“They do.” Silence. She trembled beside him. “I like women, you know,” Sima said, speaking through her shivers. “If you judge me—I don’t care, really. I know what Parijatdvipans believe, and us Ahiranyi, we don’t feel the same. But I…” She paused, and he didn’t know if it was from cold or from the weight of her own thoughts. He took her hand in his. It was icy. “Sorry,” she went on. “I just wanted to say that if you felt more for him—I understand. I can listen.”
He swallowed. He thought of Aditya’s statue, of a kiss. Aditya’s smile.
“I knew I loved him,” he admitted. “When he was alive, I knew I loved him… more than I should have. But the shape of it—that wasn’t something I let myself see. I didn’t know.”
“Did you really not see?”
“It was like staring at the sun,” Rao said. A shaky laugh. “Really looking at it would have destroyed me.”
“I-I’d give anything for a bit of that sun right now,” said Sima. “It would be so nice to be warm.”
“Agreed.” He closed his eyes. There was no fire behind them right now. Just his own mind, and that was almost worse. “What good would it have done to tell him?” he whispered. “Tell myself? We couldn’t have done anything. Been anything.”
“It’s not tragic to love like we do,” Sima said gently. “To be like we are. You… you should know that. Although I’m sorry you’ve had so much grief.”
He laughed again. Shaking.
“I think,” he said, “that if we weren’t currently freezing to death I’d cry.”
A trembling huff from Sima.
There was a crack of noise. Voices.
He scrambled up the rock. Through the white haze he saw figures in thick furs and dark cloth. He saw one of them point and cry out. Bows were raised.
His eyes suddenly burned as the panic rose in him like wildfire.
“Stop!” He stumbled out and fell to his knees on the snow. “I am Prince Rao,” he called out. “A nameless prince of Alor, a servant of the Empress of Parijatdvipa, and I was brought here by a vision.” He shouted louder as the wind howled and howled. “A vision of blood and snow and fire—and a ruby like a heart! A stone ripped from the earth!”
The figures stilled. Some lowered their bows.
A man emerged from between them. A slight man, with eyes as sharp as a hunting bird’s, crossed the moonlit snow.
“Prince Rao,” he said. “No longer fear. I am Ehsan, kai of the Jagatay, and you are safe with us.”
PRIYA
“How long do you want them to run in circles?” Khalida asked. “Will this… help them? To be temple elders?”
The children were running in circles around the orchard. Priya and Khalida were watching them from the shade with Padma at their feet, Rukh crouched beside them.
Khalida sounded dubious, which was fair. One of the youngest was lying pointedly on the ground, face-first in the soil, limbs starfished.
“One of the yaksa told me this would work,” Priya said with a shrug. “At least it should keep them distracted.”
“They’re worried about the ceremony later,” Khalida said, voice hushed now.
“Then maybe I’ll make them run a bit longer. They can’t think if they’re running.”
“You should make them climb trees,” Rukh said. He had his elbows propped up on his knees, his chin in his hands. “Jeevan made me climb trees. He said it’d be good for my balance.”
“Why don’t you go climb trees now, then?”
He looked up at her, suddenly bright-eyed.
“Can I teach them?” Rukh asked eagerly. “Can I?”
Another child had slumped on the ground. The rest were flagging—all but Ashish, who was still running steadily.
