I turn over his bandaged hand, still healing where I burned him. Holding on to me has already caused him injury. Would it be right to let him leave his family, his career, his identity as a soldier?
My hands wander to his face and stroke his jaw. “I don’t know, Deven. If the gods brought us here, shouldn’t we obey?” I fear his answer, but I cannot make him any promises until I know without a doubt that this is what he feels is right. Healer Baka used to say that there is no higher peace of mind than doing what the gods would have us do. I have never been certain enough of what the gods want to let that stand in my way, but Deven has. I will not rob him of that surety.
He rests the length of his body against mine and pulls me to him. “Obedience may be the greatest virtue, but the gods do not expect us to sacrifice what makes us happy, and nothing makes me happier than you.”
I rest my forehead against his.
“Leave this place with me, Kali.” His whispered offer lights up the deepest trenches of my soul. This is what I have wanted, for Deven to take me by the hand and lead me into the labyrinth of his heart. We could have our dream of peace and family. But this hope is too precious, too vivid to look at straight on.
“I . . .”
I want this. Need this. Cannot have this.
Deven cups my chin and lifts my gaze to his. “Will you come with me?”
Staring into his unguarded eyes, I stand with my tiptoes hanging over the brilliant abyss and let myself fall. “Yes.”
Deven touches his lips to mine and draws me deeper into his arms. He kisses me slowly and then urgently. He kisses me with his hands on me and my hands on him. He kisses me until my lips and heart ache for dawn to never come.
Despite my pleading, the sun makes its daily debut, in a rust-streaked sky. Daybreak’s first rays brighten my chamber to a dusky hue. I cuddle into Deven’s side and glide my hand up his jaw.
“Don’t leave,” I whisper.
He kisses my palm. “I have to search for the Zhaleh.”
“I wish I could stay with you instead of going to the tournament.”
“I’m sorry I won’t be there.” He smooths back my hair. “But you have to go. You have to play the role of the viraji, Kali. The rajah has to believe you’re his champion.”
I would rather be myself, but I can only be that person with Deven. He stands, leaving coldness on his side of my bed. I sit up to kiss him. “When will I see you?”
“Soon,” he promises against my lips. He pulls on his jacket and goes to the door. He sends me a smile that lays a blanket of contentment over me, and then he leaves.
I settle into my bed on a thick exhalation. I feel different, and not only from spending the night in Deven’s arms. My bones do not ache, and my head is clear. I reach over my shoulder and feel for abrasions, but they are gone as well. I close my eyes, and a single star burns, a guiding light in a black velvet sky. I finally feel how I had hoped I would every time Healer Baka persuaded me to try a new treatment—healthy, whole, and strong. If my first day of being a full-fledged bhuta is any indication of what is to come, this may not be as terrible as I thought.
Asha comes in with my breakfast tray. I stretch out on the other side of the bed to give the appearance that I slept there. “Good morning, Viraji.” Asha sets the tray on the table and pauses to look at me.
“Yes?” I ask.
She frowns to herself. “You have a glow about you.”
“I had a good dream,” I reply, smiling.
“Hmm,” Asha says as she busies herself tidying the chamber.
I get up and pull on my robe. A flicker of movement draws my gaze to the balcony. Brac’s face fills with a broad grin. Asha tugs down my bedspread, her back to the wide balcony, and I sneak over to Brac. I shove him behind the same drapery Deven and I hid inside, and I follow behind.
Brac’s eyes sparkle. “Been here before?”
My face warms. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for your lesson.”
“It will have to wait,” I whisper. “I must leave for the tournament soon.”
He stays close enough to almost touch. His skin smells of soap, and his copper hair is slightly damp, darkened to burnt amber. “I will be brief. We can practice on your servant.”
“No! You aren’t using Asha.”
“I won’t hurt her. I used to practice on Deven all the time.”
I squint at him. “He let you do that?”
Brac shrugs one shoulder. “Didn’t think to ask. You have to learn to use your powers. You cannot let them go to waste.” He slips out of the drapery before I can stop him and creeps up behind Asha. I observe from behind the curtain, afraid to move and draw her attention. Brac places his hands on both of her arms. Half a breath later, she falls forward onto the bed.
“You dolt! What did you do?” I hurry over to Asha, who is slumped on her side.
“I parched her, like I did to the courtesan in the carriage.” Brac bends over her. By all appearances, she is asleep. “See? Still breathing. Parching doesn’t hurt, and so long as she doesn’t see me, she won’t remember. She will stir soon, and then you can try.”
“I won’t—”
Asha’s eyelashes flutter. Brac puts his hands on her again, and she collapses, facedown.
“There. She will be out a little longer.” He repositions Asha’s head so that she can breathe. “When she starts to wake, put your hands on her skin. Every mortal has a fire within, the essence of who we are. Feel for that soul-fire and draw it out.”
“I have no idea what you just said!”
“Feel for mine.” He places my hand in his. “Do you sense the heat? Some say soul-fire is a buzz or a tickle.”
I concentrate on the warmth rising off him, and my skin tingles. “I think so.”
Asha groans. Brac moves my hand to her arm. “Go on. Pull her soul-fire in.”
I reach for Asha’s inner fire and locate a well of buzzing warmth. Wrapping my mind around it, I draw it in, and an intense glow fills my mind’s eye.
The light is too big, too immense. Unable to hold my inner fire back, I push it at her.
Brac yanks my hand off Asha, and dizziness washes over me. He catches me from reeling. “You pushed instead of pulled. Good thing I was here, or you would have scorched her.” He checks Asha’s breathing. “She’s all right.”
I lean against the bedpost and wait out the white dots zipping around my vision. “Scorched her?”
“What I did to your coachman,” Brac replies with a grim, set look.
“Oh,” I say. He means Jeevan. I would be angry, but Brac and I were enemies then. I look at Asha, picturing her as a pile of dust, and what he said strikes me harder. “I nearly killed her?”
“I wouldn’t have let you. I know that it’s challenging to contain your fire, but this is a skill you must master. A good Burner never reveals his powers. He will—”
“He?”
“She will parch her opponent, weakening them by drawing out their soul-fire, and then she will end the battle without anyone knowing what she did.”