The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War #2) - R. F. Kuang Page 0,148

tempt me with this.”

“Then you can join them,” Altan said. “Would that be so bad?”

The lights and streamers dimmed. The tables faded to nothing; the guests disappeared. She and Altan were alone, two spots of flame in a dark passage.

“Is this what you want?” His mouth closed over hers before she could speak. Scorching hands moved on her body and trailed downward.

Everything was so terribly hot. She was burning. She’d forgotten how it felt to truly burn—she was immune to her own flame, and she’d never been caught in Altan’s fire, but this . . . this was an old, familiar pain, terrible and delicious all at once.

“No.” She fought to find her voice. “No, I don’t want this—”

Altan’s hands tightened on her waist.

“You did,” he said, pressing closer. “It was written all over your face. Every time.”

“Don’t touch me.” She pressed her hands against his chest and tried to push him away, to no avail.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this,” said Altan. “You need me.”

She couldn’t breathe. “No, I don’t . . .”

“Don’t you?”

He brought his hand to her cheek. She cringed back, but his burning fingers rested firm on her skin. His hands moved down to her neck. His thumbs stopped where her collarbones met, a familiar resting place. He squeezed. Fire lanced through her throat.

“Come back.” The Sorqan Sira’s voice cut through her mind like a knife, granting her several delicious, cool seconds of lucidity. “Remember yourself. Submit to him and you lose.”

Rin convulsed on the ground.

“I don’t want this,” she moaned. “I don’t want to see this—I want to get out—”

“It’s the poison,” said the Sorqan Sira. “The sweat amplifies it, brings it to a boil. You must purge yourself, or the Seal will kill you.”

Rin whimpered. “Just make it stop.”

“I can’t. It must get worse before it gets better.” The Sorqan Sira seized her hand and squeezed it. “Remember, he exists only in your mind. He only has as much power as you give him. Can you do this?”

Rin nodded and gripped the Sorqan Sira’s arm. She couldn’t find the breath to say the words send me back, but the Sorqan Sira nodded. She threw another ladleful of water onto the rocks.

The heat in the yurt redoubled. Rin choked; her back arched, the material world faded away, and the pain returned. Altan’s fingers were around her neck again, squeezing, choking her.

He leaned down. His lips brushed against hers. “Do you know what I want you to do?”

She shook her head, gasping.

“Kill yourself,” he ordered.

“What?”

“I want you to kill yourself,” he repeated. “Make things right. You should have died on that pier. And I should have lived.”

Was that true?

It must have been true, if it had lingered so long in her subconscious. And she couldn’t lie to herself; she knew, had always known that if Altan had lived and if she had died then things would have gone much differently. Aratsha would still be alive, the Cike would not have disbanded, they would not have lost to Feylen, and the Republican Fleet might not be in fragments at the bottom of Lake Boyang.

Jinzha had said it first. We should have tried to save the other one.

“You are the reason why I died,” Altan continued, relentless. “Make this right. Kill yourself.”

She swallowed. “No.”

“Why not?” His fingers tightened around her neck. “You’re not particularly useful to anyone alive.”

She reached up for his hands. “Because I’m done taking orders from you.”

He was a product of her own mind. He had only as much power as she gave him.

She pried his fingers off her neck. One by one, they came away. She was nearly free. He squeezed harder but she kicked out, nailed him in the shin, and the moment he let go she scrambled backward away from him and sank into a low crouch, poised to strike.

“Really?” he scoffed. “You’re going to fight me?”

“I won’t surrender to you anymore.”

“‘Surrender’?” he repeated, like it was such a ludicrous word. “Is that how you’ve thought of it? Oh, Rin, it was never about that. I didn’t want surrender from you. I had to manage you. Control you. You’re so fucking stupid, you had to be told what to do.”

“I’m not stupid,” she said.

“Yes, you are.” He smiled, patronizing and handsome and hateful all at once. “You’re nothing. You’re useless. Compared to me you’re—”

“I’m nothing at all,” she interrupted. “I was a terrible commander. I couldn’t function without opium. I still can’t call the fire. You can tell me everything I hate