“The source of their strength, she said. She told me she can ensure they never return.”
“And what does she want in return?”
Canny as always. “Safety for the people of Ahiranya,” he said. “She won’t share the last of her knowledge until we promise it.”
Malini frowned thoughtfully, calculating, the rawness of her first emotions folding away.
“I am not convinced the yaksa can truly be destroyed forever,” she said, after a pause. “I think all evils return. It would perhaps be enough to destroy them now. And my armies and lords want revenge against someone.”
“If the yaksa can be permanently destroyed, surely it should be done,” Rao urged. He thought of all those people in Ahiranya—faceless strangers to him—and felt a kernel of sickness in his stomach at the thought of so much needless death. “Malini, I promise you, with—with the same sureness that made me kneel in the dirt and give you the prophecy of my name—that this is an answer. A solution. The yaksa can be fought.”
“The priests you brought with you are willing to die?”
“Yes,” Rao said. “They are.” A deep breath. Steeling himself. “As am I.”
Her eyes widened. One small betrayal of how the words struck her—unexpected, unwanted, sharp.
“No,” she said. “Absolutely not.”
“Empress. Malini—”
“If faith is a requirement, then you cannot die,” she said sharply.
“My first faith is to the nameless god.”
“Do not lie to me, Rao,” she said, and there was a waver in her voice now—a furious edge, a sword whip in motion. “Your first faith was to my brother. It still is.”
He sucked in a breath. Said nothing.
He didn’t need to. Malini was pressing on.
“Aditya would never have asked this of you.”
“No,” he said. “He only asked it of himself.”
Sima had new rooms. They were nearer to Malini’s than her old ones, and under only the most discreet guard of Malini’s own guardswomen. Malini had ensured her safety, just as promised.
Sima was waiting for him. On her balcony, elbows on the edge. Jaw set. His relief at seeing her safe and well turned quickly to unease.
“I’ve heard you’ve been busy,” Sima said.
“News travels swifter than horses here,” Rao muttered.
“The empress’s guards talk to each other. Sahar told me.” She turned to face him, stepping away from the balcony. “You should never have brought Lady Bhumika here,” Sima said, and oh, he realized now how angry she was—her eyes were wet, her mouth a twist of fury. She slapped a hand against his chest, not enough to hurt, but enough to sayI would punch you in the jaw if I could. “She helped you. You told the empress that she helped you, and you still trapped her and brought her here where you know she won’t be safe,how could you.”
“Sima,” he said. “Sima.” He raised his hands to touch her arms, to stop her—then lowered them.
She had the right to be furious.
“I’ve come to care about you,” he said, low. “But in the end—you’ve always known. My loyalty is to Parijatdvipa. As on some level you’re loyal to Ahiranya.”
“I’m not loyal to some—some concept of Ahiranya, some dream,” she said scornfully. “I’m not loyal to Priya, though I care about her. I love her! All I want is to do what’s right. Do you think you did the right thing, Prince Rao?”
“I did what was expected of me.”
“Expected.” Her scowl deepened. “Rao,Rao. Can’t you make your own choices? Can’t you be more than this? I know you better than you might like, and maybe I should be afraid of being honest with you, but I’m not. I’m not! What do I have to lose? You’ve refused to confront your own heart over and over again—what does your heart say?”
What he’d seen in Alor, and done in Alor—what he’d said to Malini, what he wanted to do, the fire waiting for him,Adityawaiting for him—
