Natesa and Mother huddle upon a higher mound of land, piling willow reeds. Brac holds his glowing hand to the heap of grass, and it ignites. Firelight brightens the area, revealing the dampness on our clothes and the bugs zipping through the balmy air.
Yatin heaves rocks over for Natesa and Mother to sit on and then takes first watch near a glassy pond. He removes his uniform jacket and rests on top of it. Out of habit, I go to do the same and remember half a second too late that I took mine off in the desert after we left Vanhi. Eventually I will get used to not wearing my uniform, even though I am viewed as half the man I was with it. Yatin still thinks of me as his captain, but to the troop that passed us on the road yesterday, I am a traitor. I would be a fool to think my execution sentence is behind me. The trained soldier within me knows I deserve whatever punishment comes my way. But the man stripped of my uniform wants my title, my honor, back. An impossible wish. Traitors are neither forgiven nor forgotten.
I find another rock for my seat, then pull off my boots and set them near the fire to dry. Mother passes out cattails for supper. They are all we have to eat. Our food stores were destroyed in the attack.
Natesa curls her lip at the grassy stalk. “I’m not eating that.” She throws the cattail at the feet of the fire and rises.
I shift out of her path before we touch. The one time I tried to help Natesa onto her camel, she drew a blade on me and nearly took off my finger. She only lets Yatin near her. She was wary of men when we first met, and her time as Rajah Tarek’s courtesan made her even more cautious. I would not admit this aloud—Natesa would probably slice me open if she knew—but I sympathize with her, as I do my mother. Rajah Tarek was not good to his courtesans.
Natesa joins Yatin, his silhouette big beside hers. My chest pangs in envy. Skies, I wish I knew Kali was all right.
Rohan picks up Natesa’s discarded stalk and nibbles it away, his eyes flat with fatigue. He finishes the cattail, curls up on his side near the fire, and goes to sleep.
Across the campfire, Brac is missing his trademark grin. I know he regrets parching me, but I cannot forget that he threaded out my life source and used it as a weapon.
Mother flickers her gaze between us, preparing to heap her motherly guilt upon my peacekeeping ways. I am sure I will give in. I am no good at holding a grudge. My instructor at the Brotherhood temple once told me I was quick to forgive—a compliment, I think. But Brac needs to realize the full ramifications of parching me and to never do it again. I tug on my wet boots and trudge away, facing the fields.
Alone in the quiet, my evening prayers meander from expressing gratitude for surviving another day to requesting protection for the next. But prayers cannot curtail my restlessness. By now, Kali must have met Prince Ashwin. The events that have befallen the empire since Rajah Tarek’s death are not her fault. She did as the gods directed her. Even so, her ending the rajah’s life may dissuade the prince from retaining her in his court.
But should Prince Ashwin take a liking to her . . .
Mother and Brac speak in hushed voices behind me, probably about me. Brac does not understand how he is viewed. His abilities are terrifying. When he uses his Burner powers, I am reminded that he is a half-god. A literal spiritual offspring of Anu.
And so is Kali.
The harder I hold on to her, the brighter she shines and the further apart we grow. Kali is a shooting star. I do not know how much longer I can keep her close without burning up in her wake.
Early light reveals a mist over the marshlands. Rohan is up and alert, his strength and color returned overnight. He gnaws down the rest of the cattails for breakfast while we take turns marching across the soggy plain to use the latrine.
Brac comes up to my side. “Mother and I spoke last night. We agree it would be better for her and me to find another way to Iresh. You go ahead with the others. We’ll take the road east of here.”
Several paces away, Mother hugs Natesa and Yatin. She must be telling them good-bye.
“Why Mother?” I ask, masking my hurt. They decided this without me. “Yatin could stay behind with you.” He is the obvious choice to free up the weight of the wing flyer.
“Natesa wouldn’t allow it,” Brac says lowly so they cannot hear. Separating Natesa from Yatin would be like trying to untangle a monkey from a tree branch. A monkey that bites. “This was Mother’s idea. She wants to see more of the empire.”
“What about her bad knee?”
“I’ll trade work for a horse and supplies in the next village, and she can ride to Iresh.” Brac glances at Rohan drinking from our water flask. “We’ll arrive a few days behind you.”
“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.” I pull on my pack and tighten the straps with brisk tugs. Brac reaches out to console me, and I lean away.
“I am sorry for parching you, Deven,” he says, lowering his hand. “I was trying to protect you and Mother. I don’t want you to fear me.”
I am not afraid of Brac. I am afraid of what he can do. Since we were boys, I have distanced myself from his powers. I hate that I am weak. Weaker than him.
Brac starts to go, and, despite my anger, I refuse to part on bad terms. “Wait,” I say. “No matter what, we’ll always be brothers.”
Brac hauls me into a hug. A moment later, Mother wraps her arms around us both. “I knew my boys couldn’t stay mad at one another.”
“This is solely for your benefit,” says Brac.
“That’s right, Mother,” I add. “As soon as you turn your back, I’m going to throttle him.”
Mother shakes her head at our teasing and rests her palm against my cheek. “Be good to yourself. Your fate may not seem to be leading you where you want to go, but following it will bring you more peace than you could dream.” I squint down at her, sensing a lecture. She pats my cheek affectionately. “I’m proud of you, son.”
Heavy regret lands across my chest. At one point I may have deserved her praise, but not anymore. I take off my pack and pass it to her. “My supplies should last until the next village. Look after each other. Brac likes to wander off when pretty women are near.”
My brother barks a laugh, lifting my mood. Then the first stirrings of Rohan’s gales disperse the mist hanging over the marshland and wash away my smile. I have spent long stretches of time away from my family before, but the empire is days away from falling to the warlord’s control. I do not like leaving them behind.
Yatin and Natesa are already on the wing flyer. I climb in beside Rohan, and the flyer rises. Brac wraps his arm around Mother’s shoulders. They shrink below us until they are the size of ants. Rohan’s winds switch direction, and the wing flyer banks deftly, agile with less weight, like a moth instead of a fat bumblebee. We turn southeastward over the wetland, and my family sinks out of sight.
On the horizon, I spot a regiment of soldiers bearing the Janardanian flag traveling the roadway alongside the Morass.
“Why are those troops this far west?” I call to Rohan.