Queen of Thieves

chapter 6

Eknobia had been called many things before.

Murderer. Seducer. Betrayer.

But "lecherous demon" was a new one.

She watched, intrigued, as the man's bloody fingers tightened on his medallion. He was chanting in a low voice, stumbling over his words, and Eknobia recognized the sentences as a prayer. The obsidian that encased his ankles and wrists crumbled slightly in response to her amusement. She couldn't identify the religion, but it was one of the minor sects in Balutu.

"That won't save you, you know." Eknobia nodded towards the medallion. "None of your gods are listening."

He continued to chant, and Eknobia suppressed a sigh. So be it, then. She settled delicately on the edge of a throne, dug into the rock. The only noise in the humid air of the cave was the gentle trickling of a stream and the guard's fevered prayers.

"Well?" Eknobia arched an eyebrow. "I assume that you have an explanation for the girl's escape?"

He shook his head. His face, Eknobia thought, was the loveliest shade of blue and white. Almost like the Thesian ice shelf that bordered her nation. It was a pity that he would have to die soon.

"Let's try again." Eknobia's feet whispered over the rock. "Where is she?"

"Please, Your Majesty." He was trembling violently. "I have a wife. Children. My daughter's name is—"

Eknobia sighed.

Sage, she was bored.

She nodded at a guard, who flicked his wrist, sending a rock careening towards the prisoner's face. She watched, satisfied, as it smacked against his cheek with a sickening crack. His grip tightened on the medallion, but he didn't cry out. Good. At least Eknobia was hiring strong assassins, even if they weren't competent.

"I know who your daughter is," Eknobia said. "She was the first to testify to your ineptitude." She had the fleeting satisfaction of seeing shock lance across his face. It wasn't true, of course —Kasha had no idea that her father had even been sent in pursuit of the Black girl — but it amused Eknobia to watch him squirm. "You lost the girl, didn't you?"

It wasn't a question, and he seemed to realize this. "The Council intercepted us," he panted. "They sent Desar Qavak. There are reports that she's in Shimasor, though," he added quickly. "Hiding in the palace under Fotea's protection."

Eknobia's lip curled.

Obviously.

She tilted her head, assessing him. Perhaps she was being too hasty. Desar Qavak was one of the fiercest warriors in Zirna; it wasn't surprising that her assassin had been bested. She should have planned better. Besides, Eknobia had just had the cave scrubbed; it would be such a pain to get the bloodstains out of the stone again.

But then the man started chanting.

The flame will grant me courage

Running water gives me peace

The Earth puts iron in my soul

And the air gives truthful release

The four are all we are

And to what we all return

It was a Divisionist prayer, and one that she knew well. Unbidden, images of Edah flooded her mind: the feel of his strong leg thrown over her own; his golden curls sprawled across the pillow; and the smell of his clothes, sweet and smoky from the incense at the Divisionist temple.