“We should have cut her throat,” said Sendhil. “But the fool woman did not.”
Ashok gave him a sharp look. Then he turned his attention once more to Chandni.
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must have seen the direction she walked, when she left.”
Chandni shook her head slowly. “I think, perhaps, you mean her ill.” She sighed. “You always had strong passions, Ashok. I’d hoped they would leave you in time.”
“Strange, when your intention was to ensure I had no time. But no matter—I still live, and you’re dying. So tell me where my sister is, elder,” he said, in a voice that trembled, venomous and childish in its grief, a wobbling, teetering fury born from broken love. “Tell me, or I will be forced to take the answer from you.”
Suddenly, he seemed to remember his people around him, and his expression went firm again. In a far more even voice, he repeated his command. “Tell me where to find Priya.”
She said nothing.
“Ashok.” A woman spoke, reentering the hut. “There’s something you need to see.”
He rose to his feet and left the hut. When he returned there was a solemn turn to his mouth. He kneeled once more by her, looking at the rot upon her skin, the sharp mottle of her changing bones, against her bark-like flesh.
“If I’d known you were alive, I would have killed you long ago,” said Ashok. “Now I see that life has shown you justice. But I can still hurt you, elder. And I can kill you—swift or slow. I don’t wish to give you pain, but I will for the sake of finding her. She is more important than you now. I value her above any justice you deserve to face.”
“And yet, I have no answer for you,” said Chandni. “Hurt me if you wish. Hurt Sendhil. Kill us both. We cannot give her to you.”
Ashok nodded.
“Tell me,” he said. “She was upon the Hirana long before any of us. She was there as an infant. Is she yours?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Chandni. “Whether my flesh made her—whether she was left a foundling at the base of the Hirana, with birth blood still on her—what difference does it make? I thought of her as my own. That was my error.”
Ashok nodded again. Rose to his feet.
“Tie her to the tree,” he said. “Tie them both. We’ll see what becomes of them.”
PRIYA
Priya told Malini curtly that they would head directly to the seeker’s path. When Malini suggested the bower of bones, Priya shook her head. “Your prince will be long gone,” she said. “Better if we try to catch up with him.”
She strode ahead, leading the way. For a time, they walked. And walked. The trees were thick around them, with heavy leaves that drooped over their winding path between the trunks and branches.
“So,” Malini said after a time. “Your elders live after all.” Priya could hear Malini’s careful footsteps behind her. “It was very strange in their home. They barely spoke to me.”
Priya actually bit down on her tongue. She was so—soangry.
“Priya, will you stop for a while? Or slow down.” Malini’s voice sounded strained. “You must be exhausted. I certainly am.”
Priya didn’t want to stop or slow down. Stopping meant thinking, and she didn’t want to think. Not of the tree with its faces of flesh and bark, or Chandni’s resigned, rot-riven face, or how all of it had made her feel. Scared and grief-stricken, but more than anything, angry.
“Priya.” Malini’s hand closed on her shoulder. Her voice was gentle when she said, once more, “Stop.”
Malini’s palm felt overwarm on her shoulder. Priya could have shaken off her hand. But she didn’t. She stood still and closed her eyes, calming her breath, and listened to the rustle of the trees. The faint rush of water.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Priya said tightly. She swallowed. “I can hear a stream. I’m thirsty. Come on.”
The thick maze of trees soon parted, opening to a slope of gray rocks that ringed a pool. The pool was fed by a silvery, snaking waterfall, pouring over the low, green-dusted rocks. The water rippled faintly as the waterfall rushed to meet it. It was clear, unmarked by anything resembling rot. Priya clambered down to it. She heard Malini huff out something that might have been a swear, and follow her.
Priya kneeled down on the edge and cupped the water, cold and clear, and lifted it to her lips. She drank. Then she splashed her face, blinking water from her eyes. Ah, spirits, she felt unclean, as if her own mind had stained her skin. The sight of Elder Chandni, Elder Sendhil, the tree—
