She wanted to laugh.
“You remember wrongly, my lord,” Malini said. “I did not kill the priests at the lacquer gardens. They died willingly for me, to save my life. You have heard the prophecy that named me heir to Parijatdvipa. Theirs was the fire that made my crown and placed it on my brow. I do not kill priests now, but I ask them to heed the will of the mothers and the nameless god alike: Theymustburn.”
She leaned forward, ferocity in her voice. “The mothers and the nameless god have taught me this, through their visions and their guidance: I am not a mother of Parijatdvipa. I am not a son of flame as my brother Aditya is, forever beloved and eternal. I am an empress, and like the emperors before me it is my duty to hold the empire whole, and the duty of good men to die for me, and for Parijatdvipa. I am Divyanshi’s scion, but I am also the scion of Emperor Sikander, and I will not betray my duties to the empire.
“The priesthood,” she said finally, “will not dispute this. They know my purpose.”
She rose to her feet, ready to depart.
She had said her piece. Hemanth, she knew, would come to her.
She was seated when he arrived upon her veranda. A peaceful position, overlooking Harsinghar, with the scent of flowers sweetly perfuming the air. Hemanth joined her, his face thunderous. He sat across from her.
“I and my priests speak for the mothers,” he said, his voicecontrolled. “We were not involved in this. We know this will not save Parijatdvipa.”
“You disagree with a scion of Divyanshi? The mothers spoke to me directly, High Priest.”
He knew she was lying. His expression grew darker.
“I think you seek to save yourself, Empress. That you are reneging on the vow that won you your throne. You said you would burn willingly and save Parijatdvipa. You know in your heart you must.”
The table was bare, and today she had no chaperones. No Deepa, no Lata. Just her personal guard beyond the door, each woman with her hand on her blade. That was enough.
“Lady Varsha was led astray by a priest,” she said, and saw reflexive panic and shame flicker across his face. “He offered her power. A regency upon my death. He broke beneath torture, High Priest. He assured me strenuously that you supported his every move.”
One beat. Another.
“Everything Mitul did, he did for Parijatdvipa,” said Hemanth. “Just as everything I have done has been for our empire. Emperor Chandra’s son must rule when you are gone. And you will soon be gone. You understand this.”
“I understand that you betrayed your empress.”
“It would mire Parijatdvipa in war if you called me a traitor,” Hemanth said with utter confidence, his shame forgotten. “The priesthood answers to me.”
“My brother gave you too much power. You have betrayed me, Hemanth,” said Malini, forgoing his title to make sure the blow would without a doubt find its mark. “You conspired with my brother’s widow. What did you hope to accomplish? To force me into a corner, to make me obey you?”
“You assured us you would only burn if you had your throne, Empress,” Hemanth said, his eyes cold. “I would not take your throne and have you renege on your vow. But your death—if you spoke true—is imminent. It made sense to plan for your successor.”
“Ah,” she breathed. “You only sought tohastenmy death. How much better that is. But now, of course, you see I need not burn at all.”
“I know that an Ahiranyi man and woman arrived with Prince Rao,” said Hemanth. His lip curled faintly. “This offer, this knowledge, is not a gift of the nameless god—which would still be lesser than the true will of the mothers, but acceptable to us—but a trick of the yaksa. How can you not see it? Does your desire to survive blind you so thoroughly? They seek to mislead you, Empress Malini. They lead you away from your true purpose. Your fate.”
“You speak again and again of my fate, High Priest, because you look to the past through narrow eyes,” said Malini. “You do not see what I see.”
“Enlighten me, Empress,” he said, his voice bitten off, sharp. “What do you see that I, High Priest of the mothers of flame, do not see?”
“Divyanshi was a woman of great faith,” said Malini. “All the mothers were. They prayed and reached for a greater power—and the power served them and obliterated them. I haveno such faith.” She leaned forward. “My blood would be far less worthy than the blood of priests who believe in their gods. Priests who have opened their souls to a greater power. I have never done such a thing. I am not even sure I love the mothers. Divyanshi gave me her blood, but she also condemned me to always be a sacrifice in waiting—no more than my organs, my bones. I do not thank her for that.” She kept her eyes fixed on Hemanth, unblinking. “Does that fill you with revulsion, Hemanth? It should at least make youpause.”
He closed his eyes. A look of grief flickered over his face. “You are wrong,” he whispered. “Wrong to turn your back on your fate.”
“I know my fate,” she said. “I know what will save us. You have choices now, High Priest. You can turn upon me and proclaim that I am misled, and the priests of the nameless with me, thatPrince Rao is wrong. And we will all die at the hands of the yaksa. Or you can yield to the truth and my will.”
“Would you ask me to burn, Empress?” He leaned forward. “If it is dying alone you fear, then I promise you that my priests will die alongside you. You will not go alone. You will have the priesthood—you will have handmaidens at your side also, if you wish it.”
“No.” She thought of Narina and Alori and swallowed back rage. “You may plead ill health, if you wish,” Malini said. “You’re an old man, Hemanth, and I have no love for you. But you may fade now, with my permission. I have arranged guards for you, good Parijati men who will watch over you and see to your comfort until the day you die in your bed, forgotten.”
He raised his head.
“You ask me to hand over the priesthood willingly,” he said thinly. “To allow someone loyal to you to rise to my place. Someone who will allow you to destroy Parijatdvipa.”
