But her voice didn’t sound so sure. Even as she pressed her lips against Karam’s once more, there was a shakiness there. The uncertainty in her breath and the way she grabbed on to Karam made her feel like it was for some kind of life support. As though Saxony were trying to keep herself from tumbling away.

11

ZEKIA

This is what becomes of us.

Zekia could still hear Ashwood’s voice and the words that had haunted her like a promise all those years ago. Even when she squeezed her eyes shut so very tightly and said her prayers to the Many Gods and drank a specially brewed elixir to calm her heart.

Those words were like scripture carved into her bones.

“Creije will be mine,” Ashwood said, back straight, hand resting atop his cane like it was both a weapon and a treasure. “We have half of the districts. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the city is under my control, and my magic is already circulating in the other eight cities of my realm.”

On the opposite side of the train, the other Kingpins of the realms stared at Ashwood like they could not quite believe their ears.

The train itself moved in broad circles somewhere in the middle of the Onnela Sea, which Ashwood had told Zekia was neutral ground between them. Or neutral waters. Though Zekia didn’t think the other two Kingpins looked very neutral.

Simran of Wrenyal was sitting, arms crossed at his chest, as though he wasn’t sure what else to do with them. His outfit was a wonderfully bright mix of color that Zekia thought would look very pretty on her, and a cloth the same blue as the waters outside kept his hair tucked neatly away.

Beside him, Aurelia of Volo leaned against the cabin door, a bright orange braid running down her shoulders. Zekia was still trying to decide whether standing was an act of defiance, to show Ashwood that she would not be seen as lower than him, or if she was just too scared to sit and be caught off guard by an attack.

It was not a very neutral way of thinking.

If Wesley were here, he and Zekia could laugh about their hesitance.

Wesley would whisper something mean about the way Simran’s voice shook, or how Aurelia tried her hardest not to blink so she could look fierce. He’d say it in a low and smiling voice and Zekia would have to put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Then maybe Ashwood would look back at them, half-scolding and half-amused himself.

Zekia wished Wesley had come.

She wished he didn’t have to sleep so often or heal so slowly.

She wished he understood the terrible world she had seen and how she was just trying to make it better.