Brac groans. “You’re so unobservant! The entire time I spent with Gemi in Lestari, she prattled on about you. She was so eager to see you again she told the datu she would accept your proposal whether he negotiated the alliance or not.”
I manage a hard swallow. “Why would she do that?”
“She cares for you! While you were busy moping for Kalinda, Gemi was watching you with moon eyes. You really didn’t see it?”
Natesa waves Brac back, and he paces away.
“Ashwin,” Natesa says in an I am trying not to throw another bracelet at you tone, “when it comes to matters of the heart, you are a dolt. Gemi came here for you. That makes her the right kindred for you and the empire.”
I lean my back into my throne. “Then why is she leaving?”
“Did you give her a reason to stay?” Natesa questions, turning her lotus engagement ring on her finger.
Brac paces back to her. She holds him off.
“We’re going to a farewell gathering for Gemi in the Tigress Pavilion,” she says. “Parisa organized it. She feels bad about how she’s behaved and wants to make amends. You should come and talk to the princess.”
“Thank you, but we said our farewells.” The princess should enjoy her final hours here without me hovering.
“There, then,” Brac grumbles to Natesa. “We can go.”
Natesa treads backward after him. “You should come, Ashwin. Not many women would leave their home to move to a far-off desert for marriage. You could have found other ways to pay for the empire’s regrowth than an alliance and picked any woman on that list. Maybe it’s time you consider why you chose Gemi.”
As Natesa’s footsteps recede, my attention drifts to the kindred’s floor cushion. I barely knew Gemi when I proposed, but I had observed enough. She had stood up to the datu, something I never did against my own father, to defend my homeland. Since her arrival, she has pointed out treasures in my world that I had not noticed. She honored her duties to teach the Tremblers and trained with the sister warriors, yet still made time to study her surroundings. Gemi is untainted by Lakia and Tarek’s oppressive reign. In her company, I feel less tainted by them too.
I do not know what that means, except that I do not want to lose this feeling.
I dart into an antechamber and take a servants’ passageway to the upper floor. I climb the stairs two at a time and arrive at the entry to the wives’ wing short of breath. Throwing open the silk curtain, I enter the dining patio right behind Brac and Natesa.
All conversation at the candlelit tables ends. Gemi dines on cardamom rice with Eshana. Indah and Pons eat across from them. The couple must have left their daughter with a nursemaid. Parisa serves wine to her small assembly of guests. She pales upon my entrance.
“I’d like a word with my viraji,” I announce, then stroll off to the side and wait. Gemi drinks half her wine and then rises and brings her chalice with her. Her long sarong is tied low on her hips, her blouse cut high above her stomach. Her hair flows around her slim shoulders, loose and wavy.
Lords, she’s a sight.
“Why are you here?” she asks, glancing at our audience. All ears are on us.
“Please stay.”
Gemi drops her gaze. “I don’t think—”
“Just listen.” I pull out the list she gave me. “I don’t picture any of these women as my kindred. This isn’t about an alliance, it’s about a better future. My parents had a terrible marriage. I don’t want that for myself. I don’t know where this is leading between us, but you must admit it is leading somewhere. We’ll never find out if you go.”
Gemi sets her chalice on a table. “But marriage?”
“We can postpone the wedding and spend time together, just us. Whatever you decide, please know that I care about you. I wouldn’t have proposed otherwise.” I rear back on my desperation and level out my voice. “Of course, you may stay regardless. The palace will always be open to you. You’re welcome to research our plants and animals and use my library for as long as you like.”
“You’ll let me into your library?” she asks, her golden eyes wide.
“Only when I’m present.” I qualify my answer with a teasing wink.
Gemi sways forward as she laughs. I grab her against me to catch her from falling. She blinks up in confusion, her legs weakening. “Ashwin?” she slurs, then turns limp in my arms and blacks out.
I shake her a little. “Gemi?”
Crashes come from the table.
“Son of a scorpion,” Brac says. He crawls off his floor cushion and slumps over.
Indah and Pons are passed out against each other, the contents of their wineglasses spilled down their fronts and Pons’s blowgun untouched at his waist.
“Guards!” Natesa calls. She confiscates Eshana’s chalice and sets it aside with her own. “Don’t drink that.”
“Your drinks are fine,” Parisa drawls, drawing a haladie. “I only altered the bhutas’ wine. Put down your weapons.” She disarms Pons of his blowgun and Indah of her dagger. She holds out her palm to Natesa and Eshana. They lay their concealed blades on the table.
“Parisa!” Eshana says. “Did you kill them?”
“I slipped sleeping tonic into their drinks. They’ll recover.” Parisa crushes Pons’s blowgun under her foot, her expression sour. “The prince wouldn’t listen, so we had to act.”
Gemi’s deadweight slides down my front. I lay her on the floor and frown up at Parisa. “You said we.”
“A bhuta foreigner cannot become our first rani. Our kindred should be a sister warrior proven in the arena. Not this, this . . . princess.”
“But Gemi called off the wedding,” Natesa counters. “Why do this if she’s leaving?”
“What will prevent the prince from selecting another unsuitable viraji over those of us who earned our place here?” Parisa takes her argument to Eshana. “Gemi never went through the Claiming, and she’s not a tournament champion. She knows nothing of our sisterhood.”
“Those trials didn’t make us sisters,” Eshana replies, her eyes watery. “Standing together did.”
“I’m doing this for us.” Color splotches Parisa’s complexion, her pitch rising. “After everything we gave the empire, we were passed over for a foreigner. She and the prince will decide whether we can stay in the palace or must go.”
“That choice is yours,” I break in. “I’m organizing a council for women. I hoped to present my proposal to the court at my wedding feast. We’re establishing a palace guard of sister warriors, and alternately we’ll offer occupational training for those who would rather lay down their weapons and join the workforce.”
“An all-female guard?” Parisa asks, her blade still.
“Women deserve independence.” I gaze down at Gemi and my voice chokes. “The idea came to me after visiting the Southern Isles. Their women don’t marry out of necessity . . . but for love.”
A man speaks from the entry. “More reform and changes. Your Majesty, when will you learn to leave our beliefs alone?” Commander Lokesh and his men file in. Clothed in all black and armed, they are an unsettling lot. Lokesh wears a headscarf over his nose and mouth. I nonetheless sense his smile. “Next time you banish someone, send guards that cannot be bribed.”
I edge in front of Gemi. “How did you get in?”
Lokesh steps over Brac without sparing him a glance and strolls to me. He pulls aside his scarf; his smirk is broader than I imagined. “You let me in.”
A replica of me enters the patio. The man does not resemble me in the way that I do my father. He and I are identical from our tight trousers to our mussed hair. Eshana gawks at my twin. Even Parisa appears confounded.
“What trick is this?” Natesa demands.
“No trick,” replies Lokesh. “Prince Ashwin has come to his senses. He withdrew the troops from the city and sent them home on leave for their service. He then notified the palace guards that he hired my troops for security. The guards were amiable, except for the general.”
Natesa tries to grab at Lokesh. The mercenaries block her. “What did you do to him?”