The Dragon Republic. R.F. Kuang

a fucking country. She hadn’t come this far just to banter with some stupid Lily whore.

      Her hands shot out and grabbed Sarana by the collar. Sarana moved for her hairpiece, which was no doubt poisoned, but Rin slammed her against the wall, wedged one elbow against her throat, and pinned her right wrist down with the other.

      She leaned forward to press her lips against Sarana’s ear. “Maybe you think you’re safe now. Maybe I’ll just turn and walk away. You’ll brag to the other bitches how you scared the Speerly off! Lucky you! Then one night, when you’ve turned off the lanterns and rolled up the gangplank, you’ll smell smoke in your quarters. You’ll run out onto the deck, but by then the flames will be burning so hot you can’t see two feet in front of you. You’ll know it’s me, but you’ll never be able to tell Moag, because a sheet of fire will burn all your pretty skin off, and the last thing you’ll see before you leap off the ship into boiling-hot water is my laughing face.” Rin dug her elbow deeper into Sarana’s pale throat. “Don’t fuck with me, Sarana.”

      Sarana patted frantically at Rin’s wrists.

      Rin tilted her head. “What was that?”

      Sarana’s voice was a strangled whisper. “Moag … might make an exception.”

      Rin let go. Sarana collapsed back against the wall, frantically fanning her face.

      The red haze ebbed from the edges of Rin’s vision. She closed a fist and opened it, let loose a long breath, and wiped her palm against her tunic. “That’s more like it.”

      “We’re here,” Sarana announced.

      Rin reached up to remove the blindfold from her face. Sarana had made her come alone—the others were more than happy to stay on the pleasure barge—and her naked vulnerability had kept her twitching and sweating during their entire journey through the canals.

      At first she saw nothing but darkness. Then her eyes adjusted to the dim lights, and she saw that the room was lit up with tiny, flickering fire lamps. She saw no windows, no glints of sunshine. She couldn’t tell whether they were in a ship or in a building; whether nighttime had fallen or if the room was simply sealed so well that no outside light could get in. The air indoors was much cooler than outside. She thought she could still feel the rocking sea beneath her legs, but only faintly, and she couldn’t tell if it was real or imagined.

      Wherever she was, the building was massive. A grounded warship? A warehouse?

      She saw blocky furniture with curved legs that surely had to be of foreign origin; they didn’t carve tables like that in the Empire. Along the walls hung portraits, though they couldn’t have been of Nikara men; the subjects were pale-skinned, angry-looking, and all wearing absurdly shaped white wigs. A massive table, large enough to seat twenty, occupied the center of the room.

      On the other side, flanked by a squadron of Lily archers, sat the Pirate Queen herself.

      “Runin.” Moag’s voice was a gravelly drawl, deep and oddly compelling. “Always a pleasure.”

      In the streets of Ankhiluun, they called Moag the Stone Widow. She was a tall, broad-shouldered woman, more handsome than pretty. They said she was a prostitute from the bay who’d married one of Ankhiluun’s many pirate captains. Then he died under circumstances that were never properly examined, and Moag rose steadily through the ranks of Ankhiluun’s pirate hierarchy and consolidated a fleet of unprecedented strength. She was the first to ever unite the pirate factions of Ankhiluun under one flag. Until her reign, the disparate bandits of Ankhiluun had been at war with one another in the same way the twelve provinces of Nikan had been at war since the death of the Red Emperor. In a way, she had managed to do what Daji never could. She’d convinced disparate factions of soldiers to serve a single cause—herself.

      “I don’t think you’ve ever been to my private office.” Moag gestured around the room. “Nice place, isn’t it? The Hesperians were unbearably annoying, but they knew how to decorate.”

      “What happened to the original owners?” Rin asked.

      “Depends. I assume the Hesperian Navy taught their sailors how to swim.” Moag pointed to the chair opposite her. “Sit.”

      “No, thanks.” Rin couldn’t bear sitting in chairs anymore. She hated the way that tables blocked her legs—if she jumped or tried to run, her knees would slam against the wood, costing her precious escape time.

      “Have it your way, then.” Moag cocked her head to the side. “I heard Adlaga didn’t go well.”

      “Got derailed,” Rin said. “Had a surprise encounter with Daji.”

      “Oh, I know,” Moag said. “The whole coastline knows about it. You know how Sinegard has spun this, right? You’re the rogue Speerly, traitor to the crown. Your Mugenese captors drove you mad, and now you’re a threat to everyone you come across. The bounty on your head has been raised to six thousand Imperial silvers. Double if you’re alive.”

      “That’s nice,” Rin said.

      “You don’t seem concerned.”

      “They’re not wrong about anything.” Rin leaned forward. “Look, Yang Yuanfu is dead. We couldn’t bring back his head, but your scouts will confirm everything as soon as they can get to Adlaga. It’s time to pay up.”

      Moag ignored that, resting her chin on her fingertips. “I don’t get it. Why go to all this trouble?”

      “Moag, come on—”

      Moag lifted a hand to cut her off. “Talk me through this. You have power beyond what most people could dream of. You could do anything you want. Become a warlord. Become a pirate. Hell, captain one of my ships if you want to. Why keep picking this fight?”

      “Because Daji started this war,” Rin said. “Because she killed my friends. Because she remains on the throne and she shouldn’t. Because someone has to kill her, and I’d rather it be me.”

      “But why?” Moag pressed. “No one hates our Empress as much as I do. But understand this, little girl: you’re not going to find allies. Revolution is fine in theory. But nobody wants to die.”

      “I’m not asking anyone else to risk it. Just give me weapons.”

      “And if you fail? You don’t think the Militia will track where your supplies came from?”

      “I killed thirty men for you,” Rin snapped. “You owe me any supplies I want; those were the terms. You can’t just—”

      “What can’t I do?” Moag leaned forward, ringed fingers circling the hilt of her dagger. She looked deeply amused. “You think I owe you? By what contract? Under what laws? What will you do, take me to court?”

      Rin blinked. “But you said—”

      “‘But you said,’” Moag mocked in a high-pitched voice. “People say things they don’t mean all the time, little Speerly.”

      “But we had an agreement!” Rin raised her voice, but her words came out plaintive, not dominant. She sounded childish even to her own ears.

      Several Lilies began to titter into their fans.

      Rin’s hands tightened into fists. The residual opium kept her from erupting into fire, but still a haze of scarlet entered her vision.

      She took a deep breath. Calm.

      Murdering Moag might feel good in the moment, but she doubted even she could get out of Ankhiluun alive.

      “You know, for someone of your pedigree, you’re incredibly stupid,” Moag said. “Speerly abilities, Sinegard education, Militia service, and you still don’t understand the way the world works. If you want to get things done, you need brute force. I need you, and I’m the only one who can pay you, which means you need me. Complain all you want. You’re not going anywhere.”

      “But