23
I dine alone in my chamber and then send my supper tray away with Asha for the night. The palace is still crawling with guards on high alert, but the Burner will come. He must, or we will run out of time.
I sketch to calm my mind, but I find myself mulling over what lie to tell Deven. I do not know how I will hide this from him, but I have to try. He will not understand what I must do.
“You draw beautifully.” Deven sits beside me on the bed and looks at my drawing. “Where is this?”
“The meditation pond in Samiya.” I shut the sketchbook, feeling foolish. “I don’t know why I thought of it. I will never see it again.”
“You don’t know that.” Deven takes the sketchbook from me and reopens it. He flips through the pages, pausing on a portrait of the fire-god, Enlil, that I drew last night after the Burner left. Less is known about the fire-god; his history is shrouded in smoke. So I drew him obscured in a haze, but I could not get his ember eyes correct.
I take back my sketchbook and set it out of Deven’s reach.
He grips his knees and looks down at his hands. “I have been thinking about us since I last saw you, and I have decided it would be best for us both if I request to be reassigned at the conclusion of the tournament.”
His words take a moment to hit me, and then I fall back into the mound of pillows. “Earlier you said—”
“I was impulsive and selfish. I shouldn’t have misled you. I’m a soldier. This is what the gods want of me. And you”—he looks up at me with a mix of wonder and regret—“you are fated to be rani. I won’t stand in your way.”
“But you aren’t in my way. You’re my only safe place in the world right now.”
“I cannot be anything to you, Kali.” His fingertips dig into his knees. “I cannot watch you wed him. I cannot escort you to your husband’s bedchamber night after night. I cannot protect you from him.”
I steel my tone. “You chose to stay and guard me.”
“I shouldn’t have. As your guard, I should be able to do all that is required of me, but I cannot separate how I feel for you from my duty. I cannot be what you need.” His voice breaks with the admission. “I will see you through the tournament. Once it is over, please don’t ask me to stay.”
His plea strikes me breathless. “Of course I won’t ask you to stay. I want . . .” I soften my overwrought voice, my insides tumbling apart. “I wish you every happiness, Deven.”
His chest rises and falls in uneven levels. “And I, you,” he whispers.
The Burner steps in from the balcony. “Dearest brother, still sacrificing your own happiness for the betterment of the empire.”
Deven springs to his feet and draws his khanda. His jaw goes slack. “Brac?”
The Burner bows. “I have a meeting with the viraji.”
Deven’s attention flings to me. “You spoke to him?”
“You know him?” I rejoin, mirroring his shock.
Brac presses a mocking hand over his chest. “I’m wounded,” he says to Deven. “I thought you would have told her about your dead younger brother.”
“Half brother,” Deven says sharply. “And if you haven’t noticed, you aren’t dead.”
Brothers. My gaze bounces between them. They have the same slope to their nose, but otherwise they look nothing alike. Brac’s coloring tends toward copper, and he is wiry, whereas Deven is robust, but I see pieces of Mathura in both of them. Deven has his mother’s large dark eyes, and Brac has his mother’s bright, wide smile. But it is what I cannot see in Brac that astounds me. Deven’s brother is a bhuta.
“You’re a traitor,” Deven pushes out of a tight jaw. “You pretended to be a soldier, but you worked for the warlord. You knew the Galer planned to attack. That’s the only way you could have survived.”
“Just as well.” Brac’s eyes burn tawny in the low light. “You left me for dead.”
Deven steps back from the blow of this accusation. “You betrayed our troop. You let me think you had been killed. Kali mentioned that the Burner she met had golden eyes, but I didn’t want to believe you would do this to me.”
“I did no worse to you than you did to me. You could have tied me to the boulder, but you chose to save the rajah.” Brac approaches Deven’s extended blade, undaunted. “All my life, you refused to see what I am. When I miraculously recovered from my fevers, you never asked me how. But you must see Tarek’s corruption, his brutality, his lies. You cannot be that blind.”
Deven steps forward and skims the tip of his khanda across Brac’s breastbone. “I see a coward hiding in the palace and a demon placating a guard.”
“Lower your sword, and we will see how good a guard you are.”
“Stop.” I step beside Deven. He does not have the heart to end his brother, but that does not mean that he will not hurt him. I look to Brac. “I accept your bargain.”
“What bargain?” Deven demands, voice rising.
“She hasn’t told you?” Brac grins. I wish that I could cover his mouth with both my hands as he says, “The viraji is a bhuta. A Burner, to be precise.”
Deven’s eyes broaden in disbelief. I am unable to utter a defense, not even to tell him about my fevers, which it seems Brac also suffered as a child.
Deven sputters out a reply. “Kali isn’t a—”
“I assure you she is exactly as I say.” Brac scoffs at his older brother. “You accuse me of hiding in the palace when you escorted her, a bhuta, here.”
“You aren’t hiding now,” Deven retorts. “One shout and you will be stoned by dawn.”
Hilarity drops off Brac’s face. “And the viraji? Will you turn her in too? Your cold loyalty is undiscerning, but I thought one Burner in your life would be worth sacrificing your damnable obligation for.”
“Brac.” I glare a warning. This is not about their broken brotherhood but his claim that I am a bhuta. “You have not proven what I am.”
“I will as soon as your tonic dosage wears off.”
“That isn’t until sunrise.”
Dawn is hours away. I doubt that these two could last that long without pummeling each other.
“The quicker solution is you raze,” says Brac. “We let your blood.” My cheeks sap of warmth. Deven rises to his entire intimidating height, his hands tightly gripping his sword. “Sounds unappealing, doesn’t it?” Brac adds with a humorless smile. “But better I cut you than the rajah. I won’t bleed you dry.”
“I will slice your head off before you touch her,” Deven growls.
“Are you certain you don’t want to be with her, brother? You’re clearly smitten.” Brac sends Deven an infuriating grin and then turns to me. “Razing, or letting your blood, is the safest way to release your suppressed powers. It will take an hour. Two at most. We have to leave now if you’re to return by dawn.”
“No.” Deven levels his sword at his brother. “Kali, he cannot be trusted.”
“And she can trust you?” Brac counters. “You will turn her in.”
Deven jolts, affronted. “I will not.”
“Without our help, her powers will destroy her. This is the only way she will live.”
Brac’s avowal echoes what I have read in Bhuta Origins. Without the tonic remedy to lower my fevers, my powers will turn on me faster than any stoning mob. Razing sounds worse than drinking a thousand vials of tonic, but if it does what Brac claims, I will never need the tonic again.
“What do you want from her in return?” asks Deven.
Brac’s expression closes off. “The warlord will discuss the bargain with her.”
Deven jabs the khanda at him. “Not good enough.”
I insert myself between them before Deven takes off his brother’s head. The warlord may want something from me badly enough to help me overcome my fevers, but I need something from him as well. “My agreement stands.” I avoid looking at Deven. “I will come with you and—and raze. In exchange, you will help Jaya escape from the palace before the tournament ends.”
“Done. I swear on Anu you will be safe.” Brac ends his vow with an earnest look at his brother.
Deven lowers his sword in defeat. He must be wondering if it is true, if I am his enemy. I touch his tensed arm, searching for understanding. He does not pull away, but his answer is definite. “If you go, you go alone.”
Indecision tears at me. He is my safety, my place of peace. I want to crawl into his arms and surround myself in his goodness, but I cannot ask him to betray the rajah any more than I can force him to stay on as my guard. I run my hand down Deven’s arm, knowing he will likely never forgive me. “Do what you must,” I say, “but know that I must go.” Fighting every inclination to stay near him, I start toward Brac.
“Kali, please.” Deven’s desperate gaze reaches out for me. “You cannot trust them.”
Brac leans casually against the wall. “I wager I can change your mind about that.”
Deven’s expression chills. “You’re nothing but a dead man pretending to be someone I used to care for. What makes you think anything you say could affect me?”
“Mother is going to be killed,” says Brac. My heart drops like a stone, and Deven’s attention intensifies on his brother. “In the story of Enlil’s Hundredth Rani, any surviving courtesans were drowned. Our informant in the palace learned that Tarek plans to kill Mother and the rest of his courtesans according to the tale. He believes it is fate.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. “Why? His courtesans are a sign of his power.”
Brac’s lips angle downward. “Tarek fears the wrath of the gods if he doesn’t reenact the tale. That’s why you’re fighting in the tournament despite his adoration for you. He needs you to play your part.”
My mind whirls back to a sickening memory. The day I first arrived at the palace, Tarek spoke of me playing a role.
“Your informant is lying,” says Deven. “You are lying.”
“For what purpose? Mathura is my mother too.”
Deven crosses the chamber in four strides and shoves Brac against the wall. “Do not speak of Mother. She mourned you. She still mourns you.”
Brac pushes him off. “I lost my family too.”
“You chose to lose us.” Deven circles away, fuming.
I watch him from the corner of my eye and ask Brac, “When?”
“The morning after the wedding, the courtesans’ wing will be emptied,” Brac says. He appeals to his brother next. “If you still don’t believe me, come with us, and you can hear it from someone you trust.”
Deven glances my way for an explanation, but I do not know who that trusted person could be. I too am reluctant, afraid of walking into a trap. I believe that Brac cares for his brother and that he would not lead us into harm’s way. However, Brac is loyal to his people. Even with his vow, I fear his intentions are purely in favor of the bhutas.
Deven’s glare cinches in on his brother. “Does the warlord have a plan to save Mother?”
“I wouldn’t have told you about this if he didn’t.”
I plead silently with Deven to join me. Coming along must be his choice.
He nods shortly. “Fine. I’ll go along.”
Brac’s grin nearly splits his face. “Meet me in the chapel.” He walks to the balcony, leaps over the banister, and drops out of sight.
Deven turns his back to me. “Why didn’t you tell me you met Brac?”
“I didn’t know he was your brother.”
“And if you had known?”
I hold my tongue. I doubt that I would have told Deven even then.
He sighs wearily and faces me. “Are you armed?”
I pat the dagger tucked against my lower back. A useless precaution. My blade will not protect us against bhuta powers. Neither will Deven’s sword, yet he sheathes it in preparation. I let him have the reassurance of his steel, for once we face the warlord, we will be at his mercy.