“I can manage the rot.”
“And run a country at the same time?”
“We just discussed how the mask-keepers want to pass through the waters,” Bhumika said. “They want to become twice- and thrice-born. They will be able to help with the rot. And with governance, if they must. And you’ll come home and continue your work eventually.” She gave Priya a steady look. “We need the empress to take her throne. Nothing is possible if she does not. Perhaps she recognizes that she requires your strength for that. One ancient magic, false or not, against another. Perhaps she just wants you beside her.” A sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll make do. Ahiranya will make do. What choice is there, really, Priya?”
There’s always a choice, Priya thought. What could Malini do, from across the breadth of an empire? And she had not ordered them. Not threatened. The letter had been very clear on that.
And yet. And yet.
There were always words, words under words, with Malini.
Malini never lied. But her truths were deep waters.
I ask you, with courtesy, as my allies—
“We’ll still have the sangam,” said Bhumika. “We’ll maintain our evening discussions.”
“I can’t believe that you think I should go,” said Priya. “I thought you’d try and convince me not to.”
Bhumika shook her head. Her mouth was thin, troubled. “I always knew you would seek her out.”
“Not while Ahiranya still needs me,” Priya retorted hotly. “Not while you still need me. Not when we have a handful of once-born you don’t really trust, and the chance you’re going to lose half of them to drowning. Bhumika, I can’t.”
“Many of our alliances only exist because of your Empress Malini. If we lose her goodwill…” Bhumika shrugged delicately.
Priya nodded, saying nothing for a moment.
“We cannot afford for her to fail. Or to die,” Bhumika said into the silence.
“You told me once that if she turned on us, I should remove her.”
“That would be a death on our terms, for our purposes,” Bhumika said. “Any other kind of death would ruin us.”
Malini failing. It was hard to imagine. Ever since the news had made its way back to Ahiranya that it was the princess, not the prince, who sought to take Emperor Chandra’s throne—in whispers and rumors carried by merchants and traders, swirling through to markets ahead of the arrival of an official imperial missive, signed with a flourish by Malini’s own hand—Priya had believed that Malini would win. She was too clever to lose. Too willing to pay any price. Even in her own skull, Priya couldn’t lie to herself: Malini would do what was necessary to ensure her own success, even if it cost her Priya.
She’d burned priests, people said. And Priya had thought of Malini’s face after they’d kissed in the forest—the fierceness in her eyes—and thought,She would. She would.
How desperate was Malini, to have summoned one of them at all?Wasshe desperate? Her letter had been all diplomacy. There were no creases from tense fingers; no salt from tear marks.
But there had been the tale from the Birch Bark Mantras. There had been all her words before. HerPriya, I think of you—
Priya swore and pressed her hand to her face.
“Ah, spirits. Does it have to be me? Wouldn’t you like to go on a trip, Bhumika?”
“I’m sure I’d do very well in the empress’s court,” Bhumika said. “But you know it has to be you.”
“I don’t know how to talk to kings and princes.”
“You’ve spoken to at least one prince before,” Bhumika pointed out. “And an empress. Though I suppose you did more than speak with her—”
“Bhumika.”
“Am I not allowed to make the occasional joke?” Bhumika said, smiling a little when Priya scrunched her face in response. Then her expression turned grave again. “You’ll manage. They’re just highborn.”
“You’re better suited for dealing with them,” Priya said to her. “We both know you are.”
“It’s you she wants,” Bhumika said quietly. “She may not have asked for you by name—wisely enough—but you know it to be true. And even if that were not the case, I cannot go.”
