She looked toward the switchbacks. The monk was gone, and so was Lin. Another man stood there. He brought his foot down.

This time, she seized the bear construct for support before the quake reached them. She let go as soon as the ripple had passed, launching herself at the soldiers. Shamblers began to pass her as they made their way toward the palace. The only things that seemed to mark the passage of time were the swings of her cudgel, the repeated names in her mind.

Shell. Frond. Grass. Leaf.

She wasn’t sure exactly when she realized they were losing. Another of her war constructs fell; the shamblers had thinned. There was a mood shift in the soldiers ahead of her. They stood straighter, swung harder. It was a gradual thing, like night giving way to day. Her every push toward the gates was rebuffed.

Nisong knew: she had one last card to play. Yet she railed against it.

Shell. Frond. Grass. Leaf.

Not Coral too. She’d told Leaf and Coral she’d keep them safe. She’d broken that promise to Leaf; would she now break it to Coral?

But there was no one else she would have trusted with the sea serpent. And she needed that serpent to change the tide. She needed Coral.

Nisong slammed her cudgel into another soldier, feeling ribs crack beneath the force of the blow. Was this what vengeance cost? Was this the price of bringing justice to her enemies? She’d paid in blood already.

There had been other paths she could have taken, but this was the only one that made sense to her.

Before she could change her mind, she drew the red scarf from inside her tunic and lifted it to the sky. Her gull construct took flight from the trees.

She would crush the Empire and its Emperor and its people.

No matter the cost.

47

Lin

Gaelung Island

I skirted around the edges of the plateau, feeling the last vestiges of the cloudtree berry’s power fading. But I didn’t need that power for this. Thrana seized stray war beasts in her jaws, tossing them to the side so I could slide from her back and rewrite their commands. She stood over me as I carved, a solid, protective presence. I turned them as quickly as I could, the engraving tool digging grooves into my fingers, my hands sore. I barely had time for thought, but Bayan and our last fight against my father stood in the forefront of my mind. I wouldn’t lose Thrana the way I had Bayan. The faster this ended, the fewer casualties we’d have.