“Are you all right? You seem . . . different.”

Karina grimaced. This was why their relationship hadn’t worked out; all Tunde ever wanted to do was talk about feelings and other annoying things that she did not have the patience for.

“People change, Adetunde. That’s what happens when you don’t talk to them for six months.” Before he could cut in, she added, “When Adil returns, I should ask him for another dance. He was quick on his feet, better than anyone else I’ve ever been with.” She cocked her head to the side. “Unless you object?”

Tunde’s icy expression returned. “Who you dance with is not my business.”

A cruel part of Karina snickered with glee. Adetunde Diakité, Water Champion renowned throughout Ziran for his charming smile and quick wit, was jealous over her. She certainly couldn’t blame him; if she were Tunde, she’d be in love with herself too.

Karina could have dropped the conversation there and let them float in silence for the rest of the ride. But Tunde’s observation had gotten far too close to the truth for Karina’s liking. Closeness meant vulnerability, and vulnerability made a person easy prey, which was why she leaned forward and said, “You know what the real difference is between you and Adil? For all his nervousness, at least he doesn’t use humor to hide the fact that he’s too scared of failure to even try.”

Tunde recoiled as if she’d struck him, and Karina wondered if he too was remembering how not long ago they had lain in each other’s arms, not quite in love but not far from it either. His voice was resigned when he finally said, “I look forward to the day you decide you’re ready to fight for something instead of against everyone.”

Tunde turned away, and Karina swallowed thickly, suddenly wishing that she could take the words back. She wished that her first instinct at any sign of weakness weren’t to strike at it, but she didn’t know how to stop. Her sword had served her well over the years, and now the rift it had cut between her and the world was larger than it’d ever been.

But she was saving Tunde and Adil by making them hate her enough to not want to win Solstasia. The damage she accrued in the process was worth their lives.

Unable to look at Tunde’s forlorn face any longer, Karina turned her attention back to the shore. Adil had finally returned to the Midway in a new outfit that was far too big for him. Karina narrowed her eyes; she had hoped he would leave entirely. She wasn’t sure how much clearer her warning could have been, save physically throwing him out of Ziran herself.

“Captain, can you please steer us to the docks?” she called, and the boat began its return. As they approached, Karina caught snippets of the conversation between Mwale Omar and Adil.

“You’re back!” the vizier exclaimed, clapping Adil on the back. “Don’t worry, boy. I’ve had my fair share of lovers’ quarrels.”

Karina rolled her eyes. She’d hardly call a dance and an “accidental” fall into the lake a quarrel, but people would accept whatever version of a story they found most entertaining, no matter how little truth it contained.

“Are you hungry? Do you need more wine?” Adil tried to reassure the man that he was fine, really, but Mwale Omar turned to a passing servant and bellowed, “You there!”

A boy who could who could not have been more than ten years old ran over, clutching a pot tight to his chest.

“Yes, sir?” said the boy with a thick Eshran accent. A look of dread filled Adil’s face, so strong it made the hairs on Karina’s arm stand on end. Just a few days ago, she might have brushed off this entire conversation, but after what she’d seen in the raid, she couldn’t look away.

Mwale Omar gestured to the empty dishes on the tables around them. “Fetch us more food.”

“I’m sorry sir,” mumbled the boy, shuffling from foot to foot, “but I don’t work in the kitchens. If you give me a second, I can—”

“Did I not give you an order?”

“I-I-I’m already doing a task, and per your earlier instructions, sir, I’m not allowed in the kitchens. Let me find someone who can—”

“Come here, boy.”

“Really, I’m all right,” said Adil, glancing between Mwale Omar and the boy. “I’m not hungry.”

“I said come here,” the vizier repeated.

The boy inched forward, hugging his pot so tightly that the veins crisscrossing his thin arms stood out in sharp relief against his dark skin.

“What’s your name?”

“Boadi, sir.”

“Well, Boadi, I don’t know what they teach you in that rat hole you all call home, but here in Ziran, we talk to our elders with respect.”

Boadi’s lip quivered, and Adil asked, “Is this really necessary?”

“If you don’t teach them their place at a young age, they’ll never understand,” said the vizier as calmly as one might describe training a horse.

Adil seemed to coil into himself, like a spring preparing to snap. The tug Karina had felt toward him during the Second Challenge returned, but she was too far away to do anything.

“Please, may I go?” Boadi cowered behind his pot. “I was told to take this inside.”

“You’re free to go after you fetch us our food.”

“But that’s not what I do,” the boy cried.

Mwale Omar’s face contorted cruelly. “You do whatever I tell you to do, you insolent . . .”

The man reared his hand back, and Karina barked at the captain to bring her ashore, just as someone yelled, “Enough!”

In an instant, Adil grabbed the older man’s wrist and jerked it back. Every person in the vicinity froze as Boadi scampered off.

Mwale Omar wrenched his wrist from Adil’s grasp with a snarl. “What is the matter with you?”

“You were about to strike a child!”

“It’s just some Eshran whelp. There are thousands of them swarming around Ziran.”

It was true that there had been an influx of refugees from Eshra in recent months. The reasons flying around for this were numerous—the river flu, the clan wars, Eshrans were simply lazy and trying to benefit from the wealth of Ziran without doing any work themselves. Karina didn’t know what to believe; she had never actually spoken to an Eshran, so she did not know how bad things really were in the region.

“What if that had been your son someone had treated like that?” asked Adil.

“Don’t you dare compare my children to one of them,” warned Mwale Omar. “Why do you care so much about a damn kekki?”

Adil’s face contorted again, before he dropped his gaze.

“I grew up in Talafri,” he said, his voice cracking. “Where I’m from, the Eshrans are no different from you or me. We treat them with respect, and they give us the same in return.”

Mwale Omar’s anger melted into condescension as he looked down at Adil. “You have not been in Ziran long, but our relationship with the Eshrans is not the same. Whole packs of them have been pouring into the city, hoarding our resources for themselves.”

“Plus, they bring with them no trade or skills,” chimed in Driss. The Sun Champion leaned very obviously toward the vizier, as if that might regain him his spot as the court’s favorite. “The last thing Ziran needs is more people who can’t afford to take care of themselves.”

“Maybe the Eshrans wouldn’t be so poor if almost all their harvests did not end up in Zirani pockets,” argued Adil.

“Well, actually,” drawled Driss, and Karina had never felt such a pointed desire to punch another person in her life, “the population of Ziran is a thousand times larger than every village in the mountains combined. The Eshrans produce more food than they can consume on their own, so it is only fair that the largest portion of it goes to us. Plus, the agreement through which we conduct our trade with them is perfectly legal.”

“An agreement signed centuries ago under the threat of war hardly seems legal to me.”

“You can only wage war against a recognized country.” Driss spoke slowly, the way one might speak to an ignorant child, and the courtiers nodded along. “The Eshrans had no head of state, and they barely had passable roads before we arrived. They are better off for us being there.”

“If the Zirani have been so good for the Eshrans, why have you done nothing to stop the clan wars?” argued Adil. “Why have we been abandoned by the very people supposedly protecting us?”

“We?”

A hint of a western accent had slipped out in Adil’s voice. His home of Talafri lay on the border between the Odjubai Desert and the Eshra region, and yet . . .

The boat finally reached the dock, and Karina didn’t wait for Tunde as she hauled herself out and marched toward the gathered circle. This may be Dar Benchekroun, but this was still her city, and she wasn’t going to let the council go around striking children on her watch, even if she wasn’t sure why Adil cared so much for one lowly servant.