where the thorns grow

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE,

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | WHERE THE THORNS GROW

NAHUAN LOOKED AT her. Her sister waited a moment before drawing out slowly, "We could kill him now, but I have a feeling you'll tell me not to."

  Najun shut her eyes. "He's my friend. Was, my friend. I don't think this friendship is going to be able to continue any further."

  Nahuan placed down the metal pipe she must have picked up nearby. "You got us passage?"

  Najun replied, with a gentle hiss, "Only to Gira. The captain won't agree to bring us all the way back to Melique. He's out for me, I swear to god, hates me with every inch of his body. Seems fond of you, though. What, did you cook for him or something? Steal one of my recipes?"

  Nahuan's eyes twinkled. "What if I did?"

  "Thief," Najun grunted. "These years haven't changed you."

  Nahuan brushed off a speckle from her cloak. "I was under house arrest for almost five years, Najun. I haven't had much opportunity to do anything but stare outside my house, read whatever the Saians approve of and attempt cooking but fail spectacularly. None of these things help with character growth of any kind. I'm still the same Zhang Nahuan who left Melique six years ago."

  "You've had it difficult in the last few years." The two sisters were splitting images of each other. Anyone who didn't know better might think they were twins. They were only three years apart, and while that age might have been a problem for some other siblings, it had never been for them. Because they'd never had anyone else. And it was also why Najun had immediately volunteered herself for training to go undercover in Sai when she should have been a Falcon. If she wouldn't get her sister out, who would?

  It was many years in the planning. They'd had many opportunities through the years, truly, but the Meliqueans always told them to stay just a little bit longer, just a tiny, tiny bit until they could get more information and hand it over. And so Nahuan languished in her little cottage so far away while Najun charmed and dazzled and did all the things her sister was far better at, when all she wanted to do was stick a knife through someone's throat.

  Najun had effectively, in the past few years, became her sister.

  That was a funny thought. Perhaps it was why she played the role so well. Because she had someone to look to as an example. Someone she could mimic in the last three years. No one ever saw past it. Not her clients, not her madame, not Rong'en, not Rhys or Dom and not even Ronan.

  It felt good to be Najun again.

  Nahuan turned to face the land, her back to the sea. "I won't miss this place."

  "Do you miss Melique?"

  Nahuan shook her head. "I don't. But... well, we don't precisely have a choice, do we?"

  "Fiora's been taking care of mama for us, bless her heart," Najun said. "The Meliqueans have still been supplying the medicine. But she's not going to get better. Three years, Nahuan. Five for you. I think we're finally running out of time. There's only so many ways we can cheat death."

  Nahuan sucked in a quiet, resigned breath. They started walking away. Najun glanced at Ronan's unconscious body but tore her gaze away before her sister noticed. Best to let the things that could never happen stay that way. Even if her heart wanted more. This was purely business. Getting the personal mixed with it would only make everything more disastrous. "We can't give up."

  "We won't give up. But we also need to get... mentally ready. Just in case the worst comes."

  Nahuan said firmly, "We didn't give up half our youth to fail. Mama's only in her forties. She should have at least a few decades more to live. We owe her that much."