Sahar nodded, her brow smoothing with relief.
“You,” she said to another soldier. “Get the empress. Immediately.”
MALINI
Malini was not running, but the torches were a liquid blur at the corners of her vision as she strode through the mahal’s corridors. Her guards around her were making a riot of noise—a clanking of armored footsteps—that did nothing to drown out Lata’s quick breaths, Lata’s voice.
“It would be wise to leave their punishment to Lord Narayan,” Lata said, hurrying to keep up with her, her footsteps a whisper against marble.
“I hear your advice, Lata,” Malini said, striding forward. She wasn’t running. No one could say she was running. “Be glad that I am not dragging Ashutosh in front of me for interrogation. That will have to be enough.”
“They may not be Ashutosh’s men,” Lata protested.
“They’re Saketan liegemen. They must serve a low prince.” And it was Ashutosh, of all the low Saketan princes, who had a reason to desire Priya’s death. His own liegemen had died because of her. Malini had seen the naked grief and anger in his eyes.
“Even if the low prince they serve knows what the guards attempted, or bade them to do it… this is no time to make enemies.”
“Then they should not have tried to defy my will,” Malini said. Her blood was aflame with anger.
The two Saketan soldiers were being held in a single circularroom, with Sahar and a handful of guards on constant watch. The guards bowed their heads, gazes intent when Malini walked in.
“Sahar,” she said.
“Empress.”
“Summon Lord Narayan,” she said. “He must be here.”
She looked at the soldiers, bruised and bloodied, down on their knees and chained. They did not meet her eyes.
One had teeth marks on his face. Gouges where flesh had been torn free. She felt a current of emotion so intense it was as though she had left her body. If she’d been able to make her hands work, she would have slit his throat herself.
Finally, Narayan arrived, winded. He bowed.
“Has Sahar informed you of what occurred, Lord Narayan?”
“Yes, Empress. And I must beg for their lives to be spared.”
She did not answer. She clasped her hands behind her back and looked down at the soldiers.
“Will you tell me, as you have refused to tell the head of my guard, whom you serve?”
Silence.
“You will refuse to answer your own empress,” Malini pressed.
One of the men slowly—slowly—raised his head. The one with the teeth marks. He must have been in great pain. “We serve the empire,” he said. “We serve Saketa.”
Her clasped hands tightened, her nails cutting grooves into her own flesh.
“You must understand,” Malini said, back to them, her voice tightly controlled. “The witch of Ahiranya is my hostage. I took her from the yaksa. I have chosen to keep her. It is not for you to question me. It is for you to have faith that everything I do is for Parijatdvipa, and Parijatdvipa alone. You risked Parijatdvipa out of a desire for vengeance.” Her voice trembled with banked fire. “You defied the will of your empress. Of course there is a cost. Of course you will pay, and you will thank me.” She turned to meet Lord Narayan’s eyes.
“With their death, I will seek no further traitors,” she said.“No enemies. I will acknowledge all Saketa as my people, my allies, and these soldiers as traitors who turned their backs on their liegelords. Will you accept my judgment?”
A long pause. Then Narayan inclined his head.
“Cut their throats,” she said crisply, and gestured at one of her own warriors. The woman drew her sword, and did as she was bidden.
Blood pooled across the floor.
