We descend to the courtyard and land in the sparring ring. I breathe in the trees and clouds, the crisp air filling me up. I have missed the wholesome scent of the mountains. Indah jumps down from the wing flyer and staggers for the corner of the courtyard. Halfway there, she bends over and retches. Our landing must have unsettled her stomach. I climb off after Ashwin and Pons and make a move to follow her.
Pons waves me back. “I’ll check on her.” He goes to Indah’s side and holds her hair up. An ache digs into my breastbone. No matter what Admiral Rimba has against them being together, they deserve whatever happiness they wish.
A petite, hunched old woman occupies the open temple doorway. An oil lamp illuminates Priestess Mita’s wizened face and gray hair. I can feel the weight of her glower from here. She does not know why we have come; she simply has never liked me. She favored Jaya. I should have known my returning as a rani still would not win her over. Ashwin starts for the priestess, and after a weary sigh, I go too.
“Rajah Tarek?” Priestess Mita whispers.
Ashwin flinches, as he does every time someone mistakes him for his father.
“This is Prince Ashwin,” I correct.
Priestess Mita dips into a bow. “Pardon my error, Your Majesty. Where is Rajah Tarek?”
“He was killed,” Ashwin answers levelly. He bore no affection for his father in life and is not hypocritical in his death. His aloofness is in part to shield me, for I ended Tarek’s reign. Ashwin is one of the few people I entrusted with the truth of his father’s demise.
“My condolences.” Priestess Mita ends on an awkward pause while examining my trousers. “We’re honored you’ve come home, Kindred Kalinda. Who are your companions?”
I glance across the courtyard. Indah has finished retching, and Pons is walking her slowly over to us. “Indah and Pons are visiting from the Southern Isles.”
The priestess straightens from her hunch. “Foreigners?”
“Friends,” Ashwin amends. “They’re welcome in the empire.”
We leave off that they are bhutas. Priestess Mita still believes Tarek’s warped fallacy that bhutas are soulless demons of the Void. She does not know I am a bhuta, or a Burner, the rarest and most feared of my kind.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Priestess Mita recognizes her rudeness at leaving us out in the cold. “If you would please, I’ll escort your party inside. We reserve the lower floor of the temple for honored benefactors. Our wards live separately on the upper floor. You understand that we must protect our daughters’ innocence.”
I seal off a flare of anger. Protect them for what? To stand naked and blindfolded in the Claiming chamber before a strange man—an honored benefactor—and let him look them over like prized sheep?
Seeing my grinding jaw, Ashwin takes my hand. “We understand,” he says. But does he? “Thank you, Priestess.”
She sniffs, dismissing my show of temper, and leads us down the stairway alongside the cliff to the lower entrance. Indah and Pons catch up as the priestess ushers us inside. I scarcely viewed the benefactors’ chambers the day I was claimed, but they are not as lavish as I recall. At the time, the gold-leaf furniture, silk draperies, and brass lamps were extravagance beyond my imagination. My own quarters were cramped and plain, the colors drab as the stone walls encasing them. Now that I have experienced true affluence and luxury, I notice the patched holes in the draperies, the flaking leafing on the dinged furniture, and the faded bedspread and stringy tassels. These accommodations are far below the prince’s privilege.
Ashwin smiles at the priestess. “This will do nicely.”
“Do you have a room for us?” Pons asks. Indah leans against him. I was wrong about her being queasy from the flight. She must have fallen ill.
Priestess Mita scowls at them. “Though we’ve never allowed outsiders to stay here, we’ll make an exception for the prince’s companions.”
I step forward to defend my friends, but Pons answers. “Your hospitality is appreciated.”
The priestess snubs him with nary a glance. “Kindred, your companions must remain out of sight from our temple wards.” She means Pons and Indah. She cannot keep me locked down here. “As should you, Your Majesty. You’ll find everything you need in your chamber. One of our sisters will bring your meals. When would you like the recipients of age shown to you?”
“Shown?” Ashwin questions.
“He hasn’t come for a Claiming,” I snap. On the temple floor above us, girls of all ages, from infants to eighteen-year-olds, train to become whatever their benefactor claims them for. The girls of age are shown to the benefactor so he may select those he desires.
Priestess Mita’s confused gaze bounces to me. “Then why have you come?”
“The prince wanted to survey our temples,” I say. “I offered to accompany him.”
“But you didn’t bring our supplies.”
“No,” I start hesitantly. “We weren’t aware you’re expecting a delivery.”
“We haven’t received goods or necessities in over three moons. Surely the brethren must know of our shortage. I’ve sent them several letters.”
The Brotherhood temples send a supply caravan every other new moon. They must have stopped once the rebels infiltrated the imperial city. With the empire in disarray, the Sisterhood temples have been forgotten. The Samiya temple is the farthest away from Vanhi and the most secluded. They must be running dangerously low on reserves. Except for a garden that is now snowed over, the sisters and wards are dependent upon the generosity of benefactors, who provide food and clothing in exchange for the privilege to come and claim wards.
“We were unaware of your circumstance,” Ashwin says. “I’ll remedy your shortage of supplies in haste.”
I cannot puzzle out how he intends to fulfill his pledge, but his swift assurance appeases Priestess Mita.
“Will you please show us to our chamber?” Pons asks the priestess. Indah has not spoken since we landed. She sways some on her feet, her pallor worsening by the second.
“Right this way.” Priestess Mita bustles to the door that leads to the corridor.
Pons lags back. “Can we trust her, Kalinda?”
“She may be rude, but she won’t harm you.” I rub Indah’s arm. “Go rest.”
They follow the priestess out, and a thought strikes me. I need another room as well. This chamber has only one bed. Priestess Mita must assume Ashwin retained me as his kindred. Sleeping in the same chamber with him would be disastrous. I need only catch a chill during the night and seek out his comfort . . .
My throat heats to an itch. “I’ll ask Priestess Mita for quarters of my own.”
“No need for that.” Ashwin runs his finger over the mantle and comes away with a clump of dust. “You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.” He lowers to his haunches and stocks the hearth with kindling. “Did my father board in this room when he last visited?” His simple question carries a strained undertone.
“He did.” I met Deven in the corridor outside this chamber. How different my life would be if he had been a benefactor and claimed me instead. Or had I never been claimed at all.