The Hundredth Queen (The Hundredth Queen #1)

The general hauls Jaya up by the arm. They leave, and I notice her supper knife is missing. I last saw it in her hand. Admiration for her courage surges through me. Great Anu, protect her.

Lakia stays, Manas flanking her. He must have been involved in Deven’s capture. Deven warned me that Manas would report on him, but I did not want to believe that the empire would mean more to him than their friendship.

“Manas,” says Tarek, “your loyalty is commendable. I will arrange for you to visit the courtesans’ wing as thanks on my behalf.”

Manas bows in appreciation. I look away, sickened by him.

“Tarek,” Lakia says, her expression steaming, “what will the viraji’s punishment be? Manas reported she spent last night with the cap—”

“I will do nothing.” Tarek lowers his voice to a concise snap. “She is my champion. She will defend the throne in two days, and I will see her unharmed when she does.”

“You would wed someone who is unfaithful?” Lakia asks, eyes wide.

“I would wed her immediately if it would not enrage the gods. The tournament was instituted by Anu, and like his son, Enlil, my viraji will be champion.” Tarek takes me by the arm and drags me from the pavilion, his guards following.

I try to rip away, but he holds me fast. “You try my patience, love,” he says. “Two dozen women are willing to die for your throne, and you jeopardize it for a nothing soldier.”

“I never made any pretenses about wanting you,” I say, breathless from his swift pace. “I was never asked what I wanted at all.”

“I do not care for your pretenses or your wishes. I am the rajah. I am your intended. You will obey.”

Something fires through me, hot and fierce. My powers are back. But before I can use them, he tosses me through the doorway to my chamber. I find my balance and do not fall.

“Be grateful I fear the wrath of the gods,” he says, “or I would call off the tournament and wed you tonight.”

I clutch the front of my sari. No threat has terrified me more.

“Do not let her leave,” Tarek commands his guards. “Watch the door and balcony. Kill anyone who tries to get in. She stays here until I return.”

I slam the door shut and press my hands over my eyes. Deven. I picture him bruised and bloody in shackles. He has given up, but I will not. I cannot let Tarek execute him.

“How was supper?”

I drop my hands and see Brac step out from behind the balcony drapery. “Brac,” I breathe. “I thought you were imprisoned.”

He smiles. “I’m hard to catch.” A khanda hangs against his back, and an ax is slung on each hip. He looks intimidating, like the first time we met. “I’ve been waiting for you since you left for supper.”

I glance at the door, expecting guards to burst through any moment, and speak in a low voice. “What happened? How did Deven get caught?”

“We visited Jaya, and then Deven suggested we all go to Yasmin’s tomb. He thought since the rajah’s trying to bring Yasmin back, he would hide the book somewhere close to her. He said that’s what he would do if he were Tarek.”

My chest pangs at Deven’s thoughtful observation. I should have considered it myself. The day I wandered the gardens, Yasmin’s tomb had been recently opened.

“I waited outside the tomb, and he and Jaya went in,” Brac continues. “Manas followed us and brought more soldiers. I warned Deven they were coming, but he and Jaya fell behind.”

My hands itch to throttle Manas. “Does Hastin know? Is anyone else coming?”

Brac jams each word out from between tight teeth. “Hastin doesn’t feel Deven is worth the risk.”

“And Anjali?”

“Sides with her father. All the rebels do.”

I ball my hands into fists. Deven may not be part of our agreement, but I will not abandon him. Hastin can forget our bargain. Forget the Zhaleh. Forget the tournament. The bhuta warlord can kill the rajah himself.

“I’m getting Deven and Jaya,” I say. “We’re leaving tonight.” I grab Yasmin’s daggers from my bedside drawer. My hands heat up, fire boiling through my veins. I exhale a calming breath and will the rising heat to recede. I need every last cinder of my powers to break Deven free.

“I’m coming with you,” Brac says.

I pause to look at him. “But you’re with the rebels.”

“I’m with my brother,” he corrects, his gaze resolute.

I resist hugging him for staying and shove one dagger into the waist of my trousers. I add my slingshot and tie the pouch of firing stones to my side. “Tarek has the entries guarded,” I say.

“Did you practice today?”

“No, but I will manage.” The truth is I will explode if I do not expel the heat smoldering through me. I draw the second dagger, leaving my other hand free, and approach the door.

Brac draws his ax. “Ready?”

I nod, and he throws open the door.

Manas and three more guards draw their swords. Brac flies at the trio. I capture Manas’s arm. Pull. Don’t push. I feel for his inner heat and tug. A golden thread passes from Manas to me as I coax his fire out strand by strand, flame by flame. My inner fire grows hotter, stronger with his added light, until Manas drops to the floor. Brac parches two guards and cuffs the final one in the head with the blunt end of his ax.

I look down at Manas’s gray complexion, my burning veins full of his excess soul-fire. “Will he be all right?”

“Should be. Next time let go a little sooner, or you will turn your opponent into a prune.” Brac pushes one of the guard’s legs out of the way with his foot. “Where to now?”

“Jaya first.”

Brac’s sneakiness proves dependable. He leads the way through the vacant corridors, down three levels to a slightly ajar door. We back up against the wall. A servant comes out, and Brac nabs him by the neck. The servant sags in his arms. We drag him out of the way and steal inside the hushed chamber.

I round a corner, dagger first. Jaya waits there, ready to attack with the supper knife. Her cheek is bandaged, the whites of her wide eyes matching the color of the sterile cloth.

“Kali.” She lowers her weapon with an exhalation.

Brac glances in the other doorways with his ax raised. “Where’s the general?”

“He’s not here. Why have you come?”

“We’re getting you and Deven out,” I say.

Jaya’s shoulders slacken. “I wanted to tell you what happened at supper. The captain was right. The Zhaleh was in the tomb. We had it when the guards arrived, but my skirt caught in the door. Captain Naik stayed to help me. The guards seized us and put him in the dungeons.”

“Where’s the Zhaleh now?” I ask.

“Gautam returned it to the rajah. He must have hidden it again by now.”

A groan rises up my throat. Deven had the Zhaleh in his hands. I cannot think about how close we were to leaving here together, to having our dream.

“Kali, Gautam dropped me off here after supper and then went straight to the dungeons.” An apology seeps from Jaya’s gaze. “He’s questioning Captain Naik about the bhuta warlord.”

“But Deven doesn’t know anything!”

“Doesn’t matter.” Brac grabs his hair. “Gautam will torture him regardless.”

Brac does not say so, but I know that he thinks we should have gone to find Deven first. Coming here for Jaya was my order, my choice. And now, we may be too late.

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