prepared to face his own death.
She inched closer to the kehok and hoped that they wouldn’t be the cause of that death.
“Ambassador Usan,” Dar greeted him.
“I don’t think I still have the right to that title,” the man said, holding up his shackled wrists. “My king has most likely decided I failed in my duties.”
“That is his right to decide,” Dar said. “You can ask him when you see him.”
The man cocked his head, as if mildly interested. “You aren’t executing me? Curious. You know I murdered the woman you reportedly loved. Like you murdered mine.”
Dar looked taken aback by that—most wouldn’t have noticed, but Raia saw the tightening of his hands on the arms of his throne. She felt the kehok stiffen beside her.
“She was in the army that was supposed to invade. A captain in the third battalion.”
“She may have survived,” Dar said. “The extent of the losses aren’t known.”
“You unleashed an army of several hundred murderous beasts,” Usan said with a shrug. “After so much time listening to your nobles discuss betting on your sun-blasted races, I know bad odds when I hear them.”
“We are returning you to Ranir, for the good of Becar,” Dar said. “The invasion, as well as your actions here, were an act of aggression we cannot and will not ignore. You will carry treaties that your king will sign.”
“And if he does not?”
“Kehoks can travel across the desert. I do not think your king would like to find an army of them on his doorstep.” Dar adopted the same casual tone as the ambassador, but Raia could feel the underlying tension.
“To warn you, my king may take it as a sign of weakness that you allowed me to live.”
Raia burst out, “Are you asking to die?”
He shrugged again. “I’d prefer to die someplace where I’m not so thirsty all the time. I don’t know how you Becarans can stand it here. People aren’t meant to be surrounded by so much sand. So, if you’re offering me a chance to live long enough to leave this place, I’ll take it.”
“You will be provided with an escort, as well as a written list of demands for your king. And you will deliver a special message.” Dar nodded to the kehok.
Standing, the lion walked toward the ambassador.
For the first time, Usan looked frightened. Shrinking back, he began to tremble. Raia didn’t know what the kehok was doing, but she didn’t sense rage. Perhaps this was something Dar and the kehok had worked out between them. Often, Dar talked with his brother, and Raia gave them space, moving herself out of earshot but staying close enough to control the kehok, if necessary. They’d managed to find their own ways to communicate.
She was musing over this when the lion swiped his claws diagonally across Usan’s body. Usan cried out as the metal tips gouged his skin. Blood sprang from the long gash, and Usan fell hard onto his knees.
To the guards, Dar said, “Make sure it scars. Then send him home.” To Usan he said, “If you return, the claws will cut through your heart. And if your kingdom moves against us again, it will be your king’s heart.”
The bleeding man was carried out of the aviary.
Raia and the kehok met the emperor in the aviary the next day, and the next. The emperor wanted his brother present, and it was unsafe for the kehok to be without her—she couldn’t guarantee he would hold on to his memories, and his guards wouldn’t allow the risk.
Sometimes the meetings were fascinating, sometimes boring. None were as monumental as either the meeting with the new high augurs or with the former ambassador from Ranir . . . at least until the day when no one walked through the aviary doors for the next meeting.
“Isn’t there anyone coming?” Raia asked.
“This time is reserved for you,” Dar said. He drew a roll of parchment out of a pocket in his tunic. “These were made official just this morning.”
She took it, unsure what it could be. It was tied with a gold ribbon, as if it were a new law or a proclamation. Feeling Dar watching her, she untied it—there were two papers. She flattened them on her lap.
As she read the first one, she felt her throat clog. It was a release statement from her parents, obtained from them in prison, admitting they had no claim over her, that she owed them nothing, and that all debt and relations between them were