Yatin slides an indirect glance at Natesa. “I’d do it again.”
As would I, and that worries me. I once told Kali that sometimes the only solution for peace is war. But we are not here to fight these men or change their minds about their leader. We have come for Brac and Opal. And the sooner we find them, the sooner we can run far away from the demon rajah and his army.
17
KALINDA
I meet Indah and Pons in the temple courtyard. Night is falling, and with it, the clear sky leaves an opening for the cold winds pushing in from the north. Much of the snow has melted away, and ice forms on the puddles that remain. Ashwin arrived ahead of me. From his hard-set jaw, he is still simmering over our encounter in the Claiming chamber.
Pons hands Ashwin his machete and says, “The rebels are waiting near the lake. They wish to meet you and the kindred alone. I cannot tell how many there are. At least one of them is a Galer. I received her request to meet you but nothing since.”
The rebel Galer must be redirecting the sounds of their movements to conceal their numbers, an uncomfortable beginning to our diplomatic engagement. I draw my dagger. “I’ll throw up a flame if we need you.”
Indah nods. Her powers will not be of much use to us in this cold, but she is still an adept healer.
Why am I thinking of needing a healer?
Because someone gets hurt every time we interact with the rebels.
Not this time. Tonight, we broker peace.
Ashwin and I exit through the gate. We turn away from our wing flyer by the road, into the chilly wind, and pass through the alpine forest. A figure waits outside the tree line, in front of the frozen lake. Even from a distance, I recognize Anjali, the warlord’s Galer daughter. She wears black robes with a red belt cinched at her waist. Her ebony hair is tied back in a long, thick braid. Anjali was one of the rajah’s top four favored women in his court, but she secretly worked for her father as a palace informant. Her winds swirl predatorily around her, a convex slithering of currents. We stop a fair distance away, and Anjali lulls her gusts. I sense within myself for my powers. My inner light is faint but accessible.
“Kindred. Your Majesty.” Anjali bows, her welcoming discordant with her smirk.
“We were expecting the warlord,” remarks Ashwin. Our exhalations shimmer in the air like silver plumes.
“My father is preoccupied with matters in Vanhi. As you’re aware, the demon rajah’s army is marching there.” Anjali’s intense dark eyes strike a balance against her oval chin, and her subtle curves are offset by a slim waist. “Our informants brought us disturbing news. Would you like to hear?”
“Tell us the message your father sent you to deliver,” I reply, annoyed at her meandering discourse. Like a sidewinder snake, Anjali waits until her opponents are distracted by her indirect weaving and then strikes.
“The demon rajah is growing his powers.”
“He doesn’t need to grow his powers,” I say. “He never tires.”
“The longer he is out of the Void, the weaker he becomes . . . unless he feeds off bhuta soul-fire.” Anjali wrinkles her nose. “You know that disgusting thing you Burners do? Parching? Udug does the same, only he parches his victim’s whole soul.”
The rebels have also learned the Voider’s name, but Ashwin does not disclose if her knowledge about the Udug upholds his own findings.
“Creatures of the evernight thrive in the dark,” Anjali explains. “They’re the strongest in the shadows. Through feeding off bhuta soul-fire, Udug is expanding the powers he brought into our realm. By the time he reaches Vanhi, he will be more powerful than the demon you battled. He will be unstoppable.”
Ice radiates in my gut, stemming from the cold-fire strangling my inner light. Udug’s powers work the same way on me as they do the rest of the world.
“The Lestarian Navy is on its way,” says Ashwin, calm and focused. “With the rebels also on our side, we’ll have sufficient bhutas to defeat Udug.”
She wags her finger at him. “You unleashed the Voider, yet you need bhutas to vanquish him?”
“I don’t share my father’s hatred. An alliance with the rebels will ensure a place for bhuta Virtue Guards in the empire’s future.”
“An alliance is one answer,” Anjali admits. “But we have another.”
Ashwin boosts his chin. “And what’s that?”
“For you to die.” Anjali’s smirk widens at his flinch. “Udug is tied to you through your heart’s wish. If your heart stops beating . . .” She makes a poof motion. “He returns to the Void.”
My powers hum just below my skin. “Your theory is unfounded.”
“We won’t know until we try. Your Majesty?” Anjali leers at his title. “You unleashed Udug. Do you have the courage to send him back?”
I step in front of Ashwin. “The prince won’t forfeit his life.”
“My father told me you’d say that, which is why for every hour the prince lives, one of the palace prisoners will die in his place. The warlord will start with your favorites. Your rani friends, Parisa and Eshana. Or maybe your servant, Asha. No, it will be Shyla, the one with the baby. She has a little girl, I believe.”
Anjali’s threat wrings me breathless. I raise my dagger to slice away her sneer, and she summons a wall of wind between us, halting my opening to strike her. Satisfied that I cannot touch her, she twirls a chakram—a circular throwing blade—around her wrist and switches her gaze to Ashwin.
“Decide quickly, Prince. My father will kill a rani every hour starting at sunup unless he hears that you’re dead.”
All warmth drains from Ashwin’s pallor. He opens his mouth, his dry lips sticking together. “Are you certain this will stop Udug?”
I slice my blade in front of him. “You cannot consider this. Hastin is trying to frighten you into conceding your throne, and the only way to do that is through your death.”
Anjali laughs lightly. “Oh, let the prince die. It’s his right.”
“Quiet,” I snap. “Ashwin, we cannot believe anything she says. Hastin has the palace and he’s afraid you’ll win it back. This must be a trick.”
“But if it isn’t . . . ?” he asks.
“Then we’ll find another way.”
“Your friends will be killed,” he whispers, holding the machete at his side. “My father’s wives—my family—will die.”
My throat aches, thinking of the ranis and Asha, my servant. Hastin could kill them no matter what Ashwin does or does not do. They are innocents, bystanders in this race for power. But they are more than prisoners. Every one of them is a sister warrior by heart and deed. As such, they would relinquish their lives to protect their families and their homeland’s future.
“They aren’t the rightful rajah. You are.” I scrub away the flaking henna on the backs of my hands. “As the kindred, I’ll stand at your right-hand side.”
Ashwin sees my rank marks, and tears flood his eyes.
“Please give me the machete,” I say. With my guidance, he gradually lowers the blade. “Now let it go.” He does not, so I pry the weapon away.