“He’s so young,” she said, disgust turning her stomach. Was the King recruiting children now to throw to slaughter? “He was alone?”
“A patrol is sweeping the area now, but I doubt they’ll find any others. The boy claims he’s a deserter, but refuses to talk.”
“A deserter.” Wren didn’t sound convinced.
Neither did her father. “There are no deserters of the King’s army. At least, none that live. They’d be captured and killed before making it five minutes from their station. You know, the King’s generals make the youngest members of their battalions carry out the execution? Says it hardens them.” After a pause, he placed a hand on Wren’s shoulder. “Find out what he knows.”
A cold lick traveled Wren’s spine.
Before she could object, her father came around to face her, blocking the boy from her sight. He braced her with both hands. “Everything the King and his demons do breeds young, hard boys like this with hatred for Papers in their hearts. Young, hard boys who grow up to be cold, hard men, who have taken the lives of so many we care for. They are what we are fighting against.” His eyes flashed. “You want to save Lei? This soldier might have information that could help us. If we have something more to go on, we can discuss her rescue seriously.”
Lei’s face burned in Wren’s mind: those vivid molten eyes; her slight nose; the heart-shaped chin Wren spent so many stolen nights grazing her lips along.
Ketai squeezed her shoulders. “You told me you are tired of waiting. That you need something to do. Here is something.”
Wren pushed out a breath, recalling how it felt to trawl through a sea of bodies, screaming Lei’s name in vain until her throat was ripped raw. And all the days and nights since, her heart still screaming, not knowing whether or not it was all for nothing.
Her resolve hardened. “I’ll do it.”
Her father smiled grimly. “Good. Tonight,” he said, “while everyone is at dinner.” He didn’t add why, though Wren knew. In case of sound. In case the boy needed a lot of… convincing to talk. He moved away, giving her full view of the jackal demon again.
He was so young.
But he was still their enemy.
Wren pictured Lei alone somewhere, possibly at the mercy of demons—and really, whenever were Papers not? And the pain that furrowed through her cemented her decision. Her father was right. Demon boys like this grew into demon men who wouldn’t think twice before tearing their world apart. She knew; they’d done it to her and Lei.
There was no space for mercy in war.
Even though, as she gave the boy one last look before leaving, a small voice in her head reminded her Lei would say there was.
TWO
WREN
THAT NIGHT, WHILE HER CLAN MEMBERS headed to dinner, Wren went instead to the armory to choose a knife.
She settled on a simple gutting knife: small, jagged, not yet cleaned from its last encounter. She liked the way it felt in her hand. The way it was the opposite of her own twin blades, which were elegant and long and spotlessly polished. They were a true warrior’s weapons. Honorable. Forgiving. Designed to let blood quickly and cleanly.
This weapon was for ugly deeds done in darkness. It was neither honorable nor forgiving, and when it tore skin it would hurt.
When she left the armory, Wren found Lova propped against the opposite wall.
The lion-girl’s arms were crossed. Her golden tail twirled lazily, the lustrous fur that clung to her body almost an exact color match for the wide marigold trousers and wrap shirt she wore, the top’s fastener loosely made so her generous curves spilled out. Lova was a perfect example of how striking Moon castes could be, her half lioness, half human features melded together in a way that brought out both beauty and power.
She cocked her head knowingly.
Wren strode past her.
“I know what you’re doing,” Lova said, following.
“I know what you’re doing,” Wren retorted. “You’re General of the Amala, Lo. Babysitting isn’t exactly befitting of your position.”
“Aw, are you calling yourself a baby, now? How cute.”
Wren gritted her teeth. “It was just a turn of phrase.”
“I called you ‘baby’ once,” Lova pointed out slyly, flicking her tail against Wren’s side.
“A long time ago.”
“Something that can be readily amended.”
Wren cut her a sideways look. “A long, long time ago.”
They were crossing the stone-floored atrium at the fortress’s entrance. Members of the clan hung around, talking in groups or pairs. Some stopped mid-conversation to watch their Clan Lord’s daughter and the beautiful General of the famous Cat Clan, the Amala, pass.
The pair had first met in this very spot. Wren’s father had called a summit between clan heads to discuss the Sickness. Wren had been mesmerized by the strident young lioness from the moment she’d prowled into the fort as if her very presence claimed whatever space she was in as her own. One evening, Lova had stopped her in a deserted hallway. Wren was shocked; she thought at first the girl was attacking her. But Lova only brought her hand to Wren’s cheek and announced boldly, without shame or hesitation, “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait any longer to kiss you.”
“You—you’ve only been here three days,” Wren had said, breathless.
Lova’s lips sharpened into a hungry grin. “I’m not known for my patience,” she said, before leaning in.
Two years, yet it felt like lifetimes ago.
It was lifetimes ago. To Wren, time would forevermore be divided into her life before Lei and her life after.
And this new, awful life without her.
She flexed her fingers, steadying herself. If the young jackal soldier had information on Lei’s whereabouts, perhaps she’d soon be in a new lifetime—one where she and Lei were reunited. It was everything she longed for, yet it terrified her, too.
I thought the King was our only enemy. Now I realize there’s been another one all this time—your father. The Hannos.
You.
It had been their last proper conversation, on Lova’s ground-ship the night before the desert battle. And as much as Wren couldn’t ignore the thousands of sweet memories of Lei, there was this one, too, a poison in their midst, threatening to sour them all.
She would find Lei. Wren didn’t let any other option bleed in. But once she did, what Lei would she find? The girl that had loved her so tenderly and fiercely in midnight rooms and rushing countryside and under the starlight on a rolling sea? Or the Lei she’d lost in the body-strewn desert, who’d looked at her with such disgust, a roiling fury Wren never believed could be directed her way until the terrible moment it was?