I looked around the room, searching for answers. But the crowd from the Otherworld had vanished. Nothing but polished floors and gleaming walls surrounded me.
“He is here. He is alive. And he is safe,” said Kauveri, as if she heard my thoughts. “He is waiting for you.”
“Which he seems quite accustomed to,” added Kubera. “You will see him shortly.”
“And Aasha?”
Kauveri lifted an eyebrow. “Have you grown to care for thevishakanya?”
I nodded.
“She is well, child.”
Relief flooded me. I lifted my hand over my stomach, feeling for the wound inflicted by the Nameless when I stopped.My hand.It wasn’t mine anymore. I raised my right hand to my face, blinking at the glass replica that moved and glinted as if it were flesh and blood. I stiffened my arm and watched the small muscles along my forearm tense. I thought about moving my fingers and the glass hand danced to my thoughts.
“Like it?” asked Kubera.
“You took my hand,” I said breathlessly.
“It still works,” said Kubera. “Although it will not pick up any weapons.”
I reached for the dagger clasped at my hip. The glass hand felt no different from my other hand. A pulse ghosted through its cut-crystal shape. I could even feel the texture of my dress beneath my translucent fingers. But the moment my hand touched the dagger, the glass became… glass. Stiff and brittle. It hit the metal with a dull clink.
I tried again.Clang.I smashed my hand into the dagger, wanting it to shatter and getting nothing but a sore shoulder. My whole arm ached. The horror of my hand poured through me, slow and thick.
I couldn’t fight.
I. Couldn’t. Fight.
I shook my arm, trying to dislodge it. As if it were an insect. But the hand stayed. Itstayed.The crystal caught the light. Held it. My throat tightened. Fighting was the last connection I had to Maya. Her stories made me brave. They made me see the world differently, fight for the world I wanted to see instead of the one I had. And my hand, even if it was only a part of that dream, had been… important. A flurry of goodbyes I’d never be able to utter choked me. I’d never know the weight of wielding both daggers at the same time. I’d never catch the scent of iron on my palm after a practice session. I wouldn’t even have the chance to worry calluses at my hands, because the glass would never wrinkle.
“This is my sacrifice?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
My skin felt tight with shock. Fighting was my solace, my grip on control that couldn’t be taken from me. In Bharata, the battlegrounds were the only place where I could be myself. And Kubera had stolen that peace.
They nodded.
“But… but you said you would only take something that wouldalreadybe taken from us. How would I already lose my hand?”
“You did not lose your hand.”
I waved my hand. “Having lived with it for eighteen years, I can assure that it did not start off as glass.”
“You did not lose your hand,” repeated Kubera.
“You lost your sense of control,” said Kauveri.
“How do you know I would have already lost that?” I demanded. I knew I sounded as petulant as a child, but I couldn’t help it. This wasn’t something I had been willing to give.
Kubera smiled, and I hated knowing that I had his pity.
“You began to lose your sense of control the moment you accepted magic into your life. You lost it when you lost your throne and jeopardized your best friend,” said Kauveri. “You lost it when things repeatedly happenedtoyou and you could do nothing but react. Your reactions still belong to you. It is not such a bad sacrifice to make, dear princess. You would have lost it anyway.”
“And you did win a wish,” said Kubera.
“What good is that without an exit?” I asked. I turned to Kauveri. “My lady, I know that—”
“I grant you an exit,” she said smoothly.
