The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War #2) - R. F. Kuang Page 0,187

They didn’t come during the third war because they wanted to see the Empire bleed. They won’t come now until Vaisra’s challengers are dead. Vaisra is no true democrat, nor a champion of the people. He’s an opportunist building his throne with Nikara blood.”

“You’re mad,” Rin said. “No one is crazy enough to do that.”

“You’d have to be crazy not to see it! The evidence is right in front of you. The Federation troops never made it as far inland as Arlong. Vaisra lost nothing in the war.”

“He nearly lost his son—”

“And he got him back with no trouble at all. Face it, Yin Vaisra was the only victor of the Third Poppy War. You’re too smart to believe otherwise.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Rin snapped. “And even if that’s all true, that doesn’t change anything. I already know the Hesperians are assholes. I’d still fight for the Republic.”

“You shouldn’t fight for an alliance with people who think we’re barely human,” said Charouk.

“Well, that still gives me no reason to fight for you—”

“You should fight for us because you’re one of us,” said Gurubai.

“I am not one of you.”

“Yes, you are,” Takha said. “You’re a Rooster. Just like me.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

The sheer hypocrisy. He’d disowned her easily enough at Lusan, had treated her like an animal. Now he wanted to claim they were one and the same?

“The south would rise for you,” Gurubai insisted. “Do you have any idea how much power you hold? You are the last Speerly. The entire continent knows your name. If you raised your sword, tens of thousands would follow. They’d fight for you. You’d be their goddess.”

“I’d also be a traitor to my closest friends,” she said. They were asking her to abandon Kitay. Nezha. “Don’t try to flatter me. It won’t work.”

“Your friends?” Gurubai scoffed. “Who, Yin Nezha? Chen Kitay? Northerners who would spit on your very existence? Are you so desperate to be like them that you’ll ignore everything else at stake?”

She bristled. “I don’t want to be like them.”

“Yes, you do,” he sneered. “That’s all you want, even if you don’t realize it. But you’re southern mud in the end. You can butcher the way you talk, you can turn away from the stench of the refugee camps and pretend that you don’t smell, too, but they are never going to think you’re one of them.”

That did it. Rin’s sympathy evaporated.

Did they really believe they could sway her with provincial ties? Rooster Province had never done anything for her. For the first sixteen years of her life, Tikany had tried to grind her into the dirt. She’d lost her ties to the south the moment she’d left for Sinegard.

She’d escaped the Fangs. She’d carved out a place for herself in Arlong. She was one of Vaisra’s best soldiers. She wouldn’t go back now. She couldn’t.

For her, the south had only ever meant abuse and misery. She owed it nothing. Certainly not a suicide mission. If the Warlords wanted to throw their lives away, they could do that by themselves.

She saw the way Kesegi was looking at her—stricken, disappointed—and she willed herself not to care.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’m not one of you. I’m a Speerly. And I know where my loyalties lie.”

“If you stay here you’ll die for nothing,” Gurubai said. “We all will.”

“Then go back,” she sneered. “Take your troops. Go home. I won’t stop you.”

They didn’t move. Their faces—stricken, ashen—confirmed she’d called their bluff. They couldn’t run. Alone in their provinces, they didn’t have a chance. They might—might, though Rin strongly doubted they had the numbers—be able to fight off the Mugenese troops on their own. But if Arlong fell, it was only a matter of time until Daji came for them, too.

Without her support, their hands were tied. The southern Warlords were trapped.

Gurubai’s hand moved to the sword at his waist. “Will you tell Vaisra?”

Her lip curled. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Will you tell Vaisra?” he repeated.

Rin gave him an incredulous smile. Was he really going to fight her? Was he really even going to try?

She couldn’t help relishing this. For once she held all the power; for once, she held their fates in her hands and not the other way around.

She could have killed them right there and been done with it. Vaisra might have even praised her for the demonstration of loyalty.

But it was the eve of battle. The Militia was creeping to their doorstep. The refugees needed some sort of leadership if they were going