“No, Empress,” Varsha said tearily. “He was not a good husband at all.”
Noise, from beyond the doors. Malini turned at the noise. Lata drew them open, and two soldiers strode in. One was shaking visibly, his face damp with sweat.
“Empress,” he said. “The emperor—your brother—he…”
“He drank poison,” the other guard said. “He must have hidden it upon his person. Empress, we offer our most sincere apologies; any punishment we must face, we will face.” He prostrated himself on the floor. The other soldier followed suit. “He—he is dead.”
Behind her Varsha abruptly stopped crying.
“Dead,” Malini repeated. She stared at the soldiers. Dead. The world ran through her like the wail of a conch. “Are you certain of this?”
“Yes, Empress.”
“By his own hand?”
“There was a vial in his room. And wine. Empress, please—pleaseshow us mercy.”
“You are not responsible for this. Calm yourselves,” Malini said. “Summon a physician to confirm it. Call upon a priest, also. Can you be trusted to do this?”
“Yes, Empress,” one said hurriedly, then the other.
“Then get up off the floor,” she commanded. “Andgo.”
They scrambled to their feet. Left as quickly as they had come. There were hushed noises behind Malini. Gasps of shocked breath.
She placed a hand over her eyes and felt her whole body begin to tremble, overcome. Finally relief struck her, vast and strong. He was dead. He was dead. He was dead. Part of her had believed that she had imagined it;dreamtit, even though she had been the one to frighten him and taunt him with the possibility of his own slow demise. Even though she had left him a poison of oleander and aconite, a poison that would burn him from the inside, and had told him it was a simple tincture of needle-flower. A soft death like sleep.
She wanted to laugh.
She did not laugh. Did not scream with the joy of it, either—the sudden lightness in her chest. The savage beauty of it.
Needle-flower indeed. What a fool he’d been to believe she would make it so easy, or half so swift.
She felt a hand on her arm. Lowered her own hand from her face and saw Lata touching her, watching her. There was concern in Lata’s eyes, but knowing, too.
“What can I do for you, Empress? How can I ease your burden?” Lata asked.
“Inform my general,” Malini replied. “And deal with—this.” She gestured at her brother’s widow. The women around them. She could not stomach being wept at any longer. “I need to be alone.”
“Of course,” Lata murmured.
Malini slipped out of the room. Her body felt light and leaden all at once. She did not grasp her saber again. Instead, she walked away from the women’s quarters, through the grand corridors of her mahal. She walked under ceilings inlaid with glittering stones; beneath columns limned in emeralds and pearls, and over flowers embellished in traceries of gold, sunbursts of liquid light.
The soldiers—as she had suspected—had not been subtle when they had run to inform her of Chandra’s death. They had not been subtle, in the aftermath, in their search for a physician and a priest. Already, the news of Chandra’s demise was spreading through the mahal. The few servants she saw lowered their eyes when she passed, or bowed. The warriors she saw—herwarriors—lowered their heads and touched their hearts in gestures of respect. The emperor was dead. She had won them a war.
She needed no weapon. Her own tale shielded her.
She walked to her throne room. Her guards bowed to her and opened the doors. “Empress,” they said.
She stepped through the doors. Heard them close behind her.
Finally alone, she looked at the room where she should have burned, the room where her heart sisters had perished. The fire was burning, still. Shadows and light played on the walls. The fragrance of needle-flower and jasmine wafted in it, honeyed, mingling with the scent of ash.
She closed her eyes and let herself feel everything: Her fear of fire. Her grief. Her rage. Her relief. The bloodied, vicious weight of her own joy.
She smiled—one smile so bright and fierce that she felt like her whole body was shining with it. She had done it. Finally, she had done it.
She had truly won.
