“My men were in danger,” Malini said levelly. “It was a massacre of our forces. They were burning. I was not going to allow it to continue. As my general,youshould not have allowed it to continue.”
“I should have and would have,” he said. “I would have let hundreds die, if need be. That is the nature of war, Empress—those men should have died gladly. You should have trusted my judgment.”
“I was not trained in the military arts alongside my brothers, Lord Mahesh, but I know a strategy that results in nothing but wasteful death when I hear one,” she replied sharply. “You know I sought to end the war for Saketa with minimal bloodshed. Why then, would you choose a strategy—without my say-so—that would see my army burn?”
“A battle is not simply a balance of lives,” he gritted out, looking more furious by the minute. “Empress, a battle is a tale written in blood. And this is the tale that men shall tell about your retreat before the High Prince’s fort: that Emperor Chandra sent a priest of the mothers, who brought with him blessed fire of the mothers. Fire that once destroyed the yaksa—fire that now proclaims the emperor’s mother-blessed right to the throne, and condemns you as a usurper. They will say the traitor empress saw the fire of the mothers, and knowing she was a false claimant to the throne, tainted in the eyes of the mothers she claimed to serve, shefled.” A beat, as he allowed the words to sink in. “Do you understand, Empress?”
“What a leap to make, on limited evidence,” Malini said tightly. “I do not believe people will make such an assumption, Lord Mahesh. And if they did, they would be entirely wrong to do so.”
“They will think it, Empress. I am sure of that.”
How can you be sure?Malini thought. But she did not ask. As soon as the question came to her, she knew its answer.
He thought it. That was why. Her own general had gazed upon that fire and felt his faith in her crumble.
“That wasnotthe fire of the mothers of flame,” Malini said, with far more conviction than she felt.
“It was no natural fire,” Mahesh replied, his voice quieter now, steadier. “What else could it have been but their flames? That is what the people will say, and believe. They will say the mothers did not choose you for the throne after all. They will say you are not the rightful ruler.”
Righteousness, rightfulness—oh, how she hated those words. Their sole purpose seemed to be to keep her in her place: a life with narrow walls and standards of purity that pressed her thin, erased her to nothing but her blood and her good bones and the worth of a pleasing face. A life where she would never contemplate ruling; a life where she would obediently bare her neck for a knife, or gladly embrace the pyre.
“I am the rightful ruler of Parijatdvipa,” Malini said. “And that fire was not the flame of the mothers. Must I continue to repeat it, Lord Mahesh?” Perhaps if she said these words often enough, with enough assurance, they would wear a groove into reality and become unassailable truth. “And as the rightful ruler, I had no desire to waste the lives of those who serve me. I could not have allowed more men to—to burn for the sake of obeying laws that Chandra himself does not respect.”
The wordburnbrought a harshness to her voice—broke the even calm she had so carefully maintained, all through this exchange. His eyes sharpened at the sound of it.
“Empress,” he said. “Malini.”
Oh no, she thought. Familiarity did not bode well.
“I understand if the sight reopened—old wounds,” he said delicately.
“I have led men to many battles, Lord Mahesh,” Malini said, still cursing herself internally. She knew the price of weakness. Sheknew. “I am not fragile.”
“But fire, of course… it would be understandable…”
“You were there, Lord Mahesh, when I burned down a monastery,” she replied, with a voice like iron. “I set it alight with my own arrow. Fire does not frighten me.”
It did, of course. Even today she had nightmares. Perhaps she always would.
“You should rest,” Mahesh said, as if he had not heard her. “There will be time enough to discuss what must be done. For now, you must recover from this ordeal.”
As if she could allow herself the luxury of rest. There would not betime enough, as he claimed. The urgency of the work ahead of her made it difficult to look at him without anything but incredulous anger.
“You acted as you did in error, Empress, but we may still be able to right it. We can move forward on this when the camp is more—peaceful.”
As if to underscore his words, there was another crash from beyond the tent’s walls, and indecipherable shouting.
“I would rather summon the other lords now,” she said, controlled. “I would rather discuss how we must proceed.”
“And I,” he said, with more steel, “think it would be better for you to recover. That is my advice. Respectfully. Empress.”
Silence fell.
This was defiance. Oh, Lord Mahesh could speak of respect all he liked. But he knew his worth to her.
She thought of standing taller. Thought of saying to him,I am your empress, and you will obey me. She thought of all the things her father would have done in her position, or her brothers, or any emperor, any faceless man garbed in power.
You would never have spoken to me so, she thought, her blood a deep river of anger that swelled and moved inside her, threatening to flood the plains of her heart,if I were either of my brothers. And yet I am a better leader than both of them, in every way.
