“They are only passing on my words,” Hemanth said. “There is no need to fear them.”
“Your words,” Narayan repeated.
“I told them what I would say to you,” Hemanth replied. “They listened and drank my words like water.” He held his palms open, vulnerable. “The empress has come to Ahiranya with men of faith,” he said. “Men ready to burn. I prayed to the mothers, andin my dark grief, they spoke to me. They told me that those who love the mothers must help the empress face her glorious fate.”
“There are already priests with her,” said Rao, finding his voice. “High Priest, there’s no need for this.”
She has no need for you.
“She seeks to burn the temple of the Ahiranyi,” Hemanth said calmly. “I know this. She believes the deaths of holy men will destroy the yaksa. But the mothers have shown me a different and deeper truth. The truth I have always known: Her death remains the answer. The temple of the Ahiranyi does not matter. The priests do not matter. Only she matters. She must die.”
Lata jolted forward, rage on her face. Rao gripped her arm.
“If you attack the High Priest of the mothers of flame, what do you think will happen to you?” he muttered. Then he said, more loudly, “My men will hold you with respect and care, High Priest, until the empress’s work is done.”
Hemanth shook his head, smiling sadly.
“Soon the empress will burn,” said Hemanth.
“The empress willnot,” Lata replied immediately.
“I have no doubt she will do her duty,” said Hemanth. “Why else would she have entered Ahiranya? In her heart she has always known her purpose. When the yaksa are dead, and we are free of their presence, Prince Vijay will take the throne, and you men shall lead on his behalf. It will be a better world. You are lords and kings, and you will help him make the empire glorious once more.”
How neat it would be. How tidy. No more empress. Another sacrificial statue carved in gold, aMalinito be worshipped by future generations. The priests would burn incense for her, and say she had been good and pure and righteous, and they would forget that the true Malini had ruled an empire for a heartbeat, a single moment in time, then died under the inexorable hand of her own priesthood.
He saw hesitation in some of the faces around him. Narayan. Prakash. It made anger roil in his stomach.
“No,” he said roughly. “This was not what Aditya died for. Iwas there. I witnessed his death. Lord Mahesh and I—and our warriors—we made avowto him. I will not betray my friend, my prince. I will not betray the son of flame. And that means I will not betray the empress. She has brought us here to see the yaksa finally destroyed, and our world free of their power. She has entered Ahiranya not to die but to show the priests the respect and reverence they deserve before they save us all.
“I was there when a priest of the nameless killed a yaksa,” he said angrily. “I witnessed that, too. What have you done, High Priest? What will you do? Will you burn now, and die by your ideals?”
A shadow passed through Hemanth’s eyes.
“To my regret, I must be there to rear Prince Vijay and teach him what it means to rule,” Hemanth replied.
“Is that so?” Rao laughed. “You convinced Chandra—a rotten husk of a man even when he was a child, I rememberthattoo, High Priest—that he was worthy of a throne. You made him worse.” Rao’s voice was trembling with anger. “You burned women and turned their remains into weapons. You may claim to act for the greater good, but I have seen the nameless and the void my god resides in, and I have seen the flames of holy fire, and Isee you. You are not worthy of your title or the respect it brings you,” he spat.
“Where are the soldiers who were left to watch you?” Khalil asked into the silence, his voice like stone.
“They are dead,” Hemanth said simply.
“You killed the empress’s soldiers,” Khalil said flatly. “Left to guard you.”
“I attempted to reason with them,” said Hemanth. “And I grieve for them now. But their loss could not be helped.”
Khalil gave a sharp nod to one of his riders. His soldiers surrounded Hemanth in an instant.
“Go with my men, High Priest,” Khalil said. “They will treat you with respect, I promise you. The empress is following the will of the mothers and the nameless in this, and we will not turn against her. Not even for you.”
Hemanth’s exhale was soft. His eyes closed, then opened. He lowered his arms.
“I hoped you would listen, my lords,” he said. “I hoped you would see trust. But if it is not to be—well. So be it. It begins regardless.”
Lata made a shocked noise. She’d turned, looking away from Hemanth. Looking to the army.
Rao turned, slowly, to look with her. Behind him Hemanth’s voice was heavy. Prophetic. “Ahiranya will burn,” he said simply. “Everything will burn, until the empress chooses a willing death. That is what my priests pray for. That is the only gift that will quench their fire.”
And as Rao watched, the distant priests turned from flesh to beings of light, and then beings of pure fire—and the Parijatdvipan army, surrounding them, was hit with a deluge of flame like a tidal wave.
