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.
He gasps for a saving breath, his chin quivering against more tears.
Anjali ejects a sigh and stops twirling her chakram. “You never know when to lose, Kalinda.”
My instincts prickle. I back up for the trees. “Ashwin, get to the temple.”
He pivots to run, but before he takes a single step, Anjali slings a chakram at him, boosted by one of her vicious gusts. I knock Ashwin down, away from its path. The chakram whirrs off into the forest and embeds itself in a tree trunk. We scramble up, and Anjali hurls a follow-up wind at us, flinging us back.
I land hard in the snow and drop the machete. Ashwin flies into a log, hitting his head, and lies in a daze. I throw up a flame, a signal to Indah and Pons, and draw my dagger. As I stand, I notice Anjali has disappeared.
The sun has sunk, and the dusky twilight rapidly fades to dark. I scan the shadowed landscape for her. The northern winds blast, each gust stronger than the last. I cannot discern which are Anjali’s and which belong to the sky-god.
I back up toward Ashwin, and a wind whips at my ankles. I fall, dropping my dagger. Another squall lashes my back. The sting goes through my tunic to my skin. Then another strike belts me, followed by Anjali’s laugh.
She whips me again with her slicing gusts. My tunic rips, exposing my back. Another few agonizing lashes come. Welts rise on my skin. I roll over and throw repeated heatwaves to make her stop. The color of my flames starts out a lime green and steadily intensifies to emerald.
Her flaying winds peter off, and nature’s less punishing gales skim over me. Snow presses into my back and cools the pain. Where are Indah and Pons?
“Burners are supposed to be the most dangerous of us,” Anjali says, standing over me.
I reach for my dagger, but a wind pushes my arm above my head. Anjali stomps on my other arm, pinning my fire powers against the frozen ground.
“Leave us be,” I say. “Killing us will not stop Udug.”
“My father has given me everything good in my life. I do as he asks.” She leans over me and grabs my neck. “First you die and then the prince.”
The wind on my raised arm has passed. I swing it down and seize her wrist. “I’ll turn you into an ash heap first.”
“I accept that challenge.” Her powers dive inside me and squeeze my chest. She winnows my lungs, shriveling my breath and stealing my sky.
But our skin-to-skin connection goes both ways. I thread out her soul-fire, parching her. Her lips and skin dull to gray, yet she holds on.
The loss of air weakens my grip.
I. Must. Breathe.
A streak darts across my vision. Ashwin shoves Anjali off me and swings his machete at her. She lobs a wind at his weaponized arm, and it involuntarily goes over his head. While his blade is restrained, she captures his throat with her hands. Ashwin stills and shudders.
I funnel my powers into a burning ball and toss my emerald fire, now blue at the edges. Anjali’s free hand summons a wind that casts my sphere of flames into the trees.
My odd, sickly fire devours the underbrush. The northern wind picks up the embers and showers the forest with them. Sparks grow to flames that spread despite the cold.
Ashwin shoves and kicks at Anjali. He breaks free, panting, and she grabs him again. I hurl my dagger at her, burying the blade into her leg. She screams but does not release him.
I pull my second dagger, and a huge chunk of ice smashes into me. Pain bursts down my spine. I fall forward, dropping my dagger, hands deep in frost. I reach for my weapon, but flying icicles impede my path.
Behind me, Indira, a rebel Aquifier, throws her icy blades. I roll away from them, farther from my weapon. And then Indira is on me, her cold hands wrapped around my wrists. Her powers flow inside me and sing a song to my blood that entrances the rivers of my veins. She pulls, and like a tide following the moon, droplets bleed from my body.
Her powers lock me in place, like a leaf caught in a whirlpool. From the corner of my eye, I see Anjali still winnowing Ashwin. His arms turn limp, and his struggles lessen. My blood cries tears across my skin. Its irony wetness seeps into my mouth and nose. My heartbeat slows to muted thuds, and my vision dims.
Ashwin’s eyes roll back into his head. Mine start to do the same.
My inner star pierces my haze.
Indira is draining my lifeblood but also depleting the cold inside me.
I pulse my dwindling soul-fire at her, sending forth a burst of scorching heat. She tumbles off me shrieking, her robes on fire. Behind her, the forest is ablaze. Indira rolls around on the ground into the flames. The fire sweeps over her, and her shrieks and frantic movements stop.
Winded and dizzy, I climb to my knees. Flecks of blood cover my exposed skin. Dark stars sweep across my vision, blending into the sky. What did Indira do to me?
Anjali releases Ashwin, and he sags in a lifeless heap. No, Anu. No. She jerks my dagger from her thigh and tosses it, then rides a swift wind and lands in front of me. Anjali snatches my throat, and her powers crush my lungs. Having spent all my fire on Indira, I clutch the Galer’s arms with a weak, useless grip.
“I burned your father’s journals. Used them as kindling.” Anjali’s winnowing powers unfold into my limbs, siphoning out every last bit of breath. “Consider it payback for betraying my father.”
I weep inwardly for the loss of my father’s journals. I will never read his thoughts, never see my mother through his eyes. Never know them for myself.
The forest fire blazes, lighting up Anjali’s silhouette. My powers that sparked the inferno have grown wild, into nature-fire. Serpents slither in the flames.
Come to me, friends.
None heed me.
Please, I need you.
They continue their crazed overtaking of the forest. Ashwin has not moved. I will be next. Where are Indah and Pons?
I latch on to the only weapon within my reach—Udug’s cold-fire. I summon it as I would my powers. Sapphire sparks shoot from my fingers.
Anjali releases me with a shriek. I land on all fours, coughing in loose chunks of air.
Pons and Indah charge into the clearing. Both bleed from cuts on their faces. Pons aims with his blowgun and shoots three darts at Anjali in swift succession. She diverts them into the fire with well-timed gusts.
Anjali stumbles away, favoring her wounded leg. Indah stays back, the cold frustrating her powers, but Pons stalks closer. The forest fire hedges Anjali in. Pons fastens his winds into a whip and lashes at her. While I stay low, she rallies her own drafts against him.
Across the way, Ashwin has not stirred. He’s too still.
Pons and Anjali fling their powers at each other. The sky crackles. Their airstreams clash, and a clap blasts above me. Lying on the cold ground, I cover my ears. Anjali falters a step. Pons’s winds push her back to the wall of fire. Anjali emits a guttural cry and ducks. His airstream blows past her into the trees, picking up flames and pitching them into the distance.
Anjali commandeers the northern wind and flies over me. She heaves a chakram at Pons. He dodges the spinning blade, and she soars over him and Indah. He chases her with lancing airstreams. Anjali dashes into the smoke, out of sight.
Indah runs to me, scrapes across her forehead and cheeks. “We tried to get here sooner. The northern Aquifier iced the courtyard gate shut and attacked us with icicles.”
“Help Ashwin,” I croak, rubbing my hoarse throat.
She hurries to the prince. Pons comes over, collecting my daggers along the way, and helps me to the lake. Slashes from Indira’s attack run up his forearms. I rest near the icy shore, and he returns to assist Indah with Ashwin. Pons lugs him over his shoulder. As they cross back to me, a streak of white zips into the sky. Anjali takes off aboard our wing flyer, vanishing into the night.
She will return to her father and report that she winnowed the prince to death.
Anu, spare him.
Pons lays Ashwin down on the rocky lakeshore. Though he does not wake, his chest rises and falls. I send up a prayer of thanks, but we are not out of harm’s way. We have to put out the fire.
Indah reaches for the lake, but the water is trapped under the ice. My own powers are spent, and I cannot wait for them to recover. Teeth clacking, I look down at Ashwin. Stealing another’s soul-fire to increase my own is wrong, but I need my powers to stop the fire from reaching the temple.
Gods, forgive me. I touch Ashwin and tug in his white-hot light. Warmth pours into my chest and fills up my heart.
Not too much. You’ll hurt him.
But his soul-fire is so warm . . .
“Kalinda!” Indah wrenches my hand from him. After a horrified look at me, she checks him over. Ashwin is still breathing.
I have what I need.
Favoring my knee, I dash off. Heat rolls off the nature-fire, roaring with fiery serpents.
Shh, my friends. Sleep.
They rage onward to the temple, the unrelenting northern winds pushing them to and fro.
Pons runs up alongside me, diverting the smoke with his winds. “You need to send the nature-fire away.”
“I’m trying,” I say, and then cry at the flames, “I am fire, and fire is me!” I reach out with my powers, but my hands glow a cold, pale sapphire. None of my soul-fire is visible within me, only this cruel blue.
The fire is beyond my control.
“Pons, we have to get everyone out!”
We sprint through the gate, past chunks of ice from when Pons and Indah hacked their way free. Priestess Mita ushers girls out the main entry into the courtyard. Several of the younger ones know Pons, and they rush to his side. He scoops the littlest up in his arms. Healer Baka comes with more wards. A stream of girls and sisters races for the lake.
Everyone has gotten out. Priestess Mita would not leave a single girl behind.
The fire snaps closer and closer. I attempt to quell it one last time. Priestess Mita gasps at my glowing blue hands. Please, Anu. Please. I concentrate so hard my head aches. But the nature-fire will not obey.
Priestess Mita and I dart outside the gate. She rounds on me. “You’re an abomination! You brought this destruction upon our heads!”
Her beliefs about bhutas are wrong, but I have no justification. My powers did this. I started this firestorm.
Smoke stings my watery eyes. Hungry flames chew onward, the wildfire feasting without restraint. All my years with Jaya are slowly leveling to ash. Are the gods punishing me for going against the Claiming? I only wanted men, especially men like Tarek, to lose their right to these girls. I never wanted this.
A shadowy figure appears nearby on the road. Tarek has come to witness the desecration of the gods’ sanctuary. The back of my throat cramps as the fire climbs to the north tower and devours the beacon in its cinder teeth.
Anu, send him away. If you have any mercy, you won’t let him revel in my pain.
But Tarek delights in the cruelty of the night, smiling not at the fire but at me.