The Lotus Empire (The Burning Kingdoms #3)

Chapter 42 Malini

MALINI

Malini heard the howl when the news came. A single wail of grief carried across King Lakshan’s court, making heads turn. She rose from her seat and made her way across the court toward the entrance.

Beyond the doors, on the vast entrance staircase, two men kneeled. They were clutching each other, foreheads pressed together. One wore the garb of a Saketan liegeman, but ripped and bloodied almost beyond recognition; the other was Low Prince Ashutosh, in his usual finery. He was weeping. As she watched, he howled again—a wretched, impossible sound of grief. He was holding the shoulders of one Saketan soldier tight enough to make his own hands mottle white.

One liegeman. Only one. She understood instantly that the rest were dead. Her stomach plummeted.

The weapon Rao had brought her was useless after all.

The disappointment was so intense she could have screamed.

But the liegeman was standing. Wrenching away from Ashutosh and stumbling toward her, where he fell back to his knees.

“It worked, Empress,” the liegeman was saying, his face bloodied and streaked with the aftermath of tears. “The weapon works. My brothers died to test it. But it works.” He lowered his own sword to the ground and then lowered himself, bowing his head to the stone as a roar of noise exploded from the watching courtiers around them.

Malini felt weightless. She lowered herself with the man. She raised his chin with her hand, astonished at herself, at the way her hand did not even tremble.

“Tell me everything,” she said.

A battle. A single Ahiranyi man leading them astray. A knife in him. And then—

Priya.

The liegeman had seen Priya, even if he hadn’t known her. Some of the other liegemen had recognized her, and threatened her, and even softly cajoled her.

She’d killed them all.

“She didn’t look human, Empress,” he said, in the private room she’d ushered him into. Behind him, leaning against the wall, Ashutosh listened without moving, barely even blinking. “The Ahiranyi are truly monsters.”

He’d brought back all the weapons he could find. He wanted to return to the place his fellow liegemen had died, but he was afraid. Priya had buried the remains of his compatriots. He wanted to see them respectfully, properly burned.

“Empress,” Sahar said. “If I have your permission—I’d like to help find and burn the dead. Make sure they get their proper rites.”

“Of course,” Malini said. She gave Sahar a considering look. Sahar’s eyes were red, her mouth thin. “Are you well, Sahar?” Malini asked gently.

“I knew one of the soldiers who died,” Sahar said. Her voice thickened. She cleared her throat. “Romesh. He served Low Prince Ashutosh. We—we were friends.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Malini said. She placed a hand on Sahar’s arm, then released her. “Go. Rest for a while. I will stay here. The other guards will stand at the door and protect me.”

Sahar nodded shakily and left without protest.

Malini turned back to the liegemen—and met Ashutosh’s eyes, over the liegeman’s bowed head.

“Low Prince,” she said. “I am sorry for your loss. Your men were brave.”

He looked back at her. His eyes were red-rimmed.

“Our liegemen are not simply soldiers to us, Empress,” he said. “In Saketa, they grow up alongside their highborn, sworn at birth. My men were more than family to me. When they first became infected with rot, I told them they would always have a place at my side. ‘You wear my liegemarks,’ I told them. Those meant something to me, and to them.” His voice was rich with grief. “One of my men begged me for this task, Empress. He knew you ordered for the Ahiranyi to be brought in alive, and he wanted to make sure that would happen. He liked the Ahiranyi witch. He believed there was good in her. And I agreed.” A bitter, trembling twist to his mouth. “Look what price he’s paid for his foolishness. I cannot make sense of my own loss. I feel like I’ve lost myself.”

He crossed the room and placed a hand on his surviving liegeman’s shoulder. It was gentle.

“I am glad your heart’s shell has power,” he said to Malini. “But next time, I beg you—kill the Ahiranyi before they can kill us. Order the witch’s throat cut. I deserve her blood. My dead liegemen deserve her blood.”

Priya, dying in dreams. Priya, a water-drenched dream in her arms, speaking of loneliness. Priya, kissing her.

It was there, staring into Ashutosh’s red eyes, that Malini finally acknowledged the truth of herself: She could not kill Priya. She hated Priya and she wanted her and she hated wanting her. She wanted Priya to stop existing but couldn’t live in a world where she didn’t exist. Perhaps it was the cruel magic that bound them that made it so, but Priya was not simply a part of her that could be burned away.

She wasn’t going to use the heart’s shell to kill Priya. She was going to use it to claim her.

“I will do what is best for Parijatdvipa,” Malini said. “Always.”