“What should I say to him?”

“You’ll remain silent. All he has to do is look at you.”

Rin followed Vaisra across the riverbank until they reached a line of tents propped up at the city borders as if it were an invading army’s. When they approached the periphery, a group of green-clad soldiers stopped them and demanded their weapons.

“Go on,” Vaisra muttered when Rin hesitated to part with her trident.

“You trust him that much?”

“No. But I trust you won’t need it.”

The Snake Warlord came to meet them outside, where his aides had set up two chairs and a small table.

At first Rin mistook him for a servant. Ang Tsolin didn’t look like a Warlord. He was an old man with a long and sad face, so slender he seemed frail. He wore the same forest-green Militia uniform as his men, but no symbols announced his rank, and no weapon hung at his hip.

“Old master.” Vaisra dipped his head. “It’s good to see you again.”

Tsolin’s eyes flickered toward the outline of the Seagrim, which was just visible down the river. “So you didn’t take the bitch’s offer, either?”

“It was rather unsubtle, even for her,” Vaisra said. “Is anyone staying in the palace?”

“Chang En. Our old friend Jun Loran. None of the southern Warlords.”

Vaisra arched an eyebrow. “They hadn’t mentioned that. That’s surprising.”

“Is it? They’re southern.”

Vaisra settled back in his chair. “I suppose not. They’ve been touchy for years.”

No one had brought a chair out for Rin, so she remained standing behind Vaisra, hands folded over her chest in imitation of the guards who flanked Tsolin. They looked unamused.

“You’ve certainly taken your time getting here,” Tsolin said. “It’s been a long camping trip for the rest of us.”

“I was picking up something on the coast.” Vaisra pointed toward Rin. “Do you know who she is?”

Rin lowered her scarf.

Tsolin glanced up. At first he seemed only confused as he examined her face, but then he must have taken in the dark hue of her skin, the red glint in her eyes, because his entire body tensed.

“She’s wanted for quite a lot of silver,” he said finally. “Something about an assassination attempt in Adlaga.”

“It’s a good thing I’ve never wanted for silver,” said Vaisra.

Tsolin rose from his chair and walked toward Rin until only inches separated them. He was not so much taller than she was, but his gaze made her distinctly uncomfortable. She felt like a specimen under his careful examination.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Rin.”

Tsolin ignored her. He made a humming noise under his breath and returned to his seat. “This is a very blunt display of force. You’re just going to march her into the Autumn Palace?”

“She’ll be properly bound. Drugged, too. Daji insisted on it.”

“So Daji knows she’s here.”

“I thought that’d be prudent. I sent a messenger ahead.”

“No wonder she’s getting antsy, then,” Tsolin said. “She’s increased the palace guard threefold. The Warlords are talking. Whatever you’re planning, she’s ready for it.”

“So it will help to have your support,” Vaisra said.

Rin noticed that Vaisra dipped his head every time he spoke to Tsolin. In a subtle fashion, he was bowing continuously to his elder, displaying deference and respect.

But Tsolin seemed unresponsive to flattery. He sighed. “You’ve never been content with peace, have you?”

“And you refuse to acknowledge that war is the only option,” said Vaisra. “Which would you prefer, Tsolin? The Empire can die a slow death over the next century, or we can set the country on the right path within the week if we’re lucky.”

“Within a few bloody years, you mean.”

“Months, at the most.”

“Don’t you remember the last time someone went up against the Trifecta?” Tsolin asked. “Remember how the bodies littered the steps of the Heavenly Pass?”

“It won’t be like that,” Vaisra said.

“Why not?”

“Because we have her.” Vaisra nodded toward Rin.

Tsolin looked wearily in Rin’s direction.

“You poor child,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

She blinked, unsure what that meant.

“And we have the advantage of time,” Vaisra continued quickly. “The Militia is reeling from the Federation attack. They need to recuperate. They couldn’t marshal their defenses fast enough.”

“Yet under your best-case scenario, Daji still has the northern provinces,” Tsolin said. “Horse and Tiger would never defect. She has Chang En and Jun. That’s all you need.”

“Jun knows not to fight battles he can’t win.”

“But he can and will win this one. Or did you think you would defeat everyone through a little intimidation?”

“This war could be over in days if I had your support,” Vaisra said impatiently. “Together we’d control the coastline. I own the canals. You own the eastern shore. Combined, our fleets—”

Tsolin held up a hand. “My people have undergone three wars in their lifetime, each time with a different ruler. Now they might have their first chance at a lasting peace. And you want to bring a civil war to their doorsteps.”

“There’s a civil war coming, whether you admit it or not. I only hasten the inevitable.”

“We will not survive the inevitable,” Tsolin said. True sorrow laced his words. Rin could see it in his eyes; the man looked haunted. “We lost so many men at Golyn Niis, Vaisra. Boys. You know what our commanders made their soldiers do the evening before the siege? They wrote letters home to their families. Told them they loved them. Told them they wouldn’t be coming home. And our generals chose the strongest and fastest soldiers to deliver the messages back home, because they knew it wasn’t going to make a difference whether we had them at the wall.”

He stood up. “My answer is no. We have yet to recover from the scars of the Poppy Wars. You can’t ask us to bleed again.”

Vaisra reached out and grabbed Tsolin’s wrist before he could turn to go. “You’re neutral then?”

“Vaisra—”

“Or against me? Shall I expect Daji’s assassins at my door?”

Tsolin looked pained. “I know nothing. I help no one. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”

“We’re just going to let him go?” Rin asked once they were out of Tsolin’s earshot.

Vaisra’s harsh laugh surprised her. “You think he’s going to report us to the Empress?”

Rin thought this had seemed rather obvious. “It’s clear he’s not with us.”

“He will be. He’s revealed his threshold for going to war. Provincial danger. He’ll pick a side quick enough if it means the difference between warfare and obliteration, so I will force his hand. I’ll bring the fight to his province. He won’t have a choice then, and I suspect he knows that.”