The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen Series Book 2)

by Emily R. King

“He’s alive but unwell.”

  She lowers the plate in disbelief. Two slices of papaya slide off to the floor.

  Rohan takes back the dish before she drops it too. “No one’s supposed to know. Prince Ashwin doesn’t want anyone to panic.”

  My nerves crackle with alarm. “Is Deven sick?”

  “I don’t think so,” Rohan answers.

  Natesa presses her palm to her stomach. “We have to help Yatin.”

  “No, no, no.” Rohan throws up his hands. “Didn’t you hear me? No one can know I told you.”

  “Who else could have heard Deven’s message?” I ask.

  “Any Galer who was listening, I suppose,” says Rohan.

  By now, Vizier Gyan must know the meaning of Deven’s message. Deven must be terrified for himself and Yatin. Why did Ashwin not tell me Yatin is sick or that the illness has spread to the military encampment?

  “Kalinda, we have to go down there,” Natesa insists.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I reply. “Any attempt to interfere could worsen the situation.” We must find another way to help Yatin. A single solution comes to mind—but it will cost me. “Rohan, I need you to take me somewhere.”

  He casts a pining glance at his food and then drags himself to me at the door.

  Natesa rushes to follow us. “I’m coming with you—”

  “Stay here in case Ashwin or Brother Shaan comes by. Tell them Rohan is escorting me on a walk.” I grasp her hands firmly. Natesa gnaws her lower lip. “I promise I’ll help Yatin.”

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “To visit a friend.”

  Indah answers my first knock.

  “May I come in?” I ask.

  After a heartbeat of hesitation, she opens the door. Pons is seated at a table near the hearth, eating supper with her. The intimacy of their meal causes me to pause, but neither laments the interruption. He rises without complaint. Indah trails him with her gaze as he goes into the corridor to stand guard with Rohan.

  “I apologize for interrupting,” I say.

  “We were nearly finished.” Indah invites me to sit with her at the table in the chair Pons vacated.

  The layout of her chamber is exactly like mine. Her trident is propped near the door, and a shell necklace hangs over the bedpost. Much of Indah is still a mystery, but after today at the river, being competitors is not all there is between us. We respect each other, and that is a firm enough foundation for trust.

  “Thank you for what you did. I have to admit I was surprised.”

  Indah crosses her curvy legs. “We aren’t enemies, Kalinda. We’re competitors, but we’re also both sister warriors. In Lestari, women don’t turn their backs on each other.”

  “Did you . . . Did you happen to see anything unusual in the river? A light perhaps?”

  She drops her head to the side in question. “No. Should I have?”

  “No, I, ah . . .” I push aside my memory of Jaya’s spirit. “That isn’t why I’ve come. My people are falling ill in the encampments. One of my friends, a guard, is sick. Can you spare an Aquifier to care for him?”

  Indah leans back in her seat. “I’m willing to help, but the datu’s aid isn’t free. You know what he’ll ask for in return.”

  “I do, and after seeing all four bhuta powers work together to put out the fire, I believe the Zhaleh will be safer with Virtue Guards. Tell Datu Bulan that once the tournament is over, I’ll go to Lestari with you and bring the book to him myself.”

  Indah lays her palm flat on the table, taken aback. “I—I will tell him.”

  “Do you know I speak the truth?” I ask, and she nods twice in succession. “Then you know I’ll honor my word. Please, send a healer to Yatin right away.”

  “I’ll offer our services, but I cannot guarantee the vizier will accept.”

  “I understand and will appreciate any effort you make.”

  Indah runs her fingers up and down her water cup and studies me. “Your people in the civilian encampment saw the smoke over the city and asked about the fire. The guards told them you’re a Burner.”

  I go still, my chest screwing tight.

  “Your people responded . . . unfavorably.” Her voice holds no delight but sympathy. “They threw stones at the rank board to strike down your name.”

  Her words wallop me like the stones my people cast. I knew this could happen. Tarek taught them to hate bhutas. Hate me.

  But the people loved me. I was their champion.

  I was an imposter, a treacherous kindred who murdered their rajah and hid behind the warlord’s insurgence.

  I was trying to help. I didn’t mean to hurt them.

  The outcome is still the same. They are suffering due to me. Yatin is sick thanks to me. I am fire, razing everything in my path.

  I bury my regret and stand to leave. “Please inform me of Yatin’s condition as soon as you hear.”

  “You’ve made the right decision.” Indah boosts her assurance with a taut smile. “This is best for all our people.”

  I am no longer in the position to determine what is good for anyone. I have been wrong too many times. It would be arrogant of me to assume I can watch over the Zhaleh as well as four Virtue Guards. The book is better off in Lestari, far away from me.

  Prince Ashwin is not in his chamber, but Opal rests on the lounge. I dismiss Rohan to finish his supper and settle in to wait for the prince’s return. Books are still scattered about Ashwin’s room, piled on every surface. I scan the religious texts and notice Enlil’s Hundredth Rani among them. A shiver runs down me, as I think of Tarek’s belief that I am Enlil’s rani reincarnated. With the revelation of my powers, I doubt our people believe I am the dead favored queen now.

  I turn my attention to Opal. “When will the prince return?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, sitting up and stretching from her nap. “He’s gone to request more aid for the encampments, but after today . . .” I grimace and slide my gaze away from her. “Kindred, the dock fire wasn’t your fault.”

  The people of Iresh don’t think so.

  “Please don’t call me kindred,” I answer softly.

  Opal sighs at my back.

  Ashwin comes inside and slams the door hard. “Opal, find Brother Shaan and—” He notices me, and his whole body slumps, shedding his anger. “Kalinda, I didn’t know you were here.”

  “May I have a word, Your Majesty?”

  His chin ticks sideways at my use of his formal title. “Of course. Opal, you’re excused.”

  I wait for Opal to leave and close the door before I speak. “Why didn’t you tell me the illness has spread to the military encampment?”

  “I heard about it upon our return from the river and went to the sultan straightaway. I waited two hours for a ninety-second meeting with him.” Ashwin runs a frustrated hand through his disheveled hair; he looks as though he has been doing that for hours. “Kuval refuses to increase his aid. All of his help is going to the ailing civilians. He thought that’s what I’d want.”

  “Is it?”

  “I wish I knew.” Ashwin unbuttons his jacket with swift jerks. “The Galers’ constant wind wards off the mosquitoes, but people are still falling ill. The death toll has risen to fifty. Children are among them.” He removes his tunic jacket, revealing a thin undershirt, and tosses it onto the bed. The jacket slides off and falls to the floor in a heap. Ashwin grips the back of a chair to steady himself. “The sultan told me he closed his border to more refugees. He says our people are safer there, but they’re my responsibility.”

  I share his dissatisfaction. I hate not knowing if Brac and Mathura are all right. “Indah told me. She also said the people know I’m a Burner. They reacted as I feared.”

  His voice softens some. “They’ll come around once you win the tournament.”

  I find no deception in his reassurance. He believes the people will adore me, or perhaps he cannot comprehend how they could not adore me.

&n
bsp; I pick up his jacket from the floor and hold it close. “You’re already more a rajah than Tarek ever was.”

  “You will make me a better one.” Ashwin steps to me and lays his fingers over my almost-faded rank mark on my hand. “You give me the strength to stand up for myself and our empire.”

  Knowing it is dangerous to hope, I push out my squeaky voice. “Did you mean what you said on the dock about setting me free?”

  “You’ve been free since Rajah Tarek died.” Ashwin squares himself to me, his stare insistent. “I spent my childhood trapped in one room; I will not trap one person to me for the rest of her life.” His finger strokes mine. “I ask the gods every day why I was born into this disaster. I didn’t choose this fate either, Kalinda.”

  “Rajah Tarek—”

  “Chose you out of hundreds of temple wards. He could have had anyone for his final rani, but he saw something in you. Tarek may have been flawed, but in this he was completely inspired.” Ashwin’s gaze meanders over my face, savoring every feature. “All I ask is that when you look at me, you see me not Tarek.”

  “I do see you, but there’s more to consider.”

  “You mean love,” he replies, lowering his forehead nearer to mine. His velvety-brown eyes engulf my sight. “I have no experience with women, so I cannot convince you that my affection is real. But I can say that we will rule as equals and achieve great good together. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

  His lips hover over mine, taking nothing. He has given me a choice—more than I have ever had—but everything I do leaves a ripple. I cannot tiptoe across the pond of life without leaving huge, life-changing wakes. I must stop thinking of what was or what I hoped would be. Deven let me go. I should quit holding on to something that no longer exists.

  I have been running since I left Vanhi, running from Hastin, from Anjali, from my mistakes. My time running stops now.

  “I promise,” I say.

  Warmth fills Ashwin’s expression. He turns his head and brushes his lips against my cheek, a whisper of a caress. “I understand your heart won’t change overnight, so, for now, consider what’s best for the empire.” Fervent intent coarsens his voice. “I will do anything for the good of my people.”

  A scalding tremor skitters down my spine. Ashwin’s fervor reminds me of Tarek’s. I am uncertain which is more troubling: my nightmares of Tarek or the part of him that I discern in his son.

  23

  DEVEN

  In the middle of the night, as I am falling asleep, two large men grab me from my cell and lead me to the guardhouse.

  Vizier Gyan is seated within at a writing table that faces the door. He jots something down in a book and waves at an empty chair without looking up. I enter and sit across from him. The walls are barren, though hung over the desk is an ornamental imperial khanda with a beryl-jeweled hilt. The writing table is organized to perfection, not an ink quill out of place. In case the vizier is observing me, I steal glances at the stocked armory in the corner, a lock dangling from the closed door. Khandas. Crossbows. Machetes. Enough weapons for a small army.

  The vizier shuffles his parchments aside, squaring the corners into precise angles. My interest turns to a book before him. Runes I cannot read mark the cover. More experienced brethren of the Parijana faith can understand runes, but I did not study with the Brotherhood long enough to interpret them myself.

  “Captain Naik,” he says, lifting his chin. “Now that you’ve had time to contemplate your place here, I have some questions for you. How close are you to Kindred Kalinda?”

  I hesitate. Why ask me about Kali? “I am—was—her guard, sir.”

  “She broke into your cell on your first night here because you were her guard?”

  “I cannot speak to her reasoning.”

  Vizier Gyan clasps his hands in front of him, his sleeves inching up slightly. He wears his usual long-sleeved tunic jacket with untailored cuffs. Odd. He is fastidious about the orderliness of his writing desk, yet his sleeves hang too long. “Prior to my telling you, did you know she’s a Burner?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure I understand. Do these questions pertain to the trial tournament?”

  “I’m conducting the questioning, Captain.” The vizier reclines in his chair, casual in his control. “Did you know Kindred Kalinda is a Burner?”

  His surliness when he says “Burner” makes me wish Brac were here to singe his nose hairs. “Yes.”

  “Did she conspire with the bhuta warlord Hastin to murder Rajah Tarek and infiltrate the Turquoise Palace?”

  “No.”

  “Then why did she run from Vanhi?”

  “As you said, Hastin and his rebels invaded the palace. She feared for her life and ran.”

  “After she killed Rajah Tarek,” he says. My eyes expand in shock. “You needn’t protect her. I know she covered her body in poisoned lotion and seduced Tarek to his death.”

  My gut turns to serrated ice. Who did he hear this from? I never questioned Kali about her wedding night or let the details enter my mind. I cringe at the image of her with Rajah Tarek in that way. “I cannot speak to rumors, sir.”

  “Sultan Kuval’s first-ever wife, my sister, was killed by a Burner. My brother-in-law believes Kalinda is inherently evil. Like fire, she’s driven to destroy. Yesterday, during her first trial, she burned down our docks. Two innocent fishermen lost their lives.”

  I steal a moment to absorb this. Kali would never intentionally hurt anyone, but her actions tend to inadvertently cause trouble.

  Vizier Gyan rests his forearms on the table. “Have you had any contact with the kindred since the night she came here?”

  “No.”

  “One of the Lestarians came to my gate this evening and offered his healing services to your man, Yatin. Your little outburst about ‘the bear’ reached someone.”

  Praise Anu, Kali or Natesa heard my message and arranged help for Yatin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Vizier Gyan exhales an irritated breath at my buttoned smirk. “Captain, why did Prince Ashwin absolve you of treason?”

  “I don’t know.” I wrestle the urge to shift in my chair. The vizier is trying to rile me. I have employed the same tactics while interrogating soldiers, poking at them until I find the one weakness that becomes their downfall.

  Vizier Gyan purses his lips thoughtfully. “Are you aware of how close Prince Ashwin has become with Kindred Kalinda?” I force impassivity into my expression. “They spend a lot of time alone together. Yesterday morning she was seen leaving his bedchamber in her nightclothes.”

  “Is that a question?” I ask coolly.

  “Kalinda is endeavoring to wed the prince.”

  “She’s his for the taking. He has first rights to her.”

  Vizier Gyan’s smile twists. “Does that anger you, Captain?”

  I lock my jaw. Any response I give will be warped and used against me.

  “You met the kindred at the Samiya Temple where Rajah Tarek claimed her and escorted her from the temple to Vanhi. There, you were instated as her palace guard, and, later, you were accused of spending the night with her. You were sentenced to execution, but she freed you from the dungeon and helped you escape. You returned for her the very same evening Rajah Tarek was killed.”

  An itch starts at the back of my mind. Where did he hear this from? “Your informant has it wrong. If I was of value, would I be here while the kindred is out there, as you said, endeavoring to wed the prince?”

  “I don’t care so much who weds the prince. I’m more interested in an item the kindred stole from Vanhi.”

  He’s after the Zhaleh. I should have guessed from his circling questions that he has no interest in Kali but in what she is protecting.

  “You were caught with the Zhaleh and sentenced for treason,” he presses. “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know. Rajah Tarek had the book for years. It must still be hidden in Vanhi.”

  Vizier Gyan’s stare turns frig
id. “The kindred gave me the same answer, nearly word for word.”

  “Then it must be true,” I retort. “Hastin could have it.”

  “Captain, we both know the warlord doesn’t have the Zhaleh.”

  I narrow my eyes at Vizier Gyan. Has he been speaking with Hastin? Is the warlord the one who fed him information about Kali and me?

  “Tell me where the Zhaleh is, and I’ll release you to the kindred,” he says.

  I would like to comply with him more than I will allow myself to consider. “I don’t know where it is. That’s the truth.”

  Vizier Gyan inclines forward in his chair. “Day after tomorrow, the final two competitors will duel in the arena, and my offer will expire. I need a better answer by then.”

  “My answer will be the same, sir.”

  “All right.” He musters a cryptic grin. “You may return to your housing.”

  The guards lead me to my tent; the other men are already asleep. I lie down beside Yatin’s empty bedroll and listen to the buzzing mosquitoes. I need to warn Kali about the vizier’s interest in the Zhaleh, but I cannot chance sending another bizarre message Gyan can easily decode. The prince’s suspicions about the sultan were correct. Regardless of the tournament’s outcome, I doubt Sultan Kuval will allow Kalinda, a Burner, to retain her throne and free us.

  The only way my men and I will escape this prison is by fighting our way out.

  24

  KALINDA

  I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of ragged breathing. A startling awareness barrels down on me. I am not alone. My bedchamber is dark, my doors to the balcony closed. A soupy thickness clots the air. The darkness presses down upon me like an iron curtain.

  Something brushes past the side of my bed. My heartbeat hammers inside my skull. When Jaya appeared to me underwater, she was light, true, and warm. This is the antithesis—a pressing, cloying chill. I experienced this pervading despair one other time, in Ki’s throne room.

  I slip my hand under my pillow for my daggers. Whatever is here exhales across my face. Its breath smells of rubble and ruin, loss and sorrow. The scent permeates my senses, squeezing my heart and spinning my mind into places I never wanted to return.