A single blink of the eyelids. “Tez? But, Shayla, what about—”
“Do I look like I want an opinion from you, General?” I hold up the poster that Damak gave me, watch Alizeh’s eyes widen. “Do I look like I want anything other than your unquestioned loyalty?”
“Shayla, I was planning to tell you. I swear—”
“I am your queen.” The scroll sails across my desk, falling at Alizeh’s feet. She doesn’t look away, red blotching her pale cheeks. “I am your queen and yet again, you choose to hide these things from me.”
“I didn’t tell you because I knew this is how you would react!” Alizeh protests. “Shayla, you know I’m always on your side.”
“And yet you suggested I hold a janata darbar—a public court that could expose me, putting me at risk of an assassination, as it did my own mother!”
I wait for Alizeh to fight back. To give me the explanation I so desperately want to hear. But she simply stares back at me, her lips so tight that they’re colorless.
“Well?” I demand. “Do you have nothing to say for yourself?”
“You suspect me,” she says, her voice trembling. “You think I would … you think I’d … you aren’t simply a queen to me. You know this. You know I—”
“General, you forget yourself.” I keep my voice as cold as possible, ignoring the sudden spasm her words cause beneath my ribs. “Remember why I appointed you and only you to this position.”
There’s a long silence, followed by a flash of pain in Alizeh’s gray eyes. “I apologize, Ambar Sikandar,” she says stiffly.
“Find the conjurer Amar and the so-called Star Warrior,” I order. “Turn every house in the tenements upside down; burn them if you need to. He wrote Ambar a letter, didn’t he? Now Ambar’s queen will give him her reply.”
“But the half magus Cavas—”
“Do you really think an imprisoned traitor is a priority right now?”
“As you wish, Rani Shayla.” Alizeh’s voice is flat, giving no indication of her personal opinion—exactly the way I want.
It makes me wonder why I hate it so much.
“Go then, General,” I tell her. “Make sure you don’t let me down.”
37
GUL
Five days after Amar told us about his plan for the letters, he presents it at the council meeting. As expected, pandemonium breaks out.
“It’s too dangerous!” Councilor Maya exclaims.
“Impossible,” Councilor Rayomand murmurs.
“I have to say that I agree,” Sarpanch Parvez adds, the furrows between his brows deepening. “Is it really wise to bring the Sky Warriors to us, Raja Amar? It’s not the soldiers I worry about, but non-magi civilians under my protection.”
“Listen,” Amar says, pointing at the parchment laid out over the ground in front of the temple. “Today is the second day of Birds. I plan to send out the letters on the third. It will take the Sky Warriors about two days on horseback to ride from Ambar Fort to the southern tenements. They will need to stop at some point. They will likely camp out somewhere here.” A glowing red star appears at a spot somewhere to the left of Ambarvadi and the southern tenements. “We could attack them then. Take them by surprise while they sleep. We probably won’t need that big an army—”
“If I may interrupt, Raja Amar.” Latif’s voice appearing out of nowhere never fails to jar the senses.
“Yes, Latif ji.” Amar speaks with barely held impatience.
“That letter of yours will be akin to a laxative for Rani Shayla.” Latif sounds amused. “She’ll not want any troops that stop midway.”
“The best troops need rest, Latif ji.”
“Not if they have access to tez,” Latif says.
Tez? I look askance at Kali.
“A magical enhancer,” she murmurs in my ear. “Like Dream Dust, but worse.”
Oh.
“Tez intake was banned in battle years ago!” Amar exclaims. “Even my father frowned on it—he said the side effects were not worth the benefit of enhanced magical powers.”
“Raja Amar, your father never stopped tez from being grown and sold for export,” Latif points out. “Now we have a queen in power who doesn’t care a whit about tez’s side effects. Several cartloads of it have arrived from Meghapur for the army’s consumption during the war. Harkha found out when she went to check in on Cavas yesterday.”
My heart kicks a beat faster: Cavas is still alive.
“Tez’s effects aren’t permanent, though,” Councilor Maya says. “And its side effects are deadlier. In the years before it was banned, non-magi were forced to ingest it daily to work longer and harder hours. Nearly seven hundred people died before Raja Lohar decided it wasn’t worth another rebellion.”
“Yes, but my plan was to attack them when they didn’t expect it,” Amar says, frowning. “Our armies aren’t trained to withstand a full battalion! My only other option would be to send out the letters after we have some reinforcements from Jwala and Samudra.” Amar releases a breath. “And goddess only knows when those will arrive.”
“What about the Pashu army?” one of the councilors asks, turning to Subodh. “Can’t they help us?”
“Rani Sarayu has already offered us her birds for messages,” Subodh says. “She suffered serious injuries while helping us. In good conscience, I don’t feel right demanding more from her than I already have.”
“I wouldn’t feel right about it, either,” Amar agrees. “The Pashu have gone above and beyond to help us in this war. That you are fighting for us, Raja Subodh, is more than anything I could ask for.”
“Also, our army isn’t as bad as you might think,” Falak speaks out. “I am quite confident that we can hold them off for a day or two. Fight them until the effects of the tez wear off.”
“But that might take days!” Kali points out.
“Not if they travel all night,” Councilor Rayomand says thoughtfully. “Councilor Maya knows best, though. What do you say, Maya? Am I right?”
Councilor Maya scowls but gives her assent. “Possibly. Traveling at that speed will definitely exhaust their horses.”
“And if we hold them off for the day, we could attack them at night,” I say, thinking hard. “Living specters can touch things and people, right? Could they get into the enemy campsite and destroy their supply of food and water? What do you think, Latif?”
There’s a lull in the conversation at my suggestion as we wait for Latif’s response.
“Hmm. It’s an idea,” Latif says, almost as if he were considering it.
“You approve of this plan, Latif ji?” Amar prods. “I’ve never heard of living specters working this way before. Do you think they’ll all cooperate?”
“I actually do approve of this plan.” Latif sounds amused. “Organization isn’t our greatest strength—every specter has a slightly different tether binding them to the living world—but I do think my spectral friends will cooperate if I ask them to. Many of the younger specters have been a little bored lately and would enjoy some mischief. Naturally, you all will need to fight the Sky Warriors first and tire them out.”
Amar, however, still looks doubtful. “How would the living specters destroy their food supplies?”
“Firebombs,” Latif answers again, with a readiness that makes me wonder if he already had the idea in mind. “Mix in a bit of eucalyptus and wild grass. The tiniest sliver of firestone dipped in magus spit. Or blood, if you prefer. Roll it up in some cow dung, and it’ll explode on contact.”
There’s a brief silence.
“Is that … is that what you used to blow up the palace garden years ago?” Amar asks finally.
“I might have,” Latif says, noncommittal.
More silence.
“Why don’t we take a day to mull things over?” Sarpanch Parvez says. “We can meet here early tomorrow morning and vote on it. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Amar says, and the rest of us nod.
“What do you think?” I a
sk Kali as we step out of the temple. “Are we ready to fight?”
“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “But then, none of us Sisters thought you were ready to take on a tyrant. And here you are.”
“Was that a compliment or an insult?”
“I reserve my compliments for the girls I plan to bed.”
“You mean like Sami?” I tease.
Kali pauses next to a stone pillar, gesturing me to the side. We wait until the remaining council members pass by before she speaks again:
“Sami asked me to bind with her last night.”
“What in Svapnalok—Kali! What did you say?” I demand.
“I said I would think about it. You know I’ve never committed to a girl, Gul. I’ve never felt safe doing so. But Sami is the only person I’ve met whose truth reflects on her face. I don’t have to touch her to know what she’s thinking. More than that … I want to be with her.” Kali exhales sharply. “I’m not used to this kind of happiness.”
“But isn’t happiness exactly what we’re fighting for?” I ask. “Why resist it?”
Kali bites her lip. “What would you do—if it were you and Cavas?”
I feel my breath catch. I haven’t allowed myself to think about a future with Cavas beyond finding him alive and rescuing him. Anything other than that only brings forth expectations that are bound to crush me if left unfulfilled.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I guess I see why you’re so scared.”
Kali shrugs. “Come. Let’s go train with the others. For some reason, fighting always makes me feel better.”
It makes me feel better, too.
Soon, I’m following along as Kali and Falak lead us through a series of moves.
“Forward!” Falak shouts.
The group charges—women from the Legion and non-magi swinging their lathis in perfect unison. While Kali and Falak correct postures and the placement of various arms and feet, I study the expressions on the soldiers’ faces: the set jaws, eyes focused on an enemy only they can see. My heart swells with an emotion I’ve experienced so rarely that it takes me a while to identify it.
Pride.
“Halt!” Kali shouts.
The soldiers stop almost instantly, lathis raised high in the air, not moving a muscle until Falak calls for them to be at ease again.
“Well done,” Falak says. “I am especially impressed by our new soldiers who have caught on so well—and much faster than anyone could have anticipated. It is my honor to induct you into the Legion of the Star Warrior today. You are a part of the family.” A quick grin. “Tattoos, of course, are optional.”
Tired faces break into smiles. Cheers ring out, followed by a ringing chant:
The sky has fallen, a star will rise!
The sky has fallen, a star will rise!
Falak turns to me, looking worried all of a sudden. “I’m sorry. I know I should have consulted you about inducting them into the Legion,” she says in an undertone. “I thought—”
“You thought right,” I interrupt.
“You’re crying, Gul.”
“I know.”
It’s odd: crying and smiling at once, feeling honored beyond measure and completely unworthy of the same. I wipe the tears from my eyes and try to encompass my thoughts into words. But maybe she understands, because Falak gives me a fierce hug.
“We’ll fight for you with our last breaths,” she whispers.
“And I for you,” I say, meaning it.
38
GUL
The next day, everyone unanimously votes to send out the letters.
“There will be an attack,” Amar says simply. “It won’t take them long to trace the parchment I used to this area.”
I nod. This is what I’ve wanted, what we’ve been training toward for months now, but a pit of dread still opens in my belly. Memories of the attacks in Tavan and Raj Mahal flash in my mind. I shake them off before they hook claws into my skin.
During a quiet moment that day, I meditate, looking for Cavas in the darkened temple of my mind. But I see no one. Not even the sky goddess or Sant Javer.
Emerging from my trance, I clutch my aching head, my throat swelling with fear.
“What am I going to do?” I whisper.
The trouble is that there is nothing I can do right now that can effectively get Cavas out of Ambar Fort—not without a full army backing me up. With the exception of my brief trip to Javeribad a couple of months ago, I have never felt this helpless nor this alone.
What’s worse? Cavas’s getting captured again isn’t our only problem.
“The kabzedar rani has sent her soldiers to attack the tenements,” Falak tells everyone later that afternoon. “They will arrive in a day or two.”
Bodies stiffen; a few gasps dissipate in the air. But apart from that, the newly anointed Legion remains deathly still.
“If you do not wish to fight, I will give you one last chance to leave,” Falak says. “This isn’t practice anymore. No one will blame you or accuse you of cowardice.”
There’s a pause. “Why make us part of the Legion, then?” someone asks—a non-magus woman I don’t know.
“I don’t want you to feel you are being pressured to fight,” Falak says. “This is war, and death is very much a possibility here.”
“Death is an inevitability, Commander Falak.” An older non-magus man speaks now, his soft voice carrying in the silence. “Especially for some of us. I would like some choice in my death. Preferably with a lathi in my hand.”
“So would I,” someone else shouts.
“So would I!”
“So would I!”
The words echo until they form a chorus that vibrates the very earth. Before I know what I’m doing, I step forward.
“So would I,” I say. “I do prefer these to lathis, though.”
Laughter erupts as I unsheathe my seaglass daggers, feel the heat of their green glow.
“I also have a small request.” I pause for the noise to dim down. “When I am being attacked, I don’t want any of you to step in to save me.”
I pretend to ignore the murmurs that break out, the confused looks on various faces.
“Gul,” Kali’s whisper is harsh in my ear. “Gul, I don’t think you should—”
“One moment, Kali Didi,” I say. “Let me explain.”
Perhaps it’s the shock of my calling her my elder sister for the first time. Or perhaps it’s the sudden silence my words evoke again, the crowd hushing to the point of breathlessness. Kali hardens her jaw and gives me a curt nod. Go on.
“I lost my parents when I was thirteen. They were murdered by the Sky Warriors, who hunted me for this.” I hold up my right arm, the billowing sleeve of my tunic falling to my shoulder, revealing my birthmark for everyone to see. “This star that I was marked with. This star that led to the kidnappings and deaths of thousands of girls and women for the past two decades.
“I was lucky. I escaped. Not only that, I was rescued by a group of women who had sworn to protect the unprotected. A sisterhood formed from ashes, built on bonds stronger than blood. I tried to be one of them many times. But I wasn’t ready then, and it’s only now that I truly understand why.”
After Juhi, Amira, and Cavas got captured. After Tavan and the deaths of thirty brave women. After Agni.
“Sisterhood is about samarpan. About putting others above yourself. So I’m saying it again. Protect yourself, Legion. Protect your fellow soldiers. But don’t you dare attempt to protect me,” I say firmly. “Quite frankly, what’s the point of calling me the most powerful magus in Ambar if I can’t fight for myself?”
A few laughs greet this last comment. In the distance, I see a pair of shining golden eyes, a thick brown mane. Subodh gives me an approving nod. Next to him, Kali’s eyes are shining as well with unshed tears.
“The true king waits!” I shout, raising my arm into the air.
“The true king waits!” The Legion thumps their hands over their hearts in
response.
That evening, moments before I step into the tent, I feel the cool touch of a hand on my arm.
“You meant what you said.” Roda’s voice sounds puzzled instead of mocking. “You don’t want them shielding you.”
“I don’t,” I say truthfully. “I never wanted you or Esther Didi to die. And I don’t want anyone else to die protecting me again.”
There’s a long silence. “I will stop tormenting you,” Roda says. “For now.”
Warmth rushes through my limbs. When I lift the tent flap, I know the specter will be gone. She won’t see the tears running down my cheeks nor feel the relief blooming in my heart. But that’s okay. For now, I’ll take refuge in hope and small victories.
39
GUL
The Sky Warriors arrive the next day in a cloud of dust and thundering hooves, their red spells fanning, hammering the barrier so hard that even a full foot within its boundary, I feel my teeth chatter.
Amar nods at us and taps his spear on the ground twice. Ten soldiers wearing blue tunics and dhotis march in from behind a building with spears in their hands, their eyes glassy, their faces a sickly greenish-yellow.
“Queen’s curses,” Kali breathes. “Are those…?”
“Conjured? Yes,” Amar says. “When the enemy has about ten times more soldiers than you do and more magic on its side, a few tricks are necessary. Don’t look at me like that, Kali ji. I promise that none of these are real bodies. I used some old chicken bones and my own blood to conjure them last night.”
Though Amar speaks lightly, I can see that the magic has taken its toll: His eyes are shadowed, his shoulders stooped like those of a much older man.
“How many did you make?” I ask, trying to tamp down my anxiety. “You didn’t overexert yourself, did you?”
Amar leans on his spear as if curbing a tremor in his limbs. “I made enough. The conjuring isn’t perfect,” he goes on, evading my next question. “Yukta Didi tried to teach me many times when I was at Ambar Fort, but I could never get the complexion right. But for the sake of this battle, maybe these false soldiers will work.”
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