Lokesh signals at his lackeys, and they haul in Yatin. The general’s head hangs and his feet drag behind him. They dump him on the ground. Natesa rushes to his side. Yatin’s eyes are unfocused and his nose bloody.
“Commander,” Parisa says breathily, “you said you wouldn’t hurt the guards.”
My look-alike snorts at her gullibility.
“Parisa,” Eshana asks, “how do you know Lokesh?”
“We met after one of his visits to the palace.” Parisa kneels before Eshana and grasps her knees. “He’s going to preserve the empire, Eshana. We won’t ever have to leave our home.”
“No one planned to turn you out,” I say, tossing the list at her. “Not me or the princess. Those are Gemi’s recommendations for who would make a good kindred. Your name is second from the top.”
Parisa blanches. Eshana peers over her shoulder and reads the list for herself. Parisa murmurs excuses, but Shyla turns her back to her friend.
“Don’t give that any credence, Parisa,” says Lokesh. “The prince and his viraji will dismantle our beliefs. They don’t share our vision.” He rounds up his men with the spin of his finger. “Bind the prisoners and lock them in the dungeons. Leave the prince.”
The palace dungeons are reinforced with neutralizer herbs that suppress bhuta powers. Once the sleeping tonic wears off, the bhutas will be trapped like any other prisoner.
Eshana does not resist capture, but Natesa grapples with three men trying to pin her down. Lokesh lowers the blade of his pata to Yatin’s head.
“Concede or I’ll use this blade.”
Natesa quits struggling, her glare vowing retribution. The mercenaries restrain her, then prod her and Eshana out, dragging Yatin after them. The rest of the invaders tie up Gemi. One of them throws her over his shoulder. Her hair swings down his back. They cart her off, leaving me with my look-alike, Parisa, Lokesh, and a handful of his men.
“What will you do with them?” I ask.
Lokesh claps me on the back, overplaying our closeness. “Tomorrow, my Prince Ashwin will order the viraji hanged. Everyone far and wide will be reminded that bhutas are not welcome in Tarachand.”
My look-alike leers. Gemi will hang, and my people will believe I gave the order. “Who is this imposter?” I ask. “How long has he been imitating me?
Before I get a response, one of Lokesh’s men rushes in. “Commander, the children are gone. A healer helped them get away.”
My head flinches back. What children? My siblings in the nursery?
“Gone?” Lokesh yells, then reels on Parisa. “You said you would put them to sleep!”
She elevates her chin. “I was afraid of giving them too much sedative. I borrowed books from the library and read about the effects. One of them said an abundance of sedative could kill them.”
Parisa must have taken more than one book from my library besides the childhood-studies title. I did not think to search for other missing texts.
“Find them,” Lokesh orders his men. “I need those children tonight.”
“She will be vexed,” warns my look-alike, his voice ratty.
“We’ll get them,” Lokesh replies. He draws his second pata sword and aims both at Parisa. “You have fulfilled your usefulness.”
He cuts her down in consecutive slashes. She crumples, her haladie useless in her fist. I lower to her side and cup her injured ear and scar. My gut heaves at the sight of her fatal wounds.
“Tell Eshana I’m sorry,” she rasps.
Before I can pledge that I will, life bleeds out of her.
Mercenaries bind me and push me out of the pavilion after Lokesh. My look-alike stays behind, contemptuous in his farewell smirk.
Guards are stationed in every corridor, all aligned with Lokesh. More wait in the front courtyard with a trio of camels. A fine indoor rug is spread over the stone tiles. Lokesh shoves me down so I land on top of the rug. I fall on my stomach and flip onto my back.
“Who are the children you’re after?” I ask. Lokesh murmurs to his men, disregarding me. “Who are you working for?”
Lokesh bends over me, eyes narrowed. “I have no employer. My payment will be the palace, city, and your coffers. I’m taking back my throne.” At my prolonged befuddlement, he says, “You still don’t know who I am.”
My first introduction to Lokesh was the day he deserted the army. I comb my memory for an association I may have missed.
“My mother was a palace servant. Rajah Tarek took a shine to her long before he wed Kindred Lakia. When it was discovered that my mother was with child, we were cast out. She raised me on the streets, begging and stealing to survive. You were a year old the first time I saw you riding through Vanhi with Lakia. I remember thinking—he stole my life.”
Lokesh is my brother?
Reason swiftly replaces my shock. It is possible. Tarek was a serial philanderer, and a servant would never be permitted to live in the palace with the rajah’s bastard son.
Family resemblances float to the forefront of my awareness. Lokesh has the same thick shoulders and long arms as Tarek. I may have recognized the resemblance sooner if not for the man’s customary headscarf.
“The Turquoise Palace is my rightful home,” Lokesh says, flinging one side of the rug over me. “I swore on Mother’s deathbed that I would set the empire back on course.”
His men roll me up in the rug. I wrench at my bindings, but the thick cloth confines me. Someone picks me up and throws me over the back of a kneeling camel. I hear the beast grunt and then Lokesh’s voice.
“You’ll suffer a death befitting your betrayal of Father. Good-bye, young Prince.”
My world joggles as the camel rises and plods off. I wriggle to expose a foot to passersby, but the effort is pointless.
Everything I have worked for has been swept out from underneath me.
34
KALINDA
Cackling wakes me from my stupor. I must not have been unconscious long. Enlil is still pinned to the stone wall by the spike Irkalla drove through his belly. His spear is propped against the wall on my opposite side, far from reach.
Rabisus have congregated around the fire-god, jeering and jumping. One spits in Enlil’s face, and they all screech in hilarity. Cala’s fury mounts at his mistreatment. I am too hurt by his omissions about Deven’s and my past to defend him.
Irkalla lounges on her throne and softly hums the hymn about Anu. After witnessing how the Void corrupted Deven’s memory, I have no tolerance for her irreverence.
“Why are you singing about the sky-god?” I ask. “Aren’t you rivals?”
She opens one red eye and closes it again. “Before Anu usurped the saltwater-goddess Tiamat and banished Kur and me, we sang Tiamat’s praises. After Anu’s conquest, he rewrote the lyrics about himself and taught it to his mortal slaves. Unlike him, I will never forget my origins.” She picks up where she left off humming.
A wolf rabisu sprays saliva at Enlil’s lower half. The spit dampens his sarong and drips down his legs. Enlil comes alert. From my angle, I notice cracks in the spike restraining him to the wall. He scours the throne room until he locates me. Cala relaxes some, happy he is awake. I can hardly meet his gaze.
Another rabisu spits on his arm and snickers. Enlil glares at his tormentors and sends a small burst of luminance at them. They scatter, hissing and whimpering.
Asag and Lilu march through the main entry followed by four visitors, one of whom carries a torch. Irkalla lifts her head to greet them. I assume her demons have brought prisoners, but Commander Lokesh holds the torch. Two of his mercenaries escort him and—
“Ashwin!” I wrench against my chains.
His face melts away to reveal Marduk, the repulsive demon that returned Deven to the mortal realm. What in the gods’ names . . . ?
Marduk must be a chameleon demon. Reasons why he would impersonate Ashwin swim through my mind. Harassment, extortion, assassination. Each one plunges worry further into my gut. Marduk leans casually against a pillar while the remainder of the party addresses Irkalla.
“My queen,” Lokesh says, bowing.
“Where are they, Commander?”