“Then we take the throne back from Vardaan,” he said.
Chapter 6
Esha bit her lip as the horse jostled, knowing full well that if she let her pain show through, Harun would put her back in the travel palanquin.
She blew out a frustrated sigh and pulled a bit tighter on her waist sash, which cinched the hard bandages around her waist. Esha glanced at the sky for the third time, checking for signs of a hawk. She’d started sending out a few notes to her contacts in Gwali, laying the groundwork for her return there. She had unfinished business in the city. She hadn’t lied to Kunal when she had said the general had been the first step of her plan.
She was going back to Gwali, the place of her parents’ murder, and this time, she’d leave the city with better memories.
“Esha, a word?” Harun said, trotting up next to her and shooting a quick glance at her side. “I saw you left the palanquin. Hard to make friends in there?”
“Well, you haven’t made it easy. Half of them are eyeing me warily, wondering where I’ve been and why I haven’t been at court as much the past few years. The other half managed to remember I was introduced to court years ago as the king’s ward and now see me as a potential path to you. Which is annoying.”
“You are a path to me,” he said. “It’s smart of them to see it.”
“You’re condoning such behavior?”
Harun snorted. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it—the scheming. You’d have every one of them eating out of your palm in weeks if you were truly at court.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Like you?”
“I’d like to say I’m the only one immune to your charms.” He grinned at her, one of those ones that always made her stomach flip a little. “But we both know the truth.”
“Maybe you’re right, but part of me wishes I could own the role I’ve had in protecting our country. Maybe then they’d stop pestering me with questions about your favorite color of silk,” she said.
“Indigo,” he said, smirking. “And I know what you’ve done, Esha. This cease-fire, this potential for peace, none of it would be possible without your years of sacrifice.”
“That’s nice, but I wouldn’t mind having those ladies in there know that I was the one who made sure their borders and trade routes didn’t get disrupted,” she grumbled.
“Well, you won’t always have to be in the shadows. You don’t always have to play that role.”
“What?” Her head shot up. “That’s my whole life.”
“That has been your whole life. But what about in the future?”
“What about it?” Esha frowned. The Viper would always be needed to ensure peace.
“Have you considered a role at court? My council?” Harun said.
“I already turned you down. It’ll be easier for me to move around unnoticed during the Mela if I don’t need to be attached to your side as your adviser.”
“Like that would be so horrible,” he said.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Anyway, I’m unofficially one of your advisers. And I don’t think I’d ever want to be on your council, trapped in a room, arguing over grain rations. I’d rather be in the field, ensuring we have those grain shipments for our people,” she said.
“Maybe not the council, then. But something—”
“Harun, I was trying to complain about how no one appreciates me,” Esha said. “Not take on another job.”
His voice softened. “I appreciate you.”
Her throat went dry as she tried to figure out how to reply.
Harun straightened in his seat, clearing his throat. “It’s why I feel that I should apologize to you, again.” Esha quirked an eyebrow at his tone.
“For what happened at the last donor function? I’m past it, Harun. I’ve done worse to you before,” she said with a wry smile.
“No, not that.” He winced. “Though that was wrong of me. I was upset, angry, and I should’ve acted with a clearer head. But the soldier . . .”
“Kunal.”
“Kunal,” Harun agreed, drawing out the syllables of the name. “I should’ve trusted you more on him. Moon Lord knows how he managed to get you back in time when you were so severely wounded, but he did. He brought you back. I’ll always be grateful.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Does this mean you’ll start being nicer to Kunal?”
Harun made a face. “I said I trusted him, I didn’t say I particularly liked him. But he’s doing us a huge favor by being our eyes and ears on the inside. Because of him we’re one step closer to finding Reha.”
“One step closer to bringing back balance.”
They exchanged a glance, and she knew he was thinking of the same thing as her—the first time they had decided to join the rebels and had made the same vow, under a banyan tree in Mathur.
“Who would’ve thought we’d end up as the leaders that day?” she asked. The night of their first mission and decision to change the world. “We were so young.”
“We weren’t young,” he said. “Our innocence left us both earlier than most. The gods decreed this was our path.”
There was something reassuring about the way Harun believed so firmly in his path—their path. After having grown up seeing his uncle betray his father, murder his aunt and cousins, and then bring a vibrant country to its knees, Harun had dedicated his life to Dharka.
His people before everything. Always.
It was why they had clicked. Her thirst for revenge had melded with his need to bring back balance, and together, they had dreamed of a new world.
And tomorrow, they’d arrive in Gwali. They’d be one step closer to ending all of this.
Finding Reha. Deposing Vardaan. Bringing back balance to the land.
“Do you think she’ll be happy to see me?” It took a few seconds for Esha to realize Harun was talking about his sister. “Or will she curse me for not looking harder for her? For abandoning her.”
“Harun.”
“Last time I saw her she was learning to play the veena.” He chuckled. “She had also just started climbing everything, and it was my job to peel her off trees and bring her safely down every day for dinner. I wonder if she’s the same or . . .”
His voice caught.
A wellspring of sadness rose in Esha, one that mingled with her own grief-tinged memories of the city they were traveling to.
“It’s been ten years, Esha,” he whispered, his hand going to the locket he always wore. It had a small oil painting of his family inside, and she’d never seen him without it.
“It’ll be as if nothing has changed,” Esha said. The future would be better once they had righted the wrongs of the past. It had to be.
He nodded slowly, setting his shoulders as they crested a tall hill. The moment had passed, and the prince had returned, steeling himself for the task ahead.
“Look,” he said. He grabbed her reins and tugged her horse into a canter, breaking off from the rest of the retinue. “We’re almost there.”
She pulled her horse to a stop next to his, looking out over the vista. Gwali was spread out below the cliff they were on, leagues in the distance but visible. It shone in the buttery yellow of the midday sun, which cast a glow around the pink sandstone of the palace in the center, the ocean past it.
Gwali. The city of the murderous king, usurper of Jansa. Also the city of ancient lore, the birthplace of Naria and the ancient games of the Sun Mela.
“Are you ready?” Harun turned his dark gaze on her. They were heading into an unknown, but she wouldn’t be alone this time. And soon, Kunal would be there too.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Kunal had to admit being back at the Fort wasn’t as easy as he had thought. He half expected General Panak to jump out at him, demanding to know his whereabouts, and he hated having to lie to Alok.
How did Esha do this so often? He felt like his insides were on fire, and yet his skin was clammy whenever he saw Alok. He’d taken to turning the opposite way t
he past few hours whenever he heard Alok walking toward him.
And now? He definitely needed to be left unseen.
He peeked his head around the corner, checking both directions before he walked over to the records room. It’d be his first stop, among many, at the Fort.
Kunal took care to ease the door shut—he knew it squeaked. A summer banished to the records room for unauthorized oil painting had led him to become very familiar with the archival system and how the Fort maintained its communications.
Not much had changed since that summer. The room was still musty, like old leather and seawater combined. He found the cabinet he was looking for and flipped through a stack of old notes neatly tied together.
The ones he’d be looking for would be on top. He nudged an older stack over, straining his neck to see over the organized piles.
There.
Kunal moved forward, sidling along the narrow gaps between the shelving. These notes were used to pass from transport to transport as record and confirmation, especially as squads were restationed and moved around. One authorized note would be sent out and the copy would be stored here. A process his uncle had started.
He found the one he was looking for, from only a few weeks ago, and flipped through until he found a note that was for a squad that had been restationed from the coast to the center of Jansa. And then another from the Hara Desert to Gwali. Then another from Faor to Gwali.
One wasn’t enough, two was a coincidence, but three was deliberate. Kunal checked the destination for each of them, squinting at the parchment notes.
Gwali. Martial sector. The citadel.
Kunal sucked in a breath. It was expected that Reha would be taken to the martial sector of Gwali, but he supposed he had been holding out hope that she would be in the palace. That perhaps Vardaan had different plans for her than captivity and numerous guards.
Kunal took out a small piece of chalk and paper, jotting down what he found. He rolled up the small notes and tucked them into his waist sash before carefully putting the original records back. He’d send a hawk to Esha when he got a chance, though he felt himself hesitating. He shook his head. No, they needed a heads-up before they entered the city.
The citadel.
Walls of stone the height of three men, squads of elite Senaps inside and outside, night and day. One of the most heavily guarded, well-fortified buildings in the entire capital city.
Kunal could only hope Esha would be as good at breaking into citadels as she was forts.
Chapter 7
Kunal relaxed into conversation with the new general, telling him as much of the truth as he could over their dinner of cumin- and coriander-spiced vegetables and warm, crusty flatbread.
Alok had been paranoid. The general was perfectly nice, inquiring about the mission and the towns he had been to, which garrisons. He didn’t have too many questions about the Viper.
The hall was as Kunal had remembered, the same din of noise as the soldiers chatted and ate, clinking goblets and knocking the wooden table legs. He had left Alok somewhere in the middle with his squad of charioteers. They’d been celebrating the mastery of a new maneuver, one he remembered his uncle had tried to teach them for almost a year.
Kunal wanted to ask questions, see how the Fort had changed, but he had to focus. He had made a promise to the Blades, and though it made his stomach burn to lie to the men he had trusted for so many years, the past two moons had taught him that trust wasn’t as solid of a currency as he had believed.
The specter of Laksh still hung over his conversations with Alok, who hadn’t noticed anything, thankfully. Kunal didn’t want to suspect him. But until he had proof Laksh had acted alone, he couldn’t confide in Alok.
The last of the food was cleared from the leaders’ table, and General Panak turned to clap Kunal on the back.
“You’ve always been a breath of fresh air, Kunal. I can see why your uncle enjoyed having you at the Fort. Though he regretted bringing you here first, not giving you a choice to explore more of what was beyond these walls.”
Kunal didn’t try to hide his shock.
General Panak looked solemn. “We became closer before his passing, when I took on the mantle of commander. I knew you were important to him. He wanted the best for you.”
Kunal swallowed roughly. Somewhere, somehow, his uncle had turned from the right path, becoming the feared general instead of just stern Uncle Setu. Kunal wished he had known him before, seen the man behind the armor.
“That’s why it pains me to tell you this,” General Panak said.
Kunal’s body tensed.
“I know we set you on an impossible task, but you failed to bring the Viper back. If I let you off without a punishment, it’ll be chaos here. My soldiers need rules and order. You will be demoted, stripped of your Senap armband and position.”
Kunal kept still, trying not to betray any emotion, let alone his worry. If he couldn’t become a Senap, he couldn’t get to Gwali in time for the Mela.
“Unless—” General Panak paused, scanning the room, searching for something before he turned his gaze back to Kunal.
“Unless what?” Kunal asked. “I know I failed, General, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to the Fort. I’ve worked to become a Senap for almost a decade now.”
General Panak nodded, looking out to the soldiers who sat in front of their dais, scattered around the room and oblivious to them. Only a few looked up, whispering and pointing at Kunal.
“You see what I mean?” General Panak said. “To quash these rumors, we’ll need a spectacle. If you want to keep your position, Kunal, you’ll need to undergo a Battle of Honor.”
Kunal gripped the hilt of the knife at his side, the sharp edges digging into his palm. A Battle of Honor was the way they settled disagreements at the Red Fortress, a time-honored, ancient tradition.
Trial by combat.
The gates of Gwali were as majestic as ever. A thick sandstone wall encircled the city, with tall watchtowers dotted along the way. Two eagles with their wings unfurled were carved into the outer wall of the city, their sharp eyes on any intruders—or guests.
The ancient guardians of Naria’s city.
And just behind the legendary eagles were corpses hanging from the two watchtowers, a reminder of one’s fate if Vardaan is displeased. Esha and Harun’s retinue hurried past, and as soon as they entered the gates, they were thrown into the maze that was the center of the city. Throngs of people fitted into every corner of the old city, milling about like crashing waves.
Ancient marble buildings mixed in with new sandstone towers. The city’s denizens approached it with a combination of reverence and casual indifference, throwing out their refuse in the same streets where they put idols of the gods. Esha had uncertain feelings about the place as well—her first childhood memories of the city were of the palace, as well as the palace’s dungeons. She was familiar with Gwali—the wealthy town houses, the merchant and trade quarter, the artisans’ way, the thieves’ den, and the beautiful temples and city halls dotted throughout.
It was the palace, and the people inside, that worried her.
Their procession made its way through the most narrow labyrinth of streets before coming out onto the martial quarter and the Queen’s Road. Even Vardaan’s attempts to change the name to the King’s Road hadn’t changed the hearts and minds of people who still referred to it by its original name. The ancient road expanded, curving right and up a ramp that led to the Pink Palace of Gwali.
The Pink Palace was bordered by the ocean to one side, a forest to another, and the city to the next. A perfect situation for a palace, the stronghold of the warrior queens of Jansa. Esha’s retinue traversed the ramp up to the palace, arriving outside the massive doors as they were opened by a dozen Senaps in ceremonial regalia.
Harun drew to the front of the procession, having switched to riding in his chariot. His driver pulled forward so that they drove in parallel with the entrance of
the palace, the tall, solid gold doors carved with ancient myths and tales.
They waited, and Esha began to grow impatient. She admired and hated this part of court politics. Vardaan was showing his dominance in making them wait, but in another few minutes it would be outright disrespect.
Harun and his uncle Vardaan hadn’t seen each other since Harun was a child. What would that interaction be like—would they embrace and play the roles of family? Or would they choose a more true path?
Esha was about to start counting when the doors creaked open and Vardaan, the Pretender King, walked out.
She felt her blood rise in answer to her grief. That old, familiar hatred. Her heart quickened in time to the thudding in her head, everything else receding but that hot, dark feeling. This was the man whose greed had torn apart Jansa. Had killed her family.
Esha pulled at her horse’s reins, urging him forward to catch up to the front of the crowd. She didn’t trust anyone in this court, certainly not this Pretender King. She readied her knife under her uttariya, just in case this welcoming party grew out of hand.
Vardaan was at the front of the crowd, flanked by a cadre of officials in crisp white uttariyas. He was resplendent in a gold-threaded silk uttariya and dhoti, both the color of fresh blood. Long and short necklaces of gold adorned his neck, ruby-encrusted armbands encircled his upper arms, and he wore a thick gold circlet around his brow.
Understated for his first appearance.
Harun had matched him, though he wore no circlet or crown. As the representative of his father, King Mahir, Harun had chosen to dress down. He was the crown prince, but he was his father’s emissary first.
“Welcome, nephew,” Vardaan said, walking forward. He threw his arms open as Harun descended from the chariot. Harun dropped to his knees, touching his fingertips to his uncle’s feet in reverence. A deft avoidance.
Harun had shown him respect, as was due to his uncle, and taken control of the situation in one move. Vardaan reached down and brought Harun up to his feet, as an elder would do, and Harun bent forward, his palms together in greeting.
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