But Yasmin was not a bhuta, and neither is Tarek. So if Yasmin is my mother, then my father must have passed on his bhuta powers to me.
Still, I could be Tarek’s daughter if he is a bhuta and has been concealing his powers. I have been hiding mine from him, and he could be doing the same.
A storm of nausea swirls in my belly. Until I know who my parents are, there is a chance Lakia is right. I could be Tarek’s flesh and blood.
“I—I must lie down,” I say. I bid Tarek farewell and hurry into my room.
Bile burns in my throat. I run past Asha to the washbasin and empty my stomach until all that is left are dry heaves. Asha cleans my face and helps me to my bed.
A healer bandages my forearm and binds my middle with downy cloth. “Two of your ribs are broken. I will advise the rajah to leave the bandage on.”
Mortification warms my face. The healer means for me to wear this bandage on my wedding night. The idea of being with Tarek in such an intimate way was already disgusting to me, but now that he could be my father, I want to retch and retch until the thought is in me no more.
The healer packs up and goes. Asha dresses me in a robe like the one I wore to the Claiming.
“You are to go to the chapel for your bridal markings,” she says.
I can find my own way, but Manas and another guard follow close at my heels. I ignore Manas, hardly able to endure his presence or the reminder of his betrayal.
He clears his throat at the chapel door. “Congratulations, Viraji,” he says.
I slam him into the wall, pain lashing down my side. “Traitor,” I say. “Do not speak to me.”
“Deven was the traitor.”
“Deven was good.” I shove Manas tighter into the wall. His eyes shine with tears. “Deven was better than you or I will ever be.”
Exhaustion drains my temper, and my hands fall, letting him go. The second guard lowers his sword, which I did not see him draw. The palace residents must be aware of my failed escape, but Tarek would like to pretend that it did not happen, like Deven never existed.
Three sisters I do not know wait for me in the chapel. Per their directions, I disrobe and lie facedown on the blanketed altar. They come forward with clay pots and thin-tipped brushes. I lie still, smelling the pungent tang of henna. They tickle swirling patterns of celestial glories on my arms and across my back. The sisters work through the night, their gentle hands and softly hummed prayers lulling me into a daze.
In my wakeful moments, Lakia’s claims about my parentage dominate my thoughts. I try not to dwell on it, but the possibility that I am preparing to wed my father consumes me with horror. I need to know if Tarek is my father. And if he is . . . I swallow another upsurge of nausea. I will deal with that if it comes.
At daybreak, my hands, feet, arms, and legs are covered with intricate designs of the sun, moon, and stars. The sisters also painted the number one onto the back of my hands. Now that I defeated Lakia, her rank of first wife belongs to me. They rub away the dried henna, revealing the dyed skin beneath, and re-dress me in my robe. I sit down on the altar, cradling my sore side, and send them to fetch Brother Shaan under the guise of wanting a blessing.
While I await his arrival, I try not to let my sight stray to the place where Jaya died, but my attention settles there, and I see that her blood has been scrubbed clean. She would warn me not to let my mind wander to dark places, but I cannot shake her death from my head.
Brother Shaan comes in and shuts the door.
I meet his gaze. “Lakia told me I’m Yasmin and Tarek’s daughter. If that’s true, I can’t figure out how I came to be a temple ward. But I think you know.”
“Healer Baka said you would piece it together.” He crosses the chapel to the altar. “She requested that I tell you, but I swore never to speak of it.”
“Tell me what Healer Baka has to do with this. I deserve the truth.”
Brother Shaan sits beside me on the altar and expels a profound sigh. “I suppose you do.” He clasps his weathered hands in front of him. “You are not Tarek’s daughter.”
A relieved breath whooshes out of me. “Whose daughter am I?”
“Yasmin and Kishan’s.”
The quiet echo of his answer drops through me. So Lakia was partly correct. I am Yasmin’s daughter, but Lakia’s jealousy blinded her to what everyone else could see; Yasmin loved Kishan, the bhuta leader she tried to escape with. Yasmin was carrying Kishan’s baby, not a boy or Tarek’s heir, as many supposed. A little girl and a Burner, like her father.
“Then tell me.” My small voice grows. “How did I come to be a temple ward?”
“Two people were present the night Yasmin died. Healer Baka, who was a midwife then, and me. Yasmin was sick during her pregnancy. Mortals do not fare well birthing bhuta children, and they often do so at the price of their own lives. When Yasmin heard of Kishan’s death, her fragile body could not take the news. We tried to slow her labor, but she was too distraught. She delivered a healthy baby girl. But the birth depleted Yasmin’s strength beyond repair. Soon after, in the midst of begging us to hide her daughter from the rajah, she passed away.”
Heartache bludgeons me. I have heard others speak of Yasmin, and I have seen her tomb, but I have not mourned her death until now. She was my mother, yet I will never meet her. Her last words were pleas for my safety, yet I will never hear her voice.
Brother Shaan’s elderly face bears every line of his grief. “Healer Baka had delivered a stillborn boy earlier that night, so we replaced Yasmin’s daughter with the deceased baby boy. I took the infant girl and hid her in the Vanhi Temple. When she was old enough to travel, I sent her to the farthest Sisterhood temple from here. And Healer Baka went along, to watch over her—over you.”
I am staggered by the number of secrets that he and Healer Baka kept. All this time, Healer Baka knew of my parentage. Brother Shaan knew as well. But it was Lakia who told me. She was more honest with me than those I trusted.
“Why didn’t Healer Baka tell me?”
“To protect you and honor Yasmin’s final request, we never spoke of your true identity to anyone. When I first learned you were coming here, I was distraught. Healer Baka and I worked so hard to keep you safe. But the gods directed you here for a purpose.” His voice drops to a coarse whisper. “Hastin means to seize the palace as soon as you recover the Zhaleh. He’s waiting outside the walls with twenty bhutas, ready to strike.”
My patience has been filed down to a stub. I need another day to recover from the tournament and reflect on what I have learned about my parents, but there is no stopping the wedding. I would be less averse to proceeding tonight if I trusted Hastin, but I do not trust him any more than I do Tarek, and I see no way to stop the bhuta warlord from attacking. All that I can do is fulfill my side of our bargain and pray that he does not escalate the war.