The Lotus Empire (The Burning Kingdoms #3)

Chapter 47 Priya

PRIYA

After the dream, she thought of the stone knife constantly. Malini’s new weapon.

It had extinguished her powers when it had touched her. She knew what that meant.

Malini could fight the yaksa without burning herself. Malini could fight, and Priya…

Priya was going to throw herself into the hands of fate.

The yaksa awakening in Alor was a sluggish heartbeat in the base of her skull: a slow, sullen, dreaming creature, roiling under soil. She tried to ignore it as she gathered the temple children and told them to climb the Hirana. “Not to the top,” she said. “Just until the height of that ribbon.” She gestured at the ribbon she’d tied a tree’s height up the Hirana, on the outstretched arm of a carving.

“I don’t want to climb the Hirana,” Pallavi said in a wobbly voice. “I’m frightened of it. What if I fall?”

“Then you’ll get back up,” said Priya. “Or I’ll catch you.”

“What if you miss?”

“I won’t miss,” said Priya.

Pallavi stared at her. Then she pointedly sat on the floor.

Priya sighed.

“Come on. It’s the only way you’ll learn.”

“Maybe we need an easier task,” Ashish said, his hands on the younger child’s shoulders.

“You need to do this task,” Priya snapped.

“We don’t want to—”

“That doesn’t matter.” Priya knew her voice was harsh. Some of the children flinched. “You don’t want to listen to me? There are so many things worse than me. Some of them are yaksa, and some of them are people. The empire wants us dead, and our own gods don’t care if we live or die. Our own gods want to put you to a test that could kill you. But I want to teach you so that you’ll survive. So what are you going to do?”

Silence fell.

“They’re going to make us go through the waters, aren’t they? The yaksa,” said Ashish eventually.

“One day,” Priya said. “Yes, they will.” Deep breath. “I was always told you need to be strong to survive the waters. I don’t know if that’s true. But it’s all I can teach you to do. You have to try to climb the Hirana. You have to try to scrape away your fear. You have to be brave. It’s the only power you have. Please.”

Another silence, and then Ashish stepped toward the Hirana and began trying to climb.

She caught him with vines as he fell.

“Try again,” she said, thinly.

They didn’t know this, but this was the last time she could help them.

She thought of Mani Ara, and her fate, and theirs, and felt dread coil in her belly. A snake. A poison that lived in her.

Rukh was feeding Padma a mash of lentils and rice in the kitchen courtyard. She crouched down next to them.

“Rukh,” she said. “If you ever have a chance to leave Ahiranya, take it.”

“Hi, Priya. I’m fine, Priya.” He shook his head absently, wiping Padma’s face clean even as she wrinkled it in protest. “I’ve never been anywhere else,” he added. “Ahiranya’s my home.”

“Do it for Padma’s sake, then,” she said.

She thought he’d ask questions. Instead, he raised his head and looked at her… and nodded. Eyes piercing, too understanding by far.

“You’re going to Alor?”

“Today.”

“Come back safe,” he said quietly. “I’ll take care of everyone while you’re gone. I promise.”

She, Ganam, and their followers went to the bower of bones and stepped onto a new path. The first path she’d dreamt of.

The path that smelled of salt didn’t lead to the sea but to one of Alor’s churning rivers. Light flecked the water, and fish were leaping from its wild surface. A few fighters laughed with delight at the sight. She looked into their faces and felt her own heart lighten at the sight of their joy.

They walked across Alor. It reminded her a little of Saketa’s vast green and gold rolling landscape. But unlike Saketa, Alor was lush, with dark soil and rich fields, vast rivers snaking across the landscape. The trees curled into the water, deep roots coiling into the silt.

As they walked, she teased Ganam—tugging a smile out of him, and then laughter.

“Let me show you how to make paths,” she said, nudging her shoulder against his arm. “Go on.”

“That seems like a thrice-born skill to me,” he said dubiously, squinting against the sunlight.

“It isn’t,” she insisted. “Now that I’ve learned it, it’s pretty simple.” She reached for him in the sangam—half in the waters and half in the world—and began to show him the trick of it.

Their joy dimmed as they passed fields cut through with rot. They saw villages shuttered and abandoned. Priya saw a few emaciated, hollow-eyed figures in the distance. They ran when they saw the Ahiranyi.

This was the world the yaksa were creating.

Priya looked at the people around her.

This was the world they were creating.

Night fell. They made camp, the warriors asleep around them.

Priya took herself to the very edge of the camp, far enough away that she felt near enough to alone. She settled on the ground.

Ganam soon followed after her.

“Are you all right, Priya?”

“I need you to listen to me,” Priya said. “I’m going to be maudlin and you’re going to have to be patient.”

“I think I can do that,” Ganam said. He sat on the ground beside her.

“Is someone on watch?” Priya asked.

“Yes,” said Ganam. “You can just talk.”

“I’ve hidden vials of deathless waters,” she said. “In Bhumika’s study, and in Kritika’s old rooms. Ruchi’s already used three, and I know that a few more fighters have drunk waters broken from the source. They’re going to need it, and it’s only a matter of time before the yaksa realize they can control all of us by withholding the waters from our people. So keep the vials hidden. Use them carefully.”

“Priya.” His voice was urgent—aware. “What are you trying to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Teaching me how to make paths, giving me vials of deathless water… Is something going to happen to you?”

She didn’t want to answer him.

“I grabbed the knife the Saketans used to stab you,” she said instead. “I buried it near the bower of bones. You’ll be able to find it easily—I marked it with ashoka blossoms. If you ever need to fight another temple elder or once- or twice-born, or someone who drank the waters, or a yaksa, you’ll find it useful. It has some kind of magic it in that stops our own.”

“Priya.”

“I’m leaving,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

A pause. His voice was low.

“Like Bhumika left.”

“No. Maybe.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why or how Bhumika left. I don’t know if she’s even alive anymore. But I’m leaving because if I stay, the yaksa will win and we’ll die.” She clenched her hands into fists. Grounding herself. “I need you to take care of them all when I’m gone,” she said. “The children. Our fighters. Everyone.”

“Priya.” His voice was harder. “I can’t let you do that.”

A deep breath left her. “You can’t stop me, Ganam.”

“The yaksa won’t let you go,” he said. “And… shit, Priya. I’ll be honest. We all need you. What would they do without us? Without you?” His voice softened, cajoling. “Don’t do anything stupid. Please. Let’s talk about this.”

“Fine,” she said. “Let’s talk.”

She told him what Mani Ara intended for her. She told him what the world would become.

He listened, and under moonlight she saw his face grow grayer and grayer.

In the end, he said, “What do you need from me?”

“I need to make it clear that you’re loyal,” she said. “That you didn’t help me.”

She bound him by the legs and throat to a tree with thick roots. “The others will find you in the morning,” she muttered, working. “By then I’ll be gone. As far as they’ll know, you’re loyal to the yaksa. And that’s what the yaksa will know too.”

“Where will you run to?” Ganam asked, watching her. “Where can you go that the yaksa won’t find you?”

She shook her head. “It’s better you don’t know.”

She tightened his bonds.

“I’m not going to awaken the yaksa sleeping in Alor, and neither are you,” said Priya. Then she leaned back and swallowed, reaching for the iron in her spine. “This is going to hurt,” she told him. “I’m going to break a bone. If you’re too injured to move through Alor or go through the deathless waters, it will give you time. And save your life, I hope.”

His mouth thinned into a grim line.

“Give me a cloth to bite on,” he said. She grabbed one. Pressed it between his teeth.

“Build paths,” she urged, circling his arm, upper and lower, with her hands. Gripping him firmly. “Build them secretly. Make them small. The yaksa won’t notice immediately—there are too many paths already for that. And then help our people get out. If they want to run, help them run. I know it’s a lot to ask for. I’m so sorry, Ganam. But you and I, we’re all there is.”

He nodded as far as his bonds allowed. Do it , his eyes said.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

He fainted when she broke his arm.