Deven rests his hand on my shoulder. His calm, direct voice smooths out my knotted nerves. “What will happen after Rajah Tarek is dead?”
“Prince Ashwin will inherit the throne, and we will insist that he reinstate a bhuta council—Virtue Guards—as in the olden days. Bhutas will hold their rightful place in power and ensure that this catastrophe never happens again.”
Hastin’s plan appears reasonable, but he is leaving something out. I try to think of what it could be, but I am so overwhelmed by what he is asking of me that I cannot grasp what I am missing.
“What about the power hidden in the Zhaleh?” asks Deven. My heart brims over with gratitude for his dependable composure. “The power to unleash the Voider?”
I shiver in the warm room, recalling what Brother Shaan said about the Voider, the demon Kur’s spawn, a half-demon with the power to rip apart the world.
Hastin looks to Brother Shaan, who answers. “The Voider will grant a favor to whomever releases him. His dark powers are often used to accomplish dark motives, even to bring back the dead.” He lowers his voice as though he speaks blasphemy. “We fear the rajah wishes to bring back Yasmin.”
Sorrow crosses Hastin’s face again. He knew Yasmin.
“No one can bring back the dead,” Deven says. “That power is beyond any mortal—half-demon or otherwise.”
“The Voider was born of the Void,” replies Brother Shaan. “Time and space have no boundaries for him. He can retrieve Yasmin from her next life, but only her soul will come. Without a mortal form, she cannot stay here. Her soul must dwell in a body.”
Hastin’s silent stare digs into my skin.
My mouth is stripped of all words.
Me.
Tarek plans to put Yasmin’s soul into my body.
Deven’s hand grips my shoulder, a reassuring force with an unsaid promise. He will not let Tarek use me. I funnel my concentration into Deven’s touch, clinging to his stability, but terror spins me around and around at the prospect of being taken over by another soul, my spirit pushed out of its shell.
“How do we stop the summons?” asks Deven.
“The exact order of the ritual is unknown,” Brother Shaan says. “We were forbidden to transcribe it elsewhere, so we need the Zhaleh to fully understand what would be done. We do know that the rajah has begun gathering what he needs.”
“Bhuta blood,” Hastin inserts, his voice a furious rumble. “The rajah collected drops of blood from the hundreds of bhutas he executed. He waited seventeen years to gather enough, and then he went looking for the last component—a host for Yasmin.”
Nineteen years. Tarek has been preparing for this since Yasmin died. I squeeze my voice out of a taut throat. “What happens to me if Tarek succeeds?”
“Your soul will go on to the Beyond,” says Brother Shaan.
Deven’s hand clutches my shoulder as if his stubborn will can hold me in this life. I barely feel him, hatred for Tarek consuming my senses. Tarek stole my freedom when he claimed me, but that was not enough. He is determined to take everything I have, everything I am, until there is nothing left of me.
Hastin returns to the matter at hand. “Once Tarek starts the ritual, the Void will open and there will be no stopping him. Kalinda will have to end him as soon as she sees the Zhaleh.”
Deven’s charged quiet is like a wind screaming at my back. I do not need to look at him to know his other hand waits on the hilt of his sword, ready to fight our way out of here. But my mind has emptied of my shock enough to allow me to see the path before me more clearly than ever.
Tarek has sacrificed many lives to breathe life back into a single soul. I do not care how dear Yasmin was to him. No one is worth the heartache and bloodshed that he has forced upon his people. But can I do it? Can I end Tarek’s life?
I lift my chin and stare down my nose at the warlord, trying to appear fearless despite my quivering confidence. “If I do this, I want my friend Jaya taken safely out of the city before my battle match. You will hide her, care for her, and protect her for the rest of her days. In addition, you will save the remaining courtesans. None of them are to be drowned or harmed in any way.”
Hastin pinches his lips. “That is asking a lot, Viraji.”
“I ask no more than is necessary for me to commit to your terms,” I answer coolly. “The courtesans and Jaya will be saved, or we have no bargain.”
Hastin’s eyes narrow to the smallest of slits. “You have my word.”
Misgivings about the warlord simmer in my belly, but our bargain is fair. Anchoring myself to a tiny thread of courage, I finish. “Then I will kill the rajah.”
25
Hastin and the Aquifier prepare for the ritual, cleaning the daggers and setting them in a neat row. Deven is speaking with Brother Shaan near the door. I wait on the sheet-covered table, and Brac keeps me company.
“Sorry we don’t have time for you to sweat your powers out in a hut the way I did,” Brac says. He rounds out his apology with a smile. “That was a long day.”
If he means to comfort me, it is not working. “Is this truly necessary? What if you’re wrong about me?”
“First, you know I’m not wrong or you wouldn’t be here. Second, if you would stop worrying about what Deven thinks, you would know that’s true.” I open my mouth to argue that my reservations go far beyond Deven, but Brac goes on. “Third, all Burners must raze when they come into maturity. You have waited longer than usual, so this may hurt more.”
I grimace, and Brac’s smile tenses. “I will see you soon,” he says. “When you’re a true Burner.” He steps away and tells his brother, “You should wait outside with me and Brother Shaan.”
“I’ll stay,” replies Deven. I didn’t ask him to do so, but he will not leave me alone with Hastin. Brother Shaan and Brac exit the room without him and shut the door.
“Viraji, unwrap your sari and lie on your front,” Hastin says.
I turn away to loosen my sari and lie facedown on the table. I try not to think of the meticulous row of daggers, but I can still see the cold, daunting blades shining in the lamplight. I slide an arm up near my head, reaching for Deven. He clasps my shaking hand in his steady one.
“I wouldn’t get too close to her,” warns Hastin.
Deven grips my hand harder. “She won’t hurt me.”
Staring at our linked fingers, I remember the scorch marks on the carriage floor. “Maybe you should stand back.”
Deven lets go but does not step away. Indira unfastens my blouse, exposing my spine. She wipes water down my back and cleans me with a bar of ginger-lavender soap.
Hastin’s spidery shadow creeps across the wall as he speaks from behind me. “Due to the toxins in your blood, this will be painful.”
I press my chin to my shoulder, bracing for the incoming pain. “Where did the tonic come from?” I say.