In our momentary suspension, I reach out and pull her in.
Another well-timed gust redirects us. We swing to a higher ledge and land against the palace on a narrow recess. My body secures Gemi’s against the wall. We pant in tandem, our heartbeats pounding.
Tinley and Chief Naresh circle above in the storm, their falcons drawing the archers’ attack. The temperature plummets to wintry conditions. My cold fingers fumble to untie Gemi’s wrists. She removes the noose and embraces me. Although her wrists no longer bleed, she will have scars.
“Down there!” Lokesh’s men call.
The archers take aim and unleash their assault. We have no safe cover or path down.
Chief Naresh drives winds between us and redirects the arrows back at the bowmen. Then a curious phenomenon occurs—snow falls in the desert. Big, fluffy snowflakes pinwheel down and nest in Gemi’s hair. I pluck one off, and we watch, mesmerized as it melts.
Tinley flies up on her falcon. “Jump!”
Arrows stream at her and Chare. The mahati retreats, and another string of arrows stops them from returning.
High above, Chief Naresh and Tinley’s sister dart about on their falcon. Maida elevates her arms to the clouds. The snow falls heavier and faster. Frigid winds wail. The blizzard is so thick, I cannot see the ground. The archers shoot at us blindly.
“This is our cover!” Gemi shouts.
Tinley lowers again on her falcon. Gemi leaps first. The recess is slick, but I lunge, and Gemi grasps me. I sit behind her and Tinley. The falcon soars up the exterior of the palace and levels off above the archers. Most of the mercenaries are retreating inside from the whiteout, many of them injured by their own arrows. Lokesh and a small band of men withstand the gusts from Chare’s flapping wings and heavy snowfall.
Gemi slides off the falcon and lands in a crouch on the roof. As I reload the crossbow with my second-to-last bolt, she heaves the clay tiles underfoot and fells the nearest mercenary. Another one slashes his khanda at her, cutting her arm. She kicks him in the jaw and disarms him. Taking up his blade, she swings at the next man.
Lokesh runs at Gemi, his pata swords out. I jump off Chare, landing between them, and take aim.
“It’s over, Lokesh.”
“You have much to learn, young Prince.” He swings his double patas. I fall back onto my rear and release the bolt. It zips at him and embeds in his thigh. He bends and clutches his leg.
“I may be young, but I’ll bring peace to the empire.” A gale amplifies my voice, carrying it far and wide, Tinley’s doing. Maida lessens the snowfall. Onlookers below stare up from their huddle, my confrontation with Lokesh visible. “Bhutas are welcome in Tarachand. Anyone who opposes their freedom will pay.”
“The people won’t listen,” Lokesh says, straightening. “They love me.”
Gemi boosts the clay roof tiles beneath him and trips him onto his back. His headscarf falls off into the snow. She wrenches sections of the brick ledge away and drops them on his patas, warping the metal blades.
“They fear you,” she corrects, her arm bloody.
“You belong in the Void with the rest of the demons,” he snarls. “I’m Rajah Tarek’s firstborn. The throne is my birthright.”
He grabs Gemi’s ankle to pull her down. I slam my foot onto his forearm.
“Don’t touch her.”
Lokesh drags himself back to sit against the ruined ledge. “You think I did this for myself? I can bring Tarek back from the dead.”
I step back, gripped by shakiness. I do not care how he plans to resurrect our father, but he will fail. “Tarek had his reign. The empire is my responsibility now.”
“You abuse your power!” Lokesh screws up his mouth and rises, favoring his injured leg. “I’ll never follow you. I’ll dismantle your supporters one by one until you’re alone.”
He will never stand down. I have seen what men like him do. They have no limits. So long as he lives, everyone and everything I care about is in peril.
Lifting the crossbow to my shoulder, I take aim with the last bolt. “I tried to reason with you, Lokesh. I could have forgiven the lies, manipulations, and even you stranding me in the desert. But you shouldn’t have hurt my viraji.”
“I’ll gut your demon viraji and any other bhuta ally.”
“No, you won’t.”
I release the final bolt into his chest. The impetus throws him backward over the drop-off.
I cast aside the crossbow and stagger a step. The wind lifts Lokesh’s scarf and spins it off into the sky. The entire palace is dusted in snow.
Gemi and I peer over the edge. Lokesh lies below, encircled by people. Many more watch us from the city. I have no words left for a speech, but they will hear from me soon.
I wrap Gemi in my arms, embracing her for all to see. Her cut has stopped bleeding. The wound is shallow, but she will have another scar. I would not be surprised if she leaves Tarachand and never returns.
Snowflakes rest on her eyelashes and ring her head in a crown. I slide my hand up her cheek. “I hope you can forgive me for this.”
“I already do.” Gemi sweeps her fingers across the nape of my neck and cozies against me. “This wasn’t you, Ashwin. I won’t let them chase me away. I stand with you.”
I tip my forehead against hers, those pale-gold eyes filling my world. Vanhi and the palace and the empire are my place. At Gemi’s side, I am more convinced that my home could become her place too.
38
KALINDA
Go to the Tigress Pavilion, Cala says, tapping into my memory. Enlil will hold off Marduk. You need a better weapon than those daggers.
I am the weapon, I reply.
We pass the pavilion en route to my chamber, and Cala nudges me again. I go in, straight to the racks, and select a haladie.
No, not that one. This one. Cala directs me toward the urumi.
I’m not trained for that.
Let me use my training.
Fine. I hope you’re left-handed. I clasp the handle of her favorite weapon, and Cala grins—at least that is how her glee feels. Wary of the spray of blades, I extend the urumi out in front of me. The multiblade weapon is surprisingly light. My left hand can wield it without my right, which is still a bare wrist without my prosthesis.
Carry it off to your side.
I do as Cala says and drag the steel blades to my chamber. Enlil lies on my bed with his ankles crossed, his spear beside him. Cala’s mind turns to lustful memories.
Stop that, Cala.
Sorry. She redirects her thoughts.
“The children weren’t in the dungeons,” I say. “Where’s Marduk?”
“Not here.” Enlil props his arms behind his head.
Clouds blot out the sun, and frigid wind stirs in from the balcony, ruffling the draperies and tossing my sketches of Deven across the chamber. They float to the floor and draw my eye.
A tremor shoots up my spine.
In the Void, Deven’s front bottom teeth had been knocked out. When I saw him in the dungeons, he had all his teeth again.
A shadow fills the doorway. I reel around, and Deven flashes a full smile.
“Marduk,” I say by way of greeting. Enlil bolts out of the bed and scoops up his spear. “Where are Deven and my friends?”
“Your friends are locked in the dungeons. For a moment, I thought you had sensed it was me instead of your beloved.” Marduk sneers, his beady gaze alight. “Your words to him were touching.”
“Marduk,” Enlil barks, “where are the children?”
“I was getting to that,” the demon says. Edimmu enters behind him. The reptilian horror is dappled with burns from Enlil’s earlier attack. She leads in the bhuta trainees, and they crowd together against the far wall. Basma hobbles against Giza, her legs in splints. “I discovered them in a servants’ passageway.”
A boy steps out of line to ogle Enlil, and Edimmu flicks her tongue at him. The child recoils with a stinging mark. Enlil levels his spear at the demon. She drags Giza in front of her as a shield.
“Let us pass,” she says.