“Where to now?” Yatin asks.
My sight drifts up to the palace. Whether the rebels are with us or against us depends on the outcome of Kali’s meeting with Hastin. I still do not trust the warlord, but we have a better chance of allying with him than surviving another encounter with Udug. “We’ll use the old mine tunnels to sneak into the palace.”
“Do you think the rebels are on our side?” Natesa asks, squeezing water from her braid.
“We’ll find out tomorrow. We’ll need torches or lanterns to navigate the tunnels. Let’s find somewhere close by to stay the night.”
We cross the pathway near the river and venture into the courtyard. Piles of stones litter the clearing. I pass a heap, and my belly clenches. Bits of scarlet from an imperial soldier’s uniform are buried within. The rebels must have stoned the soldiers who were taken captive when they seized the palace. We hasten between the stoning piles, across the courtyard to the tightly packed rows of huts.
The gods take pity on us. The first hut I investigate is vacant except for the rats that flee when I open the door. I enter the one-room domicile and pick up an overturned chair. Sand covers the floor and furniture. I refill an oil lamp and light it. Natesa shades the windows with blankets to seal in the glow. Yatin ducks through the low door with Opal and lays her on a straw mattress. She rolls onto the sandy linens and shuts her eyes.
While Yatin scrounges through the worn kitchen cupboards for food, Natesa brings a dry rag for my hand. She winds the cloth around my fingers and ties it tight. Yatin finds a couple of shriveled limes and cuts them up. The tangy smell carries to me, but I pass on my portion. Natesa and Yatin dine on the citrus, savoring the juice like it’s honey.
I prop the chair against the door and sit with Natesa’s dagger in my lap. We should be safe here until morning, but I trust nothing in this hollow shell of the city I once knew.
Leaning my head against the doorjamb, I fall into old habits, listening for potential dangers. My desertion from the army did not fool anyone. Even Udug recognized my passion. I rely on the orderliness and discipline of the army. The only reason I would leave for good is for Kali. Yet every time I try to force our paths together and turn my back on my oath to serve the empire, disaster befalls me and those I care about. I wish I could say what that means for us, but all I know is that I am needed here to defend what is left of my home.
23
KALINDA
We fly into the night, the mahati falcon undaunted by the dark. Glittering stars chase us, so close they promise the warmth of a thousand wishes but mock me with their unreachable light. The soul-fire I parched from Indah has long since receded, and as she cautioned me, I am colder than before.
My jaw aches from clamping my chattering teeth. Ashwin holds on to me, a rock against my tide of shivers. I thirst for soul-fire. The temptation to parch him or Tinley presses into my chest. If I move my hand to Tinley’s arm—
No. Remember Indah. I will not violate another friend’s trust.
Midway through the night, I drift off into delirium. When I wake later, night still stretches to infinity, and my shivers have stopped. I am not cold; nor am I warm.
I feel . . . I feel . . . nothing. Even the ache in my knee has gone.
Freedom from pain would be a gift, but the sudden emptiness unsettles me. My heart beats slow, a sluggish thump. I shut my eyes and search for the star in my private night. My soul-fire is so tiny, shrunken to a sapphire pinpoint, I nearly miss it.
Dreading what I will find, I hold one hand between Tinley and myself and call upon my abilities. My fingers glow blue. I wait for a shiver, but none arrives. I let the light fade. Udug’s powers have usurped my own, yet my soul-fire must still be there, buried far down inside me, or I would have perished. Or the prince’s heart’s wish is the only thing left keeping me alive . . .
I seek out the crescent moon, its silver illumination my only protection against the persistent night. I expect tears to come, to rise from a well of panic, but they, too, are frozen within me.
Gods, preserve me through the night. I repeat the plea until the sky lightens to dusky blue hues, and I utter a myriad of thanks.
The sunrise reveals grassy fields and a winding river. Chare is quick, even quicker than Tinley implied. We soar over the valley, trailing the River Nammu. Up ahead, a long line of vessels sail the waterway. My outlook brightens. We have found the Lestarian Navy. Deven and the others should be with them.
Ashwin yells for Tinley to pursue the vessels. She directs the falcon lower. Chare’s reflection zips over the river like a stream of fire. As we soar nearer to the last boat, a conch shell sounds. The sailors dash to their water cannons.
They don’t know who we are.
Tinley guides the mahati higher while Ashwin and I wave. Admiral Rimba stands atop the lookout platform on the lead vessel. He recognizes us and signals his crews to stand down. Seeing Indah’s father presses more guilt upon me. My hunger for soul-fire has passed, dulled by the numbness, but not my memory of what I did.
Chare lands along the riverbank. Tinley jumps down, and the falcon hunts for hares in the grass. I slide off and brace against the bird on rickety legs. Ashwin dismounts and rubs his sore thighs. He leaves his bearskin on to fend off the cool of the morning. The brisk dawn does not bother my already frigid fingers and toes.
The navy moors along the riverbank. Admiral Rimba comes ashore in his all-white uniform, Princess Gemi with him. She studies the large mahati falcon and her wild-looking rider with keen interest.
I scan the boat decks. “Where’s Deven?”
“His party wasn’t at the meet point,” Admiral Rimba replies, a lump of mint stuffed in his cheek.
A weight hammers down on me. Deven does not break his word. His search for Brac must have gone awry. Then why not send Natesa or Yatin?
Admiral Rimba chews the wad of mint in his mouth faster. “Where’s Indah?”
“She and Pons have gone to Paljor,” Ashwin replies.
“Paljor?” the admiral demands.
Tinley stiffens but keeps her back turned to us, giving her attention to her falcon.
“They’re safe,” I say, the last word sticking in my throat. I hope Indah is all right, but what if I hurt her more than I thought?
“Pons will look after Indah,” Ashwin says. He is so impatient to explain what happened, he misses the admiral’s granite stare. “Our meeting with the warlord was a farce. Hastin sent rebels to attack us, and the Samiya temple was destroyed. Chief Naresh saw the smoke and came to investigate. His daughter Tinley graciously agreed to fly us here. Indah and Pons have gone to Paljor to await word from Datu Bulan.”