“There is no more time! There has never been time.”
Aditya closed his eyes. He looked like a terrible weight lay upon him—a crushing weight that bowed his shoulders as no court politics, no war, no thing they had experienced together as princes in Parijat ever had.
“You don’t understand,” Aditya whispered.
“I do.I do.I’ve kept to the tenets of this faith my whole life, Aditya. My sister died for it. But I can’t allow you to do this.”
Aditya met his eyes, finally. Dark eyes. Severe brows.
“If I am your emperor, you must give me the time I require. My word is, after all, law.” His voice was sudden iron. “And if I am not your emperor, then go and fight your war without me. It’s simple enough.”
Rao thought of that long-ago catur board; of Aditya’s frown, of the desire to step off the board. But there was no leaving this game. Aditya was a piece that had to move, if anything was to be won or lost.
“No,” Rao said firmly. “I won’t make this choice for you. This is your task, Aditya. Not mine. If you’re to be emperor, if you’re to lead us—you have to take the first step. You have to decide. I won’t choose for you.”
Aditya slipped from his grasp. Turned and walked away. And Rao bowed his head, thinking of his sister, who had burned, and the terrible weight of his own name. The hope of it.
The reality of Aditya, bound by a vision. Unwilling to rise.
MALINI
It took one of the Srugani lords and all his associated followers—a not insignificant number of men—abandoning the monastery for Malini to learn the full truth.
“The messenger dragged himself from his dead horse,” Lord Narayan proclaimed, pacing. “Risked his life to bring this to us. And now—nothing. Where is Emperor Aditya? Prince Rao, do you know?”
Rao shook his head. Said nothing.
“Chandra cannot be sure that Aditya is here, or he would have sent far more men,” said another lord.
“He may be targeting every monastery to the nameless,” Rao said. “Or we were followed, on the seeker’s path.”
“Targeting every monastery would be foolish at best, an affront to the faith at worst,” another voice said, appalled. “No sane man would do it.”
Rao’s laugh was bitter. “Chandra would.”
“The soldiers will arrive here by tonight,” said another.
“Are you sure?”
“If they’re traveling inconspicuously, they won’t have horses, or any possibility of arriving sooner. But the messenger was sure.”
“And Emperor Aditya…?”
“Was told as soon as the report arrived,” said Lord Khalil, gaze hooded. He watched the others as if over the catur table, weighing up his next move, and weighing them up too.
“And his plans?” Lata asked, from the corner of the room.
“He hasn’t seen fit to enlighten us,” Khalil said levelly. “But I’m sure he will speak to his beloved sister.”
“I am sure he will,” Malini replied, with just as much evenness. Her blood sang in her ears.
“There will be many battles and many wars, if Prince Aditya intends to take back the throne.”
“And he will,” Malini said firmly.
Khalil made a noise. It was not quite agreement.
“Would he have us run, like cowards, ill-befitting our status?” Narayan asked.
