I am blindfolded in the Claiming chamber.
Rajah Tarek inspects me, a predator circling his prey.
An invisible force tugs at my hair. I grasp one of my daggers, but the backs of my hands burn, and I drop it.
Don’t test me, love, says a voice directly over me.
The words are Tarek’s, but the tone is different, a raspy hiss.
“Who are you?” I ask shakily.
Its breathing stays over my bed, blowing the scent of charred rubble across my cheek. Your husband. Have you forgotten me already?
Two blue eyes appear above me, burning like azure flames. I twist to reach my daggers, and when I turn back with blades drawn, the malevolent presence has disappeared.
I collapse against my pillow. Fears expand like a paper lantern inside me, strangling the remnants of a scream. I can still smell ashes and the char of burned skin.
And Tarek’s spirit lingers, like an invisible chain forever linking our souls.
I hold myself still and grip my daggers close. They cannot cut the dark, but having them pressed over my thudding heart provides a comfort that almost convinces me I am safe.
The next morning, I receive instructions from Opal to go alone to the south gate of the tiger paddock. Natesa has been gone since I woke—she is probably off doing laundry—so I dress in my training clothes, braid my hair, and run out the door.
Raindrops sprinkle on my head as I turn down the dirt path. Citra and Indah wait for me at the gate to the paddock. Sultan Kuval stands off to the side, scowling at my late arrival. No one else is here but us.
“Today,” he begins, “you will face a deadly opponent of your choosing in a test of fortitude.”
“Is the weather part of the challenge?” Indah asks, holding out her palm to watch the raindrops patter on her skin.
“This is the start of the wet season, so you can thank Anu for the weather,” the sultan replies. “As this trial is about fortitude, you may use your weapons, but you may not rely upon your powers.” He holds up a vial of neutralizer tonic, water steeped and boiled with poisonous white baneberry and snakeroot.
“I won’t take that,” I say, repelled by the memory of the vile drink. I am not too keen to ingest anything Kuval would give me either.
The sultan’s lips spread in a cutting smile. “You may concede the tournament and leave at any time, Kindred.”
He’ll never give up, will he? I widen my stance to prove that I am staying.
“I’ll drink it first,” offers Citra. She takes the vial from her father, swallows a swig, and passes it to Indah.
Indah sniffs the tonic and wrinkles her nose. “How long will the dosage last?”
“The effects will fade by tomorrow,” answers Sultan Kuval.
Indah sips her part. I watch her closely for an adverse reaction, but she appears unchanged. She passes the vial to me.
I have not taken neutralizer tonic since I came into my powers. But seeing as the sultan gave the same vial of poison to his daughter and Indah, I drink my portion. I grimace at the bitter flavor, and immediately, my soul-fire shrinks, hunkering down like a cowering pup.
“When the gong rings, you will all enter the paddock and separate to find a package left for you—you will know yours when you see it. Retrieve your package, and deliver it through the gate near the tower at the far side of the paddock within ten minutes.” The sultan lifts the door lever. “Be on watch. My tigers haven’t fed in days.”
The sultan’s vague instructions acerbate my nerves. How are his tigers opponents of our choosing? I never volunteered to fight a man-eating cat.
A gong rings across the way, and the sultan opens the gate. I cannot see any spectators or tigers in the rain-soaked flora. Citra is the first inside, followed closely by Indah. I go last, and Sultan Kuval shuts the door on me, rapping my heels. Though he cannot see me through the fence, I glare over my shoulder at him and then face the rainy forest. My competitors are gone.
Ten minutes. Plenty of time to become a tiger’s meal.
I creep through the underbrush and promptly lose sight of the fence. Raindrops glisten off everything, pooling at my feet and drenching my thin clothes.
A shriek nearby sets my hairs on end. I follow the sound about fifty paces and stop. Citra stands before me with her machete drawn, confronting a huge orange-and-black-striped cat.
The tiger growls and paces before a banyan tree. Above them, a girl hangs upside down from the branches. I blink to see her better through the rain. Citra’s sister Tevy has been tied up in the tree. She is gagged, soaked, and shivering. Citra has to pass by the tiger to reach Tevy. I draw my blades and step forward to help her and her sister.
The tiger growls at me.
“Go away, Kalinda,” Citra snaps.
I leave my gaze on the large cat. “I came to help.”
“This is a competition, you dolt. Find your own package.”
The sultan’s instructions return to my mind. Find a package left for you—you will know yours when you see it.
My heart shrinks. If Citra’s package is her sister, could mine also be someone I love? Praying Citra can help Tevy before the tiger helps itself to them both, I back away and run. I leap over roots and fallen logs, searching for anyone or anything familiar. I would call out, but what name should I shout? Is my package even a person?
As I am forced to circumvent a bamboo thicket, I come upon the far gate. A four-legged observatory tower butts up to the fence line. High above me, the spectators watch, a leafy roof shielding them from the rain. Ashwin sees me and scratches his nose . . . and continues to scratch. What is he doing? He’s pointing west. That must be where I can find my package. Gods bless you, Ashwin. I revolve and sprint back into the trees.
Time flows like sand through my fist. I sprint the width of the paddock, my side aching. I spot the west fence through the foliage and slow. The trees thin to a grassy expanse, and in the middle, I spot Natesa kneeling, tied up and gagged. Nothing else is around her.
I step out of the trees. She shakes her head. At the same time, something hisses near my feet.
A dragon cobra bedded down in the high grass to escape the rain. A dozen more snakes hide from the weather in the protective grass between Natesa and me. The closest dragon cobra lifts its head and spreads its flat hood. You will face a deadly opponent of your choosing. The sultan meant the deadly thing we took from the Morass. I should have realized his meaning when I saw Citra with the tiger. But, gods’ virtue, how can I defeat these vipers without my powers?
The dragon cobra beds down again to evade the rainfall. My time is running out, but I cannot rush and risk Natesa or me getting bitten. I harness my concentration and step forward on light feet. Slowly, so slowly my muscles ache and quiver, I tread carefully across the field.
The vipers express little interest in me as they take cover. Thank Anu for the rain. I am almost to Natesa when I nearly step on a camouflaged snake. I sidestep to avoid it, but the startled dragon cobra jerks its head up. After a tense, still moment, the agitated dragon cobra lies down in the grass again. I traverse the remaining distance to Natesa and cut her bindings free.
She yanks the gag from her mouth. “Have you lost your mind? Why didn’t you burn the vipers into their next life?”
“I don’t have my powers for this trial.”
“Buzzards,” she curses. “How are we going to get out of here?”
“We backtrack the way I came.” I hand her my second dagger and lead our way across the field, wary every step.
We arrive at the trees, and Natesa bends forward, panting. “I wanted to kill you while I waited in that field. I still want to strangle you, but I’m also happy to see your face.”
“And I yours. We have to get to the far tower before the gong sounds. Let’s go.”
We race into the trees, jumping over heaving roots and dodging low-hanging branches. Mud puddles nearly unsettle our footing, but we make good time across the paddock. As I spot the peak of the o
bservatory tower through the canopy, a scream comes from my right. I stop, and Natesa waves me forward.
“Come on!” she says.
“That could be Indah. You go to the gate. I’ll meet you there.”
“I don’t think so.” Natesa juts out her chin. “You’re stuck with me.”
I smile a little, astounded that being stuck with Natesa causes me gladness.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she demands. “Do I have eye kohl running down my face?”
I take her hand in mine and squeeze. “You look perfect.”
“All right,” she responds, lifting a bemused brow.
I release my grip on her, and we sprint toward the origin of the scream. About a hundred strides later, we exit the trees to a pond. Natesa and I skid to a halt.
The water is alive. A monstrous crocodile thrashes its tail and splashes near the bank. Indah dodges its snapping jaws, defending herself with her trident. Above them, Pons is tied to a tree bough.
“Is it too late to change my mind?” asks Natesa.
“Distract the crocodile. I’ll help Indah.”
Indah stands up to her ankles in the water, helpless in what is typically her domain. I slosh into the pond to her. She eludes the crocodile’s lunge and bumps into me. We fall into shin-deep water and then push to our feet and run for the bank.
“Watch your step!” Indah cries.
Another crocodile rises up from below the surface. Indah and I stand back to back, each facing a reptile sliding closer. They’re smiling at us.
Natesa swings down from a tree on a vine, a broken branch in hand, and whacks one of the crocodiles on the head. The monster slips back into the pond and disappears. On Natesa’s backward swing, the other crocodile bites down on her bough and pulls her into the pond beside us. She lifts the branch like a staff.
“Get Pons,” I tell Indah.
She wades out of the waterhole. While Indah climbs the tree to Pons, Natesa holds the crocodile at bay by swinging her branch. I keep an eye for others, guarding her blind side. Indah reaches Pons and cuts him free, and they clamber down. As they run for us, a smaller crocodile bursts from the water and snaps at them, catching Indah’s foot. The Aquifier falls to the ground, trapped in its jaws. Pons picks up her trident and stabs the crocodile through the head with the three pointed ends.
Natesa and I retreat from the bigger crocodile, edging over to them. Pons lifts Indah into his arms. Her ankle is a bloody mess. I yank the trident from the dead crocodile, and Natesa guards our retreat.
In the cover of the trees, I guide the way to the gate. We have to hurry to beat the timer and get Indah to a healer, but carrying her over the uneven terrain slows Pons.
“Go on,” he calls out, cradling Indah closer. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Her foot drips blood, and the color drains from her face. Pons will care for her, but leaving them feels wrong. She saved my life.
Natesa tugs my arm. “Kali, come on.”
“We’ll send help,” I promise Pons.
I vault over roots and duck under branches, pushing myself faster than before. Natesa and I clear the trees. The lookout tower is ahead. Guards open the gate, and the crowd in the observatory gasps. A tiger appears down the way. Natesa beelines through the gate. I pause, gripping the trident and waiting for Indah and Pons.
Come on. Come on. Come on . . .
“Kali, get in here,” cries Natesa.
The tiger prowls toward me. The guards wait anxiously to shut the gate, but I cannot leave Indah and Pons to emerge into the pathway of the tiger. I pace away from the gate, parallel to the fence, and the guards close my exit.
Pons crashes out of the foliage with Indah. The tiger whips its head around and snarls.
“Over here,” I call at the cat, waving the trident.
The tiger returns its eerie yellow eyes to me and slinks nearer. From the corner of my vision, Pons strides closer to the gate. I hold the wildcat’s attention, wishing I had my powers so I could singe its whiskers and give it a fright.
Pons and Indah arrive at our exit. The guards open it, and they slip through to safety.
I shuffle back the way I came, getting closer to the fence to avoid the tiger’s steady prowl. When I am paces away from freedom, the great cat maneuvers a step ahead of me, placing itself between me and my escape route.
The gong rings, signaling the end of the trial.
I think nothing of it or of the blasted competition. I hold the tiger’s golden gaze, staring into feral hunger, and jab the trident at the beast. I do so repeatedly, stepping cautiously with every stab, until I reach the gate.
Guards stand ready with armed bows. Another guard opens the door slightly. I nudge up to the divide. The tiger spreads its whiskers and growls. The door opens wider. A hand grabs the back of my clothes and pulls me through. I fall backward, and the guard slams the gate shut. The archers release arrows around the tiger, spooking it, and the cat runs into the trees.
Natesa drapes a blanket around me. “You like to scare the sky out of me, don’t you?”
“How’s Indah?” I ask, bending over to collect my breath.
“She’ll be all right. Pons carried her off to see another Aquifier.”
The spectators start down the stairs from the observatory tower. Sultan Kuval arrives on the landing first, and behind him follow Citra, wearing a gloating grin, and Tevy wrapped in a blanket.
Sultan Kuval stands over me and speaks, his voice like thunder. “Kindred, you failed to complete the trial in the allotted time frame and are hereby disqualified.”
“What?” I clutch my blanket closer. “The assignment was to deliver my package to the gate in time. Natesa was out of the paddock before the gong rang.”
Citra gives a quick, dismissive snort. “The instructions were to pass through the gate with her.”
My gaze darts from Citra to the sultan. “I don’t remember that rule.”
“What you heard or didn’t hear is no longer our concern,” Kuval rejoins. “You’re out of the tournament.”
My mouth gapes open, hoping I have heard them wrong, but the sultan and princess loom over me with mocking smirks. I drop my head to conceal my gathering tears.
I’m finished. I’m really out of the tournament.
Ashwin comes down from the tower with Tinley and sees me sitting in the rain. “What’s the concern here?” he asks.
“My sincerest regrets,” says the sultan, his tone anything but genuine. “The kindred failed to reach the gate before the allotted time and has been eliminated from the tournament.”
“Sultan Kuval,” Ashwin says, drawing out his name with exaggerated patience, “we all saw what happened. Kalinda arrived with Natesa on time.”
“But the kindred did not pass through the gate with her servant, as was the rule.” The sultan seals his decision with a perfunctory jiggle of his double chin.
Ashwin extends a hand to him in appeal. “If you would please consider—”
“The rules stand. Indah and Citra will compete in the final trial. Tomorrow we will hold a rank duel at the amphitheater, and they will battle for your first wife’s throne. We will reconvene then.” Sultan Kuval thrusts out his thick chest, collects his daughters, and directs them away.
Ashwin’s shoulders and head sag. He cannot go against the sultan’s ruling without invalidating the entire purpose of the trials.
Tinley steps up to me after witnessing our exchange with Sultan Kuval. “You’re brave, Kindred. Your face-off with the tiger was compelling.” Raindrops sparkle like crystals in her white hair. “I’m returning to Paljor before the worst of the wet season arrives. I’m having Bya brought home for a burial.” Tinley trains her milky eyes on me. “Thank you for the prayer on her behalf. Let me know if someday I may repay you.” She offers Ashwin and me a full, elegant bow and strides off.
Natesa kneels in the mud and hangs a loose arm around me. “You were brave.”
“I couldn’t leave Pons and
Indah behind,” I whisper. My chin trembles, and tears fog my sight. I am one kind word away from them pouring down my face.
Ashwin stands over us with his hands deep in his pockets, his expression bleak. “Kalinda—” His caring tone undoes me.
I press my face into Natesa’s shoulder and cry.
25
DEVEN
The grave has to be six feet deep, the guards said. As quickly as we dig, the hole fills with rainwater. Even so, the three other diggers and I somberly shovel mud into a slippery pile while the guards observe our progress from under the eaves of a tent.
Why must we bury the dead in the rain? The Trembler guards could excavate a grave with the crook of a finger. But that would be too easy, and they are entertained, watching us labor.
Gradually, the hole deepens. I shovel alongside Manas and the other two men until the grave is finished. We lean our shovels against the outer wall, and a guard orders us to drop the bodies.
The deceased are wrapped in bedrolls, their stocking feet sticking out, since the guards stole their boots. I imagine Yatin’s big feet hanging out of a bedroll and scrub away the miserable thought. I wish I had the power to heal him, but at least an Aquifier is tending to him. He will be all right. I repeat it to myself, He will be all right.
We roll the first body to the rim of the grave, sliding through the slick mud, and push the dead man over the edge. He hits the bottom with a splash. The next two men land with empty thuds that hollow out my chest. We reach the last man, and I recognize Eko’s shape under the blanket. Manas stands back to wipe his face, wet from rain and tears. The rest of us heave Eko into the hole.
The guards command us to leave the grave open. I suspect the vizier anticipates the illness will claim more lives. The four of us stare down at our dead comrades in silence. I am the highest-ranking officer, and so it is my duty to offer a prayer.
I recite the Prayer of Rest while the others bow their heads. “Gods, bless our comrades’ souls that they may find the gate that leads to peace and everlasting light.” At the closing, Manas sniffles. On impulse, I add, “And let Eko know, wherever he may be, that he is missed.”
The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen Series Book 2) Page 21
