Liyana spread her arms out. “I am unarmed.”
Except for the knife in your sash, Bayla commented. Ah, you do have a plan!
Could you please feed me some magic? Slowly, so as not to alarm the soldier, she reached one hand toward the wounded man’s face. Flinching, he pressed the tip of his sword to her sternum. She felt the metal through the fabric, and she froze. Magic poured into her. Without moving, she expanded her awareness to encompass his wound. She encouraged the skin to knit together.
He healed.
He lowered the tip of his sword.
“I am not your enemy,” Liyana said. “Take me to the emperor.”
Ringed by guards, Liyana was led through the camp. Other soldiers joined them as they marched, until she could see only uniforms in every direction. She kept her eyes straight ahead, and she gripped the truce flag so hard that the wood dented her skin.
At last the guards parted, and she saw the emperor’s tent. It matched her memory of it exactly, and for an instant she felt like she had weeks ago, when she first insisted on an audience with the emperor and demanded that he leave.
You failed before, Bayla said.
I will not fail again, Liyana said. Flanked by guards, she strode into the tent. Inside, the soldiers blocked her, and she waited, unable to see the emperor through them.
One of the soldiers bowed low. “This desert woman approached under a flag of truce. She wishes to parlay.” The soldiers parted, and she saw him. His eyes locked on hers, and she felt her heart lurch. She hadn’t expected to feel . . . She didn’t know what she felt.
The emperor rose from behind his ridiculous wooden desk. She spotted the circles under his eyes, so dark that they looked like the smudge of a thumbprint. “Liyana or Bayla?” he asked.
Lie, Bayla whispered. Do not tell him about me!
“Both,” she said. “But you speak to Liyana.”
“Leave us,” the emperor ordered his guards.
Bowing, the guards exited the tent. The emperor studied her for a moment and then crossed to the pillows and sat. He poured tea into two chalices. Now I see your plan, Bayla said. You will kill him with the sky serpent knife. Without its leader the army will leave.
Liyana froze. I did not come here to assassinate the emperor!
His death would solve our problem, Bayla thought. One death to save many. It is the sacrifice that vessels have made over the generations, willingly or not.
Liyana sat across from the emperor and accepted one of the chalices.
“Your people killed many of my soldiers,” the emperor said. “I did not expect that. Congratulations.”
The tea tasted sour. She set it down. “Three other vessels were with me when I came into your camp. All of them are dead now, displaced by deities. I do not celebrate deaths, ours or yours.”
“And that is why you are here,” the emperor said. It was a statement, not a question. “We are thousands. You do not want this much blood on your hands.”
Only one man needs to die, Bayla thought. It could be done with magic, if you don’t want blood on your hands. Slow his heart. Block his breath. You could make it painless.
“Bayla wants me to kill you,” Liyana said.
Liyana!
“She should,” the emperor said without changing his expression. “I ordered her imprisonment with the intent of causing suffering to her clan.”
“But you intended to save them—and me,” Liyana said.
“Yes, I did,” he said. “Without their deities the clans would have welcomed an alliance with the empire. We could have worked together to survive the drought. It was a brilliant plan. You undid it.”
“I won’t apologize for that,” Liyana said.
A brief smile crossed his lips. “I do not expect you to, any more than I will apologize to you for trying to save my people.”
“You’re still trying,” she pointed out. “You haven’t left.”
“We are healing from the attack,” he said. “Our focus has not been on packing.”
“But you don’t intend to leave.”
“Once, there was a mosquito who—” the emperor began.
Liyana reached over and touched his hand. Inside her, Bayla crowed, Now! and flooded magic into her body. The magic filled her, but Liyana let her hand simply rest on his. “I am not here as an enemy, even if that is what you are,” she said. “You cannot enter the mountains, but I believe I can convince my people to supply rations to you so you and your army can return to your lands. We don’t want war.”
The emperor covered her hand with his. His hand was soft and warm. “It is too late for a simple peace. You saw the fear in the eyes of my people. If I do not find a way to defeat that fear, it will eat at us as surely as hunger.” His lips quirked into a smile. “When you walked into my tent that day, I never expected you held the power to destroy an empire.”
“I didn’t have a goddess in me then,” Liyana said.
“You don’t need one,” the emperor said. “You are powerful on your own.”
She looked into his eyes. He had sorrow inside, more sadness than he should have had to hold. “If our people fight again, more will die,” she said. “We have magic, but you have numbers. You don’t want more blood on your hands, either. I know that.”
“You presume to know me.”
“I do know you. We are alike.”
He was silent, staring into her eyes, and she found herself holding her breath. It was presumptuous of her. Not so long ago she would not have dreamed of uttering such a statement. But it felt true.
“Become my wife,” he said.
She stared as all words fled her mind. It felt as if the world slowed and faded away beyond the tent. She heard a roar of wind. You cannot, Bayla said.
He leaned forward and very gently kissed her. His lips felt like a butterfly on her lips. He drew back, and she touched her lips with her fingertips.
“We can save our people by uniting our people,” he said.
“We . . . my people . . .” It felt difficult to think, as if she had to swim through sand. “We value our freedom.”
“You would have it,” he said. “As empress you could ensure that your people retain the independence they need. You would be joining the empire as an equal nation, not a conquered one.”
Bayla roared inside her. Caught off guard, Liyana fell into darkness. The swirl of Bayla’s presence surrounded her, and Liyana fought her way back to feel her body. She blinked her eyes. She was lying on the blankets. The emperor bent over her, his face merely inches from hers. He clutched her shoulders. “Liyana? Liyana! Can you hear me?”
“You care,” she said, wonder filling her voice. The look in his eyes . . .
He loosened his grip and rocked back. Raising his head, he waved to the guards. “All is well. You may leave us. Tell the doctors to return to the wounded.” He bent back over Liyana. “Are you well? Was it her—Bayla?”
She nodded, and she felt tears spill out of her eyes onto her cheeks.
You cannot consider this! Bayla howled. It is a betrayal of all we are! To choose this stranger, this outsider—
He’s no outsider! He is human! Even more, he dreams of the lake! Liyana rubbed her forehead as if that would help the howls inside her head. “I . . . don’t want anyone else to die.” She let him help her sit up. He cradled her against his shoulder. For an instant she let him comfort her. His arms felt safe.
“No more bloodshed,” he said.
He wants to use you, Bayla hissed.
“And the lake?” Liyana asked. “You cannot enter the mountains. United or not, that must never happen. The sky serpents will attack.”