“Remember,” Priya said, suddenly mustering her courage. “How I once told you passing through the deathless waters wasn’t something I wanted for you?” She watched the highborn lords laughing, jubilant; the flicker of torchlight turning the lattices of the marble and sandstone palace golden, liquid, alien. Watched as Sima’s smile faded with disquiet.
“I remember,” said Sima, voice low.
“The waters have done something to me. They’ve demanded a price. And I…” Priya’s voice faltered. Her heart hurt, hurt so much she didn’t know how her ribs could contain it.
“I’m going to leave this feast in a moment,” Priya told Sima. “I want you to speak to Lata, if you can find her. Or Lord Raziya. Or Lord Khalil. You choose. Tell them I’m planning to betray the empire. Tell them… tell them I’m going to kill her. Tell them you came as soon as you realized, and they must stop me.”
“Wh-what?” Sima’s eyes were wide, her expression horrified.
“You heard me,” Priya said wretchedly.
“I’m not letting you do that,” Sima said, after one beat of silence. “You—that isn’t something you want. I know it isn’t. You need toexplain, Pri. Not just talk like this—like you’re not yourself.”
I’m not myself, Priya thought miserably.I’m not.
“Something reached for me when I used my gifts in the battle,” Priya said. “A yaksa spoke to me again. It said if… if I want all the people we love to live, I need to do what it asks. I need to do this. I’m afraid, Sima. But I have no choice.” Her voice cracked. She forced it to remain low, to not draw attention. “I just need your help to control the outcome.”
“Okay,” Sima said, blinking rapidly like she was trying to hold back panic. “Okay. And then what? We leave?”
“No,” said Priya. “You stay. You have to stay, to warn them. And then you convince them to protect you, because whatever is in Ahiranya—it’s dangerous, Sima, and it doesn’t love us. It doesn’t love anyone.”
“These Parijatdvipans will rip me apart.”
“They won’t,” Priya said, not knowing if she believed it or if shewantedto believe it. “You’re smart. You’ll survive. And you’ll have betrayed me. Maybe—maybe that will count for something.”
“D-don’t be stupid.” Sima stumbled over her words, sounding close to tears, all her joy twisted to horror.
“Please,” Priya said in a small voice. “I can’t. I can’t save myself. Or you. This is all I have. I have to do this for our family. For Bhumika, and Padma and Rukh and—everyone. The yaksa will kill them if I don’t. I have to do this for love.”
Love and love. Like two opposite points she was forever reaching for, stretching her thin. Love for Malini and love for home. Love like a future, and love like sacrifice.
“There’s something wrong with Ahiranya,” Priya said, as dancers swirled around them, as the wail of the sarangi filled the incense-laden air. “I can feel it. And more than that—no. It isn’t important. I’ve spoken too much already.” She looked across the crowd, at Ashutosh’s men and Raziya’s women playing some kind of game of dice. At Sahar throwing back her head in a laugh, and Romesh shaking his own head, but smiling. Smiling like the war was finally done, and there was nothing but better days ahead of them. “There are people here who know you. Who like you. They’ll protect you if you let them.”
“Priya, you can’t,” said Sima helplessly. “You love her—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Priya managed to say, forcing the words out. “And I love you too, Sima. And I’m so sorry.”
Sima made a choked noise.
“Don’t cry,” Priya said sternly, pressing her arm harder against Sima’s own. “Please. Don’t.”
“Fine,” said Sima. “Fine. I won’t. I’m trusting you. Fuck knows why.” A beat. “I love you too. Oh, Pri.”
Priya’s chest was tight. Inside it, something burned.
“Give me half an hour,” she said. “Then tell them.”
There had been no sign of Empress Malini at the celebration. That had disturbed no one. Apparently, emperors past had often arrived belatedly to their own celebrations and left swiftly. It allowed their men to debauch themselves without shame, without an imperial audience.
That was all to Priya’s benefit. Malini was not surrounded by eyes.
She knew where Malini would be.
She walked, and walked, and somehow no one stopped her. The corridors of the mahal were beautiful. Silk on the walls. Gemstones inlaid in the ceilings, the columns. The wind moved through the gauze curtains at the window and made them dance, soft-winged like resting birds. The moon was out. It was a beautiful night.
Against her side, the thorn knife burned.
She could feel the thrum of the trees in the garden.
