22
KALINDA
A warm bath does not rid me of the scent of smoke or wipe away the ghostly image of Jaya floating in the deep. Natesa leaves me alone with Opal to go and burn my clothes. Riddled with singe marks and holes from shooting embers, my sparring outfit is a total loss.
With hair damp from my bath, I stare at my untouched supper. I should renew my strength, but I cannot muster an appetite. Longing pangs through my chest like a lost echo. Did I really see Jaya? Or did I imagine her?
I did not dream up the aftermath of the fire. All those destroyed boats. All those frightened people glaring at me and blaming me for burning down their livelihoods.
Rohan slips inside my chamber. “Where’s Natesa?” he asks.
“She’ll be right back. Why?”
He shrugs and comes to the table. “Probably nothing. Are you going to eat this?”
“Help yourself.”
He sits beside me and digs into my plate.
Natesa comes in with the empty laundry basket and spots Rohan eating my food. “That was for Kalinda.”
“I told him he could have it,” I say.
Rohan flashes Natesa a disarming grin and eats more papaya. He chews twice and then says, “I heard something strange today. Natesa, what does Yatin call you again? A nickname of some sort?”
“Little lotus,” I reply.
Rohan takes a bite of flatbread. “That’s what I thought. Would the message ‘Tell little lotus the bear is sick’ mean anything to you?”
I lock gazes with Natesa. She sets down the basket, her body tense. We puzzle through the message at the same time. Natesa is “little lotus,” so “the bear” must be . . . My insides plunge.
“Who sent the message?” I ask.
“I’m not allowed to say,” answers Rohan.
Natesa marches to him and snatches his plate away. “Tell us.”
“Prince Ashwin said not to talk about what I hear in the camps. I couldn’t find him, so I came here. I didn’t think it meant anything, honest.” Rohan reaches for his plate, but Natesa swings it away.
“Tell us everything,” she demands, “or I swear to the gods I’ll throw your supper out the window.”
“Wait! Captain Naik sent the message. The sickness has spread to the military encampment. Some of the soldiers have fallen ill. One of them has died.”
“Is it Yatin?” Natesa asks, near to breathless.
“He’s alive but unwell.”
She lowers the plate in disbelief. Two slices of papaya slide off to the floor.
Rohan takes back the dish before she drops it too. “No one’s supposed to know. Prince Ashwin doesn’t want anyone to panic.”
My nerves crackle with alarm. “Is Deven sick?”
“I don’t think so,” Rohan answers.
Natesa presses her palm to her stomach. “We have to help Yatin.”
“No, no, no.” Rohan throws up his hands. “Didn’t you hear me? No one can know I told you.”
“Who else could have heard Deven’s message?” I ask.
“Any Galer who was listening, I suppose,” says Rohan.
By now, Vizier Gyan must know the meaning of Deven’s message. Deven must be terrified for himself and Yatin. Why did Ashwin not tell me Yatin is sick or that the illness has spread to the military encampment?
“Kalinda, we have to go down there,” Natesa insists.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I reply. “Any attempt to interfere could worsen the situation.” We must find another way to help Yatin. A single solution comes to mind—but it will cost me. “Rohan, I need you to take me somewhere.”
He casts a pining glance at his food and then drags himself to me at the door.
Natesa rushes to follow us. “I’m coming with you—”
“Stay here in case Ashwin or Brother Shaan comes by. Tell them Rohan is escorting me on a walk.” I grasp her hands firmly. Natesa gnaws her lower lip. “I promise I’ll help Yatin.”
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To visit a friend.”
Indah answers my first knock.
“May I come in?” I ask.
After a heartbeat of hesitation, she opens the door. Pons is seated at a table near the hearth, eating supper with her. The intimacy of their meal causes me to pause, but neither laments the interruption. He rises without complaint. Indah trails him with her gaze as he goes into the corridor to stand guard with Rohan.
“I apologize for interrupting,” I say.
“We were nearly finished.” Indah invites me to sit with her at the table in the chair Pons vacated.
The layout of her chamber is exactly like mine. Her trident is propped near the door, and a shell necklace hangs over the bedpost. Much of Indah is still a mystery, but after today at the river, being competitors is not all there is between us. We respect each other, and that is a firm enough foundation for trust.
“Thank you for what you did. I have to admit I was surprised.”
Indah crosses her curvy legs. “We aren’t enemies, Kalinda. We’re competitors, but we’re also both sister warriors. In Lestari, women don’t turn their backs on each other.”
“Did you . . . Did you happen to see anything unusual in the river? A light perhaps?”
She drops her head to the side in question. “No. Should I have?”
“No, I, ah . . .” I push aside my memory of Jaya’s spirit. “That isn’t why I’ve come. My people are falling ill in the encampments. One of my friends, a guard, is sick. Can you spare an Aquifier to care for him?”
Indah leans back in her seat. “I’m willing to help, but the datu’s aid isn’t free. You know what he’ll ask for in return.”
“I do, and after seeing all four bhuta powers work together to put out the fire, I believe the Zhaleh will be safer with Virtue Guards. Tell Datu Bulan that once the tournament is over, I’ll go to Lestari with you and bring the book to him myself.”
Indah lays her palm flat on the table, taken aback. “I—I will tell him.”
“Do you know I speak the truth?” I ask, and she nods twice in succession. “Then you know I’ll honor my word. Please, send a healer to Yatin right away.”
“I’ll offer our services, but I cannot guarantee the vizier will accept.”
“I understand and will appreciate any effort you make.”
Indah runs her fingers up and down her water cup and studies me. “Your people in the civilian encampment saw the smoke over the city and asked about the fire. The guards told them you’re a Burner.”
I go still, my chest screwing tight.
“Your people responded . . . unfavorably.” Her voice holds no delight but sympathy. “They threw stones at the rank board to strike down your name.”
Her words wallop me like the stones my people cast. I knew this could happen. Tarek taught them to hate bhutas. Hate me.
But the people loved me. I was their champion.
I was an imposter, a treacherous kindred who murdered their rajah and hid behind the warlord’s insurgence.
I was trying to help. I didn’t mean to hurt them.
The outcome is still the same. They are suffering due to me. Yatin is sick thanks to me. I am fire, razing everything in my path.
I bury my regret and stand to leave. “Please inform me of Yatin’s condition as soon as you hear.”
“You’ve made the right decision.” Indah boosts her assurance with a taut smile. “This is best for all our people.”
I am no longer in the position to determine what is good for anyone. I have been wrong too many times. It would be arrogant of me to assume I can watch over the Zhaleh as well as four Virtue Guards. The book is better off in Lestari, far away from me.
Prince Ashwin is not in his chamber, but Opal rests on the lounge. I dismiss Rohan to finish his supper and settle in to wait for the prince’s return. Books are still scattered about Ashwin’s room, piled on every surface. I scan the religious texts and notice Enlil’s Hundredth Rani among them. A shiver runs down me, as I think of Tarek’s belief that I am Enlil’s rani reincarnated. With the revelation of my powers, I doubt our people believe I am the dead favored queen now.
I turn my attention to Opal. “When will the prince return?”
“I don’t know,” she says, sitting up and stretching from her nap. “He’s gone to request more aid for the encampments, but after today . . .” I grimace and slide my gaze away from her. “Kindred, the dock fire wasn’t your fault.”
The people of Iresh don’t think so.
“Please don’t call me kindred,” I answer softly.
Opal sighs at my back.
Ashwin comes inside and slams the door hard. “Opal, find Brother Shaan and—” He notices me, and his whole body slumps, shedding his anger. “Kalinda, I didn’t know you were here.”
“May I have a word, Your Majesty?”
His chin ticks sideways at my use of his formal title. “Of course. Opal, you’re excused.”
I wait for Opal to leave and close the door before I speak. “Why didn’t you tell me the illness has spread to the military encampment?”
“I heard about it upon our return from the river and went to the sultan straightaway. I waited two hours for a ninety-second meeting with him.” Ashwin runs a frustrated hand through his disheveled hair; he looks as though he has been doing that for hours. “Kuval refuses to increase his aid. All of his help is going to the ailing civilians. He thought that’s what I’d want.”
“Is it?”
“I wish I knew.” Ashwin unbuttons his jacket with swift jerks. “The Galers’ constant wind wards off the mosquitoes, but people are still falling ill. The death toll has risen to fifty. Children are among them.” He removes his tunic jacket, revealing a thin undershirt, and tosses it onto the bed. The jacket slides off and falls to the floor in a heap. Ashwin grips the back of a chair to steady himself. “The sultan told me he closed his border to more refugees. He says our people are safer there, but they’re my responsibility.”
I share his dissatisfaction. I hate not knowing if Brac and Mathura are all right. “Indah told me. She also said the people know I’m a Burner. They reacted as I feared.”
His voice softens some. “They’ll come around once you win the tournament.”
I find no deception in his reassurance. He believes the people will adore me, or perhaps he cannot comprehend how they could not adore me.
I pick up his jacket from the floor and hold it close. “You’re already more a rajah than Tarek ever was.”
“You will make me a better one.” Ashwin steps to me and lays his fingers over my almost-faded rank mark on my hand. “You give me the strength to stand up for myself and our empire.”
Knowing it is dangerous to hope, I push out my squeaky voice. “Did you mean what you said on the dock about setting me free?”
“You’ve been free since Rajah Tarek died.” Ashwin squares himself to me, his stare insistent. “I spent my childhood trapped in one room; I will not trap one person to me for the rest of her life.” His finger strokes mine. “I ask the gods every day why I was born into this disaster. I didn’t choose this fate either, Kalinda.”
“Rajah Tarek—”
“Chose you out of hundreds of temple wards. He could have had anyone for his final rani, but he saw something in you. Tarek may have been flawed, but in this he was completely inspired.” Ashwin’s gaze meanders over my face, savoring every feature. “All I ask is that when you look at me, you see me not Tarek.”
“I do see you, but there’s more to consider.”
“You mean love,” he replies, lowering his forehead nearer to mine. His velvety-brown eyes engulf my sight. “I have no experience with women, so I cannot convince you that my affection is real. But I can say that we will rule as equals and achieve great good together. Promise me you’ll think about it.”
His lips hover over mine, taking nothing. He has given me a choice—more than I have ever had—but everything I do leaves a ripple. I cannot tiptoe across the pond of life without leaving huge, life-changing wakes. I must stop thinking of what was or what I hoped would be. Deven let me go. I should quit holding on to something that no longer exists.
I have been running since I left Vanhi, running from Hastin, from Anjali, from my mistakes. My time running stops now.
“I promise,” I say.
Warmth fills Ashwin’s expression. He turns his head and brushes his lips against my cheek, a whisper of a caress. “I understand your heart won’t change overnight, so, for now, consider what’s best for the empire.” Fervent intent coarsens his voice. “I will do anything for the good of my people.”
A scalding tremor skitters down my spine. Ashwin’s fervor reminds me of Tarek’s. I am uncertain which is more troubling: my nightmares of Tarek or the part of him that I discern in his son.