25
Hastin and the Aquifier prepare for the ritual, cleaning the daggers and setting them in a neat row. Deven is speaking with Brother Shaan near the door. I wait on the sheet-covered table, and Brac keeps me company.
“Sorry we don’t have time for you to sweat your powers out in a hut the way I did,” Brac says. He rounds out his apology with a smile. “That was a long day.”
If he means to comfort me, it is not working. “Is this truly necessary? What if you’re wrong about me?”
“First, you know I’m not wrong or you wouldn’t be here. Second, if you would stop worrying about what Deven thinks, you would know that’s true.” I open my mouth to argue that my reservations go far beyond Deven, but Brac goes on. “Third, all Burners must raze when they come into maturity. You have waited longer than usual, so this may hurt more.”
I grimace, and Brac’s smile tenses. “I will see you soon,” he says. “When you’re a true Burner.” He steps away and tells his brother, “You should wait outside with me and Brother Shaan.”
“I’ll stay,” replies Deven. I didn’t ask him to do so, but he will not leave me alone with Hastin. Brother Shaan and Brac exit the room without him and shut the door.
“Viraji, unwrap your sari and lie on your front,” Hastin says.
I turn away to loosen my sari and lie facedown on the table. I try not to think of the meticulous row of daggers, but I can still see the cold, daunting blades shining in the lamplight. I slide an arm up near my head, reaching for Deven. He clasps my shaking hand in his steady one.
“I wouldn’t get too close to her,” warns Hastin.
Deven grips my hand harder. “She won’t hurt me.”
Staring at our linked fingers, I remember the scorch marks on the carriage floor. “Maybe you should stand back.”
Deven lets go but does not step away. Indira unfastens my blouse, exposing my spine. She wipes water down my back and cleans me with a bar of ginger-lavender soap.
Hastin’s spidery shadow creeps across the wall as he speaks from behind me. “Due to the toxins in your blood, this will be painful.”
I press my chin to my shoulder, bracing for the incoming pain. “Where did the tonic come from?” I say.
“The land-goddess did not agree with Anu giving godly abilities to mortals, so she created plants to temper bhuta powers and told the secrets of them to the brethren.”
Someone from the Brotherhood must have sent the formula to Healer Baka. She suspected that I was a bhuta, yet she spent years treating me as though I were sick. My apprehension stretches tighter, and I am uncertain if I am prepared to find out once and for all what is true.
“Once we begin, we cannot stop,” says Hastin. “Understood?”
Deven and I answer together. “Yes.”
Hastin appears in my peripheral vision. “Kalinda, shut your eyes.”
I inhale a steadying breath and follow his instructions.
“How many lights do you see?” Hastin’s deep voice has a grumbly quality, like he has pebbles in his gullet.
“Dozens.”
“These lights are the fire in your soul. Every mortal can see them when they close their eyes. For a Burner, these are your powers suppressed.”
“How many lights should she see?” Deven asks.
“When she has finished the Razing, there should be one perfect light—the essence of her soul-fire. Viraji, pick a light as a focal point.”
I concentrate on a single star in my vision, and my body heats up, as if a cinder has fallen on a bed of dry leaves. Warmth crackles through my muscles. Deven jumps back from the surge of heat, and I am so startled that I let the tiny glow slip from my focus.
“Don’t let go of that light,” Hastin commands. “Hold it like you would an oil lamp.”
I picture myself as he says, cupping the shining star in my palms. The heat of the light buzzes fast, emanating from my skin. Either the room is on fire or I am burning. I cannot decipher which. The flames are around me, on me, inside me.
A sharp pain lances across my back. I scream, and the small light pours out of me, fading away with my trickling blood.
“Good,” says Hastin. “Pick another.”
“How many times must I do this?” I pant.
“Until all but one light is gone. We must rid you of the extra fire. As it is released, the toxins will seep out as well.”
I am less inclined to select another star in my vision, for I know that agony waits, but I hold another precious light in my mind’s eye. A wildfire roars through me, blazing through my veins like they are dry brush. I hold on to the scorching light, although everything within me is shrieking to let go.
Another incision on my back. I clamp my teeth down on a scream. The pain brightens as a sun under my skin flares its singeing rays.
“Stop. Please, stop.” I dig my fingernails into the table. I feel as though I am being dipped in a pool of flames. I cannot do another. I cannot.
“She’s done,” says Deven. “That’s enough.”
“The gate has been opened,” Hastin says. “We cannot stop, or she will smolder to ash.”
Does he not see that I already am smoldering? I open my eyes to sneering shadows. Steam fills the air, blurring light into the dark. Indira swings her hands in circles and sprays a light mist to cool the room, but it vaporizes before it reaches me.
Deven bends over near my face, his brow puckered. Sweat drips off his nose, and his cheeks are red from the heat. “Kali, close your eyes.”
“I cannot.”
Urgency disbands his calm. “You must finish this.”
Tears stream from my eyes, puffing to steam before they roll down my cheeks. My chest scalds so badly that I fear someone has replaced my heart with blazing coals.
“Close your eyes and pick a light.” More calm. More urgency. “You can do this, Kali.”
I do as Deven asks, and the light explodes as I am cut three times at once. I scream, a feral cry, and buck against the table. Agony leashes itself to my spine. Hands lash me down. I have no words, only sobs that rise up from a place of anguish, like a pressure exploding from my center. The stars behind my eyes fly at me. I have no stamina to hide from them. Upsurge after upsurge strikes, each fiery whirlwind accompanied by a quick, deliberate cut on my back. Bleeding quells the firestorm, and the swells of agony shrink to waves, then ripples, until finally, the biting scores diminish from a lancing pain to a sweet release.
My body hums a steady flow of heat, but the intensity is softer, gentler now. A banked fire. A cooling pot of boiling water. A warmth that does not destroy but feeds.
A tender hand strokes my damp face. “Kali, it’s done.”
I pry one eye open and see Deven’s concerned gaze. “Did I hurt you?” I say.
He tucks his hand away, but not before I spot blisters on his palm. His mouth slides up on one side. “To touch you, it was worth it.”
I use the last of my strength to smile; then I close my eyes and drift off beneath the light of a single perfect star.
I cannot say if I am out ten minutes or ten seconds, but when I awake, my back does not burn. Across from me, Indira wraps Deven’s hand. Beside them on the table sits a mound of bloodied towels and an empty water pitcher.
“You did well,” Hastin says from my other side. I turn my head to look at him. He fingers a lock of my hair. “Tarek always had a weakness for women’s hair. Your hair is like midnight, as was Yasmin’s.”
“You knew her?”
“She was close to our previous bhuta leader, Kishan.” He releases my tresses. “He was a Burner, like you.”
“What are you?”
“A Trembler.”
I remember what I have read about Tremblers. Hastin can wield the land as a weapon. Reminded of how dangerous he is, I redirect the conversation back to Yasmin. “How did Yasmin and Kishan meet?”
“Rajah Tarek invited us to Vanhi to discuss reinstating Virtue Guards. Bhutas served on every rajah’s council up until Tarek’s great-grandfather did away with them. We were in talks about joining Tarek’s council when Kishan met Yasmin. He loved her at first sight. Neither I nor anyone else could keep him from her.” Hastin’s gaze drifts inward, remembering. “Before long, Yasmin was with child. Tarek believed she was carrying his heir, but Yasmin knew it was Kishan’s child. They knew she couldn’t hide their child’s paternity once it was born, as the infant would be a bhuta, like its father, so when Yasmin was heavily pregnant, she and Kishan tried to run away. Tarek caught them before they left the palace. He confined Yasmin to her chambers and executed Kishan. Yasmin’s grief over losing Kishan started her labor early, and ultimately, that was the end of her and their infant boy.”
I cannot believe that I have not heard of this scandal. Tarek speaks worshipfully of his first wife. I never would have guessed that Yasmin had betrayed him.
“Kishan had the Zhaleh with him when they were caught. We did not know of his death until Tarek ambushed our peacekeeping party. I was the only one to escape. Tarek held on to the Zhaleh and has hunted our people since.” The warlord’s ebony eyes, two granite pebbles, meet mine. “Yasmin foresaw that Tarek would be the ruin of Tarachand. Tarek wanted to use our powers to expand his empire. He never bore love or respect for bhutas, but Yasmin did.” Hastin holds out a dagger. “This was hers. She would want the person who ends Tarek to have it.”
He lays the dagger near my face; it is a twin to the one Mathura gave me. The turquoise hilt comes into focus, along with the gaps in Tarek’s past. His hatred for bhutas is a motivation I do not know if I can outmatch, but my alliance with Hastin is complete.
I have one more question for the warlord. “I never met my parents. Did you know them?”
Hastin shakes his head, and my hope falls like a foot stamping on my chest. If the brethren and bhutas cannot tell me about my parents, I doubt that I will ever know.
“Regardless of who they are, your parents would be proud of you,” says Hastin. “And you should be proud of your heritage.”
It’s too early to tell how I feel. One or both of my parents passed down their powers to me, a legacy that left an unseen mark but unites me with Hastin, Indira, and Brac. I may not have found my family, but I have found my people.
Brac comes in and flaps a hand in front of his face. “It’s hot in here,” he says. “Viraji, it’s time to go.”
Deven helps me down from the table. “Indira closed your incisions, but you still have shallow scratches. She says they will fade by tomorrow.”
“And your hand?” I ask.
“It will be better by morning.”
I thank Indira, and Deven helps me quickly repin and drape my sari. I strap the second dagger, concealed, to my waist. My back is stiff, and my skin feels stretched thin, but there is little pain. I am simply drained of strength. Deven supports me up the steps to the chapel.
Brother Shaan is speaking with a girl. He turns.
Anjali?
I pull up short, and Anjali bows with a smirk. My gaze bounces from face to face, seeking an explanation for why she is here. Deven is faster at piecing it together.
“Anjali is your informant?” Deven asks his brother.
Brac shrugs. “I could do worse.”
“You have, if I remember correctly.”
Brac slides his brother a knowing look. “We cannot all be with the viraji.”
Deven flushes, and I sling a scowl at Brac to silence him.
Brother Shaan hurries over. “They know the viraji is missing. You must return immediately.”
Deven helps me toward the passageway. Anjali falls into step with us. “So you agreed to my father’s bargain,” she remarks.
My eyebrows jump. Hastin is Anjali’s father? Gods . . . I study her profile for a resemblance to him, but do not find it. Still, there is one commonality they must share. Anjali is also a bhuta, probably a Trembler, like her father.
“I suppose this means I cannot kill you,” Anjali says. She purses her lips in dissatisfaction and strides ahead to Brac.
I glower after her. “Mathura said Tarek picked up Anjali off the street. How could Anjali have planned that?”
“Her father must have encouraged her to charm the rajah.” Deven shakes his head. “I should have suspected she was involved. Tarek doesn’t take in many beggars.”
Hastin’s dedication alarms me straight through, chipping into my confidence about our agreement. He has been exploiting his daughter as bait to infiltrate the palace. The warlord has no limit to how far he will go to dethrone Tarek.
“Why doesn’t Hastin ask Anjali to kill the rajah?” I ask.
“The rajah isn’t interested in using Anjali as Yasmin’s host,” Deven says. “Anjali could try to win the tournament and wed the rajah, but unless Tarek reveals the book, it wouldn’t matter how close she got to him.”
Of course. Killing the rajah is not Hastin’s chief concern; it is retrieving the Zhaleh. He presumes Tarek will reveal the book after he weds me. I shudder, my insides freezing with fright. I will worry about marrying the rajah after I secure the throne.
Deven and I step into the underground passage after Anjali and Brac. We return to the palace in good time, but Brac passes the chapel entry and continues onward. The path changes from dirt ground to stone stairs, challenging my quaking legs.
Anjali pauses at another door. “Captain, you and Brac find another way in. The viraji and I will enter here. If anyone asks, she slipped away from you. Meet up with us in the Tigress Pavilion in five minutes.”
I doubt that Anjali would have brought us this far only to betray us, but Deven hesitates. He subtly brushes his hand across the daggers hidden at my back, reminding me that I am armed, should Anjali prove to be untrustworthy. I try to hearten him with a short smile as I follow Anjali through the door.
We emerge into the south portico of the Tigress Pavilion. Anjali hustles across the open dark patio to the wall of weapons.
“Arm yourself,” she says. “Whoever finds us needs to believe we have been sparring.” I draw Yasmin’s daggers in time to dodge the khanda Anjali brings down next to my face. She grins. “Don’t look so frightened. If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead already.”
“I thought you put a viper in my bed.”
“That would be Lakia.” Anjali rotates, and our blades meet. “You’re surprised?”
“Yes.” My arms nearly buckle under Anjali’s might. Even if I were not weakened, she is stronger, faster, and more experienced. “Lakia wants the tournaments to end.”
“Not more than she values her rank. She thinks you will steal it.” Anjali kicks me in the thigh. I stagger to the wall and brace against it, recovering my breath.
“But Lakia and I are not scheduled to battle each other.”
“As it turns out, no one is. Someone planted scorpions in the rooms of Lakia’s challengers tonight. Two fell with fever. One will lose her toe where she was stung. The other lost her whole hand.” Anjali lunges at me, her braid whipping behind her. I block her with both daggers, one on each side of the sword, and hold her off. “After the injured ranis were found, Lakia ordered a bed check and found that you were missing.”
“But you said Lakia planted the scorpions.”
“No one will report her if she did.” Anjali pushes closer to our locked blades. “I heard what you said about my father. You’re wrong about him. I volunteered to come here.”
I drag the blades down, metal screeching, and back away. “You heard that?” Deven and I were whispering, and she was far in front of us.
“I hear everything the wind tells me.”
My mouth opens in surprise. I had thought that Anjali was a Trembler, but Galers hear the secrets of the wind. Hastin is cleverer than I supposed. His daughter’s powers make her the ideal informant to position in the palace.
Anjali tilts her ear into the breeze. “Someone’s coming.”
Though I hear nothing, she swings her sword. I barely block it in time. She jabs at me again, and a deep voice calls from the dark.
“Found her.”
I lower my daggers to see one of the kindred’s imperial guards in the shadows, still and expressionless.
Lakia stalks in after him and eyes our weapons. “What are you doing in the wives’ wing, Anjali?” I could never imitate the kindred’s imperious poise; she has mastered it over many years.
“Sparring.” Anjali twirls her sword with a swaggering smile. “Kalinda invited me.”
“The rajah would be very put out if you killed his viraji when no one was watching.” Lakia’s tone borders on contemptuous. “Go back to the courtesans’ wing, where you belong.”
Anjali replaces her weapon on the rack and shoots me a smirk. “See you in the arena.”
Lakia paces toward me. “That’s a unique pair of daggers.” She lifts my arm to hold one up to the moonlight. I compose my features, refusing to shy away. Her guard watches from behind her, though I doubt that he will step in to defend me. “Where did you get them?”
“They were a gift.”
“They were Yasmin’s.” Lakia’s gaze narrows. “I have not seen them since my sister tried to run away.”
“You were there?”
“I warned Tarek of Yasmin’s treachery. She was running off with his heir.”
I wrench my arm from her grasp. “You betrayed your sister.”
Lakia reaches down her side, over the bulge of a hidden knife. “No one is loyal to their sisters here.”
“What reason do they have, with you as their leader, sabotaging them from within?”
Lakia hisses like the asp she planted in my bed. I see a flash of silver by her thigh and sink into my fighting stance. She raises her knife to my throat. I tighten down on the daggers in my hands, but they might as well be empty. She could drive her blade into my jugular before I could lift them.
Her dark eyes flatten to pools of endless nothing. “I will sleep better knowing you are dead.”
“Kindred, you found her.”
Lakia looks at Deven entering the patio. He and her guard rest their hands on the hilts of their swords. A game of intimidation. Lakia sneers and lowers her knife. I keep mine firm in my grip and start toward Deven on tottery legs.
Lakia blocks me. “I will find out what you were doing tonight. There are no secrets here.”
It takes all of my self-control to harness my fear. I level her with a chilly stare and then skirt around her, calling back over my shoulder, “The palace may have a shortage of sisterhood, but it has an endless supply of secrets.”