Slowly, the Saketan soldiers were edging farther out—a semicircle of sword whips and wary eyes. The other Saketan soldiers did not look as grimly, forcedly calm as the man with the saber to Ganam’s throat. Their fear was so palpable she could almost taste it. It would be so easy to destroy them. The earth could collapse around them, dragging them under. Thorns could spear up from the sod and pierce them through. That kind of work was easy for her.
As if the soldier holding the saber had sensed the tone of her thoughts, he spoke up.
“We know how quick you are, Elder,” he said. “I fought at the Veri river, so I know exactly what you can do when you set your mind to it. But my hand and this sword are still faster than you can be. You try to use your witchery and he’ll die in a blink under my blade. There won’t be a thing that’ll save him.”
Priya watched—and felt—the men around her keep moving. Slow, so slow, as if she were a tiger and they were hunters.
“You’re not planning to kill him,” she forced herself to say. Forced her voice calm. “If you wanted to kill him, he’d already be dead.”
“But we will,” the man stressed, “if you don’t behave.”
“You don’t have any reason to think I give a shit about him.”
She saw one of the soldiers swallow, his throat bobbing visibly. The one with the saber said, with a calm that matched her own, “If you didn’t give a shit, temple witch, then we would all be dead already. I told you. I know what you can do.”
“Then what do you want from me?” Priya demanded. “Negotiate.”
“Come with us quietly,” he said, “and we won’t end his life.”
Why would they want her alive? Why did they want Ganam alive? And what had they done to make him so quiet—so biddable, despite the knife through his chest?
It was hard to think through the yaksa’s howling.
“Give him back to me,” she said slowly, “and I letyouleave here alive.”
“No.”
“If you know me, you know I’m not a political creature,” Priya said bluntly. “So I’ll be clear. There won’t be a negotiation. You give him to me, or you all die.”
An ugly laugh from one. “I don’t think so,” he said.
“Leave her be,” came a voice. Steady. “Let me talk to her.”
A figure stepped forward. An older man. A hint of rot at his hairline.
She knew him.
“Elder Priya,” Romesh said. Low Prince Ashutosh’s liegemarks were emblazoned on his tunic. His familiar, steady eyes were fixed on her. “It’s been a long time.”
“Romesh,” she said. “Are all of you Low Prince Ashutosh’s men?”
“You won’t know the newer faces,” he said. “But you know mine.”
He moved around the curved line of men. His footsteps weresteady. His sword whip was coiled at his waist. In reach, but not yet in his hands.
“You saved my life, and my lord’s life, in the war for the empress’s throne,” said Romesh. “What you did to the empress is a crime you must answer for. But I don’t want to hurt you.”
He took a slow step closer.
“Your advisor,” he said. “Sima. She’s safe.”
Sima. Her heart was pounding. “She’s really safe? Well?”
“Prince Rao took responsibility for her,” Romesh said. Another step. “Come with us,” he said, low. “You’ll get to see her yourself. I’ll make sure you’re not harmed. The empress doesn’t want you dead.”
“What does she want me for, then?”
“What you know, maybe,” Romesh said gently. “Or to take you off the battlefield. But what does a soldier like me know about what an empress thinks?”
