“Those women know you’re a Burner, and they aren’t afraid of you?” I ask.
Brac pushes out a raw laugh. “Odd, isn’t it? I spent my whole life hiding that I’m the most dangerous type of bhuta in the world. But now that the kindred saved the empire with her Burner powers, my rarity makes me desirable.”
His buoyant voice holds an undercurrent of resentment. Brac may not need to conceal his powers any longer, but this sudden acceptance from society does not expunge the years he spent hiding in fear.
Natesa and Yatin sit on the opposite curved staircase. Yatin sports a black eye, and Natesa wears a sling for her dislocated shoulder.
“Deven! Brac!” Natesa waves us over . . . and keeps waving until we reach them. She fans out her hand to show me the lotus ring on her finger. “Yatin and I are intended to wed!”
Brac envelops her in a gentle hug. His enthusiasm may be fresher than mine, but I mean it wholeheartedly when I congratulate them.
“Yatin is inviting his mother and sisters to visit,” Natesa says, stroking my friend’s ropy beard. “He thinks they may move here to be near us.”
I envy the straightness of their path. Although Kali and I found a temporary resolution for our rani and soldier dilemma, my position in the imperial army is uncertain, as is how I healed from Udug’s fire blast. Kali accepted my miraculous recovery as a mercy from the gods, but I suspect something else shielded me from harm.
Natesa spots a courtesan up the stairway, then drags Yatin after her to show off her lotus ring to the next person.
I pause with Brac outside the throne room. “Brac, before we go in, I have something to tell you.”
“Is it how you became general? Because Yatin already told me.”
“No, it’s about Mother.” Brac rocks back on his heels, and his brow lifts in question. I hesitate to go on, but I started this conversation, and I must finish it. “I met a man in Lestari. Have you heard of Ambassador Chitt?”
“I have.” Brac brushes ash from his tunic while I mull over the best phrasing. I met your father. Or, Your father is alive. Or maybe, Mother is with your father. He looks like you. Rather, you look like him, only taller . . .
Brac barks a laugh. “Deven, just say it.”
“Ambassador Chitt is your father,” I blurt out. Brac closes off his expression, cold as burned-out charcoal. Skies, I am fouling this up. “Mother confirmed it. They met here in Vanhi. He tried to acquire her from Rajah Tarek, but he refused his offers.” When Brac still does not respond, I add, “You have his eyes.”
Brac retains his straight-faced stare—and shrugs. “Is that all?”
“Yes, I— What?”
He grabs my stiff shoulder and jostles me. “Relax, Deven. I know Ambassador Chitt is my father. Hastin helped me piece it together a long time ago. It wasn’t too difficult. Not many Burners visited Vanhi the year I was born, and Mother couldn’t leave the palace, so that narrowed down the possibilities to one man.”
“Skies alive, Brac.” I scrub the tightness from the corners of my mouth. “You could have told me. Have you seen or spoken to Chitt?”
“I didn’t feel the need to travel all the way to Lestari to meet a stranger. You and Mother are all the family I need.” He frowns at my attempt to regain my composure. “What did you think would come of it?”
“I thought now that you have Mother and Chitt . . .”
Brac grabs my shoulder again softer and gives me a companionable shake. “We’ve been brothers our whole lives. No one can change that.” He bumps his forehead into mine and grasps my neck, pressing me against him. “You’re a good brother, Deven, but you worry more than you should.”
I pat his back. “You haven’t exactly made it easy on me. The sneaking off, the women . . .”
Brac pulls away, grinning slyly. “Speaking of women, that Princess Gemi is quite a lady.”
“She likes to think she’s persuasive.”
Brac slings his arm around my neck and hauls me toward the throne room. “She seems to be working her charms on Ashwin.”
Gemi and the boy prince? The princess has better taste than that.
We stroll into the throne room. Prince Ashwin stands before the dais, hands deep in his pockets, as he stares at his father’s overturned throne. The rest of the room is in disarray, tables overturned and floor cushions in heaps. Princess Gemi waits off to the side. She sees our approach, but her attention is fixed on Ashwin.
Or maybe she isn’t choosy.
My brother and I pause behind the prince. I leave Brac near Gemi and go to him.
“Prince Ashwin,” I say, bowing.
He revolves while leaving his hands in his pockets. Exhaustion darkens the skin under his red-rimmed eyes. “General Naik. Oh, pardon me, Captain Naik . . . or is it just Deven?”
I lower my voice to extend only between us. “We should discuss that. I’ve been contemplating how I survived Udug’s attack, and all I can settle upon is that someone with power protected me.” Ashwin rakes a hand through his disheveled hair, on end from him ruffling it all night. “Kali told me the details of your heart’s wish. She said it protected her, which I can understand given your, ah, closeness. What I don’t understand is why. Why did you include me in your heart’s wish?”
Ashwin reaches up to muss his hair again, stops, and shoves his hand back into his pockets. “I envisioned you as my general. The Turquoise Palace is your home. While I . . . this place is a stranger to me. I felt I couldn’t succeed without both you and Kali. You’re unerringly faithful in your devotion to the empire.” He rests his foot on the bottom step of the dais, adjacent to the toppled throne. “Tarachand’s future would be incomplete without you.”
I believe him, and not just because I cannot think of another explanation for how I healed when Udug burned me, twice. I survived Udug’s powers the same way Kalinda did—through Ashwin’s love for the empire. I am humbled that I am included in his vision for the future. Me, a man who has struck him down, defied him, distrusted him, and generally disliked him. A man who Kalinda, the woman we both love, has repeatedly chosen over him. He may be an idealist, but his intent is pure.
“I owe you my life.”
Ashwin sighs a little. “Consider it thanks for your years of service.”
His swiftness to forgive my mistakes shames me. “I must apologize for my unruliness.” Ashwin’s gaze bounds to mine. “If you’ll still have me, it would be my honor to serve as your general, Your Majesty.” I bow as low as I would for the rajah. When I rise, Ashwin holds himself perfectly still except for his mouth, which ticks upward a tad.
“Thank you, General. I’m afraid I know little about leading our troops. They’re confused by the bhutas among us. The commanders are keeping the men in line, but I fear a revolt. What would you—?”
A wind sweeps into the throne room, startling Princess Gemi, and then Opal charges in. “Deven, Kalinda has left. She flew away on Tinley’s mahati falcon.”
“Tinley?” I ask, recognizing the name from the trial tournament in the sultanate.