A clatter of thunder foreshadows crooked bolts of lightning flashing overhead. The women cry out and stoop down. A baby wails, and mothers cradle their little ones nearer. I cannot bring myself to preach to these frightened women about the prince’s virtues, but I can warn them about Udug.
“The demon rajah doesn’t care for your well-being,” I shout. “He hungers to wipe out our world.” I hand my spare khanda to a rani with thick white scars on her arm. “You’re free to decide your own fate. You can fight for your homeland—or stand by and watch it fall.”
Parisa and Eshana rise and come forward to choose a weapon. Shyla passes her baby to a nursemaid and selects a sword. Asha would have received less training than most of the women here, yet she picks up two haladies. They and my friends join me, each armed, and we start for the doorway.
“Where are you going?” a rani calls.
“To fight,” I reply. “If you wish for your children to live through the night, you’ll pick up a weapon and come with us.”
Outside the Tigress Pavilion, through the corridor casements, I see rebel soldiers stationed in the garden. Tremblers fortify the perimeter wall, and Galers conduct the thunderstorm. Repeated lightning strikes glint above. Farther out in the city, Udug’s spooky blue flames flicker closer.
“Hastin knows we’re coming,” Opal says. “Deven, he’s waiting for you in the entry hall.”
Only the sister warriors who collected weapons stand with me. I do not wait for the other ranis and courtesans to come. I leave the wives’ wing for the central palace.
At the landing of the curved stairway in the rotunda entry, Hastin shouts orders. Out the open main door, I see Tremblers erect a thick barrier of clay bricks to protect the front gate, and Aquifiers roll heavy water barrels into the grounds and set them on end. Anjali sits on a lower step of the opposite staircase, pressing a compress to the back of her head.
Hastin’s gray eyes bore into mine. “Tell me why I shouldn’t smash your bones to pieces for accosting my daughter.”
“We’re here to fight with you.”
He leers, all surliness. “We don’t need you interfering, Captain.”
“General,” I correct. “Prince Ashwin appointed me as head of the imperial army.” Hastin sniffs in dismissal and starts to go. I call after him. “We deserve to go to battle too.”
He revolves on his heels. “Were your people hunted and slaughtered?” he asks, then waits for my reply.
“No.”
“I was away from home when the soldiers came to my village. They broke down my door and executed my wife and sons. I found Anjali, a newborn, bundled in a blanket. My wife had hidden her in a pot so the soldiers wouldn’t find her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your apology,” he growls, trembling the floor. “I want you to stop wasting my time. Retreat to the wives’ wing and take these women with you.”
I follow his gaze to the lines of armed ranis and courtesans packing the curved staircases. Shyla and Asha lead the troops, Parisa and Eshana beside them. I do a swift head count. Nearly all the women have come.
I inflate my chest, my pride uncontainable. “These sister warriors can hold their ground in battle. Udug’s army is ten thousand strong. You’d be a fool to refuse their aid.”
The warlord balls his hands into fists, like two sledgehammers. He could grind my bones to dust. I have suffered a Trembler’s grinding once before, but I do not let my remembrance of the agony move me. “You could never understand,” he says. “You’re not a father. All of this, unseating Tarek, seizing his palace, facing a demon, is to make a better world for my daughter.” He points at Anjali on the staircase. “She is the reason I will not let you stand in my way.”
“Many of these ranis and courtesans are mothers. They want their children to survive the night, just like you.”
“I let their children live!” Hastin bellows, stamping so hard he dents the marble title. “I could have slaughtered Tarek’s wives and sons like he slaughtered mine, but I showed them mercy! These women should drop to their knees and thank Anu they do not know true heartache.”
In the wake of his echoed anger through the rotunda, I reply, “If our people do not come together, we will all know that sorrow. None of us will have a future.”
Warning shouts reach us from outside the main entry. Then the palace walls shudder. The sister warriors clutch the staircase railing. I widen my stance, bracing until the shaking passes.
A rebel races in and reports. “They’ve armed their catapults!”
Hastin marches out, the ground vibrating with his every step. Anjali and I hurry after him. Night has fallen, driven away by the thunderheads. Booms ricochet from catapults at a distance, and several boulders sling toward the palace in an arch.
“Redirect!” shouts the warlord.
Winds propel the boulders back over the wall, into the city. A lightning bolt strikes one, breaking the boulder apart. Rocks the size of my fist shower the courtyard. Before they pelt us, Anjali blasts them away with a gust.
Aquifiers unleash a downpour from the storm clouds, drenching my turban and dripping into my eyes. The thick sheet of rain will hinder the army’s view and slick the catapults’ inner workings, but that will only slow them. Udug and his soldiers will reach the wall, and the bhutas will need more than winds and rain and quakes to defeat them. Bhuta powers are limited, and even with their combined strength, the rebels will tire against an army this size. We all pray the rebels can overpower Udug, but he has already breeched the city when they thought he could not. Every single warrior, bhuta or not, must stand against him.
“Hastin,” I plead. “You need us.”
The warlord taps his index finger agitatedly against his thigh, his gaze darting over the finished clay wall blocking the palace gate. “Very well. Fight at your own peril. Station your troops on the ramparts. They’ll intercept the soldiers. The rebels will combat Udug.”
“Father!” Anjali objects.
Hastin shushes her with a low growl and transfers his stony stare to me. “Move your sister warriors into position, General.”
My troops will be the first line of defense up on the wall, but I have faith in our ability to hold the line against the soldiers. I return to the sister warriors waiting in the entry hall and scan their solemn countenances. “The rebels have accepted our aid. It is my great honor to lead you into battle. On your life, do not let the demon rajah pass through this gate. Defend your family and homeland. Make Ki proud.”
The sister warriors hoist their weapons. Yatin, Natesa, and Opal do the same. Have I done wrong by them? Am I leading them to their doom? I plow through my fear before they detect my uncertainty. We need only hold out until Kali and the navy arrive.
Bowing my head, I offer up an earnest prayer. “Great Anu, preserve the Tarachand Empire and guide us to victory.”
My troops repeat the prayer, a solemn echo of our united devotion. Then I pivot and lead them out under the war-strewn sky.
27
KALINDA
The cold cripples me halfway up the hill. I sway forward and land on all fours in the road. Between the rain and the deadness in my muscles, I cannot feel my feet. If the rebels’ intent is to drive the invaders back with a storm, their strategy is working on at least one person.
Ashwin notices I have fallen behind and jogs back to fetch me. “Do you need to rest?”
“Just for a minute.” I collapse against him. His soul-fire glows like a beacon, but I am so frozen not even his warmth appeals to me.
Gemi backtracks to us. “Is she hurt?”
“She just needs to get warm.” Even to me, Ashwin’s assurance sounds feeble. He lifts me into his arms and hefts me up the hill.
A catapult snaps nearby, flinging a boulder at the palace. Ashwin freezes and then sidesteps out of the middle of the road. Just when the threat is gone, a mighty gust redirects the boulder at the city. The projectile soars overhead and smashes into several huts on
the neighboring road.
“Keep going,” Gemi says, watching for more flying boulders.
She and Ashwin speed up, but everything within me turns sluggish, as though I am sinking in quicksand. Ashwin beelines for a large structure on the next higher road, the Brotherhood temple.
Gemi pries the front door open with the prongs of her trident. The temple corridors and chambers are fixed in shadows. She lights a lamp, and Ashwin pursues her into the chapel. The lamp’s sparse glow reveals murals of the sky-god and his consort, Ki. They remind me of the mural in the Samiya temple chapel I grew up admiring.
“I’ve always wanted to learn to paint,” I slur. Even my tongue is lethargic. “Jaya loved my sketches. Did you know I sketched you, Ashwin? Tarek thought I drew him, but he should’ve known better.”
Ashwin lays me on the altar and touches my forehead. “Sweet Enlil, you’re frozen.”
“Am I?” I try to wiggle my fingers or toes but feel nothing.
Gemi tests my temperature for herself. She draws back, as though my skin burns. “I’ll look for a blanket and dry clothes for her.”
Ashwin expels a breath, his gratitude immense. “I’ll start here. You check the other rooms.”
Gemi lights another lamp and heads off.
Ashwin skims my cheek, though I hardly feel the gesture. “I’ll be right back. I won’t go far.” He takes the lamp across the chapel to search the baskets along the far wall.
Shadows plunge into the gap of light, dropping around me. My muddled thoughts pull me back and forth between now and my childhood when I was confined to my sickbed. More than once, Healer Baka blanketed me in snow to reduce my fevers and calm the fire within me. Unlike Indah, I love the snow. But I would trade never seeing it again for the cure to this poison.
Perhaps this coldness is a feeling. For this gradual decay of my senses and faculties, this loss of control—this is how it must feel to die.
The realization comes at me as a piercing whisper. The end of my path does not lie far ahead. Death is here. In this sanctuary. Upon this hallowed altar.
A splinter of fear embeds itself inside me. I cannot leave this world now, not like this, with the godly part of me smothered. I watch the mural of Anu and Ki, brightened by Ashwin’s faraway light, and wait for the gods to intervene.
Something else comes.
Tarek’s smoky figure separates from the gloom that grips me. “Hello, love. I’ve always wished to have you laid before me on an altar.”
I pry apart my chapped lips, my whisper tattered. “How did you find me?”
“I traveled the roadways of shadows. They led to every cover of darkness in the mortal realm.” He sits beside me on the altar and fiddles with my wet hair. “I’ve come to be with you while you pass on from this life.”
“Why?”
“You know why. You must believe me when I say I love you. I had high regard for my other wives. Even your mother, Yasmin. How I worshiped her. But you challenged me in a way no other woman did.” He leans his mouth over my ear. “Do you know what will happen when the cold-fire inside you takes over? Your soul-fire will go out, and you will consist solely of the dark lineage within you. You will no longer belong to this world. You will belong in the Void with me.”
My tears freeze to icy drops. I have made poor choices and done wrong, but I cannot bear an eternity in the dark with Tarek. That is my worst fate imaginable. “Please don’t let that happen. Please help me.”
He shifts his lips to my forehead. “Shh, love. Give in to the evernight, and you will be free from sorrow and strife.”
Ashwin’s lamp bobs, still across the chapel.
“Ashwin,” I rasp.
Tarek strokes my chin. I manage to flinch, but his demanding touch pursues me, relentlessly taking, taking, taking. “He cannot see me. Only you. Our love binds us, Kalinda.”
He traces my lips and caresses my hair. I try to scream or sob, but the numbness grips me. The cold is winning. He is winning.
My heart slows to a lurching plod. All physical awareness falls away, and stillness settles over me. The lack of feeling in my body hones the clarity of my mind.
Our bond is not of love but of hatred. I am anchoring Tarek to this world. I am giving him power and permission to enter my life.
Healer Baka once told me that peace is a choice. A decision not to be at odds with the world. I have been at odds with Tarek for so long, I know no other way. But we are not the same. I have to make a better choice than he did. I must let go, or I will earn a place with him.
Words swell up my throat, hurting everywhere. “I forgive you.” He tilts closer to hear. I repeat myself, strongly. “I forgive you for claiming me. I only married you to end your life. I’ve loathed you since we met, but I cannot hold on to my hatred any longer. I forgive you for taking me from my home and ruining my dream of peace.”
He unleashes an animalistic growl. “Kalinda, this is nonsense. You love me. You’re my wife.”
“I forgive you for murdering all those innocent bhutas and destroying their families. I forgive you for being a poor father to Ashwin and for your unkindness toward your wives and courtesans.” My voice snags, but I push onward. “I . . . I even forgive you for taking away my best friend. I forgive you . . . for killing Jaya.”
Tarek’s itchy darkness weakens. He wrenches at my chin. “You owe me your life. I did as the gods willed by claiming you. I made you my kindred. Without me, you are no one. History will only remember you because of me.”
More frozen tears cling to my eyelashes, blurring my view. “I forgive you because you brought Deven to me, you introduced me to Ashwin, and you united Natesa and me in friendship.” His darkness recedes to smoke. He tries to silence me with his hand over my mouth, but I speak through him. “I forgive you, Tarek. For everything. Do not come to me anymore. Do not follow me in my shadow. I’ll never summon you again.”
“Kalinda!” Tarek’s clawlike fingers snatch at my hair but pass right through. His haziness tremors in rage. “I am your husband! You’ll never be rid of me. Never!”
Within me, a heaviness I am so accustomed to carrying falls away, and peace warms me enough to melt my icicle tears. “Good-bye, Tarek. I will pray for your soul.”
He lunges for me, but like smoke dispersing into the sky, the last of Rajah Tarek fades.
Shaky breaths tumble in and out of me. Though I am still numb, lightness fills the emptiness of his parting. I have sought freedom and peace all my life. I thought I had to fight for them, earn them, or wait until the gods saw fit to grant me both. But peace of mind was always within reach.
Ashwin returns, his arms full of cloth. “I found this hung over a doorway.” He drapes the heavy material over me. I recognize the tapestry as the one that conceals the tunnel leading to the palace. I saw it when I came here to raze many moons ago . . .
“Ashwin, pick up my dagger.”
“What? Why?”
“Please. Just do it.” He takes one of my mother’s daggers by its turquoise hilt. “I need your help. I am too frozen to do this on my own. I want you to cut me.” With great effort, I indicate the places on my wrists.
“You want me to cut you?”
“We need to let my blood. The healer in Lestari said it will help.” For a time. Then the poison would return twofold, but I will reap those consequences later.
Ashwin backs up. “I cannot hurt you.”
A blast discharges outside the chapel, shuddering the rafters. Ashwin comes behind me and hauls me into his lap. I recline into him, too wilted to move unassisted. From the explosions growing louder and nearer, we have no time to waste.
“You won’t hurt me,” I say. “I would do it myself if I could.”
Ashwin lowers the blade to my arm but pulls away. “I cannot do this.”
I drop my head against him, my breaths slow to strenuous draws. “I wouldn’t ask if there were another way.”
“The last time I was forced to act in desperation I unleashed a demon!” H
is heart charges against my back. “I did this to you, Kalinda. I released Udug. Deven has been right all along. I was selfish. I wanted . . . I wanted my heart’s wish. I dreamed of the palace, the army, the people—and you.”
“I’ve never blamed you for releasing Udug,” I slur. The full agony of the frost returns. The numbness will debilitate me soon. “I’ve always wanted you to retain your throne. I need you to return my help.” I roll my wrists up for him. “I’m dying, Ashwin. If you don’t do this . . .”
He shoves at his tears. “Here and here?” He traces my skin with the blade.
“Yes.” I speak between gasps. “I don’t know what will emerge . . . when you break the skin . . . so stay behind me.” The first time I razed, heat burst out so hot my tears puffed to steam.
He trembles the dagger over my wrist. He can do this, but he must trust me. Trust himself. Ashwin rests his blade against the smooth skin.
I inhale a tiny breath. “Go.”
Ashwin cuts just deep enough to draw blood. Pain greets my demand, and a rush of freezing air flows out. The cold slaps me like a frigid wind. Ashwin suffers the onslaught and shifts the tip of the blade to my other arm, slices a little deeper, and even more winter rushes out.
He drops the blade and holds my bleeding wrists. I slouch against him, beads of sweat collecting at my temples. I close my eyes and search inside myself. My soul-fire burns in my inner sky. As I bleed into Ashwin’s grip, the starlight becomes purer and more intense. I am still weak, far from my strongest self, but less disarrayed.
Gemi returns with her arms full of clothes and drops them with a gasp.
“Don’t be alarmed,” I say. “Ashwin helped me raze—”
An explosion above us drowns me out. Gemi covers her head, and Ashwin bends over me. Dust and clay fall from the ceiling, spattering the altar. The roof holds, but I no longer trust our security here.
Ashwin lets my wrists go and pales at the sight of his bloody hands.
Gemi passes him a cloth, covering them. “Clean up. I’ll help Kalinda.”
The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen Series Book 3) Page 23
