I forgot I sent a correspondence to the distant Sisterhood temple asking for their texts about the Void. “Thank you. I’ll start them tonight. Aren’t you supposed to be at your inn?”
Natesa swings her legs over the side of the bed. “Yatin and I decided that can wait. I’ll hardly see him if I’m living in the city and he’s here.”
She rises to go. I should be pleased she is staying, but the feeling of wrongness from earlier returns stronger.
“Natesa, I don’t want you and Yatin to put your life on hold for anyone.”
“We aren’t.”
“First you delayed your wedding and now—”
“You aren’t the only one who feels helpless, Kali. Deven is Yatin’s best friend. My friend. We all want him home. It’s hard for life to go on while we know he’s down there.” Natesa’s frustration matches my own. She glances at the pile of books. “Most of us don’t read as fast as you and Ashwin, but we’re helping where we can.”
They are doing plenty. Yatin is running the palace during our drought of guards, and Natesa aids me more than my servant, Asha, does.
“I don’t thank you enough,” I reply.
“You could do better.” She tucks her tongue in her cheek and tilts her head. She is such a pest. “Good night, Kali. Tell Deven we miss him.”
“I promise.”
After she goes, I finish the fruit and lug the stack of texts to the table, starting with the one on top. Lost Souls: The Realm Below. Deven is not a lost soul, but the sisters thought this book was pertinent, so I settle into my chair.
On the first page I read a poem, “Ode to the Evernight.”
Seven gates to ascend, one must pay
A token dear and precious.
Crest all below and do not delay:
The Desert of Anguish, the Valley of Mirrors
A broken heart and spirited tears
A River of Ordeal, a Road of Bone
The city of death, and Kur’s home.
Beware of Irkalla, Queen of Thorns.
Reveal her fangs and you are never born.
A barb of fear clenches my neck. I cannot fathom how Deven spends every day in that awful place. Turning the page, I read on.
According to the text, the under realm is divided by seven gates, each one manned by a guardian. In between the gates lie domains, some listed in the poem. One detail I recall from Ashwin’s recounting of Inanna’s Descent is that Inanna paid each guardian with a piece of her wedding adornment.
One by one, the guardians will request a token in exchange for entrance through their gates and passage through their domains.
At last some truth. This confirms a portion of Ashwin’s recounting. I read in earnest, devouring page after page as I wait for Deven to arrive.
Some time later, when midnight marches into the early hours, a chapter heading nearly flies off the page: “Mortal Wanderers.”
Woe unto the mortal who finds himself imprisoned in the Void. Man was created to turn toward the light, seeking, aspiring, ascending. But no ember lies in the belly of the evernight to warm or enrich the soul of man. He is doomed to wander, driven farther into the Void, while his soul-fire dims from eternal brightness. Once his inner star fades, he will be empty and forfeit his capacity for rebirth. A death eternal, body and soul.
“A death eternal,” I breathe.
Shaken, I glance up from the page. Dawn spreads its golden wings across the horizon. Did I miss Deven? Though distracted by my research, I would not have overlooked his arrival. I hurry out, bringing the text with me.
My footfalls liven the hushed palace corridors. I arrive at the main palace and throw open double doors. The prince’s chambers are vacant. Nor is he in his dusty library, though the oil lamp is warm.
Next I check the atrium where he takes his meals. No one is there. I backtrack to the wives’ wing in the hope that a rani has seen him.
I push through silk curtains billowing in the doorway into the Tigress Pavilion. The daylit training courtyard is not in use. All the weapons racks are stocked: khandas, daggers, haladies, talwars, shields, spears, and, at the far end—an urumi. None of the current wives possess the skill to wield the weapon made of flexible, whiplike blades. Only Kindred Lakia mastered it.
Off the main courtyard, servants set out breakfast. Ranis, sisters of the Parijana faith, temple wards, and courtesans kneel on floor cushions around the packed tables. My servant, Asha, dines between Eshana and Parisa. My friends motion me over.
“Kali!” Eshana calls. “Join us.”
Women bow as I pass. Many of them still consider me their kindred. I have quit correcting them. Priestess Mita ignores me, her usual reaction to my presence. We have not spoken since I stepped down from my throne. She intends her silence as punishment. Her lack of nagging has been paradise.
Eshana tugs me to kneel between her and Parisa. I set the book in my lap, and Asha dishes me a plate of honey-drizzled fried bread. Her facial scars came from Tarek’s mistreatment, but she fits in with the tournament-scarred sister warriors.
“You look tired,” Parisa says, playing with my limp, unwashed hair. “I have a sleeping agent Healer Baka gave me. Take a little, and you’ll be gone from the world for hours.”
“I’m fine.” Except I do need to bathe. Next to my friends, I am an unpolished gem amid rubies. I tear into my bread and chew the doughy sweetness. “Have you seen Ashwin?”
“Him? Here?” Parisa scoffs. “We’re beginning to think he’ll never choose a kindred and we’ll be stuck in this in-between life forever.”
“Give him time,” I say. “He’s trying to make the best decision for the empire.”
Parisa rubs the back of her hand where her rank mark has long since faded. I advised Ashwin to tell them about his betrothal, but he wants to wait until Gemi arrives. It will not be long now, so I let it be.
“Kali, we heard some news,” Eshana says, her tone overly conspicuous. “Shyla told Parisa, who told me, that you went riding in the city with the prince yesterday. Have you changed your mind about marrying him?”
The table of women goes quiet. I finish chewing and articulate my response. “No. Ashwin and I are friends.”
Eshana bats her eyelashes in confusion. “You’ll wed again, won’t you, Kali?”
Asha observes our exchange without commenting. She must suspect Deven may not be entirely gone. When she is not training with Healer Baka in the infirmary, she assists me. She has tidied my chamber and left heaping trays of food too often not to have poked around for answers. I have none to give, and what explanations I do have are worrisome.
“I should go,” I say, taking my fried bread with me. My friends put up a fuss, but I pull from their grasps.
“Give her time,” Eshana whispers loudly to the others. “She’s still mourning General Naik. Eventually she’ll move on.”
I speed off, blinking back tears. They know nothing. Their biggest concern is winning over Ashwin. They sit in their silk and jewels, surrounded by mountains of food, oblivious to true heartache.
Deven didn’t come last night. Why didn’t he—?
I bump into Shyla at the door. She shuffles back.
“Kali, are you crying?”
Tears sting my nose. They want out badly. I consider telling her everything, but when words are not spoken, they create a divide that cannot be crossed without causing hurt. “Have you seen Deven?”
“Deven?”
I stare at her in horror. “I meant Prince Ashwin.”
Shyla’s frown deepens. I can only imagine what she will say to Parisa and Eshana about our encounter.
“I just left the prince,” Shyla says. “I’ll take you.”
5
ASHWIN
I sit cross-legged on a rug among wooden blocks and build a tower for Shyla’s daughter. My sister Rehan knocks down the structure with her chubby fists.
“You little tyrant,” I chide affectionately and re-erect the tower.