The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,97

collided over his cot. He rose halfway to meet her, but she knocked him right back down, arms wrapped tightly around his skinny frame. She had to hold him, feel the weight of him, know that he was real and solid and there. The void in her chest, that aching sense of absence she’d felt since Tikany, finally melted away.

She felt like herself again. She felt whole.

“Took you long enough,” he murmured into her shoulder.

“Could you tell I was coming?”

“Sensed you yesterday.” He drew back, grinning. “I woke up, and it felt like I’d been doused with cold water. Never been happier.”

He looked better than she’d feared. He was thin, of course, but he’d been painfully thin since Ruijin, and his cheekbones protruded no more than they already had. His arms and legs were unbound save for an iron cuff around his left ankle, attached to a chain with enough slack to give him free movement around the cell. He didn’t look like he’d been tortured. There were no cuts, welts, or bruises on his pale skin. The only wounds he’d suffered recently were the gashes he’d opened in his shin.

His index finger was crusted over in dried blood. He’d done it with his nail.

She reached for his leg. “Are you—”

“It’s fine. It’s stopped bleeding, I’ll clean it up later.” Kitay stood up. “Who are you here with?”

“Two-thirds of the Trifecta.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Which two?”

“The Vipress and the Gatekeeper.”

“Of course. And when are we meeting the Dragon Emperor?”

“We’ll discuss that later.” She jangled the keys at him. “Let’s get you out first. Padlocks?”

He shook his ankle at her, looking impressed. “How did you—”

“Daji is persuasive.” She held a flame up to the lock and began flipping through the keys to find one that looked like it matched. “No more bone smashing for us.”

He snorted. “Thank the gods.”

She’d just found a silver key that looked about the right size when she heard the unmistakable screech of a door sliding open, followed by a faint patter of footsteps echoing through the corridor. She froze. Daji had promised her more than an hour; she’d been planning to hide out downstairs until whatever ritual was going on in the main chamber had ended. Had something gone wrong upstairs?

“Hide,” Kitay hissed.

“Where?”

He pointed to his cot. Rin didn’t see how that could possibly work—it was a flimsy, narrow structure, barely two feet wide, with crossed wooden legs that wouldn’t conceal a rabbit.

“Get under this.” Kitay tugged at his blanket. The cotton sheet was thin but solidly opaque; hanging off the edge of the bed, it was just long enough to stretch to the floor.

Rin crawled underneath the cot and shrank in on herself, fighting to make her breathing inaudible. She heard the lock click back into place as Kitay pushed the cell door shut.

She poked her head out from the blankets, confused. “Wait, why don’t we just—”

“Shh,” he whispered. “I said hide.”

Footsteps grew louder and louder in the corridor, then stopped just outside the cell.

“Hello, Kitay.”

Rin dug her nails into her palm, madly clenching her teeth in an attempt to keep quiet. She knew only one person who could speak with that precise mixture of confidence, condescension, and feigned camaraderie.

“Good evening.” Kitay’s tone was all light, cheery indifference. “Good timing. I’ve just taken my nap.”

The door screeched open. Rin hardly dared to breathe.

If he made any moves toward the cot, she’d kill him. She held two advantages—the element of surprise and the fire. She wouldn’t hesitate this time. First a torrent of flame to his face to startle and blind him, then four white-hot fingers in a claw around his neck. She’d rip out his artery before he even realized what was happening.

“How have you been?” Nezha was standing right above her. “Accommodations still adequate?”

“I’d like some new books,” Kitay said. “And my reading lamps are running low.”

“I’ll see to that.”

“Thank you,” Kitay said stiffly. “And how is the lab rat life?”

“Don’t be a prick, Kitay.”

“My apologies,” Kitay drawled. “You were just so quick to send Rin to the same fate, I’m always stunned by the irony.”

“Listen, asshole—”

“Why do you let them do it?” Kitay asked. “I’m just curious. Certainly you don’t enjoy getting hurt.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Nezha said quietly. “It’s the only time it doesn’t hurt.”

There was a pause, which stretched into a longer, more awkward silence.

“I take it the council’s still giving you grief?” Kitay finally asked.

She heard a shuffling noise. Nezha was sitting down. “They’re madmen. All of them.”

Kitay chuckled. “At