Rajavaa stared at Maralah’s bloody boots. She had done it, then. Done the thing she always told him she would. When she was accepted into sanisi training, she told him, “Someday, you will be Patron, and I will be your sanisi.” A lifetime ago. It was her idea to leave their village together, to travel to far-off Caisau to become sanisi. He had failed the training – he was not gifted – and joined the military instead. Not because he had a passion for it, but because he needed to eat.

Someday, you will be Patron…

He had never doubted it. He prepared for it. His men loved him. They flocked to him like bees to honey. He loved them like a father, a brother, a lover, a friend. He was all things to them. But he had not anticipated this long war of attrition and what it would do to the country and to him. For the last decade, he had marched them to their deaths each day and drowned himself in drink every night, just like his mother.

“I have the rot, Maralah.”

Her grip on his arm tightened. “You don’t,” she said.

He showed his teeth. “They tell me it’s the drink,” he said. “Blew out my guts. No way to fix it until Tira’s ascendant, and I won’t last that long.”

“How long?” she said.

“A year, maybe two,” he said.

“That’s long enough.”

“I’ll be vomiting blood before the end,” he said. He pulled his arm away.

She leaned into him. Pressed her forehead to his, the way she had when they were children. “I can get it fixed,” she said. “If I tell you I can fix it, will you do it?”

He choked on a laugh. “You’re mad. There’s no way to–”

“We have omajistas. I have one out on an assignment who can fix it.”

“Lords, you don’t mean Taigan?”

“Alaar is dead,” she said, “so it’s up to you to pardon Taigan. I give you a few extra years, and you spend that time keeping our people together. What’s it hurt, if you weren’t even going to have those years anyway?”

“You would call him to help even if I wasn’t going to be Patron.”

“Would I?” she said.

Her tone chilled him. “You insult me,” he said. “When have you ever had to threaten me?”

“These are dark times, brother.”

“And you need my army.”

“Saiduan needs your army.”

Rajavaa closed his eyes. He could not bear to look at her face so close. It reminded him too much of their mother’s face. He wondered if that was what made it so ugly.

“Call your omajista,” he said.

“Come upstairs, Patron,” she said, and pulled away.

Chapter 43

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