Her eyes were shut. She did not react when he clasped her shoulders, lifting her upper body from the ground beneath her to rest in his lap. She was not sleeping, not dreaming—her soul was safe in the sangam, cradled by cosmic waters. He hadknownshe was. But he could not help but press a hand to her torso. She had believed for a moment that she was the tree, that her body had been stabbed through, and he half believed it himself.
He knew what it was like to be human. The pain of it, the fragility of flesh.
The skin beneath his hand was unharmed.
He looked at her face. Her closed eyes.
If she looks at me, a voice in his mind whispered,I will remember what it means to be flesh.
Horror wrapped itself in tendrils through him.
He had not been near Priya since her time beneath the Hirana, when she had kneeled and prayed and splintered, seeking Mani Ara. And this was why he had avoided her, in truth: She made something mortal rear up in him.
For a time he had believed himself to be Ashok. He had laughed and hated as Ashok did—had acted with Ashok’s interests. He had sent Bhumika away as Ashok, gifted with her knowledge, in a desperate attempt to hold those last threads of humanity. He knew now what he truly was, but he still saw the mortal faces on his kin, and felt Ashok whisper in his skull; he feared what festered within him still.
But he could not avoid his responsibilities to Priya, or tohis kin. She would need to be taught. She would need to grow stronger than her pitiful mortality. She was a temple elder, theironlytemple elder, and Mani Ara’s beloved. For his kin, he would reduce her to nothing but her worship and her bones.
The remnants of Ashok that still lingered within him faded once more. He laid Priya back down upon the grass, stood, and turned, following the path Taru Ara had walked, toward dark trees and golden fire.
He would kill a few Parijati himself and string their bodies upon the trees like a garland. A fitting welcome and farewell for their unwelcome guests.
MALINI
They moved her to the back of the army—to the wall of tents, behind a defense of elephant and horse cavalry and armed men. Safe.
Prakash kneeled before her, grim.
“You should not have risked yourself so utterly, Empress,” he said. “If you die, what will become of Parijatdvipa? You are the last of your family. The empire stands and falls with you.”
Raziya and Lata were watching Malini with disapproving—and worried—faces.
“My emperor father would have led his army into battle,” Malini said crisply. “As his father would have before him. I must live up to their example, not cower behind my warriors.”
She tried to hide how she was swaying. Her chest throbbed, and the ache had moved through her like mist, rising to fill her skull. It was so thick she felt as if it should have fogged her eyes, clouded her like a full cup of steaming water.
“There is no denying Ahiranya’s cursed power,” Lord Narayan said, his voice tentative. “And though we have faced defeat, we—”
“The battle was not lost,” Malini said to him.
“Empress—”
“Surely you must accept, at this point, that I know something of war.” She smiled around her words, pressing absolute faith into her voice. She was glad it was a sunlit day, the sky blue andexpansive and the dust golden beneath it. It made it easier for her to sound confident and unshaken by what they had encountered, and how she had responded to it. “We knew the fire may not save us, Lord Narayan. We had to move swiftly to test its strength. Now we know, and we are prepared for the war ahead.”
He inclined his head, but his expression was still troubled.
She didn’t wait for him to speak. She already knew the shapes of his fears: mothers’ fire, and yaksa, and battles or ambushes that could fall upon them anywhere, everywhere. She shook her head and said to him, “No more. You’ll have chance enough to voice your views when I hold council. For now, see to your men.”
“When will we meet, Empress?”
“This evening,” she said, even as she turned. “So prepare yourself. We will speak then.”
Raziya and Lata both moved to follow her, but she shook her head.
“Later,” she said to them. Some of her pain must have leaked through her voice or her face, because Lata’s gaze narrowed. She nodded and touched a hand to Lady Raziya’s arm, silencing the protest that was already forming on Raziya’s lips.
She couldn’t banish Sahar and her other guards until she was safely ensconced in her own tent, so the guardswomen were there when Malini finally stepped into the cool shade of the fabric and exhaustion hit her like an arrow through the stomach. Numbness and fire began in her abdomen, radiating outward. Her legs felt weak.
“Leave me,” she said to Sahar, and to Swati, who had been waiting for her. “I will rest.”
