She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t look into Bhumika’s eyes and see a stranger.
It was selfish of her. Selfish and cowardly.
Shehadto do it. Time was running short. Soon she would go into Ahiranya. She would take those priests to the Hirana and then she would die.
Even if Bhumika never remembered her, she deserved to know that her sister loved her. Priya owed her that.
She touched her fingertips to the curtain of Bhumika’s tent. Drew a deep breath.
And stopped. And turned.
Lata was behind her. Lata had called her name.
“I’m sorry,” Lata said. Her voice shook. “I need your help, Elder Priya. The empress is making a terrible decision. You must convince her not to.”
Malini’s guards and her maid were dressing her in armor.
It was armor built for movement—a fine and strong mesh over white cloth. She wore no jewelry now, no crown of flowers. But she was still empress—in bearing, in the fierceness of her eyes. In the way her people ringed round her, all those guards and soldiers she’d trained into loyalty.
But she was not meant toneedarmor. She was not meant to be going into Ahiranya. She was meant to be safe.
She shouldn’t have noticed Priya—shouldn’t have heard her—but somehow she did. Malini’s gaze turned unerringly toward her. No smile shaped her mouth. There was no softness in her face. Her dark eyes were serious, almost furious. She knew exactly why Priya was here.
“Leave me,” she said to the women around her. They left swiftly, some looking at Priya curiously as they departed.
“Who told you?” Malini asked.
“Lata,” said Priya shortly.
Malini shrugged. “Well, I knew she’d meddle.”
Priya took a controlled breath, then said, “If Mani Ara isn’t destroyed, every part of her, then this doesn’t end. Mani Ara’s strength lies inside me. Her power, her memories.” It was hard tosay it, hard to face the reality of what lay ahead of her in the cold light of day, with Malini’s dark eyes looking right through her to her fearful heart. “I… I don’t want to die. But I know what I have to do.”
“Tell me,” said Malini. “Tell me exactly what you have to do.”
“I have to lead your priests to the deathless waters. And when they destroy the waters, I have to. I.” She stopped. Whispered, “Don’t make me say it, Malini.”
“You will allow the priests to kill you,” said Malini. “You will let the power they draw upon consume you too. You will burn and you will perish. I understand. But I can’t allow it.”
Malini walked to her. In armor and white cloth, she grasped Priya’s shoulders.
“You’ll come back,” she said. “With me.”
“Coming with me won’t save me,” Priya said. “It will just—condemn you too. I can’t bear that, Malini.”
“Then live. I won’t allow you to die,” Malini said, her voice low. “I have no better leverage to use against you than my own life. If you die, then I die. So you will have to live.”
“You’re mad,” Priya said, choked. “Malini. I have to do this. You understand what lies in me, don’t you?”
“What lies in me, then? I share your magic. A piece of Mani Ara lives in me too.” Malini arched an eyebrow, as if she’d made a worthwhile point instead of punching Priya in the stomach; as if she’d won. “If you must die, then I must die too.”
“The whole point of this was so you’ll live!”
“And I intend to. I intend for both of us to live.”
“Malini.”
“Priya. I have no faith in gods,” Malini said. “I never turned to the guidance of the nameless god. I do not worship the mothers as I should. Every iota of faith I have professed, I used to my own ends. For my own survival, and my own power. So visions and prophecy say I must die. So your sister’s visions dredged from the deathless waters say you must die. I reject it all.
