hesperians will just turn around and leave us alone?”

“Try to understand,” he said gently. “It’s hard to prioritize the enemy that you can’t see.”

She scoffed. “If that’s how they feel, then they don’t deserve to live.”

She shouldn’t have said that. She knew as soon as the words left her mouth that she was wrong. She’d spoken not in anger, but from panic, from icy, gut-twisting fear.

Everything was falling apart.

Tikany was supposed to be the bastion of her resistance, the base from which she launched her final assault on the west. Symbolically, geographically, Tikany and its people were hers. She’d been raised on this dirt. She’d returned and liberated her hometown. She’d defended them first from the Mugenese, and then from the Republic. Now, when she most needed their support, they wanted to fucking riot.

Either they fear you, or they love you, Daji had told her. But the one thing you can’t stomach is for them to disrespect you. Then you’ve got nothing. Then you’ve lost.

No. No. She pressed her palm against her temple, trying to slow her breathing. This was only a setback; she hadn’t lost yet. She tried to remind herself of the assets she still held—she had Moag; she had the opium fields; she had