by Matt Larkin
“I wish the Solars would create more plays,” Ratna complained, not for the first time. Kakudmi had ordered transcripts of plays from Bukit, though Chandi suspected he’d done so more to keep Ratna quiet than out of real care for her happiness.
“Ratna,” Chandi said, pulling her cousin to her feet, “please, let’s go out. We can visit the Academy, listen to the music. Or take Revati to the park.” Yesterday had seen the first showers. If they wanted to appreciate the last of the sunshine, they should go today.
Ratna turned her head away. “Revati is with her father. Again. And why should I care if he wants to see her? He’s a busy man but he makes time for his daughter, if no one else. Shame the child has to grow up in this place.”
“Ratna?” Chandi asked. Her cousin’s voice had started to break.
“Revati visited the park two days ago. She’s fine where she is. Pak Kakudmi will keep her more than entertained.”
“You didn’t tell me you went to the park. I could have come.” She should have gone with them, by the Moon. If she was with Naresh, who protected Ratna? They had both been lax in their duties, then. Or maybe he had assigned someone else to Ratna and not even told her.
“You? You’ve spent every day for weeks snooping. And what have you learned? Anything to make this all worthwhile?”
The door to Ratna’s room creaked open, and Naresh stepped inside. Ratna made no protest at his uninvited entrance, though seeing his dour expression, Chandi could understand why.
“Ibu Ratna, his Radiance wishes to see you in the private meeting hall. Ibu Landorundun is here to escort you.”
Ratna sniffed, but whether at the ice in his voice or at being summoned by Kakudmi, Chandi couldn’t guess. “Very well.”
When Ratna stepped out the door, Chandi caught a brief glimpse of the Arun Guardswoman waiting in the shadows. She had never seen Landorundun so rigid. The Guardswoman glared a moment, before guiding Ratna away. Naresh must have wanted to see her alone. His eyes locked hers and she could have wept at the pain in them.
Naresh stood in the darkness of the doorway, watching Chandi as Ratna and Landorundun’s footfalls echoed down the corridor, his eyes as cold as his voice. His hair and clothes were damp, though she hadn’t seen rain. Strands of his hair plastered over his eyes, and she had to fight the urge to brush them aside for him.
If he needed a friend, she’d be that now. Whatever had happened, it had devastated him, and she couldn’t even remember the last time Kakudmi had summoned Ratna. Was that it, had war come again? If so, any hope of their friendship might be one of the first casualties.
“The Astral Temple has fallen.” Sweet Chandra. Naresh no longer met her eyes, instead, seeming to look past her, over her head. “Should I have you arrested?”
Her mouth trembled, but nothing came out. He knew. She wouldn’t cry. She’d known this could happen. Rahu never pretended this wasn’t dangerous.
“I haven’t—” But she didn’t know what she wanted to say. “Please Naresh, look at me.”
He did then, and it was worse. The cold had turned to fire. “You were the only Lunar that knew he would be there! The only one who might have allowed them to prepare for so many Arun Guard. So you told Malin? Was it him?” In two steps he reached her, then grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. She could draw her Moon Blessings. Could fight him off. But she wouldn’t. “Did Malin lead the attack? Did you help him plan it?”
“No!” She could no longer hold back the weeping. “I didn’t know they were going to attack. I didn’t know anything!”
He released her, pushed her. She staggered back and fell onto the bed, then buried her face in her hands.
“You came here to spy on me? To make me think you were my friend?”
“I came here to protect Ratna!” The spying was just the price she had to pay for that. “You think we’d leave her alone here, with you for protection? The Arun Guard have been slaughtering Lunars ever since you invented the damn Sun Brand! Now we’re supposed to believe you want to keep us safe?”
His whole body trembled, his hand clenched and unclenched. She forced her sobs under control. Let him attack her. Give her a real reason to hurt him.
“To protect Ratna?” His voice shook almost as much as his body. “Who are you? Why’d they choose you?”
What did she have to lose at this point? They were already going to burn her alive. Maybe Ratna, too. No, she’d find a way to stop that. “I’m her cousin. Ketu’s daughter.”
An indecipherable grunt escaped him as he shook his head. The fire slipped from his eyes, though she couldn’t name what replaced it. He took three deep breaths before he spoke again. “You lied to me. Abused my trust. And now Empu Baradah is dead.”
No.
“I can’t bring myself to order your death. Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing. Maybe you didn’t know what they would do with the information you gave them. I will speak to the emperor on your behalf.” His voice had started to break. “You may have been a fool, but I have to believe you didn’t want murder.”
“Naresh, I’m sorry. I—”
“Whatever friendship we had, consider your life the last thing you’ve gotten out of it.”
He turned his back on her and slipped away.
Chandi buried her face in the bed and let the sobs take her. Hadn’t she always known it would come to this? That it wasn’t real? She had started their friendship because he was watching her. She started it because she could learn this very kind of thing from him. Hadn’t she?
She’d learned everything she could from him. And she’d passed it on, because that was her duty to her family. Wasn’t that like his honor? Well Rangda take him and his honor and his whole damn people. She hadn’t wanted this. More blood on her hands. Naresh’s mentor dead, along with how many others?
She moaned and flooded strength into her limbs as she kicked the bedpost. The rosewood pillar snapped under the blow and clattered against the wall. The relief it brought faded in an instant.
Why did it hurt so much? The answer was right in front of her, she just didn’t want to face it. She had let herself fall in love. With a Solar.
She had been so stupid to let this happen. When she shut her eyes, she saw that night at the Harvest Dance again and again, felt his calloused hands holding her own, basked in his smile. Anusapati had been gone for more than three years, and the time had made her weak.
And now… now he’d never speak to her again. He should have turned her in. He should have had them burn her alive. She forced herself to sit up, to catch her breath, to stop the tears. Nothing could change what she’d done. She had ruined everything she touched. She’d killed Anusapati. She’d left Ratna alone to her fate. She’d betrayed the Solars by spying. She’d betrayed the Lunars with her heart. And she’d betrayed her heart by what she’d done to Naresh.
CHAPTER TWENTY
With his shirt off, his sunburst tattoo exposed, Naresh attracted more than one stare as he rushed through the city. It couldn’t be helped. He needed sunlight to recharge the Sun Brand. Already, clouds had thickened and a light rain fell over the Harbor District, making precious sunlight harder to come by. In the heart of the rainy season, it was next to impossible to find a phase of pure sunlight to charge the Brand.
Despite the rain, the district remained busy, packed with sailors coming and going, people cursing, trying to pawn wares. Several fishing boats had brought in the morning’s catch, filling the pier with the smell of raw fish.
The Queen of the South Sea was docked near the end of the long waterfront. The rain had made the boardwalk slick, forcing Naresh to slow. A long row of teahouses, fishing supply stores, unlabeled shanties, and warehouses lined the boardwalk. People standing under the eaves of those buildings ogled him as he passed. He kept his gaze focused forward.
Cursing himself for using all his sunlight sparring with Landi, Naresh rushed up the gangway to the Queen of the South Sea. The captain glowered at seeing Naresh again,
or perhaps at Naresh boarding without permission. “Why, Guardsman, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you. What, a phase, already? And I was just thinking about you.”
Bendurana’s crew continued unloading cargo from the Outer Isles, mostly barrels of salt, which meant he’d been trading with Lunar merchants. The ship smelled of cardamom, nutmeg, and other goods from the Spice Islands. “How soon can you be ready to leave again?”
“Did I hear you right? I could have sworn you just told me I should remain in port, didn’t you? Now you want me to leave?” Bendurana waved his arms in half circles in the air, then bowed. “As the Guardsman commands, of course.”
“I’m going after Malin. He’s responsible for this. And I’m going to kill him.”
Bendurana’s wild drama subdued, his expression grim. For an odd moment, he said nothing. “Well now, that does sound fitting. For once, the Guardsmen have a plan I can back.” Bendurana paused to help a crewman down the plank with a crate. “I suppose I have to back it after what happened. But why the Queen of the South Sea, when you could commandeer a naval vessel?”
Naresh said nothing.
Bendurana understood anyway. “You don’t have sanction for this.” The captain nodded to himself. “I underestimated you, my friend. I knew you were reckless, but this is a whole new boat of trouble.”
“Fine.” Naresh started down the gangway.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” Bendurana called after him, stopping him on the pier.
As he tried to reboard the ship, Bendurana stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Much as I like a bold plan, you can’t do this alone, and my crew is trained to hunt pirates, not fight the Macan Gadungan.”
“I won’t let him get away.” Naresh tried to push around Bendurana, but the captain blocked his path to the ship with surprising agility. “You just said you’d do it.”
“Oh, I will, but we need help. Like say, Ibu Landorundun.”
Naresh turned, following Bendurana’s gaze to see the Guardswoman approach the ship. He glowered.
Her eyes glanced over both of them before she met his gaze. “Turns out it’s not difficult to follow a shirtless Guardsman through the city. People tend to notice.”
“Bet they’d notice a shirtless Guardswoman even more,” Bendurana said.
Naresh ignored the captain. “What do you want?”
“I hope you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, Naresh. I might expect wild heroics from Bendurana, but you should have some discipline.” She folded her arms. “Not that this morning demonstrated any.”
“Hear that, Guardsman?” Bendurana asked, then raised an eyebrow when Naresh glanced at him. “She thinks I’m heroic. Wildly heroic.”
“Landi,” Naresh said, reaching for her hand. When she refused, he put his hand on her elbow instead. “Come with us. We cannot let this go unpunished.”
“This from the man the First left in charge? Our place is guarding the emperor. It’s why you have the Sun Brand, or have you forgotten?”
“Pak Empu Baradah chose me for a reason, Landi. I am in charge.”
“Yes, he chose you because you’re good with the sword. Or maybe because he was sleeping with your mother. Doesn’t make you a leader.”
Naresh’s hand drifted to his sword before he remembered it rested beneath the sea. A fresh sense of loss washed over him. And how had she even known about his mother? It was a lie, anyway. Empu Baradah would never choose a leader that way. Never.
The silence-struck captain backed away behind him, but Landi held her ground, daring him to attack. Sun Brand aside, he was stronger and more skilled, but beating her would only prove her right. The rain fell harder, but none of them moved for shelter.
“Ibu Ratna has assured us that there has been a misunderstanding. Someone acted alone, she says. His Radiance has agreed to accept a Lunar envoy if they send one immediately.”
“I didn’t misunderstand the bodies of initiates floating in the sea,” Bendurana said from the ship behind them. “And I believe the reports from the witness I picked up.”
Naresh found himself in agreement with Bendurana for once. After all of this, all they had done, still the emperor would allow them to come here. Still he would think they could have peace, and allow Empu Baradah to go unavenged.
But he could not defy the emperor. He pushed past Landi and left her standing with the Serendibian.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Chandi hadn’t seen Naresh for the week since her confrontation with him, had remained in her quarters though the emperor hadn’t declared her confined the way he had his wife. Instead, she kept her cousin company, subjected herself to Ratna’s mood swings as if to punish herself.
“Sometimes,” Ratna said, “I fear I’ll lose myself here among the Solars. Three years, and we become more like them. The things we loved as children are gone, even the prayers beneath the moon are rare. I haven’t worshipped as I should. Maybe that’s why Chandra abandoned me here. And Revati, she’s almost a Solar herself.”
“Half Solar.” Chandi paced about the small chamber, her jewelry box clutched in her hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said after a few moments. With the dark skies and the closed window, the room felt dreary, even in the early morning. “I’d rather just be a real handmaid.”
Ratna tried to put her arms around her, but Chandi shrugged them off. Her cousin had dressed in one of her nicest songket-worked sarongs and a fine baju, as though pretending she weren’t confined. “You have to. You serve our family, cousin. Something has gone wrong. A mistake. My father would never, never have done this.” Her voice shook. “You need to continue in case the Solars turn this against us. The information you’ve been gathering—”
“Is enough. Too much.” Not that she didn’t like sneaking around, and she had grown good at it. She liked being privy to the secrets. Overhearing whispered conversations, prying free hidden information, it filled her with a rush like drawing her Blessings. But she hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. “I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of betraying.”
Ratna’s slap caught her off guard. “Betraying? Betraying the Solars? So you’d rather betray your own people? Whatever we’ve done here, they still killed our mothers. And still we came, tried to live among them. And look at me—I’m locked in my chambers like a prisoner.”
Chandi scoffed and rubbed her cheek. “Would you prefer an interrogation chamber in the Ministry of Law? Exile on the sea? Maybe they’ll burn us at sunset.”
Chandi sunk down on the bed with her back turned to Ratna. Weren’t the Lunars the ones breaking faith? Malin’s attack—it must have been Malin, after all—had betrayed the truce. “Revati could change it, you know.” The child changed everything about the imperial marriage. When Rahu had first proposed it, Chandi had never thought the Solar emperor would accept a Lunar bride. When had it stopped sounding like madness? When had the possibility of enduring peace started to seem real? Was it when Naresh returned?
Ratna sat beside Chandi and pulled her around by the shoulders to look at her. For a moment her cousin just stared into her eyes, her mouth cracked open. “Maybe. But what if she can’t? Maybe it’s time we went home.”
She tried to speak, but something caught in her throat. Isn’t that what she’d wanted all along? “Think about your husband. Your child.”
“If there’s war, Revati will be raised a proper Lunar. So she’ll lose the Solar throne—she’ll regain the Lunar throne that should have been her true birthright.”
Chandi couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice as she rose and backed away from her cousin. “You want to see war come again, don’t you? For all you played at diplomacy, for all you thought to bring peace, when it turns dark, you run for shelter. You took his bed, gave him a child, but it meant nothing.”
Ratna looked like she might slap her again. Ratna didn’t have strong Blessings, despite her father, and Chandi was in no mood to allow herself to be struck again. She ran her fingers over the jewelry box th
at had held her betrayals. The box that had cost her Naresh.
Ratna rose. “You will do your duty.”
“No!” Chandi hurled the box at the wall beside her cousin. Ratna screeched as the box shattered behind her head, splinters of wood flying about the shadowed room. “I’m done with it, Ratna. I was a fool to agree to this in the first place. But now I’m finished.” She’d fix this. Because peace was better for everyone. Because she owed it to Naresh. Because she had to find a way to keep him from hating her.
After catching her breath, Chandi saw the pearl rhino, scattered on the floor. She knelt beside it. When had she forgotten it in that box? Had she betrayed Anusapati?
“You will do your duty,” Ratna repeated, her voice trembling. “As I have done mine.”
Chandi scoffed as she rose. “On your back.” She rushed to the door and flung it open, not waiting for her cousin’s answer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Naresh wound his way through the Igni District. All his life he’d lived in Kasusthali, wandered its streets, but he had seen this District only a handful of times. The District smelled of garbage and unwashed bodies. Their wooden homes and apartments seemed a poor imitation of the masterful stonework throughout the rest of Kasusthali. And yet, the Ignis themselves had helped create that stonework.
Chandi had once said the Solars treated the Ignis like slaves. She was wrong, of course. But after the splendor of the city, the near destitution here was striking. His passing met with cold looks. They all seemed to know who, or at least what, he was. Of course, the hints of his sun burst tattoo would peek out from beneath his baju.
Rumors said the keeper of the fire shrine was quite a historian. Would what he learned here match his lessons from the Academy? Three times Naresh had stopped to ask the local Ignis for directions. Twice the Ignis had dispersed with nothing but shrugs, and he had begun to suspect the last had misled him.
