“We had an incident.” Lokesh’s voice vibrates with fear. “They hid from us. We searched the palace most of the night, but they haven’t been found.”
I listen so closely my head aches. Who couldn’t he find? Ashwin? Gods, please let it be the prince. Lokesh could only have searched the palace if his men had gained control, which would only happen if Ashwin was dethroned.
“Our bargain is contingent upon their delivery.” Though Irkalla speaks matter-of-factly, she could turn vicious in half a second.
“I’ll find them during the day and return with them tomorrow night,” Lokesh swears.
“Do not break your word,” Irkalla says, “or he will remain mine.”
None of this makes sense. Even though I can hear their every word, I am missing huge sections of meaning.
“My queen,” Lokesh stutters, “may I see him?”
“You failed to deliver what you promised, yet you request a favor?” Irkalla’s tone has a callous edge. Lokesh drops his head. She narrows her eyes and flicks her tail. “Oh, all right.”
Chains rattle above us. A stairway, large enough for the queen of the dead to pass through, winds from the upper floor to her dais. The jangling closes in. Edimmu and rabisus lead a prisoner down the staircase. Irkalla’s underlings drag a soul with a shaggy beard and hair.
Gods alive. It’s him.
Tarek’s shoulders have sunken over his rib cage, and his tunic pulls against the knobs of his spine. He passes me without a hint of recognition. Nor does he react to Enlil’s mighty luminance or physicality. He is a husk of the man he was.
I find no joy in his affliction. My only solace would be to never see him again. I thought I had earned that reward. Tarek is like a house cricket, silent all day long and then, when one lies down for the night, a strident invader of peace.
Edimmu leaves him between Irkalla and Lokesh.
“Your Majesty,” Commander Lokesh says, bowing, “it’s my honor.”
A trace of Tarek’s identity returns to his expression. “You serve me?”
Lokesh perks up. “I’m your commander. You have my undying allegiance, Your Majesty. Prince Ashwin is a traitor to your great authority.”
More of Tarek’s demeanor returns. I see the moment when he remembers himself in his clenching fists. I leave my powers on standby in case this summit of evildoers goes awry.
“Commander,” Tarek says, “I order you to free me and return me to my empire.”
Irkalla clenches her claw, drawing in her talons. “Remind him who rules here.”
Edimmu pushes against Tarek’s shoulders to force him to kneel. He pushes back. Beside me, Enlil wiggles against the spike impaling him. Slowly, nearly imperceptibly, the weapon is withdrawing from his abdomen. His wound is healing and extracting the stone spike.
Edimmu tires of Tarek’s defiance and strikes his back with a flick of her forked tongue. Tarek sags forward, and the rabisu guard finishes compelling him to his knees.
“I warned you, Tarek,” Irkalla says. “This is my domain. Do you recall what happens when you disobey me in my realm?”
Tarek quivers from rage. “I am rajah.”
“You are vermin.” Smoke whirs from Irkalla’s nostrils. Tarek shuts his bloodshot eyes and coughs as it streams over him. “How many piles of refuse must you shovel before you accept your fate?”
“Temporary fate,” Lokesh inserts. “I’ll return tonight and we’ll make our exchange.”
Irkalla arches her head to better glare at him. “Tarek remains my servant until you deliver the bhuta children.”
Enlil’s glow lessens, his godly version of paling. What does he know? I glance at Marduk reclining against the pillar, all smug and disinterested. His reasons for arriving under the guise of Ashwin’s appearance must mean that Lokesh and his men do have control of the palace. To find the bhuta children . . . ?
Merciful gods. Irkalla wants the trainees. Lokesh will bring them to her, and in exchange, she will give him Tarek. The commander could not mean to replace Ashwin with Tarek, could he? Is that even possible? According to Enlil’s expression, it may be.
“I’ll leave one of my men to reopen the gate,” says Lokesh.
“Then you do not need the other one.” Irkalla jabs her talon through the nearest soldier’s chest and yanks it out.
He drops, and the rabisus pounce on him. Lokesh and the other soldier skirt away from the feeding frenzy. I quell my gagging and look away.
“Take our visitor upstairs with Tarek,” Irkalla tells Edimmu. “They can muck out my chamber. Marduk, escort the commander out. Hurry, or he will be trapped here all day.” She cackles at the idea; she is the only one.
Marduk saunters off with Lokesh as ordered. Edimmu grabs Tarek’s chain and drags him across the floor. He shutters his eyes to Enlil’s natural glow and reopens them. Our gazes connect. A range of emotions play across Tarek’s countenance. Surprise, disbelief—and rage.
“Kalinda!” He wrenches at his bindings. I grab for my soul-fire. I doubt I could aim well enough to land a hit, but I could certainly scare him. “You disobedient wretch. You did this to me. I will find you! You will wish you’d never defied me!”
I stare him down while Tarek shouts more threats about claiming me and how I am his wife. None of his rancor cleaves through my armor of disregard. As soon as he disappears up the stairwell, I bank my fire and shudder.
“Do not fear, Kalinda,” Enlil says. “Tarek is never leaving here.”
The spike has been freed from the fire-god’s chest another finger length. Irkalla licks the mercenary’s blood from her talon.
“How did Lokesh find you?” Enlil calls to her.
“I found him,” Irkalla replies. “He was present the night Kur took Kalinda’s beloved below. Kur sensed hatred in the commander for those challenging our rule. We knew he could be motivated. Marduk said Lokesh did not need much persuasion. He recognized his true queen.”
Screams come from the upper floor, followed by the unmistakable crack of a whip. I study my bindings, wanting them off even more than before. The screams stop first. The whip goes on several more strikes.
Enlil speaks, his voice colored by revulsion. “Tarek can never return to the mortal realm as the man he was. His mind is wrecked. Does the commander know?”
“Who’s to say what that mortal understands? Our bargain is binding.”
“As is mine with Kalinda,” says Enlil. “Let us go. You will never see either of us again.”
Irkalla glances indirectly at him. “Your living flame irritates me. You may go. The Burner stays.”
“I’m not one of your followers,” I say. “I’ll never serve you.”
Irkalla swings her head so close her whiskers nearly jab me. “Do you know what becomes of bhutas who die in my realm?”
I grit out my response. “They suffer an eternal death.”
“Ah, but that is a mortal’s fate. What will become of you?”
Enlil’s jawline bulges from clenching his teeth.
“He did not tell you?” Irkalla’s insidious mocking frays my nerves. She indicates Edimmu returning from upstairs. “Edimmu was once a Galer, Asag a Trembler, Lilu an Aquifier, and your old friend Udug? He was a Burner.”
I must have misheard her. These demons—these monsters—were bhutas?
“Young soul-fire is more malleable. Once I have the bhuta children, I will raise them up as my fledglings and integrate them into the evernight. My army will be unstoppable.” Irkalla’s big red eyes reflect my horror. “You are more skilled than Udug was. You will be my greatest general yet.”
Enlil’s radiance stings my vision. “You will not pervert her.”
“I will improve her.” Irkalla lowers her head even more, her horns forward like a bull’s. Her foul breath is hotter than the desert sun. “My army is coming, and they will need a leader.”
Enlil blasts apart the weakened stone spike and rock confines with an internal heatwave. Irkalla rears back and roars. Edimmu shrieks and runs off, her scales smothered in flames. Irkalla lands, her thunderous impact quaking the palace.
The fire-god scoops up his spear and leaps in front of me. “You may not have Kalinda. I staked a claim on her soul.”
Cala and I balk. He claimed me?