“Those aren’t palace guards. I understand it’s your instinct to obey your ruler and defend the palace, but sometimes it takes more courage to step back than forward. You said those words once when we were standing up to a tyrant. I’ve never forgotten them.”
Deven wavers long enough that I feel encouraged to move closer. He centers his blade on me and shutters his warm brown eyes. “Don’t come closer.”
I match his stare despite my thrashed heart. “I’m sorry about this.”
I throw a minor heatwave at him. As he cringes from the scalding slap, I slide up to him and touch his freshly shaved cheek. Skin to skin, I parch his soul-fire and he faints.
His stand-up collar is loose from his weight loss. I rebutton the top hole and graze my nose against his. “I love you, you loyal dolt.”
I pilfer his keys to unlock the dungeon door and drag Deven inside.
He’s not a god, Cala notes, but I understand your fascination with him.
As I haul in the second guard, she rummages through my memories of Deven.
Cala, those are private!
So were my kisses with Enlil.
I shut us in the dungeons, and the neutralizer toxins that are built into the walls douse my abilities. Without my powers differentiating us, the divide between me and Cala closes even more.
“Kali?”
I follow Brac’s voice down the low-ceilinged tunnel to a cell and let him out. Indah and Pons are asleep on the sandy floor. “Are they sick?”
“They’ll wake soon. We were sedated.” Brac identifies his brother’s inert body by the exit. “Why is Deven—”
“He isn’t himself.” My stomach balls into a fist. “But he’s home.”
Banging sounds farther inside the dungeons. “Down here!”
Five cells down, Eshana calls to us. I unlock her door, and she embraces me. Natesa sits on the floor near a sleeping Yatin. Neither woman asks where I have been, nor do I spare the time to explain. “Where’s Ashwin?”
Eshana’s voice hollows. “I don’t know.”
“Lokesh came for Gemi a little while ago,” Natesa says. “He means to execute her.”
The people must be assembling for the execution. “Where are the bhuta trainees?”
“They aren’t here,” Brac answers from behind me.
“Are you certain?” I ask, and he reaffirms his account.
Then where . . . ?
This must have been a distraction, Cala replies.
I groan at myself. Deven is not strong enough to battle a Burner, yet Marduk stationed him at the dungeons. He anticipated I would come here. Nightfall must be minutes away, and the roadways of shadow leading to the City of the Dead will be ready for moving the children.
I toss Brac the keys. “Wake the others and go to the roof. I think Lokesh means to execute Gemi up there. Oh, and Deven may be surprised you’re alive since he doesn’t remember much of the past year, but I doubt he’ll harm you. Watch your back as a precaution, and if you could tell him something nice about me, I’d be grateful.”
Brac blinks as he digests that feast of catastrophes. I pat his shoulder and dash out.
37
ASHWIN
I sit forward to better see the sun descending into the city skyline. The sight of the Turquoise Palace fills me with readiness. I made it home.
Tinley tilts her head to the wind and impels Chare faster. She and the chief bank their falcons south, out of the direct line of the palace.
“Why are you changing course?” I shout in her ear.
Tinley’s voice carries to me on a gale. “The execution is on the rooftop. We’ll approach from the rear.”
The falcons race the failing sun. Chare pulls ahead from the chief, and he and her sister section off to wait out of sight. Tinley spares them no glance. Despite their lack of communication, their decisive, controlled movements are a comfort.
We sail over the elephant stables to the rear of the palace. Chare hovers near the lower roofline. I slide my legs together and jump down.
“This is as far as I can take you.” Tinley tosses me her crossbow.
I sling the strap over my shoulder. I am not up to par with the sister warriors’ training, but Tarek made certain that my weaponry skills are sufficient.
“Send a bolt into the sky, and the chief and I will fly in,” Tinley says, then cocks her ear to the wind. “Hurry.”
I run across the rooftop and leap up the wall. My fingers hook the molding. I pull myself onto the next level. Tinley gazes up at me in astonishment. She assumed I would go through the palace. This will be faster. I ascend several levels, relying on the balconies and archways for handholds. My arms and back ache and the fascia scrapes my palms. Tinley’s warning propels me upward.
Hurry. Hurry.
Barking voices carry from outside the aviary. I climb onto the next rise and crouch low. Mercenaries swarm the rooftop. Several of them are archers, bows slung over their shoulders and quivers full. I slide the crossbow to my front and squeeze the fore grip. Lokesh directs his men from his position by the ledge. He wears his headscarf open, while the rest of the men don turbans to continue the charade that they have been hired as imperial guards.
I search for the thief that has stolen my appearance. My look-alike is not in attendance.
Mercenaries walk Gemi out. Her naturally straight posture has bowed. She sways as a pendant in the wind while the executioner slips a noose over her neck. Dry blood stains her wrists. I clamp down on the crossbow, ready to inflict pain on her captors. They cut her. They let her blood to weaken her powers.
My people crowd up to the main gate below and line their rooftops. Tarek fed their hunger for bloodshed with the tournaments and public stonings. Here they are again, eager for violence. I withhold my rising disgust. Their participation as spectators in Gemi’s mistreatment shames the empire.
More mercenaries hold the ranis and children by sword point in the courtyard. Lokesh is forcing them to watch, but it is he who should be punished. I take aim at him with the crossbow. Gemi is between us, so I hold my fire.
The final sliver of sun melts into the western horizon.
Lokesh lifts a cone amplifier to his mouth. “Citizens of Vanhi, welcome!” On the ground, the crowd stills to listen. “Today we witness the restoration of Tarachand! Prince Ashwin has returned to the teachings of his father. He asks that you please pardon his absence. He felt burdened to remain on his knees in prayer, pleading for forgiveness that he might no longer lead us astray.” The commander lying about me—yet again—goes on his long list of offenses. I balance the crossbow and wait for a clear shot. “Upon the death of his viraji, the empire will be cleansed and undergo a rebirth. We will have a new life without demons, without fear!”
“You know nothing of fear,” says Gemi. Her head is hung, her hair in her eyes. “My admiral will bleed every drop of blood from your body, and my father will feed it to the sea.”
“Be quiet, filth.” Lokesh backhands her, and she folds in half. “Put her on the partition!”
The guards heft Gemi onto the rim of the roof. I have walked that ledge many times and never felt this sick. My finger strains on the trigger. Lokesh is out in the open, but he could fall back against Gemi and knock her over the drop-off.
A little left and I can fire.
“Hang the demon!” Lokesh proclaims.
His men reach up to push Gemi. I switch my aim to the aviary window and pull. The bolt zips through the window. A quarter of a second later, the doves flood out. Lokesh and his men shield their heads from the flurry of birds.
Gemi remains balanced amid the onslaught of flapping wings. As the doves fly away, thunder crashes overhead. Gray clouds brew up a storm. The moody thunderheads usher in cold, sweeping winds.
Lokesh traces the angle of the bolt back to me. “Shoot him!”
Archers prepare their arrows. Gemi raises her gaze to mine. Adoration warms her countenance. I was a fool not to see it before.
Arrows whiz past me. I slide down to the other side of the roof in plain sight of Lokesh. He grabs Gemi and shoves.
“Tinley, wind!” I cry and jump from the ledge.
I dive headfirst past Lokesh. Nothing lies between me and the ground. Gemi swings down, the rope almost fully stretched. A frigid gale heaves her up at the same time one pushes me.