“Just Cala?” He drags me to lie on top of him. Before I connect what is happening, he covers my lips with his own.
I go starkly still. Cala’s need for him debilitates me, paralyzing my impulse to stop this. Her joy brims over, her spirit centered upon Enlil. Through me, she has found her love.
How I envy her. I have felt lost since I stepped down from my throne. My place in the empire, in the palace, in the Sisterhood has changed. Nothing has turned out as I wished, yet Cala is positive that where we belong is with Enlil.
Cala touches his chin, then the nape of his neck. She tucks my curves against his hard planes. I am losing myself to him, to her.
Enlil’s lips grow needier. His body heat flows into me, fusing Cala’s emotions to my own. Her longing for Enlil aches from every pore. Nothing in all the realms matters more to her than him.
No, I tell her.
She delves further. I am Enlil’s hundredth rani. I never concede.
Enlil’s grasp slides up my waist and over my back. He whispers her name over and over. Cala shoves me far inside myself and slams the trapdoor.
Let me out!
I sense Enlil and her kissing. My body experiences the touches, but I cannot stop them. I want to shove him off. Wash my skin. Rinse my mouth. I continue to wail at Cala, my inner voice screaming. She disregards me and becomes more lost in Enlil. My revulsion gags me. There must be a way to escape.
Cala’s memories splay before me, laid out for the picking. I delve through them for something that will compel her to listen. The memory of her tournament is still foremost, closest from our last connection. No, not that one. But my mere acknowledgment of the recollection wrests me to it.
The past rushes in, pushing me off-balance. I stagger into the middle of the dusty arena. The crowd cheers Cala’s name. I am separate from her, a bystander. She wields her urumi against her competitors. One of them runs past me, khanda raised, and attacks Cala. They battle, oblivious to my company. I am an unseen onlooker like in the first flashback Enlil showed me.
Cala dispatches her last two challengers, slashing through them without remorse. Countless women have fallen and bleed out on the arena floor. I turn away from Cala’s barbarity, repulsed, and catch sight of one of the fallen.
Jaya.
My lungs twist on a gasp. I stumble to my friend, passing by more slain women. They stare up lifelessly. In the present, they are very much alive. Indah. Tinley. Natesa. Each one pulverizes my soul. I identify Eshana and Parisa next. No more. Additional blank gazes bore holes through me. Shyla . . . and Asha too?
I collapse to the blood-speckled ground. My sisters, my friends. I crawl to Jaya and bury my sobs against her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” My apology is for breaking my promise to protect her from the Claiming. She swallows loudly. I meet her open brown eyes. “Jaya? Jaya, it’s me. Do you remember me?”
“Kali.” Her hand finds mine and squeezes. I sputter out a coarse laugh. The squeeze is our secret way of saying I love you.
“I’ve missed you terribly,” I say, returning her clutch. “I didn’t do this to you. I would never.”
“Cala isn’t you,” she says. “You’re Kalinda, and Kalinda doesn’t serve herself. She serves others.”
I press her hand to my tearstained cheek. “Please don’t leave. I cannot lose you again.”
“You haven’t lost me. I’m waiting for you in Vanhi.” Her assertive gaze confirms what I supposed about Jala. “Free Deven and promise you’ll return.”
Fresh tears race down my face. “Last time I made you a promise, everything went awry.”
“You’re a rani now. A Burner. A sister warrior. You were always those things, only now everyone sees you as I do. Tarachand needs you. You have more to give.”
“Jaya,” I cry, grabbing her close. She understands me better than anyone. I will fight for any opportunity to return her to my life, to have a life of my choosing with the people I love. “I’ll come for you. I swear.”
She kisses my palm and slips away.
Crying harder, I shift onto my knees and bow. Memory or not, I will not leave here without a prayer for the fallen. “Gods, bless these women’s souls to find the gate that leads to peace and everlasting light.”
After a moment of silence, I rise. The crowd in the amphitheater disappears, as do Cala and her slain opponents. Even the arena begins to vanish. The memory is fading. I will not return to confinement. Leaning back, I harness my resolve and shout at the sky.
“Cala! No more!”
My fury shatters the door she locked me behind. The amphitheater disintegrates to sand in a cyclone. I ride the whirlwind up, up, up. I am myself again, my awareness acute and senses heightened. Cala and Enlil are flagrant in their affections. The violation fuels my anger against Cala.
How could you harm Jaya? You slaughtered my friends!
They were my challengers. They tried to come between Enlil and me. I couldn’t let them.
I will never forget my friends’ horrible wounds, injuries inflicted upon them by my former self. Cala’s callousness and disregard for my will appall me.
I am not this. I am not you. I heave every ounce of injustice storming through me at her, casting it as I would a heatwave. Get out of my head!
Control slides back into me.
“Stop.” My protest garbles against Enlil’s lips. I leverage more disgust. “Stop!”
His lips withdraw, his arms still around me. “Cala?”
“Stop calling me that!”
“She is within you. You are the same.”
“I will never be her.” I wriggle against him. “I saw her tournament. She slew my friends.”
“They were your enemies,” he says, sensible and aggravating. “They were my wives. They challenged your throne. You won and became my hundredth rani.”
I shove against him harder. I might as well be wrenching against bricks. “I am not yours!”
“You deny our kinship after what you witnessed?” He tries to nuzzle me. I twist my head to the side. “Your previous lives exist inside your soul, layers and layers of devoted warriors. They were all mine.”
I growl in frustration. Must I belong to a man, any man, even a god, to fulfill my measure? Is my purpose to serve as a shadow to another? The daughter, the sister, the wife . . . When am I myself without owing my life—my fate—to a man?
I ram a finger into his chest. “You knew Deven was trapped before I came to you. All my prayers, all my pleading . . . You heard me and knew I would come for help. You left him to suffer so I would climb into your web.”
“You came to me of your own choosing. I am not a man, Kalinda. With me, your happiness will know no bounds. As my companion, you will be free to do as you wish.”
“I will live to suit your needs,” I retort. Cala takes offense, but I still dominate our voices.
“Deven can make you a wife. I can crown you a goddess. He can give you a life. I can bless you with an eternal home. Pick me and you will thrive in Ekur. You will be above the anguish and misery of the world. Mortals will worship you and hail your name. I offer more than a future. I offer everlasting peace.” Enlil relaxes his iron embrace. “Is contentment not your heart’s wish?”
“My heart’s wish doesn’t include murder.”
His displeasure turns icy. “Would you not battle for a life with Deven?”
“He would never ask me to.” I take off Cala’s championship medallion and thrust it at him. “I don’t like who I was with you. What Cala did for you.”
“You spoiled child.” The fire-god’s eyes go molten. “After all I have done for you.”
Cala cowers. I lean into the deity, weathering his feverish temper. “Will you keep your bargain?”
“You question my honor?” he bellows.
“I question your motives for guiding me here. Your honor is your own concern.”
Enlil’s intense glow stings, yet I do not flinch. He replies, his tone incredulous. “Is the worth of one soul so high?”
“His soul is invaluable.” I jangle the medal, urging him to take it.