A Torch Against the Night (An Ember in the Ashes #2) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,121

grab the rope, test it one last time, and jump.

Weightlessness. Terror. My body slams into the wall. I swing wildly—you’re dead, Aquilla. Then I center myself, hoping the Commandant didn’t hear my scrabbling from her tent. I rappel down, slipping easily into the narrow, dark space between the tent and Kauf’s wall.

“—and I both serve the same master, Warden. His time has come. Give me your influence.”

“If our master wanted my aid, he would have asked for it. This is your plot, Keris, not his.” The Warden’s voice is flat, but its toneless boredom hides a deep wariness. He was not nearly so careful when he and I spoke.

“Poor Warden,” the Commandant says. “So loyal and yet always the last to know of our master’s plans. How it must rankle you that he chose me as the instrument of his will.”

“It will rankle me more if your plan jeopardizes all we have worked for. Do not take this risk, Keris. He will not thank you for it.”

“I am speeding the pace at which we carry out his will.”

“You are furthering your own will.”

“The Nightbringer has been gone for months.” The Commandant’s chair scrapes back. “Perhaps he wishes for us to do something useful instead of awaiting his orders like Fivers facing their first battle. We’re running out of time, Sisellius. Marcus has garnered fear, if not respect, from the Gens after the Shrike’s display on Cardium Rock.”

“You mean after she foiled your plot to foment dissent.”

“The plot would have succeeded,” Keris says, “if you had helped me. Don’t make the same mistake this time. With the Shrike out of the way”—not yet, you hag—“Marcus is still vulnerable. If you would simply—”

“Secrets are not slaves, Keris. They are not meant to be used and cast aside. I will deploy them with patience and precision, or I will not deploy them at all. I must consider your request.”

“Consider quickly.” The Commandant’s voice takes on the soft edge known to send men scurrying away in fear. “My men will march on Antium in three days and arrive on Rathana. I must leave by morning. I cannot claim my throne if I’m not leading my own army.”

I put my fist in my mouth to keep from gasping. My men … my throne … my army.

Finally, the pieces fall into place. The soldiers ordered to report elsewhere, leaving garrisons empty. The lack of men in the countryside. The troop shortage on the embattled borders of the Empire. It all leads back to her.

That army in the Argent Hills doesn’t belong to Marcus. It belongs to the Commandant. And in less than a week she’s going to use it to murder him and declare herself Empress.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Laia

The moment the Blood Shrike is out of earshot, I turn to Keenan. “I’m not leaving Elias,” I say. “If Helene gets her hands on him, he’ll go straight to Antium for execution.”

Keenan grimaces. “Laia,” he says. “It might be too late for that. There is nothing stopping her from walking in and taking custody of him.” He lowers his voice. “Perhaps we should focus on Darin.”

“I will not leave Elias to die at her hands,” I say. “Not when I’m the only reason he’s in Kauf in the first place.”

“Forgive me,” Keenan says, “but the poison will take Elias soon, in any case.”

“So you’d leave him to torture and public execution?” I know Keenan has never liked Elias, but I did not think the animosity ran this deep.

The lamplight flickers, and Keenan runs a hand through his hair, brow furrowed. He kicks a few damp leaves out of the way and gestures for me to sit.

“We can get him out too,” I argue. “We just have to move fast and find a way in. I don’t think Aquilla can just walk in and take him out. She would have already done it if that were the case. She wouldn’t have bothered to talk to us.”

I roll out Elias’s map—dirt-stained and faded now. “This cave.” I point to a spot Elias marked on the map. “It’s north of the prison, but perhaps we could get inside—”

“We’d need firepowder for that,” Keenan says. “We have none.”

Fair enough. I point to another path marked on the north side of the prison, but Keenan shakes his head. “That route is blocked, according to the information I have, which is from six months ago. Elias was last here six years ago.”

We stare at the parchment, and I point to the west side of the