“We strike from here, here, and here,” Riyan said, pointing to the enormous map of the Saian capital city that had been draped over an ornate oak wood table the eccentric man had somehow brought in.

  Quite the feat, Maiya felt, considering they were deep underground in a sewer network. She wondered how they even fit the massive thing through the small doors. Did they break it into pieces and assemble it here? Regardless, she pitied the poor souls charged with the task. No doubt a rebel who’d die for the cause.

  Maiya felt a bitter taste in her mouth. This rebellion would be bloody. Most were, of course, but this one would be especially brutal. Kartara was a fortress. One that heavily favored the defenders.

  Worse, Riyan’s base of operations was in Ksaia—a different city altogether. His troops would be fighting in unfamiliar terrain.

  Not to mention the rulers of Sai were no despots. If Maiya was honest, she’d begun to harbor misgivings about this whole endeavor. King Rayid Hiranya was justifiable. Ridding the world of Mina had been a boon to humanity.

  Sai, however, was a different story. The more Maiya learned of its ruler King Dilber, and its queen, Queen Puja Sai, Maiya learned they were the reason the country was so prosperous, despite its small size and unfortunate location, sandwiched between two superpowers.

  Were they truly doing the right thing in invading? Were they making the world a better place? It felt like Sai’s only crime was being allied with the Kin’jal—a country that would no longer be an enemy, should Ira’s plan work.

  And yet, Maiya needed Riyan just as Riyan needed them. They needed the instability his uprising would bring to the region, to lure Andros out, and once lured, Riyan would need Sanobar, and critically, Ira’s rebellion, to ensure Andros didn’t just invade Sai outright in the name of border stability.

  It felt a little like cutting off a perfectly healthy arm to save the body. If Dilber and Puja’s death meant ridding the world of the blight that was Andros, if it meant reforming the Kin’jal into a better, more peaceful people, then how many untold thousands would be saved in the decades and centuries to come? Was it right to sacrifice the innocent to better the world?

  Maiya found she could not answer that question. Nor, thankfully, did she have to. Her path was set. Her Fate determined. There was solace in knowing that no matter what she did, that as the Blessed Chosen, her actions were preordained. Controlled by an all-powerful entity. She wondered how Vir would react, if he knew.

  He’d probably reject the concept, claiming it was ridiculous that anyone’s actions could be bound by Fate. How lucky he was… If only he knew of Maiya’s woes. If only he knew that he, alone, was an anomaly. A factor the Fateweavers could not control. If only he knew he was free.

  Yet, Maiya couldn’t tell him. Not without worrying him. For if she said his presence was the only factor that would allow her to regain her free will, he would surely fly to her aid, abandoning his duties. She couldn’t allow that. Her burden was hers alone to bear.

  “Wouldn’t you agree, Maiya?” Riyan asked, interrupting her daydream.

  “Yes,” Maiya replied. “Staging squads fifteen and eighteen at the wall to the inner city is wise. The first wall is our greatest threat. Past that, we should have an easier time. The castle is not prepared for an invasion, after all. They will be caught off-guard.”

  Riyan nodded, stroking his beard. “An astute assessment. I agree.”

  Maiya let out a breath and thanked her training. Even daydreaming, she maintained enough awareness to meaningfully contribute to the conversation.

  Riyan’s chances were… Rather hopeless, if Maiya was honest. Kartara was a vast city built like a pie wedge smashed into the base of some truly impressive mountains.

  And, like a pie turned on its side, Kartara’s defenses consisted of layers upon layers. Starting with the outer wall, each district sat higher than the next, with its own towering wall to protect it. There were three such walls, excluding the one that surrounded the castle proper. In lieu of an army of a hundred thousand, one would need the Altani’s fast attack airships to have a chance of success, and even then, Maiya wondered how the elite mejai would fare.

  Riyan had neither, and on his own, he would lose. But that was why Maiya was here. To make the unwinnable winnable. To turn the impossible into the possible. No pressure.

  Maiya’s mind wandered as the Hiranyan ex-general droned on, discussing squad formation, routes each group would take, and the other mundane aspects of planning an uprising.

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  Not that Maiya wasn’t interested—on the contrary, she’d spent sleepless nights poring over those very details for the other two invasions she was planning, even when she had assistants to handle much of the grunt work. Maiya was both interested in the topic, and felt a need to be personally involved in all aspects of the planning—something, she was told, was a bad trait for a leader.

  Let them judge, Maiya thought. If being involved meant higher chances of success, then Maiya would put up with her subordinates’ constant grumbling. She just wished her peers and superiors were a little more useful sometimes.

  For all her vision and political wiles, Ira wasn’t much of a strategist, as Maiya had discovered firsthand when the princess had suggested simply rushing the castle through the front gate.

  Thus, the burden of planning the details of Sonam’s rebellion fell upon her shoulders.

  Prince Sanobar Hiranya, on the other hand, was surprisingly good at strategy. He took after his deranged sister in that regard. Even so, he was green. He frequently made poor decisions with respect to resource allocation and logistics. It amazed her how clueless he was about so much of what made a military function.

  At least Riyan knew what he was doing. She might hate the man, but Maiya appreciated the professionalism of a fellow competent leader.

  This was the eleventh hour. In less than a week, his rebellion would begin. Already, most of his troops had infiltrated Kartara—not difficult—thanks to their lax entry requirements.

  The harder part had been securing safe houses and sewer bases. Like Ksaia, Kartara’s sewer system was both empty and expansive, boasting hundreds of exits around the city. Perfect for a surprise attack. The best part was that the network was its most expansive in the upper districts, where the Sawai and royalty resided. Hardly surprising—the nobility insisted upon their luxuries, after all. And what luxury greater than flushing toilets?

  Their vices would be their undoing. Once through the first wall, access to the rest of the city would be trivial. The difficulty lay in mapping the extensive network and plotting safe, direct paths.

  That was where Maiya’s handmaidens came in, working tirelessly and with no small danger to themselves to chart out the network.

  The task had been finished, and now it was all up to Riyan. Well, mostly. Maiya and her elite handmaidens would assist Riyan’s troops, serving as a special attack force of sorts, engaging where needed, sowing general chaos, and misdirecting Kartara’s armed forces.

  How strange it is, Maiya thought, that this rebellion mirror’s Vir’s so closely. Granted, Riyan lacked Vir’s ability to conjure up Ash Gates on demand—something she still hadn’t wrapped her head around—but the core of the plan was similar. Both would fight with an outmanned force. Both planned to bypass the city walls, using the element of surprise to negate the enemy’s advantage.

  Just that, while Vir only had a single rebellion to oversee, Maiya had three. And she lacked his awesome power. Why was the world so cruel to her?

  “Remember,” Riyan said. “Our goal is the castle. Do not engage their City Guard, except to defend yourself. Or to lure them away from our other forces. They are many and we are few. We could never hope to defeat them. Besides which, I need them intact for when I claim the throne. We will no doubt be in for a long siege when the other Saian cities receive word and the Sawai send their armies. We must take the city whole if we wish to see the light of day.”

  That was the other issue. Riyan was right—Kartara would most likely fall under siege not long after their success. While Riyan had promised soldiers to Sanobar for his own rebellion, scheduled to take place soon after Riyan’s, would he honor it? Would he give away valuable manpower when Sai’s other cities were at his doorstep?

  That was the main reason Maiya was present. To convince Riyan to hand them over… And to fight him for them if necessary. While she didn’t doubt his loyalty to Hiranya and Prince Sanobar, authority had a way of corroding even the most ironclad of oaths.

  “Then this meeting is concluded,” Riyan said. “I expect to see each of you back here tomorrow.”

  Thank the gods, Maiya thought. Now, she could get on with the important work—like the mountain of papers awaiting her review. All to do with the upcoming rebellions. For while Riyan’s main event was about to start, the groundwork continued without pause for Sanobar and Ira.

  No, not quite yet, Maiya thought as she reached the office Riyan had assigned her in the sewers, only to find Yamal and Bheem waiting.

  She turned first to the big man. “You depart for Kartara tonight, yes?”

  Bheem nodded, grasping Maiya’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ll join you before long. Listen to their instructions—they’ll be relying on you to guide them safely through the sewers. I know they’re not the ones you’re familiar with, but they were built by the same people. You’ll have an easier time navigating than they will. You’ll be fine… But don’t put yourself in danger, alright? You are more important than Riyan’s rebellion. Even if they fail, I want you to live. Alright?”

  Bheem smiled and ruffled Maiya’s head, and she suddenly flushed. “Gods… I sound like a doting mother, don’t I?”

  “You really do,” Yamal said, barely stopping himself from laughing.

  “Oh, go on, then,” Maiya said, sticking a tongue out at the man. “Have your fun.”

  Having received permission, Yamal couldn’t contain himself, and started laughing uncontrollably. Even Bheem began to chuckle.

  “What are you so happy about?” Yamal said once he’d gotten himself under control.

  “I’m glad,” she replied. “I’m glad we can all laugh like this, even before the most momentous days of the realm.”

  “Yes, well, we are fated, are we not?” Yamal said, only half-joking. “In that case, it seems foolish to worry, does it not?”

  “I suppose that is one way to look at it,” Maiya said wryly. “You’ll be departing for Sonam soon, yes?”

  Yamal nodded. “To think I would work directly under a Princess. My, how I’ve moved up in the world.”

  “Don’t congratulate yourself yet,” Maiya said. “That Princess’ head may very well fly on a pike if we fail, and yours will be next to it.”

  “As will yours, yes?” Yamal said darkly. “Good. We can all keep each other company.”

  Maiya rolled her eyes. “No, thank you. Be a good assistant to the princess until I arrive.”

  Yamal waved away her concern. “It is not us you should worry about, but rather yourself.”

  The mood darkened further, and they stood looking at each other for a time, neither saying anything. “Don’t die,” Yamal said at last.

  “You too,” she muttered. Come what may, the coming days and weeks would determine the Fate of the realm for centuries to come.

  Maiya only hoped she would live to see it.