“No. You will remain beyond Ahiranya’s borders. That is my command.” Her tone brooked no argument.
Lata shook her head, affection and sorrow in the shape of her mouth.
Rao turned his face away.
“Don’t be like him, Malini.” His voice cracked. “Don’t.”
Her own heart ached.
“I’m not Aditya,” she said. “And I will return.”
“At least let me die with you,” he said. “Don’t leave me behind.”
She shuddered out a breath. She would not weep over him, this fool who had loved her brother. This fool whom she loved.
“Aditya was looking for a reason to die, Rao,” Malini said. “Perhaps he convinced himself that the nameless god and the mothers wanted his death from him. Perhaps they did. But he wanted to end in self-abnegation and sacrifice, and I know you do too. Your grief isn’t a voice you can trust. Do you understand, Rao?”
He found his voice.
“I think you are the one acting from grief, Malini,” he said. “You fear for Priya. You fear—”
She slammed her hand down on the table.
“No more,” she said. “I am empress, Rao. Lata. And I will do what I know is right.”
PRIYA
Priya woke in daylight with Malini beside her. It was still early in the morning, and the light creeping into the tent was pale. But Malini was dressed. Her hand was over Priya’s heart. A gentle weight.
“You’re ready,” Priya whispered. “Is it time to go?”
Malini nodded.
“Our last journey,” Malini murmured. “We’ll see Ahiranya today.”
Last journey. Malini had no idea how true that was. Priya drew her down for a single kiss.
Malini drew back. They met each other’s eyes, and Malini laughed—a real, breathless little thing, her mouth shaping into a smile. There were tired shadows under her eyes, but those dark eyes were full of wonder.
“There you are,” she said, cupping Priya’s cheek. “My Priya. My love.”
As they traveled, Priya held that moment in her mind’s eye.My Priya. My love.If she was going to die, then she wanted to hold that image close—one taste of sweetness, one last treasure to carry her through to the end of her life. It made the burden of her fate easier to carry.
The Parijatdvipan army made its war camp far enough from Ahiranya that the trees of home were a smear of green on the horizon. But Priya could feel Ahiranya regardless.
Ahiranya was waiting for her.
There were bows being strung, and weapons being sharpened. The churn and noise of an army preparing for war. But Priya had no weapons to prepare. She found Sima preparing her own bow. When Priya approached, Sima looked up at her. Paused, her eyes narrowing.
“What’s wrong?” Sima asked.
“Sima,” she said. “I need you to come with me. Please?”
She’d already begged for Sahar’s help, and the guardswoman was ready, waiting to escort them. They were led to a well-guarded tent.
The guards around the tent would not argue with the empress’s personal guardswoman, so they drew back, allowing Priya to enter the dark tent with Sima beside her.
“Be quick,” Sahar muttered as she went in. Priya nodded. She knew that Sahar—and everyone else, for that matter—had bigger things to worry about than Priya’s farewells.
