“Of course,” she said. And smiled, her eyes damp again. “Elder Bhumika,” she continued. “We have so much to celebrate and be glad for. Ahiranya is finally changing for the better, as we always dreamt. What a blessing it is to witness it.”
“Jeevan,” Bhumika said, when Kritika had left. Her voice was like paper—dry and thin. “Stay with me. I need your help. I need you to discreetly summon a close few to this room.” She closed her eyes. Whom could she trust? She considered it. Name after name, each one weighed against what she knew of their loyalties. Their willingness to bend to her, and no other force.
“Billu,” she said. “Rukh.” She named a few others—soldiers whom she knew Jeevan trusted. Khalida, she omitted. She was with Padma now, and Bhumika would speak to her later, in the privacy of the nursery. And then, after a moment, she said, “Ganam. Bring Ganam too.”
“Lady Bhumika,” he said. “Are you sure?”
“I am.”
When they arrived, she bid Jeevan to shut the door behind them. “Thank you for coming. And listening.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I know I am naturally cautious. But to venerate the yaksa as they deserve I believe we must be… careful. To cause no offense. To treat them well.”
“Everyone’s elated the yaksa are back. And that Ashok’s back too,” Ganam added, watching her intently. “I don’t think anyone is worried about offending them.”
“Then everyone forgets their Birch Back Mantras,” said Bhumika. “And all the things the yaksa are capable of. We are beloved to them, but we are also… very mortal. And they are not.”
“I don’t think Ashok’s Ashok,” Rukh said tentatively. He was crouched near the door. His expression was very serious, brow furrowed. Hands tight on his knees. “I… I used to watch Ashok a lot. When I was.” He shrugged. “You know.”
A lackey for the rebels. A sick child, with no else to rely on. “Go on,” Bhumika said.
“Ashok was always very—confident, you know? Sure of himself. Arrogant.”
“A leader needs to be arrogant,” Ganam said.
Rukh shrugged again, as if to say it was none of his business what leaders were meant to be. “All I know is that he doesn’t stand like Ashok does. Doesn’t speak like him. It’s like…” Rukh struggled for a moment, then said. “It’s like he’s got Ashok’s face. But there’s something else under it.”
A chill ran through Bhumika.
“All I ask,” she said calmly, “is that if you can watch them, and see what they do—you do so. And I will be happy to listen to anything you learn. So that I may ensure we all serve them well.”
After they left, Jeevan remained. He stood at the corner of the room, a silent comfort, as she wrestled with all her childhood griefs and shapeless fears. Finally, as the sky grew darker, he said softly, “You should rest, my lady.”
She nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. I will.”
In the morning, she thought.In the morning I will send another message to Priya. I’ll warn her not to come back. I’ll beg her if I must.
It would be pointless, of course. Priya would come if Priya wanted to come. Bhumika hadn’t yet found a way to stop Priya from following the strange, fierce tides of her own whims and her own heart. But if Priya was not safe, as Bhumika feared…
She reached into the sangam again. Reached and found nothing, and returned to her own skin. She would go to her room. Try and sleep. Everything else would wait until morning.
In the morning, Bhumika woke to the sound of screaming. She scrambled out of her bed, raced across her chambers to the door, and found Khalida clutching Padma, the both of them crying, terrified.
There was a body on the ground. A rider, in Ahiranyi colors. Pale flowers were sprouting through his skin. His cut throat was a garland of ashoka blossoms and oleander, empty of blood.
The rider she’d sent to Priya. The single rider Jeevan had spared.
She did not need to see a yaksa to understand the message she had been sent. She took Khalida by the shoulder and crushed her and Padma against her own chest. As if she could protect them from this. As if she had any power in this strange new world at all.
Priya was beyond her reach now.
PRIYA
Priya and her people had been given an abysmal location to set up their camp—on the edge of the grounds, far, far away from the war council tent and Malini’s own grand gold-and-white abode, right where the wind cut in coldly at night and the worst of the sun beat against the canvas during the day, turning it into a sweltering oven. It was no surprise, really. No one here had any love for Ahiranyi people.
“At least we’re less likely to get stabbed by other soldiers here, right, Elder Priya?” Nitin had offered helpfully, and Priya had glared at him until he’d scuttled off to sort out bedding or food, or something else that was needful.
Long after she left the temple to the faceless mother and the scent should have faded from her skin, Priya’s hands smelled of flowers. Every time the fragrance reached her nose, she remembered Malini’s hands on her arm, and the garland caught between their bodies. Remembered the strange, heady feeling of standing like Malini’s equal, staring into her fierce eyes with the shadow of the statue of the faceless mother fanned over both of them.
