The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,84

the world has broken while I was gone.”

Again, he offered her his hand. This time, she took it. Together they approached the open door, a circle of blinding light.

The sheer whiteness of the sun on snow was agony. But Rin relished the pain shooting through her eyes just as much as she delighted in the cold bite of wind on her face, stone and half-melted snow under her toes. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath of icy mountain air. In that moment, it was the loveliest thing she’d ever tasted.

“Be ready to march,” said Daji. “I can’t fly that airship. We’ll have to go by foot until we can find some horses.”

Rin glanced back at her and then blinked, startled.

The old hag from Tikany was gone. Entire decades had melted from Daji’s face. The lines around her eyes had disappeared, the skin around her gouged eye was smooth and unscarred, and the eyeball somehow, miraculously, healed.

Jiang, too, was more vividly alive than she’d ever seen him. He didn’t just look younger. That wasn’t new—Jiang had always had an ageless quality about him, like he’d been ripped from a place out of time. But now he seemed solid. Powerful. He had a different look in his eyes—less whimsical, less placidly amused, and more focused than she’d ever seen him.

This man had fought in the Poppy Wars. This man had nearly ruled the empire.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

Rin shook her head, blinking. “Nothing. I just—um, where are Nezha’s troops?”

Daji shrugged. “Dealt with them as soon as they got you in the mountain.”

Rin was indignant. “And you couldn’t have freed me a bit earlier?”

Daji cast her an icy smile. “I thought you should know how it felt.”

They made shelter that night under a small alcove near the base of the mountain. Humming, Jiang set about constructing a fire. Daji disappeared into the trees and, twenty minutes later, returned with a string of dead rats, which she then proceeded to skin with a dagger.

Rin slumped back against a tree trunk, trying to keep her eyes open. The absurdity of this scene would have amazed her if she had the energy. She was sitting at a campfire with two of the most powerful figures in Nikara history, figures that to most people existed only in shadow puppet plays, watching as they prepared dinner. Anyone else would have been slack-jawed in awe.

But Rin was too exhausted to even think. The climb downhill hadn’t been arduous, but the Chuluu Korikh had drained her; she felt like she’d barely survived tumbling down a waterfall. She had nearly drifted into sleep when Jiang poked her in the stomach with a stick.

She jumped. “What?”

He poked her again. “You’re being very quiet.”

She rubbed her side. “I just want to sit for a second. In peace. Can I do that?”

“Well, now you’re just being rude.”

She lifted a languid hand and whacked him on the shin.

He ignored that and sat down beside her. “We need to talk next moves.”

She sighed. “Then talk.”

“Now, Daji’s only caught me up on a little bit.” He rubbed his hands together and held them out over the flames. “It’s been a very distressing day for me.”

“Same,” Rin muttered.

“But the way I understand it, you’ve gone and split the country in half.”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh, I know. Yin Vaisra’s always been a bloodthirsty little gremlin.” Jiang winked at her. “So what shall we do now? Raze Arlong to the ground?”

She gaped at him for a moment, waiting for him to chuckle, before she realized he was being utterly serious. His gaze was earnest. She had no idea what this new Jiang was capable of, but she had to take his words at face value.

“We can’t do that,” she said. “We have to infiltrate them first. They’ve—they’ve got someone.”

“Who?”

Daji interjected from across the fire. “Her anchor.”

“She has an anchor?” Jiang arched an eyebrow. “Since when? You might have told me.”

“I only retrieved you from rock this afternoon,” Daji said.

“But that seems relevant—”

“Kitay,” Rin snapped. “Chen Kitay. He was in my class at Sinegard. Nezha took him from Tikany, and we need to get him back.”

“I remember him.” Jiang rubbed his chin. “Skinny kid? Big ears, hair like an overgrown forest? Too smart for his own good?”

“That’s the one.”

“Does the Republic know he’s your anchor?” Daji asked.

“No.” Aside from Chaghan, everyone who knew she had an anchor had died at Lake Boyang. “No one possibly could.”

“And they don’t have a reason to hurt him?” Daji pressed.

“Nezha wouldn’t do that,”