The Warrior Queen (The Hundredth Queen Book 4)

by Emily R. King

  Naresh sharpens his ear to the wind. “The execution is set for sunset. We must go now or we won’t make it.”

  I climb onto Chare after Tinley and ask, “Who’s the woman with your father?”

  “My sister, Maida.” Tinley scrunches her nose at my sorry state. I smell of foot rot. “You have a lot to tell us.”

  I was thinking the same about her. Last I saw, she was flying off with Kalinda. “Help me stop Gemi’s execution, and I’ll tell you anything you want.”

  The mahatis take off across the desert. Chare outraces the chief’s falcon by several wingspans. I attach my gaze to the horizon, overanxious to see the golden domes of my home.

  36

  KALINDA

  Enlil holds the reins steady as Chaser charges through the abyss. After we went through the monstrous mouth in the sky, it retched us out here. I thought I had seen every horror of the Void, but nothing compares to this lonely dreariness. A sea at night has breaks in the waves. A desert has dips and rises that add variety. This chasm continues without end.

  “How do we get out?” I ask.

  “We must find Deven’s gate!” Enlil replies. Sound does not travel far. Communicating feels like shouting into a box. “Occupants of the under realm cannot leave without a mortal opening a gate for them. Once the gate is open, it will reopen for the same mortal until destroyed.”

  Deven inadvertently released Marduk. Returning to me night after night gave Irkalla access to our realm. We did not know, but our ignorance is little consolation now.

  Enlil and I fly onward for what could be minutes or hours; my senses cannot discern up from down, let alone the passage of time. Enlil does not admit it, but we are lost. The Void has swept us up and locked us in an unbeatable oblivion.

  The horses tire. Strips of their flanks tear off and vanish in our wake. Enlil sends his living flames at the steeds to repair their breakages. The glowing tendrils roll off them and wither to smoke.

  I speak directly into Enlil’s ear. “What’s wrong?”

  “The evernight is too strong! It is choking their fire!”

  One of the horses shatters to embers. By the time we fly through them, the ashes are cold. Two more horses split apart, as does the back end of the chariot. Chaser, the only horse remaining, pushes on.

  Enlil and I clutch each other. Cala would usually take advantage of his closeness, but she hid when we left the City of the Dead. Perhaps she knows the evernight will eventually snuff out my soul-fire and she will disappear too. Enlil risks another fate. As he cannot perish, he would plunge through obscurity forever.

  My strained eyes pick up on a disparity to our right. The Void, with no variance in color, has a spectrum of textures.

  “Look there!” I indicate at the patch. “See how the darkness there is coarser like gravel, whereas the parts around it are soft like muslin?”

  Enlil concentrates so hard his eye twitches. “I do not see it.”

  Chaser loses a piece of his hind leg. Our weight wears on him.

  Without another option, Enlil passes me the reins, and I redirect for the gravelly path. The closer we get, the firmer the roadway appears. Chaser’s hooves touch down, and the chariot wheels spin. Enlil emits a grunt of surprise.

  The reins start to turn brittle in my grasp. I strain my eyes, searching for the doorway out.

  A sudden pitch and angled slope of the chariot nearly throws us off. We lost a wheel. I hold on as the bottom of the chariot drags against the path, sending off sparks.

  A section of the floor flies off and disappears. Enlil coaches Chaser to keep going. I peer down the road. The texture ahead evolves into a grainy wall.

  The end of the trail.

  I snap the reins and Chaser gallops faster. Flames shoot off from his mane and tail.

  “Hurry along, old friend,” Enlil calls. “Give us all your might!”

  The fire horse stays on course. Enlil and I brace each other as Chaser disappears into the wall of shadow first. Our momentum throws us through the gate into daylight. I tumble across the floor into a wall. Enlil rolls into the bed frame. Pieces of the smashed carriage smolder on the furniture and floor around us.

  Chaser did not make it through.

  I crawl toward the open doors of the sunlit balcony and inhale the flowery air. I missed sunshine. And my chamber. And my bed. I will never complain about the desert sun again.

  Enlil pulls himself up and stomps out a small flame. He reviews my sketches of Deven on the table. The prospect of seeing him again both delights and terrifies me. What if he still doesn’t remember who I am? My heart is too tender from our last meeting to consider how badly that would hurt.

  I grab a handful of dried fruit from a dish and shove it in my mouth. “Let’s find those children.”

  “I must not meddle with Lokesh and Irkalla’s agreement,” Enlil replies. I stop midchew. “They have a binding contract that I cannot interfere with. Furthermore, it would be unwise to leave the gate unsecured.”

  “Then tell me where the trainees are hiding.”

  “I do not know.”

  So much for omniscient knowledge. “Can you at least close the gate?”

  “Yes,” Enlil replies. “However, Marduk would be trapped in your realm.” I imagine the chaos the chameleon demon could cause and decide against stranding Marduk here. “I will guard it.”

  “How magnanimous of you,” I say. Enlil nods and then rightfully interprets my statement as mockery. I pause at the door. He may infuriate me, but leaving without him feels wrong.

  “Proceed ahead with caution, Kalinda,” Enlil says, his tone wrought with worry. “I will ensure no one enters or exits the gate.”

  How can you stay angry at him? Cala asks.

  If those children are captured, it’ll be easy.

  I steal down the empty corridors. The quiet is unnerving. Movement outside the door to the wives’ wing halts me. I press my back to a wall. Mercenaries lead the ranis and children down the stairs by knifepoint. The ranis and nursemaids guide the older children by hand, and Shyla carries her daughter.

  Once they have passed, I creep to the corner and peek around it into the entry hall. The women and children are going outside. I slip down the corridor to a balcony that overlooks the front of the palace. People in the city congregate at the gates, all looking up. I follow their gaze to Lokesh high on the roof. I do not see Ashwin—or Marduk impersonating Ashwin.

  Lokesh’s break from locating the bhuta trainees sets me on edge. What could keep him from honoring his promise to Irkalla?

  Unless he has the children and is waiting for nightfall.

  I think of the trainees, especially my own students, Giza and Basma. They must be petrified. But they are bhutas. Lokesh’s men would not be a match should the children fight back. He would be clever to imprison them where their powers would not work . . .

  The possibility will not let me alone. As I have no other ideas, I tiptoe to the stairwell that leads to the dungeons and start down the circular stairway. At the bottom, a pair of guards protect the entry. One of them is a mercenary. The other man is clean-shaven and wears a black uniform. His fat lip and bruises have healed. He is still scarily thin, but I love that face in any condition.

  I round the corner and throw a heatwave at the mercenary. He hits the stone wall and falls, knocked out.

  Deven draws his khanda. “The rajah said the rebels would come.”

  Letting my powers fade, I hold up my hand for peace. Deven has confused Ashwin with his father, a mistake I made myself when I first met the prince. For simplicity’s sake, I leave his assumption uncorrected. “I’m not a rebel. I’m a warrior. The children the rajah captured are innocent.”

  “They’re rebel children.”

  I pace closer, wary of Deven’s fast striking abilities and considerable arm length, both traits I appreciate when they are on my side. “They’re trainees. We cannot let the rajah have them or they’ll die. I know you would never hurt a child.”

&nb
sp; He retreats a step, his blade outstretched. “I’ll give you a chance to surrender before I call for more guards.”

  “Those aren’t palace guards. I understand it’s your instinct to obey your ruler and defend the palace, but sometimes it takes more courage to step back than forward. You said those words once when we were standing up to a tyrant. I’ve never forgotten them.”

  Deven wavers long enough that I feel encouraged to move closer. He centers his blade on me and shutters his warm brown eyes. “Don’t come closer.”

  I match his stare despite my thrashed heart. “I’m sorry about this.”

  I throw a minor heatwave at him. As he cringes from the scalding slap, I slide up to him and touch his freshly shaved cheek. Skin to skin, I parch his soul-fire and he faints.

  His stand-up collar is loose from his weight loss. I rebutton the top hole and graze my nose against his. “I love you, you loyal dolt.”

  I pilfer his keys to unlock the dungeon door and drag Deven inside.

  He’s not a god, Cala notes, but I understand your fascination with him.

  As I haul in the second guard, she rummages through my memories of Deven.

  Cala, those are private!

  So were my kisses with Enlil.

  I shut us in the dungeons, and the neutralizer toxins that are built into the walls douse my abilities. Without my powers differentiating us, the divide between me and Cala closes even more.

  “Kali?”

  I follow Brac’s voice down the low-ceilinged tunnel to a cell and let him out. Indah and Pons are asleep on the sandy floor. “Are they sick?”

  “They’ll wake soon. We were sedated.” Brac identifies his brother’s inert body by the exit. “Why is Deven—”

  “He isn’t himself.” My stomach balls into a fist. “But he’s home.”

  Banging sounds farther inside the dungeons. “Down here!”

  Five cells down, Eshana calls to us. I unlock her door, and she embraces me. Natesa sits on the floor near a sleeping Yatin. Neither woman asks where I have been, nor do I spare the time to explain. “Where’s Ashwin?”

  Eshana’s voice hollows. “I don’t know.”

  “Lokesh came for Gemi a little while ago,” Natesa says. “He means to execute her.”

  The people must be assembling for the execution. “Where are the bhuta trainees?”

  “They aren’t here,” Brac answers from behind me.

  “Are you certain?” I ask, and he reaffirms his account.

  Then where . . . ?

  This must have been a distraction, Cala replies.

  I groan at myself. Deven is not strong enough to battle a Burner, yet Marduk stationed him at the dungeons. He anticipated I would come here. Nightfall must be minutes away, and the roadways of shadow leading to the City of the Dead will be ready for moving the children.

  I toss Brac the keys. “Wake the others and go to the roof. I think Lokesh means to execute Gemi up there. Oh, and Deven may be surprised you’re alive since he doesn’t remember much of the past year, but I doubt he’ll harm you. Watch your back as a precaution, and if you could tell him something nice about me, I’d be grateful.”

  Brac blinks as he digests that feast of catastrophes. I pat his shoulder and dash out.

  37

  ASHWIN

  I sit forward to better see the sun descending into the city skyline. The sight of the Turquoise Palace fills me with readiness. I made it home.

  Tinley tilts her head to the wind and impels Chare faster. She and the chief bank their falcons south, out of the direct line of the palace.

  “Why are you changing course?” I shout in her ear.

  Tinley’s voice carries to me on a gale. “The execution is on the rooftop. We’ll approach from the rear.”

  The falcons race the failing sun. Chare pulls ahead from the chief, and he and her sister section off to wait out of sight. Tinley spares them no glance. Despite their lack of communication, their decisive, controlled movements are a comfort.

  We sail over the elephant stables to the rear of the palace. Chare hovers near the lower roofline. I slide my legs together and jump down.

  “This is as far as I can take you.” Tinley tosses me her crossbow.

  I sling the strap over my shoulder. I am not up to par with the sister warriors’ training, but Tarek made certain that my weaponry skills are sufficient.

  “Send a bolt into the sky, and the chief and I will fly in,” Tinley says, then cocks her ear to the wind. “Hurry.”

  I run across the rooftop and leap up the wall. My fingers hook the molding. I pull myself onto the next level. Tinley gazes up at me in astonishment. She assumed I would go through the palace. This will be faster. I ascend several levels, relying on the balconies and archways for handholds. My arms and back ache and the fascia scrapes my palms. Tinley’s warning propels me upward.

  Hurry. Hurry.

  Barking voices carry from outside the aviary. I climb onto the next rise and crouch low. Mercenaries swarm the rooftop. Several of them are archers, bows slung over their shoulders and quivers full. I slide the crossbow to my front and squeeze the fore grip. Lokesh directs his men from his position by the ledge. He wears his headscarf open, while the rest of the men don turbans to continue the charade that they have been hired as imperial guards.

  I search for the thief that has stolen my appearance. My look-alike is not in attendance.

  Mercenaries walk Gemi out. Her naturally straight posture has bowed. She sways as a pendant in the wind while the executioner slips a noose over her neck. Dry blood stains her wrists. I clamp down on the crossbow, ready to inflict pain on her captors. They cut her. They let her blood to weaken her powers.

  My people crowd up to the main gate below and line their rooftops. Tarek fed their hunger for bloodshed with the tournaments and public stonings. Here they are again, eager for violence. I withhold my rising disgust. Their participation as spectators in Gemi’s mistreatment shames the empire.

  More mercenaries hold the ranis and children by sword point in the courtyard. Lokesh is forcing them to watch, but it is he who should be punished. I take aim at him with the crossbow. Gemi is between us, so I hold my fire.

  The final sliver of sun melts into the western horizon.

  Lokesh lifts a cone amplifier to his mouth. “Citizens of Vanhi, welcome!” On the ground, the crowd stills to listen. “Today we witness the restoration of Tarachand! Prince Ashwin has returned to the teachings of his father. He asks that you please pardon his absence. He felt burdened to remain on his knees in prayer, pleading for forgiveness that he might no longer lead us astray.” The commander lying about me—yet again—goes on his long list of offenses. I balance the crossbow and wait for a clear shot. “Upon the death of his viraji, the empire will be cleansed and undergo a rebirth. We will have a new life without demons, without fear!”

  “You know nothing of fear,” says Gemi. Her head is hung, her hair in her eyes. “My admiral will bleed every drop of blood from your body, and my father will feed it to the sea.”

  “Be quiet, filth.” Lokesh backhands her, and she folds in half. “Put her on the partition!”

  The guards heft Gemi onto the rim of the roof. I have walked that ledge many times and never felt this sick. My finger strains on the trigger. Lokesh is out in the open, but he could fall back against Gemi and knock her over the drop-off.

  A little left and I can fire.

  “Hang the demon!” Lokesh proclaims.

  His men reach up to push Gemi. I switch my aim to the aviary window and pull. The bolt zips through the window. A quarter of a second later, the doves flood out. Lokesh and his men shield their heads from the flurry of birds.

  Gemi remains balanced amid the onslaught of flapping wings. As the doves fly away, thunder crashes overhead. Gray clouds brew up a storm. The moody thunderheads usher in cold, sweeping winds.

  Lokesh traces the angle of the bolt back to me. “Shoot him!”

  Archers prepare their arrows.
Gemi raises her gaze to mine. Adoration warms her countenance. I was a fool not to see it before.

  Arrows whiz past me. I slide down to the other side of the roof in plain sight of Lokesh. He grabs Gemi and shoves.

  “Tinley, wind!” I cry and jump from the ledge.

  I dive headfirst past Lokesh. Nothing lies between me and the ground. Gemi swings down, the rope almost fully stretched. A frigid gale heaves her up at the same time one pushes me.

  In our momentary suspension, I reach out and pull her in.

  Another well-timed gust redirects us. We swing to a higher ledge and land against the palace on a narrow recess. My body secures Gemi’s against the wall. We pant in tandem, our heartbeats pounding.

  Tinley and Chief Naresh circle above in the storm, their falcons drawing the archers’ attack. The temperature plummets to wintry conditions. My cold fingers fumble to untie Gemi’s wrists. She removes the noose and embraces me. Although her wrists no longer bleed, she will have scars.

  “Down there!” Lokesh’s men call.

  The archers take aim and unleash their assault. We have no safe cover or path down.

  Chief Naresh drives winds between us and redirects the arrows back at the bowmen. Then a curious phenomenon occurs—snow falls in the desert. Big, fluffy snowflakes pinwheel down and nest in Gemi’s hair. I pluck one off, and we watch, mesmerized as it melts.

  Tinley flies up on her falcon. “Jump!”

  Arrows stream at her and Chare. The mahati retreats, and another string of arrows stops them from returning.

  High above, Chief Naresh and Tinley’s sister dart about on their falcon. Maida elevates her arms to the clouds. The snow falls heavier and faster. Frigid winds wail. The blizzard is so thick, I cannot see the ground. The archers shoot at us blindly.

  “This is our cover!” Gemi shouts.

  Tinley lowers again on her falcon. Gemi leaps first. The recess is slick, but I lunge, and Gemi grasps me. I sit behind her and Tinley. The falcon soars up the exterior of the palace and levels off above the archers. Most of the mercenaries are retreating inside from the whiteout, many of them injured by their own arrows. Lokesh and a small band of men withstand the gusts from Chare’s flapping wings and heavy snowfall.