Malini was still staring at her, wordless. All playfulness had fallen from her features, leaving them blank and austere.
“Such a serious answer,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry.”
“You are,” Malini said, “a genuinely interesting person. I thought it the moment I saw you, and I haven’t yet been proved wrong.”
Malini said it as if it were an accusation—as if Priya’s words were somehow an affront, a blow, a thing that had harmed her. When Priya blinked at her, Malini released her abruptly, moving back to her charpoy and falling down upon it, head turned away.
“Are you well?” Priya asked, alarmed.
“Fine,” Malini bit out. But she did not turn back to look at Priya again.
The sea change in her mood wasn’t something Priya understood. But nothing about the curve of Malini’s spine, the way her arms were wrapped around her body, suggested that she wanted to be asked further questions. As if reading her thoughts, Malini said quietly, “I would very much like to be alone.”
“Of course,” Priya said without thinking, and headed to the door. It was only when she touched the handle that she remembered she no longer possessed the key. The door was locked for the night.
Under her hand, the Hirana listened. The air shifted. The door swung slightly open.
Ah.
Priya glanced back. Malini was still curled up.
“I’ll let you rest,” Priya said. “I’m going for a little walk. I won’t be long.”
When Malini did not protest, Priya left the chamber.
The silence followed behind her. It was the kind that had thorns.
The triveni was empty. There was no rain. No cold wind. Perhaps the monsoon was passing. When she glanced up at the sky, she could see the wink of stars.
She took a few steps forward toward the plinth and—tripped.
With a quiet “oof” she regained her balance, straightening up. It was strange. Sheknewthe triveni. She’d walked it so many, many times. The triveni had held her. But she’d missed, now—slipped against a groove. Her encounter with Malini had left her flustered, but notthatflustered.
She looked down.
The lines upon the floor had definitely shifted. Instead of dancing like waves upon the shore, they’d merged together, jagged and strange.
They looked like flames. Like awarning.
There was a clattering noise. A shriek. She saw the shadow of one of the guards in the hall. Saw Pramila running toward her.
“The princess,” Pramila cried urgently, breathless, “is she safe? Is anyone here?”
Priya shook her head, startled, her mind still trying to catch up. “Only—only the guards at the doors of the temple, I think, my lady. Is something wrong?”
Pramila strode over. There were high spots of color upon her cheeks. “There has been a terrible attack upon the city, on the home of one of the general’s advisors—and no one has yet heard from the general himself—oh!”
Priya heard the whisper of Malini’s footsteps behind her before she saw her, standing in the door of the northern chamber.
“I’m sorry,” Priya said, cursing inwardly. She didn’t want to break Pramila’s fragile trust so soon. “I left the door open, I’m so—”
“Something is burning,” said Malini. “Please. Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
A deep slow breath brought an acrid scent to Priya’s nose.
Priya went to the edge of the triveni, standing at its lip with nothing but the cracked surface of the Hirana below her to catch her, should she stumble. But she wouldn’t stumble again. The Hirana was hers, and she belonged to it in turn. It was changingforher.
