Devious, but also ingenious. I can weaken my opponents and finish them in a way that no one could trace back the victory to my powers. But there is a flaw. “What if my opponent is armed? How do I get close enough to touch their skin?”
“That’s up to you. I’m only here to teach you Burner skills.” Brac runs a hand through his damp hair, preoccupied with his duty. “There’s more. You can burn low if you aren’t careful. Fire takes fuel, and so do we. Eating helps you restock your powers. Regardless, you could use more meals.” He pinches my skinny arm. I tug away from him and his quick grin. “You can also burn too high if you take in a lot of inner fire from others. To get rid of the excess soul-fire, you need to expel it in waves. You know how heat ripples off fire? You cannot see it, but when you get too close, it singes. That’s a heatwave. We will need somewhere safer to practice that . . . somewhere with less cloth. And people.” Brac looks down at Asha and starts to lift her veil. “I wonder if she’s pretty under there.”
I smack away his hand. “Help me with her.” We lift Asha to lie more comfortably on my bed and stand back. “She looks peaceful.”
“She’s going to wake with a horrible headache.”
I look at Brac sidelong. For all of his lightheartedness, it must have been painful to leave his family and join the bhutas. “Who taught you to use your powers?”
“No one. Burners are the rarest bhutas and the most destructive, so naturally the rajah sought to annihilate us first. My mother knew what I was and hid it. Everyone thought I was feverish, but when I got older, Hastin found me. He was looking for bhutas in hiding and recognized my symptoms. He helped me raze. After that, I read about the fundamentals of Burner abilities in Kishan’s private journals. The rest was trial and error.”
Noise travels up from the courtyard, where people gather for the procession to the amphitheater. Brac peeks out the balcony. “Don’t you have to be somewhere?”
I groan. He knows full well that I have to get to the tournament. “No wonder Deven didn’t miss you.”
“He didn’t?” Brac slants his eyebrows together, affronted.
“He did, but he blamed himself for your death, so give him time.”
Brac starts to the balcony. “Where is my elder brother now?”
“Looking for the book.”
“The Zhaleh?” Brac stops midstride and leans heavily against the wall. “That’s a different Deven than I know.”
“Will you help him?” I do not add that more is at stake than my bargain with Hastin. Deven can decide whether or not to tell his brother about our plan to leave Vanhi.
“You’re more likely to milk a scorpion than find the book. I have looked for it everywhere.”
“Please keep trying. And, Brac?” I tuck my robe tighter around me. “Jaya has been listening in on Gautam’s conversations with Tarek. She may have learned where to find the book.”
He shakes his head. “You should not have included your friend, but since she’s already involved, we will pay her a visit. You should practice parching today.”
“At the tournament?”
“The key is stealth. If you can parch someone there without others noticing, you can parch anywhere.”
After what I did to Asha, I am hesitant to use my newfound talents, but if Deven cannot find the Zhaleh, I will have a greater chance of winning my battle match with my powers. Still, I am afraid to test my Burner abilities and risk revealing them or, worse, accidentally scorching someone to cinders. I glance at Asha’s motionless form and pray harder that Deven succeeds.
27
Rajah Tarek meets me in the main entryway. “Morning, love.” He kisses my cheek and then slants back and frowns. “You look tired.”
I look like me. This is the least done-up that I have been since I arrived. Asha woke just before I left. She was baffled about falling asleep and apologized over and over for her laziness. She did not remember being parched. I felt so guilty about letting her think that she had shirked her duties that I ran out the door before she could fix me up properly.
“I woke early to train.”
Tarek clucks his tongue. “You should not stress yourself. You’re my champion. I have every faith in you.” He places a firm hand on the small of my back and steers me outside.
A line of elephants waits in the busy courtyard. I climb up to the howdah on the first elephant and notice the rubies I tore off have been replaced with more.
Tarek notes their reappearance as well. “Ah, they recovered my jewels.”
I force myself not to react. His soldiers recovered them. They are not new rubies; they are the same ones I threw to the crowd. Regret grates at me. I do not want to think about how many people the soldiers must have harassed to get back those precious stones, but I do know that Tarek retrieved them as a warning for me not to go against him again.
The procession is every bit as elaborate as yesterday. More people pack the roadway, all of them cheering and waving, and I realize that Brac has asked the impossible. I cannot practice parching with so many eyes on me. Though, if I could, I would test my abilities on Tarek.
He rests a hand on my knee and leaves it there during our travel. I peek at it intermittently, expecting his hand to slither up my leg, but we reach the amphitheater without a single one of his fingers stirring. I suspect that he used to sit with Yasmin this way. I abhor his nearness all the more.
Tarek, Lakia, and I go to the imperial box overlooking the arena. The events start with Fareeshah’s match; she is the courtesan who asked about my health during the declaration ceremony. She is to battle Manju, a courtesan in her late twenties. All four gongs chime, sending a tremor down my back.
Fareeshah attacks first. Feral in her movements, she stalks Manju like a wildcat on the hunt. I fear for the older courtesan, waiting for Fareeshah to spring with her sharp daggers. Fareeshah prowls closer and closer to Manju. Inevitably, Fareeshah attacks and Manju falls, struck down by the swiftness and accuracy of Fareeshah’s blades. Fareeshah raises her knives to the crowd, soaked in her opponent’s blood.
Tarek cheers with the crowd, and my stomach gurgles in repulsion. Fareeshah must still win the victors’ match before she secures a position battling me. Although it is callous, I wish for her to lose so that I never have to confront her in the arena.
The tournament continues with the second duel, another gory, cringe-inducing sight. For most of the morning, there is no safe place to rest my gaze. I cannot watch the challengers battling, nor can I look down at the courtesans in the terrace without thinking of Tarek drowning them, and I cannot look at Tarek without wondering if he is aware that at this very moment his stronghold is being searched.