by Matt Larkin
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 of 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. And she’d known this could happen. Rahu never pretended this wasn’t dangerous. Sweet Chandra, she was a dead woman.
“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 who 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!” Suddenly tears began to well in her eyes and she couldn’t hold them back. “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?” She was supposed to undermine them. That was exactly what she had done.
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.” Naresh shook his head once, gritting his teeth. “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? That was why she was here. To find out how to hurt the Arun Guard. To hurt Empu Baradah. To hurt Naresh.
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 Naresh would 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 Anu. 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 THIRTY-THREE
Damn Malin for this. All that Ratna had suffered, all she had sacrificed, was going to mean nothing now, because that weretiger couldn’t control his lust for violence. It had not taken much to piece together that Empu Baradah must have been the Guardsman who killed Ratna and Chandi’s mothers. So, without doubt, Ratna hoped the man rotted in Rangda’s frozen underworld a thousand lifetimes before he returned to the Wheel of Life. Malin’s timing, however, threatened to cast all the Skyfall Isles right back into war.
She glided through the hall toward Kakudmi’s private chamber, Revati held in one arm. Was it beneath her to manipulate her husband by reminding him of the daughter he adored? It should be, but she had to try to salvage what little she could of the shambles of this alliance, and, perhaps, of her marriage. An Arun Guardsman stood posted outside the emperor’s room, eying her warily as she approached.
“I need to see him.”
The Guardsman offered her a slight bow, then rapped on the door. “Empress Ibu Ratna is here to see you, your Radiance.”
With a sigh, Kakudmi called for her to enter.
Her husband sat at a low table across from the foreign man Ratna had heard about, the supposed witness to Malin’s crimes. They had been looking over a map of the Isles, but on her entrance, the foreigner studied her with such intensity she had to squirm. Ratna drew her Potency Blessing, both for the extra strength to keep hold
ing Revati, and for the small comfort even her weak Blessings could offer.
“We must talk of our alliance, husband,” Ratna said. She’d run this over in her mind innumerable times, but, when she imagined this conversation, the foreigner was not in the same room.
“Alliance? Your people betrayed that alliance. Over a hundred Solars are dead, including a dear friend of mine. What alliance can we have left?”
More than anything she wanted to see Kakudmi alone, to get through to him before this all collapsed around her. But maybe, just maybe, she could make use of this witness. “My people? Did you see my father there, foreigner?”
The foreigner’s eyes darted briefly to Kakudmi, and the emperor nodded. “This is my wife, Ibu Ratna, daughter of the Lunar War King.”
“Rahu’s … daughter?” For an instant so brief she might have imagined it, this stranger seemed confused, or shocked, though Ratna couldn’t guess why. “I did not see him at the temple.”
“And who did you see?”
“Lunar pirates. Weretigers.”
Fine. That was good. She could use that. “So the temple was attacked by a rogue faction.”
Kakudmi shook his head. “You expect us to believe that?”
“Pirates are criminals and weretigers are savages, prone to violent outbursts.” Demonizing the Moon Scion’s own bodyguards was risky, but maybe she could save the peace by offering up a few of those animals as sacrifices. Malin would be furious, but in the long run, it would save Lunar lives. “Our War King was not there, his soldiers were not there, his brother was not there. You cannot allow the actions of a few traitors to jeopardize what we’ve achieved these last few years.”
She could almost make herself believe that her father was no involved. Almost. But Malin would not have dared such an attack without her father’s blessing, explicitly or at least tacitly given. Still, if her father was involved, it certainly sounded like he had managed to avoid any obvious connection to the attacks. If not for the damned foreigner claiming to be a witness, she’d have had a better chance at this.
“Traitors?” Kakudmi asked. “Yes, they were traitors. That does not mean your government was unaware of their actions.”
Ratna pointedly shifted her daughter in front of her. “Would you plan an attack on people who held Revati? Would you even imagine you could risk your daughter? No? Well, I’m Rahu’s daughter. Do you think he’d risk me over some temple, no more how religiously important it was?”
A sudden chill settled in her chest. That argument was almost too convincing, in fact. How could her father have allowed this? Didn’t he know Kakudmi might well turn on Ratna for it? If he declared her and Chandi traitors, they’d be burnt at the stake. As she looked up, she realized the foreigner was staring not at her, but at Revati. Did he consider her argument as deeply as she hoped Kakudmi did? Ratna prided herself on her ability to read people, and this was a man with an agenda, but for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to figure out what that might be. Why did he even care about the struggles between the Skyfall dynasties?
“You must allow a Lunar envoy to come and discuss this. Let me send for my father and we can sit down and talk. Is that not better than shattering the peace after only three years?”
Kakudmi looked to the foreigner, who offered a very slight nod. Why in Rangda’s frozen underworld was her husband trusting this man so much? What lies or secrets he must have shared to gain the ear of the emperor?
“Send for them, then, Ibu Ratna. But you will remain in your chambers from here on out. Tensions will be extremely high in the city and even with a Guardsman as a protector, I cannot risk harm to you.”
Kakudmi, unlike the foreigner, she could read. He meant that, as she had just pointed out, Rahu would not risk his own daughter. So, if he did plan an attack, his first order of business would be trying to rescue Ratna. Such a task was made infinitely more difficult while she remained locked on the upper floors of the imperial palace.
Ratna bowed her head and stepped out. It was the most she was ever likely to get out of the man, now. Any chance of them ever having love was gone.
No. There had never been a chance of that. Kakudmi had never cared about her as anything more than a political tool. That he bothered to even sleep with her once in a while was more a testament to his Solar values not letting him dishonor his marriage than out of any loyalty to her.
She sent Revati to Chandi’s chambers and returned to her own alone.
Damn that stranger and damn Malin. And most of all, damn Kakudmi. Peace was an illusion that her life and dreams had been sacrificed for. She had no future, and, most likely, this alliance had none either. It was all falling apart. And maybe she could understand Malin’s overwhelming desire to be avenged against the world that had wronged him, had made him feel so impotent.
“Let the Demon Queen take you, Kakudmi,” Ratna whispered. “Let Rangda devour your soul right along with Empu Baradah’s. Damn you!” She flung over her table and sent it crashing against the wall.
The next instant Chandi burst through the door that joined their rooms, toyaks in hand and a murderous look in her eyes. Ratna stilled her with a raised hand. There was nothing Chandi could do now. It was up to Ratna to find a way to save herself, her daughter, and her cousin.
And she would do so, whatever the cost.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
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. 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, Be
ndurana 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 smirked at the buffoon’s comment.
“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.
