My expression slackens. Deven wants to stay to look after the same men who turned him in?
“I betrayed the rajah, Kali.” His voice is so small it nearly shatters me. “I won’t betray them too.”
I cross to him and lift his chin. I do not miss his flinch when I touch him. “You opposed Tarek to protect me. Now let me protect you.”
Deven unpeels my dimly shining hand from his face and frowns at the faint number one on the back. “I heard about the trial tournament. You need to compete.”
My voice snags on a surprised breath. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“What’s to decide?” Deven strokes his thumb over my rank number, his lips pinching. “You wed Rajah Tarek. Your life belongs to the empire.”
He is wrong; my life belongs to me. I take a moment to regroup, and then answer. “I married Tarek to end his life. He told me you were dead. Stop punishing me for wedding him.”
“I’m not punishing you,” Deven says, infuriatingly calm. “But I cannot undo the past or change the law.”
“We don’t have to change the law. Ashwin promised me freedom if I win.”
Deven shakes his head forlornly. “The prince would be a fool to let you go. Even if you prevail in the trial tournament, he’ll need you by his side to win the war and rebuild the empire.” Resignation tempers his tone, wrenching my gut. “Kali, the prince will always need you.”
His assertion frays at me, scoring away at the part of me that believes we have a choice in our fates.
An alarm sounds outside the door, followed by agitated shouts. Feet thump nearby, rattling the thin walls. They know I’m here.
The door bangs open, and the first light of dawn falls inside. Guards charge in around us. Deven lowers to the ground and places his hands on top of his bowed head.
Prince Ashwin steps into the hut and observes Deven with open curiosity. Brother Shaan stands at the doorway.
“How did you find me?” I ask.
“One of the Galer guards heard you sneak into camp,” Brother Shaan says, his voice quieter than usual. “Vizier Gyan threatened to apprehend you, but we promised we would bring you back to the palace without incident.”
“Deven is coming with me,” I say.
“Kali—” Deven attempts to look up, but a guard hits him over the head with the hilt of his machete. He stoops in pain.
I yank out my daggers and aim them at the guards. “Leave us.” After a nod from Brother Shaan, they back out of the hut. The torn flesh of Deven’s back bleeds anew. I glare at Ashwin. “You did this to him.”
“I . . . what?” Ashwin asks.
“You ordered Captain Naik lashed.”
“Where did you hear this?” asks the prince.
“Vizier Gyan said you gave the order, Your Majesty,” Deven grits out, his gaze down.
Ashwin raises his square chin. He does not deny Deven’s claim, but his burning resentment causes me to pause.
“Kalinda, we must go, or they’ll imprison you too,” says Brother Shaan, one eye on the exit. “I’ll see that Captain Naik is cared for.”
“Deven has done nothing worse than I have,” I reply. “Release him or I’ll tell everyone the truth.”
Ashwin’s baffled gaze volleys from me to Brother Shaan. The prince is the only one in the hut who does not know I killed Rajah Tarek.
“Your reputation mustn’t be tarnished,” Brother Shaan pleads. “The people need a champion. They need hope.”
“They need their rani,” adds Deven. He hangs his head so low his hair falls into his face. “May the gods protect you, Kindred.”
I reel at his use of my imperial rank. “Don’t do this, Deven. Come with me.”
He offers no reply, so I sheathe my daggers and bend down to search his face for a weakening of resolve. His chin quivers, but he does not meet my gaze.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. “I didn’t want any of this.” I never wanted Tarek to claim me or to fight in his rank tournament or to be the people’s champion.
But I became what Tarek wanted. I am a slave to his throne.
“I won’t stop fighting for us,” I promise. “Even if it means competing in the tournament. Even if it means owning my throne. I will not quit until I have the power to return for you—and then we will walk out of here together.”
I lay my hand over Deven’s, yearning for him to vow to fight with me—fight for me. His thumb brushes across my finger. Gods, let that be a sign. Let him understand that what I do next is for us both. I wait for a stronger signal from him, but none comes.
As I rise, I avoid looking at Ashwin for fear that I will throw a heatwave at him and roast him like a goose. “An Aquifier will heal Captain Naik,” I order Brother Shaan. “Tell the healer not to leave a single scar.”
“Yes, Kindred.”
I search out Deven’s support one last time, but his head stays lowered.
Wiping my face dry, I sweep past Ashwin out of the hut. Dawn rests upon the eastern horizon, tucking away the night. Tarachandian soldiers, groggy from sleep, amble out of their tents to view the source of the ruckus. They spot Ashwin and me surrounded by guards and murmur to one another. I wish I knew which one turned Deven in. I would scorch him to ash. Can they not see we must stand together? We have been divided by those who claim to aid us, and these camps are only the beginning.
“I am Kindred Kalinda,” I call out to the men, and they hush to listen. “My throne is mine, and no foreigner will take it from me. I will compete in the trial tournament—and I will win. The next time you see me, it will be to release you to your families.”
Shouts of praise ring out. The guards hastily usher Ashwin and me from the compound, but the hollers of the imprisoned soldiers follow us. “Kindred . . . Kindred . . .”
I loathe that title, but it is all I have left to cling to. My throne, my power, can release these people and provide me a path back to Deven.
But outside the gate, where I can no longer see his cell, doubts crowd in around me. Can I win? Can I retain my throne in this strange land? The peaceful life I dreamed of is so far away. I grasp on to my beautiful wish for Deven and me and shove it down safe. I must hold on to it or my determination will tear in two.
Across the way, our people line the fence of the civilian encampment to glimpse Prince Ashwin and me. They cry my name, and a memory chills me. They chanted for me the day I won my rank tournament.
Ashwin grasps my arm to demonstrate our unity. I allow his touch to linger, but as we begin the climb to the palace, I tug away.
“Kalinda,” he starts, “I didn’t—”
“Don’t.” I will not hear his defense of Deven’s punishment. The damage is done.
We reach the pinnacle of the hillside, and our people still intone my name, their emboldened cheers heard on high. I pray their shouts wake Sultan Kuval, for when he hears their voices sounding as one, he will know we are not beaten.
11
KALINDA
As Natesa finishes brushing kohl around my eyes, her knuckle grazes my nose, triggering an itch. I reach up to scratch it, and she smacks my hand away.