I open the drawing and examine Ashwin’s face. In my rendition of the prince, shadows obscure half of his profile. Remorse and blame draw down his mouth, and in his eyes, sorrow coils. He has worn this precise expression every day since he unleashed Udug. Ashwin’s self-blame troubles me. Every day Udug roams free and unchallenged, Ashwin’s regret intensifies. The only good to come of it is that he looks less and less like his father.
Tarek never regretted any of his actions. My deepest, most painful memories originate from him—not only what he did to me but what I was led to do to him. I smothered and poisoned his soul-fire, just as Udug is doing to me. Tarek deserved to die, not only for killing Jaya, but I loathe being his monster, just as he is mine.
A sudden wind sweeps through the tower. The strong gust extinguishes the beacon and my loyal fire dragon. Cast into the dark, I feel my neck hairs prickle.
“Your drawing flatters me, love.”
I draw my daggers and jump up. My sketch of Ashwin falls to my feet. Tarek manifests in the darkness at the rear of the tower, away from the reflecting snow. More shadow than man, his grainy shape is like a pillar of sand.
Tarek evaluates the sketch, now ruined by the damp floor. “You’ve missed me.”
“That isn’t you.”
“My son, then . . .” He tips his head back, thinking over that coupling. “You’ll tire of him. Ashwin doesn’t have the same fire inside him to mold the world with as we do.”
I raise my blades higher. “How did you find me?” He must have traveled by shadows. The evernight exists beyond the light, confined to the dark. But that is little comfort at midnight.
“You summoned me, my wife.” At my instant protest, he says, “You thought of me, did you not?” I did think of Tarek, though only in relation to his son. Then again, when Tarek visited me in the Pearl Palace, it was after I thought of the demon rajah disguised as him . . . “Put away your daggers. Your blades cannot harm me.” He slides forward to the fringe of the shadows but comes no farther. “You were boorish that last time I visited. I could have chosen to ignore your summons, but as I said before, I must warn you.”
“I need no warning from you.”
“You do if you and Ashwin aim to locate the gate to the Void.” Tarek smirks at my shocked withdrawal. “Ah, yes. You are searching for the gateway. I could tell you where it is, but you must come closer.” He reaches for me, still circumventing the barest of light. “It’s been so long since I’ve touched your hair.”
My skin squirms. “You’ll never touch me again.”
“Then you will never find the gate, and without it, Udug will rove free. But I must warn you, Udug can find the gate. And should he be the one to open it . . .”
A leaden warning unfurls in my chest. Udug would only open the Void for an awful purpose. “What do you want in return?”
Satisfaction lightens his voice. “One small request, really. All I ask is that you summon me at the gate. Simply stand before the entry and call my name.”
Nothing is ever simple or harmless with Tarek, but a greater threat roams the mortal realm. “Where’s the gate?”
“Your pledge first, love.”
“Not until you tell me where it is.”
“Then you shall never know.” Tarek’s gaze strokes down my body. “You’ve always reminded me of Enlil’s hundredth rani. Does it strike you as prophetic that we never learned her name? Of all the fire-god’s wives, we learned only of her. Yet we only know of her in association to him. Her reputation lives on in infamy because she wed a powerful man. I, too, have blessed your life, Kalinda. Let me help you again.”
I swipe my dagger at his murky chest, purposely missing. “Go back down the hole you crawled out of.”
His eyes smolder, two sable pits. “Your temper will be your undoing. Udug will crush your world.” Tarek glides backward, deeper into the shadows.
“Wait!” He pauses, his lips curling smugly. I edge forward, stopping before the toes of my boots touch the gloom he dwells in. “If you care anything for your son or me, you’ll help us.”
“Doesn’t my coming here prove that I love you?” He beckons me nearer with his same vainglorious grin. The tips of my toes crest the darkness. The cold tingles, alive and crawling with tentacles. Tarek sidles up to me and grabs a handful of my hair. He lifts my locks to his nose and inhales. “Breathing you in is like drinking midnight.”
“Where’s the gate, Tarek?” His gritty hand brushes down my cheek. I force myself to remain still. “This could redeem you. Anu could forgive your indiscretions and invite you to the Beyond.”
“The Beyond will never have me. I wish to return to the mortal realm.” Tarek’s grip tightens on my hair. “Udug stole my empire, but my name and power belong to me.”
I try tugging away, but Tarek pulls harder, dragging me into the darkness. A blackout obscures me, a whirlwind of dust and grime. Rough lips slam down on my mouth. I cannot breathe or see past the filth. A rush of panic throttles me, and I drive my dagger into his chest. The blade sinks up to my knuckles into squirming quicksand.
Tarek chuckles into my ear. “Should you choose to behave and respect your husband, all you need to do is request my company, and I will come.”
His dusty form disintegrates around me, vanishing to empty shadows. I draw in gasps of unsullied night air and search inside myself for my dying soul-fire. Finding my inner flame shrunken and weak, I tremble on the precipice of the evernight.
12
DEVEN
Torches bob around Rohan and me, like large fireflies illuminating the dark. We blend in with the other soldiers fanning out through the forest. Difficult as it is not to run ahead, we stay in the thick of the hunt. But as the troops disperse into smaller groups, we break out in front of the other search parties. Soon our torch is the only one for a hundred strides in every direction. We finally arrive at the place we last saw our comrades. The leafy covert is vacant.
“Where did they go?” Rohan asks, turning about.
“I don’t know.” They were not taken. No one from camp has searched farther out than this. The torchlights must have spooked them. I would suggest that Rohan send them a message on the wind, a whistle or birdcall, but torchlights close in on us. Too many men could become suspicious of our signal or any response our friends would send.
I sweep the torch over the ground and uncover a footprint of Yatin’s boot. As a boy, he often hid from his five older sisters so they could not dress him up like a doll, or, when he grew older, saddle him with their chores. He would only leave a footprint if he intended for me to find it.
“This way.” I hurtle over a fallen log and discover another footmark every few strides.
Rain begins to patter, dampening the fallen leaves to sticky mush and filling Yatin’s tracks with puddles. The drizzle drenches my turban but does not deter the mob or hamper their determination. Torchlights press farther into the forest as the hunt goes on.
A shout comes from directly ahead. “A rebel!”
My insides vault up my throat. Rohan and I set into a run, along with dozens of other men. We come to a halt at the gathering of lights.