The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,37

seconds, even minutes, by throwing bodies at the enemy.

But she couldn’t forget the look in Chief Lien’s eyes.

She’d learned, now, what it meant to bring the war to the south.

She read the expression on Souji’s face. Don’t you dare.

And she knew that if she said the wrong thing now, then she’d lose the support of both Chief Lien and the Iron Wolves.

“Souji’s right.” She reached out to touch Qinen lightly on the arm. “This isn’t your fight.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Qinen snapped. “This is my home.”

“I know.” She tried to sound like she meant what she was saying. “And the best thing you can do is keep your countrymen safe when we attack.”

Qinen looked crestfallen. “But that’s nothing.”

“You’re wrong,” said Souji. “That’s everything.”

Night had fallen by the time Rin and Souji rejoined the camp. They’d planned their attack for the following sunset. They had considered striking right then, under cover of darkness, and before any news had leaked of their arrival. But they’d decided to hold off until the next evening; Chief Lien needed time to orchestrate the villagers’ evacuation, and the Southern Army needed time to scope out the terrain, to position their troops optimally within the fields. The general staff spent the next few hours huddled around maps, marking out lines of entry.

It was far past midnight when at last they disbanded to rest. When Rin returned to her tent, she found a slim scroll placed neatly at the top of her travel pack.

She reached out, paused, and then withdrew her hand. This wasn’t right. Nobody at camp was receiving personal parcels. The Southern Coalition owned only one carrier pigeon, and it was trained to take a one-way message to Ankhiluun. Every instinct screamed that this was a trap. The scroll’s exterior could be laced with venom—countless Nikara generals of old had tried that trick before.

She leaned over the scroll with a small flame bobbing in her palm, carefully illuminating its every angle. She couldn’t see anything dangerous—no thin needles, no dark sheen on the parchment edge. Still, she used her teeth to pull her sleeve over her fingers before she picked the scroll up and unrolled it. Then she nearly dropped it.

The wax seal bore the dragon insignia of the House of Yin.

She exhaled slowly, trying to slow her racing heart. This had to be a joke—someone had pulled a deeply unfunny prank, and she would make sure they suffered for it.

The note inside was scrawled in a wobbly, childish font; the characters were so smudged and messy she had to squint to read it.

Hello, Rin,

They told me to write this in my own hand, but I don’t see how it could have made a difference seeing as I could barely write when you left, so you wouldn’t have recognized it anyway.

“This isn’t funny,” she muttered to herself.

But she knew this wasn’t a joke. Nobody at camp could have done this. Nobody knew.

This is Kesegi, if you hadn’t pieced that together. I’ve been in the New City prisons for a while and it was my fault, I got stupid and bragged to some people that you were my sister and I knew you, and then the talk trickled up to the guards so now here I am.

I’m sorry I did this to you. I really am.

Your friend says to tell you that this doesn’t have to be difficult. He said to tell you I walk free if you’ll come to the New City yourself, but if you bring an army then they’ll behead me above the city gates. He says that this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed, and that he only wants to speak. He says he doesn’t want a war. He’s prepared to grant clemency to every one of your allies. He only wants you.

Although to be honest—

The rest of the message had been scratched out with thick inky lines.

Rin snatched the scroll up and ran outside her tent.

She accosted the first sentry she saw. “Who delivered this?”

He gave her a blank stare. “Delivered what?”

She waved the scroll at him. “This was inside my travel pack. Did anyone deliver this to you?”

“N-No—”

“Did you see anyone going through my things?”

“No, but my watch has only just started, you’d have to ask Ginsen, he was here for three hours before that, and he should be—General, are you all right?”

Rin couldn’t stop trembling.

Nezha knew where she was. Nezha knew where she slept.

“General?” the sentry asked again. “Is everything all right?”

She crumpled the scroll in her fist. “Get me