The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War #2) - R. F. Kuang Page 0,163

front of her brother. A bang split the night and together the twins collapsed, Qara falling back into Chaghan’s arms.

The riders turned to flee.

Rin screamed. A rivulet of fire shot from her mouth and slammed into Augus’s chest, knocking him over. He shouted, writhing madly to put out the flames, but the fire didn’t stop; it consumed his air, poured into his lungs, seized him from inside like a hand until his torso was charcoal and he couldn’t scream anymore.

Augus’s death throes slowed to an insectlike twitching as Rin sank to her knees. She closed her mouth. The flames died away, and Augus lay still.

Behind her Chaghan was cradling his sister. A dark splotch of blood appeared over Qara’s right breast as if painted by an invisible artist, blossoming larger and larger like a blooming poppy flower.

“Qara—Qara, no . . .” Chaghan’s hands moved frantically over her breast, but there was no arrowhead to pull out; the metal shard had buried itself too deep for him to save her.

“Stop,” Qara gasped. She lifted a shaking hand and touched it to Chaghan’s chest. Blood bubbled out between her teeth. “Let go. You have to let go.”

“I’m going with you,” Chaghan said.

Qara’s breath came in short, pained gasps. “No. Too important.”

“Qara . . .”

“Do this for me,” Qara whispered. “Please.”

Chaghan pressed his forehead against Qara’s. Something passed between them, an exchange of thoughts that Rin could not hear. Qara reached a shaking hand to her chest, drew a pattern in her own blood on the pale skin of Chaghan’s cheek, and then placed her palm against it.

Chaghan exhaled. Rin thought she saw something pass in the space between them—a gust of air, a shimmer of light.

Qara’s head fell to the side. Chaghan pulled her limp form into his arms and dropped his head.

“Rin,” Kitay said urgently.

She spun around. Ten feet away, Bekter sat astride his horse, bow raised.

She lifted her trident, but she had no chance. From this close Bekter had an easy shot. They’d be dead in seconds.

But Bekter wasn’t shooting. His arrow was nocked to his bow, but the string wasn’t pulled taut. He had a dazed look in his eye; his gaze flickered between the bodies of the Sorqan Sira and Qara.

He’s in shock, Rin realized. Bekter couldn’t believe what he’d done.

She hefted her trident over her head, poised to throw. “Murder’s not so easy, is it?”

Bekter blinked, as if just coming to his senses, and then aimed his bow at her.

“Go on,” she told him. “We’ll see who’s faster.”

Bekter looked at the gleaming tips of her trident, then down at Chaghan, who was rocking back and forth over Qara’s form. He lowered his bow just a fraction.

“You did this,” Bekter said. “You killed Mother. That’s what I’ll tell them. This is your fault.” His voice wavered; he seemed to be trying to convince himself. His bow shook in his hands. “All of this is your fault.”

Rin hurled her trident. Bekter’s horse bolted. The trident flew a foot over his head and shot through empty air. Rin aimed a burst of flame in his direction, but she was too slow—within seconds Bekter was gone from her sight, disappeared into the forest to follow his band of traitors.

For a long time, the only sound in the clearing came from Chaghan. He wasn’t crying, not quite. His eyes were dry. But his chest heaved erratically, his breath came out in short, strangled bursts, and his eyes stared wide, down at his sister’s corpse as if he couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

Our wills have been united since we were children, Qara had said. We are two halves of the same person.

Rin couldn’t possibly imagine how it felt to have that stripped away.

At last Kitay bent down over the Sorqan Sira’s body and rolled her flat on her back. He pulled her eyelids closed.

Then he touched Chaghan gently on the shoulder. “Is there something we should—”

“There’s going to be war,” Chaghan said abruptly. He laid Qara out on the dirt before him, then arranged her hands on her chest, one clasped over the other. His voice was flat, emotionless. “Bekter’s the chieftain now.”

“Chieftain?” Kitay repeated. “He just killed his own mother!”

“Not by his own hand. That’s why he gave the Hesperians those guns. He didn’t touch her, and his riders will attest to that. They’ll be able to swear it before the Pantheon, because it’s true.”

There was no emotion on Chaghan’s face. He looked utterly, terrifyingly calm.

Rin understood. He’d shut down,