“That liar.” I was motivated to win the tournament after losing Deven and Jaya, but that does not justify Hastin’s manipulation or scheming.
Deven helps me inside. The rajah’s bed has been pushed away from the wall. Sitting at the end of the mattress, I shove my arms through the robe and tie it around my waist. Tarek is splayed on the floor. I expected to hate him even in death, but I feel only emptiness.
Deven strokes my back. “Brother Shaan told us about what you did in the arena. I wish I had been there to see you win.”
“It’s over.” I rest against him, still unable to believe that he is here. “I will never set foot in an arena again.”
Brac rises on the balcony with painstaking care and walks inside. Deven helps him sit beside me. I was delirious from the toxins, but I remember what he did.
“How did you know I had been poisoned?”
“I could feel the toxins smothering your inner fire. Fortunately, my powers were able to purify you, or that amount of poison would have done you in. Unfortunately, now I’m feeling the toxin’s effects.”
“Thank you.” I hug Brac and see a book near his feet. “The Zhaleh,” I say.
Brac bends over the book. “Looks like a regular text,” he says, but he does not pick it up.
A rumble shudders the walls, surging up from the floor. I stare out past the balcony at the wide-open palace gates.
“The rebels are inside the palace.” Deven takes my hand. “Leave the book, and let’s go.”
“No,” I say, pulling away from him. “Hastin has lied to us at every turn. He faked your death and defied my order to not attack until after I lit the torches on the front gate. Until Tarek’s heir is instated, Hastin will have complete command. If we give him the book, we give him the empire.”
“If we take the book, he will hunt us.”
Deven’s quiet warning holds a question: Do I want to provoke the bhuta warlord? I could wipe my hands of the war and what becomes of the empire. I have done what the gods asked of me. Tarek is dead, and I have bought my freedom. But what is freedom without peace of mind? I cannot leave the fate of the empire in the hands of the warlord.
“We take the Zhaleh,” I say. “I won’t exchange the reign of one monster for another.”
Brac looks to Deven for advice about what to do. What I ask of them is no mere task. None of us will have any rest until we locate Prince Ashwin and see that he and Hastin negotiate a conclusion to this war.
Deven places a supportive hand on the small of my back. “We follow the rani.” His words soak deep within me and fill me with appreciation. I trail a careful finger across his bearded jaw. He kisses my lips and whispers, “My happiness is with you.”
“Can you two save that for later?” Brac says. He shoves the Zhaleh and the oil vessel into his satchel, wincing at the vial of blood.
Deven leads me behind the bed, which has been pulled away from the wall. The rumbling grows closer, slapping over wine bottles and driving fractures into the ceiling.
Brac hurries over. “That’s our signal to run like the demon Kur is after us.”
Deven lifts the tapestry of Anu. A lit torch waits in the passageway. Brac plucks the torch from the wall, and Deven takes my hand. We chase after Brac, staying in the surrounding puddle of torchlight. The tunnel quivers. Chunks of dirt fall from the ceiling and the walls.
Deven drops my hand. “Run!”
I sprint after him. Clods of dirt plunge down around us, and swirling dust obscures the grayish tunnel opening. As Brac hurtles through a curtain of raining rocks, the torch is smacked from his hand. The tunnel seals closed behind us, crushed under the weight of fallen land. We roll downhill, away from the spray of soil, coming to a stop near the riverbank.
Before I can rise, a quake carries up from the ground. I look up and see Hastin reopening the blocked tunnel with an explosive rumble. Three figures step out from the dissipating dirt cloud.
“Go!” I shout at Brac.
He runs into the river with his satchel held above his head, out of the water. Deven and I scramble after him, but a powerful gust of wind blasts us back. We land hard, my broken ribs feeling most of the crash. I shield my eyes from the contrived wind and peer up at Hastin. Anjali and Indira stand behind him.
Anjali lets up on her punishing air draft. She walks without a limp; Indira must have healed her injured leg. I stand, holding my aching side. Deven grips the hilt of his sword. Brac is out of sight, downriver, away and safe with the Zhaleh.
“Disarm them,” Hastin orders.
Anjali pats me down, and Indira takes Deven’s sword. Finally, they step back.
“Where is the Zhaleh?” Hastin asks.
“The rajah is dead,” I reply flatly. “I fulfilled my bargain.”
“The bargain was for the book.”
“You don’t want the Zhaleh for peace,” says Deven. “You want it for retribution.”
“I want the empire to pay for what it has done to my people.”
The cavern reflects the warlord’s temper. Stones from the gradient tumble down in a rocky sluice and splash into the river behind us.
“Your father would be ashamed of you, Kalinda,” Hastin says. At my narrowing gaze, he says, “Yes, I know you’re Kishan’s daughter.”
I glower at him in thanks for yet another deception. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t need to know to agree to our bargain. Everything has a price. The question is, are you willing to pay?” Hastin’s expression hardens to granite. “Kishan kept a journal,” he says. “I will give it to you in exchange for the Zhaleh.”
My breath snags in surprise. My father.
“The final passages were written during his time with Yasmin. He speaks of her and the child she carried.”
My heart overflows with yearning to read what my father wrote about me and my mother.
Hastin tilts his head back with a knowing smile. He has something that I want very, very badly. “Tell me where the Zhaleh is, and the journal is yours.”
“Kali?” Deven’s voice carries a caution.
I should not bargain with the warlord. I cannot trust him. But I want that journal.
Anjali tips her ear, listening to far-off noises the rest of us cannot hear. “Father . . . soldiers.”
“Kalinda, do we have a bargain?” asks Hastin.
Pangs of longing to know my parents run deep, but Hastin has manipulated me at every turn. I cannot allow the fate of the empire to teeter upon his word. “No,” I say.
Above us, Manas and a host of imperial guards pour into the cavern.
“Change her mind,” Hastin says to Anjali, and then he faces the oncoming soldiers and stamps his foot. Upon impact, the cavern walls quake. Rocks drop in succession from the ceiling, crushing several guards.
Anjali pulls out a chakram disk and aims the blade at Deven. My vision channels to red-hot rage. I throw my hands open and cast my inner fire at her. A blast of heat shoves Anjali and Indira off their feet.