Even facing lords who were more reluctant to ally with her had been its own kind of pleasure. To watch them stand proudly against her and then crumble when faced with her army, her allies, the steadiness of her smile? That had done more than any flattery or veneration ever could to blunt the edge of the constant hunger in her: the writhing, burning craving that would only be sated by Chandra’s death.
So many distant plans were finally blooming to life before her eyes—and not in Aditya’s service, but in her own. After the hard, endless work that had gone into the making of them, her plans now moved like a force of nature, like waves that swelled and grew, each one feeding into her rise to power. It wasexhilarating.
As she gazed at the sea, she mused that if she had been a woman of greater faith, she would have considered her glimpse of it a sign: that her army was itself a vast and unstoppable sea. That nothing could stand in the way of her fate. But she had more of a pragmatic nature.
She took a more practical interpretation of the sight, instead. When she had gazed at maps of the empire and charted the route with her eyes and her fingertips, she had known her army would touch the coast when they were a mere week from Dwarali’s borders. Now they were here—breathing in a greenness of salt, a cold breeze that moved through the army and made a few men pause, raising their sweat-slick faces to capture that coolness on their skin. They would reach Dwarali soon, and the Lal Qila soon after that. The next step in her rise to the throne had almost begun.
Next to her, Lata let out a noise of quiet awe.
“Have you seen the sea before?” Malini asked. She could feel Lata craning her head to catch a glimpse of it over Malini’s shoulder. Obligingly, Malini leaned back to allow it.
“In scripture,” said Lata. “Illustration in books. Art. But not in person. And… and you, my lady?”
“You know I have not,” Malini replied. She waited a moment longer, then let the curtain fall back into place. “There are plenty of rivers and lakes in Parijat, but the imperial mahal is as distant from the coast as it’s possible to be.”
“A shame,” Lata said, “that we cannot stop and admire it.”
“The men will need to rest eventually,” said Malini. “No doubt we’ll have our chance then. Perhaps we can even go swimming.” She couldfeelLata’s look, at that. “I’m sure they will all turn their backs respectfully if I ask them to.”
“You’re making a joke,” Lata said dubiously.
“Clearly not a very good one,” Malini said. “Of course we’ll do no such thing.”
But she would have liked to. She thought, with wistful grief, of Alori and Narina. Her heart sisters would have loved the sea. Narina would have walked in the water ankle-deep only, holding her skirt up with both hands. She had always been far too careful of her clothing to do more. Alori would have waded in deep, slipping into the water like a fish. Alor was full of as many rivers as Parijat, and her brothers had all taught her to swim as well as they could.
I miss you, she thought, speaking to nothing in the quiet of her heart.I will always miss you.
Unbidden, the thought of Priya rose in her mind, as it so often did. What would Priya think of the sea? She could not imagine Priya out there. In her mind’s eye, all she could see was Priya as she’d been in the forest, waist-deep in water, hair sleek, loose, and soft in Malini’s hands. The feel of Priya’s mouth against her own.
She tucked the thought carefully away, like a treasure.
That night when Malini’s tent was erected, there was no time to admire the coastline, and in truth Malini had not expected there would be. She was relieved, almost, that there was not. It would not have been the same without her heart sisters. Better to leave it as a dream.
The most senior—and loyal—of Parijatdvipa’s highborn joined her for the evening meal. Wine was brought out in carafes of beaten metal, and tea for those who did not imbibe: small cups, rich in milk and sugar and cardamom. The food was simple but far more lavish than what was being fed to the rest of the men: fresh parathas, dhal thick with ghee, and rice heaped with onions fried a deep, lustrous gold.
There were special dishes, occasionally, to please the palates of different highborn: sharply spiced sabzis for the lords of Srugna had been brought out today; these were a particular favorite of Lord Prakash, who was one of the oldest lords in attendance and made no bones about being set in his ways and his tastes.
Malini listened attentively as Lord Mahesh, the man she had named as the general of her army, informed her of the progression of their journey. She maintained her posture, her calm, and touched barely anything—not even the wine, though the sip she had brought to her lips had left heat in her blood. Lata was seated in the corner of the tent. Watching. She was Malini’s only female companion; the men all thought her present for the sake of propriety.
It was a curiously difficult business, to uphold the image of propriety and prophecy and goddess-chosen empress.Especiallywhen you were eating. She had seen her own father deep in his cups, staining his clothing—but then, her father had been an emperor, and Malini was—not. So she ate only sparingly, knowing she would have a proper meal later, when the night was cold and deep, and she and Lata could share food intended for common soldiers: a little pickled mango or onion practically stoppered in oil for a long journey, and a paratha gone dry, unsoftened by a golden sheen of ghee; a quick gulp of lukewarm tea, spiced so heavy-handedly that it burned almost unpleasantly on the way down.
“Prince Rao is absent again, I see,” said Lord Mahesh.
He did not speak loudly enough for the other highborn to hear him.
“He has his responsibilities,” Malini replied.
“We all do,” Mahesh said. “One of them—a most vital one—is this. A moment of bonding. Of discussion. We must be united, Empress. Moments such as this are what make us whole.” He gestured at the men around them, wreathed in soft lantern light.
It was amusing to hear Mahesh speak of bonding and unity, when Malini was herself so conscious of how different she was from the men around her. How carefully she had to hold herself apart, and how distant she felt from them. They were of use to her, and she liked them for that, of course. But they were not Alori or Narina or Lata. Not Priya. She did not know how to love them, truly love them, and had no desire to.
“Lord Mahesh,” Malini said. “You know, as I do, where Prince Rao goes.”
A shared look. Without breaking eye contact, Mahesh refilled his cup of wine.
“Do not mistake me, Empress. I am glad he is able to counsel and comfort Prince Aditya. I would be glad if the prince allowed others to do the same.”
Mahesh was a powerful figure in Parijat, with many highborn Parijati allies, due to the ancient standing of his family—his ancestor had been there when Divyanshi, and the mothers of flame that followed her, burned.
