“I don’t know.” Subodh turns to face me. “You and Gul are doing better than I expected. But she’s still not willing—or able—to use the full extent of her power. If we are attacked tomorrow, it won’t be enough.”
A pair of flags hang limp over the temple’s spires, not the slightest breeze stirring them.
“I could try to talk to the specters,” I say. “Try to persuade them to stay longer.”
“Esther knows Tavan’s specters best,” Subodh says quietly. “If she can’t convince them, no one can. You and Gul focus on training. And regardless of what happens, don’t get separated during a battle. You are stronger together than you are apart.”
I swallow hard, wondering if the Pashu king somehow senses the thoughts I’ve been having recently about seeking out General Alizeh and killing her myself. After practicing with Gul today, the idea has grown only more tempting. But Subodh doesn’t expound on his warning, so, a moment later, I say:
“Thank you for your help. Without your knowledge about meditation and complements, Gul and I would be lost.”
“You’re welcome. Though I don’t think it’s true that you and Gul would be completely helpless. The Pashu are a much older race than humans, yes, but we are only marginally more knowledgeable. Perhaps it would have taken you both a little longer to figure out your complementary bond, but you would have reached there eventually.”
“I wish someone knew how to rid us of the Scorpion.”
“A throne’s conquest isn’t necessarily a victory. The day she overthrew Raja Amar, Shayla claimed the title of Sikandar, or Victor, as you say in the Common Tongue. Yet, if things continue as they have been over the past week or so, it won’t be long before her own people call her Sitamgar.”
Oppressor.
I recall the last few lines of the new prophecy that the living specters have been singing over the past few days. “Is the specters’ prophecy true? Is Amar still alive?”
“Yes,” Subodh says after a pause. “It took me a couple of months to confirm this, but yes. He’s in hiding right now.”
“Are you sure it’s him and not an impostor?”
“His mother would know, wouldn’t she? Amba was the one who told me.”
It’s startling to hear Queen Amba’s name spoken out loud and with such familiarity. Amar’s haughty mother, Lohar’s first queen, was intimidating on her best days, terrifying on her worst. But there’s a strange, distant look in Subodh’s yellow eyes—one that tells me he isn’t thinking about living specters anymore.
“You knew each other?” I venture. “You and Rani Amba.”
“We did. At one time. Amba wasn’t a queen then, but a noblewoman’s daughter. She had come of age the summer we first met. A few years later, her mother, the last remaining member of the Chand gharana, bound her to Raja Lohar.”
The Chand gharana is an old magi clan whose descendants claim to trace their bloodline back to the moon goddess Sunheri. For centuries—some say since the time of the first queen of Ambar—Chand gharana members have been binding with the royal family. Queen Megha was the only one to break tradition, taking no mate from the clan.
“Amba and I stayed in touch the first year after her binding,” Subodh continues. “Sent each other letters by shvetpanchhi. Then she abruptly stopped writing. My own shvetpanchhi was found shot by an arrow somewhere outside Ambar Fort. I didn’t expect her to reach out to me after so many years. But she has. To protect her son, of course.”
Bitterness enters his voice, leaving me at a loss for words. It’s the most I’ve heard the Pashu king speak about his past. I’m still mulling over what to say when he turns and begins walking back toward the temple.
My stomach growls loudly, and with a sigh, I head to the mess hall, hoping breakfast hasn’t already ended. Inside, Gul is sitting with a few women from the Legion. She smiles when she sees me enter, and I can’t help but feel relieved. Clearly, whatever the women said has put her at ease.
Roda raises her eyebrows when she sees our exchange. Someone else’s comment leads to laughter and Gul’s lowering her head in embarrassment. I feel my own ears turning red. Gul and I do not hide the fact that we both sleep in her room and on her bed. And though we haven’t done anything except sleep so far, I am aware of the sort of conjectures appearances can lead to.
Later that night, I wake sweating after a nightmare … only to turn around and find Gul watching me. “You don’t scream,” she says quietly.
“No.” Sunheri’s light pours in through the window, casting gold over us both. “You didn’t sleep?”
“I couldn’t. Sometimes I think it’s easier not to.”
I know exactly what she means. Unwilling to let my thoughts take me to darker places, I focus on Gul’s face: her delicate features, the dent in her stubborn chin. I reach out to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes. I allow my hand to linger, to trace the shell of her ear with my fingers.
“You have piercings.” I’m surprised to feel the shape of them, the slight dips of flesh along her ear and in the center of her soft lobe.
“Ma had my ears pierced when I was very small. Later, when I was fifteen, one of the girls at the Sisterhood pierced my nose. I don’t use them very often.” She closes her eyes as my fingers gently tug on her earlobe, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. The three silver beads she always wears around her neck rest in the hollow of her throat.
“Your necklace…” My voice trails off.
“My mother’s. Well, the beads at least. I picked them off the ground after she died.” Her eyes open, bore into mine. “I don’t want to think about that now, though.”
Neither do I. Which is why, when she inches closer, I let her, parting my lips when I feel hers brushing mine. Kissing her feels like tasting a rose, like cool water poured down a parched throat. Warmth prickles the back of my neck and my cheek, my skin coming alive under her calloused fingers.
When we break apart for air, I say, “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever to kiss you.”
“Three months and sixteen days. The last time was in Chand Mahal.”
“You kept count?” I ask, amused. “Am I going to find a tally somewhere in this room?”
“You weren’t the only one waiting.”
She trails kisses over my throat. I shiver.
Two can play that game.
I sit her up and push aside her heavy, fragrant hair. Fitting my mouth to the soft curve between her neck and shoulder, I allow my teeth to lightly graze her skin, making her gasp.
She doesn’t stop my hand from moving down her back or from drawing the sleep tunic she wears up and over her head. Her skin looks like honey, darker in some places, lighter in others. Her arms twitch at her sides and I wonder if she’s refraining from crossing them over her chest. Her small breasts slope downward, peak into dark-brown tips, and then dip into perfect curves.
Before I can touch her, though, her strong hands slide up my torso and tug impatiently at my tunic.
“Fair’s fair, pretty boy,” she says, a smile belying her mocking tone. “I’m not the only one getting naked.”
I pull off my shirt and toss it to the floor.
She grins and soon our clothes are flying everywhere until we’re fully bared to each other.
I fidget, resisting the urge to hide under the covers as Gul’s gaze travels over my protruding collarbones and too-thin torso. Her eyes are full of awe, a wonder I don’t understand.
She brushes her fingers up my arm, over the slight curve of my bicep. I mirror her movements and soon the awkwardness between us melts into curiosity—an exploration by eager hands and lips as we fumble our way into fitting our bodies together.
Later, we lie in bed, sweat-limned and glistening in the moonlight.
She might have whispered a good night. I might have responded in kind.
Sleep follows.
Neither of us dream.
11
GUL
Subodh is the first to figure out that things
have changed when Cavas and I combine our powers during training the morning after … and turn our targets into dust.
“You are lovers now,” Subodh declares, sniffing hard. “Yes. The air reeks of it.”
I will the ground beneath my feet to turn into quicksand and swallow me whole. Cavas must be equally embarrassed, but he doesn’t break eye contact with the Pashu king.
“Is that a problem?” he asks coolly.
“Not really,” Subodh replies. “Considering that the only other complements in history, Sunheri and Neel, were also lovers. Such a bond strengthens both trust and magic; it will likely help you communicate over greater distances. Of course, should you choose to part ways or take other lovers, it will weaken the way it did for the moon goddesses.”
“What makes you think we’ll do such a thing?” My sharp tone makes Cavas turn and raise his eyebrows in warning.
Subodh looks unperturbed. “You are still young. You will meet others. You will change your minds several times over.”
“Or maybe we won’t,” Cavas interjects. “Maybe the things you said won’t make a difference.”
On instinct, I reach out to slip my hand into his.
“You’re offended, which is understandable,” Subodh says. “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t comment on this. But as your trainer, I have the duty to explain what can affect your powers. Love is a strange thing. I’ve seen it grow between people; I’ve seen it fade. Staying in love is often a choice.” There’s a distant look on the Pashu king’s face, turning it unreadable. “But I might be wrong. Perhaps you both will turn out different. Only time will tell.”
My mind stews over Subodh’s words throughout training—even when Agni and Ajib interrupt the session by galloping around us and kicking up clouds of dust.
“They’re chasing a living specter,” Cavas explains, his expression forcibly cheerful. “Nothing serious.”
Translation: No breach by Sky Warriors so far.
After Subodh dismisses us for the day, Cavas and I walk back to the barracks for breakfast. I must have been walking faster than normal, because Cavas calls out to me a couple of times, jogging to catch up.
“You’re angry,” he says.
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are. You’re brooding over what Raja Subodh said.”
“I’m not!” Liar. “I’m…” I sigh and then admit the truth. “What if he’s right, Cavas? What if we do … fall apart?”
I don’t mention love. Or hint to the anxiety that’s now rushing through my veins at the idea of being separated from him. But, though Cavas is my complement, he does not try to find out what I’m thinking now that our session is over.
“You’re the Star Warrior,” he says. “Your power is too strong to be affected by the loss of a mere complement.”
“Don’t joke about such things. These days I can’t even blow up a target the way I’m supposed to.”
“A temporary setback. You can’t produce the same results every time, Gul. Everyone has bad days.”
Yet I can hear the frustration under his reassuring words, see it in the frowns he’s no longer able to smooth away.
“I know I don’t have the luxury of bad days, Cavas. We could be breached at any moment.” And I’m still not ready.
“Gul … Gul! Listen.” Cavas cuts across my path, gently placing his hands on my shoulders. “No single battle has ever won or lost a war. And I believe that no matter what happens, you won’t let us down.”
He does believe this. Maybe it’s a part of his being my complement, but now that he’s touching me, I can feel his trust, prickling against my skin like his magic. Our gazes lock the way they did last night, right before we sank into each other, and I sense something else. An emotion close to lust, but not quite.
“Gul, I—” A pair of screams rise in the air, cutting Cavas off.
My skin breaks out in goose bumps, while Cavas spins in the opposite direction to watch the shimmering golden bars, an ominous, never-ending line.
“What is it?” I ask when he’s silent for a moment too long. “What happened?”
He slowly turns around to face me again, his lips leeched of color. “Another living specter has disappeared.”
12
GUL
Flowers that bloom in the desert during the Month of Song begin wilting eleven days into the Month of Sloughing. It’s around this time that Esther accosts me and Cavas in the mess hall, a grim expression on her face.
“Here,” she says, handing me a little cloth bag, the kind used for storing herbs or medicine. “Drink this with your morning tea every day.”
“What for? What is this?” I ask, confused. Behind me, Cavas groans, covering his face with his hands.
Esther’s lips purse, and I’m not entirely sure if it’s because she’s annoyed or suppressing a smile. “These are herbs to prevent accidental children during a war. They’ll work no matter when you take them. Just be careful with the doses—I’ve marked out how much you need to take here on this cup.”
The words take a moment to sink in. When they do, I can barely look her in the eye. I snatch the packet and the wooden cup from her hands and slip them into my pocket. It’s not exactly a secret that Cavas and I share the same bedroom, though it’s only recently that we became lovers. Even so, conjecture is different from reality, and the realization of how visible we’ve been this whole time is freshly appalling. I was so wrapped up in Cavas and basking in the high of my new feelings that I completely forgot about the living specters who come spying on us occasionally. Clearly one of them must have told Esther.
Queen’s curses, was it Cavas’s mother?!
The slim possibility of Cavas’s mother having witnessed our nighttime activities live makes me want to sink into the ground. A moment after we get served our food—roti, yellow daal, and pickled honeyweed—Kali comes to sit next to us.
“You may want to close your door,” she tells me, smirking. “Walls have ears, you know.”
I elbow her hard. “We do close the door!”
“Don’t worry.” Kali grins openly now. “I’m the only one who can hear you. And only occasionally. I’ve learned to stuff my ears with cotton before sleeping. I told Esther to give you the herbs.”
“How are your sessions with the women going?” I force myself to change the subject. “Have they been able to regain some of their magic?”
“Not really,” Kali says, concentrating on her food. “Most don’t have the patience required for meditation.”
“What about Sami?” I ask, spotting the young woman a few feet away, talking to Roda and Falak.
“She’s the only one who has shown some aptitude,” Kali says, her expression neutral. “She accidentally grew some flowers out of the sand yesterday. There might be some earth magic in her. Not of much use in battle.”
“Rajkumari Malti was—is—pretty strong with her earth magic,” I say, remembering the little princess with a pang. What must be happening to Malti now—with Shayla on the throne? “She was more than likely capable of burying people alive with mere taps of her feet.”
“Well, Sami is nowhere near that point,” Kali says. “None of them are.”
And I doubt they will be. Though she doesn’t say the words out loud, I sense the implication from her tone.
“The Scorpion has probably placed Rajkumari Malti in shackles by now,” Cavas mutters.
His pronouncement sounds bleaker against the backdrop of eating and chattering women, some like Roda laughing without a care in the world.
* * *
Instead of watching me train with the Legion, today Esther and Cavas decide to patrol the borders again to check how many more specters have gone missing.
The women pick up on my mood, wincing whenever I snap at them for their mistakes.
“You’re not perfect, either, Star Warrior,” Roda points out finally. “You could cut us some slack.”
There’s a warning in her tone—one that reminds me how fragil
e my new bond with the Legion is. I’m about to lash out—with a combination of words and magic I’ve so far held back—when Kali’s cool voice interrupts.
“Gul, why don’t you take a break? I’ll handle the remaining session.”
I stalk off, the desert air doing little to cool my burning cheeks.
Moments later, I feel lower than I did this morning, when Cavas told me about another living specter disappearing. A shadow falls across my face, shielding me from the sun. Sami.
“Are you all right?” she asks. “You aren’t yourself today.”
“I’m worse than I ever was,” I admit. And I’m still not exposing you to the sort of magic you’ll be facing in battle. “Why do you still want me to lead you?”
“Because, when you’re good, you’re really good, Gul. Even Roda said so. I’ve seen you in a battle—a real battle. I feel safer having you and Cavas with us.”
I find myself smiling faintly. Sami didn’t add ji after my name. And her confidence has buoyed my spirits.
“How are your sessions going?” I ask. “Kali says you have some earth magic in you.”
Sami’s face brightens. “I grew flowers! Out of sand!” She sighs, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “But Kali always seems annoyed with me for some reason. I don’t think she likes me.”
No. She likes you too much.
“Kali’s best friend, Amira, would get annoyed with me frequently,” I tell Sami. “We eventually learned to, er, like each other.”
“Kali talks about Amira a lot.” Sami’s muscular body tenses. “Are they … close?”
“The way sisters are,” I say truthfully. “Kali and Amira kept each other sane in a labor camp much like this one until Juhi rescued them. They would give their lives for each other.”
“The way I would for Esther Didi or any of the Legion,” Sami says, releasing a sigh. She looks into the distance behind me. “Do you really think that Kali—”
A sharp neigh pierces the air, cutting Sami off.
It’s Agni, galloping toward us.
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