She had a useful wellspring of anger.
“Now,” she said. And they crossed the last wall of trees—and found the soldiers before them.
The fight was quick and bloody.
Priya tried to use her magic to subdue most of them, but one man, disarmed of his sword, wormed his way beyond her vines and tried to grapple her. She had the pleasure of punching him in the face.
He went for the knife at his belt. Tried to gut her.
This is why, she thought—blood simmering, her pulse pounding in her ears.This is why you’re killing them. Breaking them. This.
The soil pulled his feet deeper. Deeper. His hands were still free. That was no matter. Priya could still attack him with her vines; still see him suffocated, dragged under.
There was a whistle and a thud. An arrow had gone through his throat. She looked behind her and saw Sima, gray-faced, clutching her bow.
“Messy,” Ganam remarked. “But the job’s done.” He straightened, squaring his shoulders. “Elder Priya,” he said. “What now?”
They went home.
Priya drew a dark shawl around her shoulders to conceal her attire, then dived into the city’s depths with her companions surrounding her. Invisible in a crowd of soldiers and mask-keepers, she was free to take in the sights around her without having to worry that she’d be recognized and bowed to, worshipped or feared in a way that made her teeth itch with discomfort.
Hiranaprastha’s streets were busy around them, noisy and heaving with people. There were food stalls here and there, and groups of children playing, and people squatting in the shade, watching the crowds drift by. Under the blue sky, the city was all churned mud and brightly painted stalls and shops. Empty lanterns hung from verandas, wavering in the mild wind. At night, those lanterns would be filled with candles, and the city would glow like a constellation.
For months, Hiranaprastha had been a shadow of itself—broken by both violence and fire. But the buildings had slowly been fixed or simply put back to use by necessity since then. Priya caught a glimpse of a house with a partially broken wall as they moved through the streets. Someone had strung a curtain of wooden beads and colored glass across the gap. Sunlight through the glass shone green, blue, pink.
Priya turned toward Sima. Brushed their shoulders together to catch Sima’s attention. In return, Sima offered her a tentative smile. Her face still had an ashy pallor, but she was starting to look more like herself now that they were nearing the mahal.
“How are you feeling now?” Priya asked.
“Oh, just fine,” Sima said. It was such a blatant lie that Priya almost laughed.
She didn’t, though. She didn’t want to hurt Sima’s feelings. She wanted to comfort her.
“It’s all right if you feel—conflicted,” Priya said. “About killing someone. Or if you’re still a little afraid. Itwasfrightening.”
Sima looked down at her own hand and laughed awkwardly.
“I think maybe I was a little afraid,” she admitted. “And I was trying so hard to be brave, too.”
Priya knocked her shoulder against Sima’s again—as close as she could get to a hug without embarrassing her in front of their companions.
“You did really well,” she said. “Trust me.”
“Does it ever get easier, the fear?” Sima asked. “Do you start going into fights and just find a way to ignore all of, you know…?” She waved a hand around vaguely. “Or does being powerful the way you are stop you being afraid?”
Priya didn’t know how to explain that her relationship with fear had been complicated long before she became thrice-born.
“It helps,” Priya admitted. “But you’ve got nothing to be afraid of, Sima. You’ve got me.”
Ahead of them, Ganam was using his bulk to cut a swathe through the crowd, carving their group a path back toward the mahal. Priya could see it in the distance, looming above the low buildings of Hiranaprastha. Only the Hirana stood taller than it—an ancient mountain with the temple proper at its zenith.
People took little notice of them as they walked, though a few gave them nods of respect. In Hiranaprastha, the patrols that worked for the temple elders had become just as unremarkable a sight as the regent’s soldiers had once been. Simply part of the fabric of city life, with all its rhythms and routines and dangers.
“I don’t always want to hide behind you, Pri,” Sima said ruefully. “Maybe I want to be able to look after you too. Have you considered that?”
“Sima, you literally shot a man through the throat for me,” Priya said. “Do you have any idea how impressive that is? I don’t mean that you’re weak or—or anything like that! I just mean…”
“I know what you mean,” said Sima.
