Aditya had bought her time with his death by fire. Because of him, many believed utterly that her rule was mother-blessed. But she knew how contradictory beliefs and desires could coexist in the human heart. And the priesthood held great sway.
She could not destroy Hemanth yet. Not until the power in his hands had faded.
“We tested the strength of Ahiranya, and our own fire,” Malini said finally. “The war has only begun, High Priest. My advisorsand I will carve a path forward and defeat the yaksa. They will crawl into the world, and we will purge them.”
“There is only one way to purge the yaksa, Empress. I am willing—and able—to counsel you on how to face the future bravely.”
“I will pray for Divyanshi’s guidance,” said Malini.
A heavy sigh left him. “Will you burn women, as your brother did? For the good of Parijatdvipa?” Those implacable eyes of his were pitying. “I understand that with the fate lying before you, it must be a hard thing to face your duty. But if you must fight the yaksa, if you cannot yet burn yourself…”
There were many things she could have said, the very things she had told herself in the dark, before nightmares of Priya’s face swallowed her again. The false fire was not enough. Perhaps her own death would not be enough. And she wanted so much, so very much, to live.
The world was changed, riven with rot, and Malini wanted above all else to live, and taste vengeance.
“Thank you, High Priest,” she said. “I will consider your words carefully.”
There was a room reserved for her to pray in solitude. She’d used it many times during her recovery from her knife wound; she had arranged for its contents herself. It was small and bare. The walls were curved and carved from pale stone. The only items in the room were a hand-knotted rug, soft enough to kneel on, and a single item on a plinth: a yaksa’s arm.
A severed arm from the Age of Flowers. An arm that had flowered, fleshlike, with new life. Its flowering had marked the return of the yaksa and Priya’s inevitable betrayal.
Sahar remained outside the room, at the end of the hall. Malini kneeled and closed her eyes. She was relieved Hemanth had not tried to remain. She’d had enough of him.
She did not pray. She sat in silence, knees aching, her chest thrumming with a low-level, persistent pain. The mark Priya had left on her was impossible to ignore.
Time passed. She heard no footsteps, but she did hear the faint groan of the door opening and closing.
“Sahar told me to meet you here,” Rao said. “I… did not expect to find you praying alone.”
“I’m not truly praying, Rao,” Malini said, amusement seeping into her voice. “I wanted to meet you without eyes on us.”
“Ah,” said Rao.
She opened her own eyes and turned her head, and saw that he had angled his body into the shadow between the door and the wall, where no passing guard or curious priest could walk by and catch sight of him. He looked tired but better than he had in a long time.
“What are you meant to be praying for?” Rao prompted.
“Success against Ahiranya, of course. I’ve assured Hemanth I intend to contemplate the nature of sacrifice.” She clasped her own hands before her. “It wasn’t entirely a lie. That is why I called for you, Rao.” A fortifying breath to hold herself steady. “You were with Aditya. At the end.”
He swallowed. She saw the movement of his throat. The flinch in his gaze.
“Ask,” he said. “And I’ll tell you what it was like.”
She shook her head.
“Rao,” she said. “I do not want to burn as he burned. And yet I know what the priesthood wants. What everyone will want in time.”
The crowds may have lauded her when she’d moved through the city, but with the rot spreading and the yaksa returning, people would turn against her. Faith was slow to grow and quick to splinter. It was inevitable and only a matter of time.
“You saw him,” she said quietly. “Would you want that for me?”
“You know I wouldn’t,” he said, his voice rough. “Even if I hadn’t seen him. Even then.”
She nodded. She’d known. But she’d wanted to be sure.
“Lata has been looking for alternatives,” Malini said. “She hasstudied every book and scroll in the imperial libraries and beyond. And she believes there may be other ways to fight the yaksa. There are tales—myths—from the Age of Flowers that offer possibilities beyond flame. I want you to chase one of those myths for me, Rao.”
His face was distant, as if he couldn’t quite reach his own emotions.
