The Lotus Empire (The Burning Kingdoms #3)

Chapter 57 Priya

PRIYA

Waiting was hard.

Malini didn’t visit. Of course there was no chance that Sima would come to see her, but Priya still felt unwanted hope shrivel in her chest as days passed with no sign of either of them.

Malini would come back. She had to see the worth in negotiating with Priya. But until she returned, Priya had nothing to distract herself from the excruciating boredom of imprisonment. She counted the links of her ankle chain, and the stones that made up the walls. She slept and dreamt of nothing at all. She tried not to claw her own hair out.

Usually, in the evenings, her guards were a man and a woman—the woman broad with a serious face, the man thinner and much more fidgety, always adjusting from leg to leg or tapping his fingers in a drumming cadence against his saber hilt. Today, as Priya sat in her corner and contemplated whether she could do a cartwheel with her leg chained, two unfamiliar guards arrived. Both of them were men.

Maybe Malini had simply changed who was on duty. But wariness prickled up Priya’s spine and made her stand in the corner of the room, cross-armed, her ankle chain snaking across the ground by her feet.

“Food,” one said shortly. He shoved the tray across the ground. The thali was full of the same uninteresting food as always: a little rice and a roti, stale at the edges; a smattering of dhal; and yoghurt that looked on the edge of congealing from heat. She crouched and took the tray.

There was an odd sheen on the dhal. Her gut churned.

She raised her head. It would be smart to simply pretend to consume it, maybe—but both guards were watching her, one standing in the room with her, the other barring the door with his body.

“Eat,” said the one in the room, his eyes and voice flat. “Go on.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think I will.”

His nostrils flared.

“Fine,” he said shortly. “We’ll do this the messy way, then.”

He strode in farther and grabbed her by the arms, pinning them behind her back. The other drew a dagger.

She didn’t pause to think. She fought like a wild creature, squirming, the chain rattling as she craned her neck back at an angle that made her spine scream, and dug her teeth viciously into the first part of the man she could reach—his exposed jaw. Blood filled her mouth, and the taste of meat, and he gave a howl of pain.

The guard with the knife was still coming toward her. Trusting the strength of the grip on her arms, she used the support to kick up her legs and catch the man not on his armor-clad chest but his exposed jaw. He stumbled back and she bit her captor harder, and finally—finally—felt the man’s grip on her falter.

Just enough for her to wrench free. Just enough for her to scramble to the door, even though she knew the chain would stop her from escaping.

She grasped the door. A hand grabbed her by the hair, dragging her back. Her face knocked against the floor—a dull thud she only managed to cushion by throwing her arm in front of her, the stone abrading it. She heard one of them fumble for a blade. Heard a grunt, and the heave of a body over her own, and knew the blade was going to go into her back—

No.

She grasped the power inside her with all her strength. Blood in her mouth, blood in her ears, a howl clawing its way out of her as she fought inside with everything she had. The heart’s shell was a fist around her wrists, her ankle, strangling her power, but she couldn’t allow it to win. Its grip on her trembled, its coldness seeping in her bones—and abruptly she pushed its strength away and found her own rushing over her.

The ground shook, throwing both the soldiers back off their feet. She leapt for the door.

One man was already scrambling up. Quick, she had to be quick. The door was open. The door bar—that long, heavy piece of metal, slotted back into place every morning and evening—was in her hands. She wrenched it out. She whirled and slammed it into the man’s head, hard enough that she heard the crack of teeth and bone.

Panic, blood, her whole body pounding. She went down on her knees and scrabbled on top of him. Key, cold metal braced at his hip. The hilt of his sword. She pocketed the key and snatched up his saber. She held it in front of her, teeth bared.

“You thought I’d die so easily?” Priya demanded. She could hear footsteps pounding down the corridor. Yells.

“Your life for theirs,” the remaining guard said hoarsely. Now that she was listening for it, she could hear the Saketan tinge to his voice. “Romesh spoke for you. He deserved better. You should have died willingly for your crimes, witch.”

Priya couldn’t step beyond the door. Her ankle ached when she wrenched at her chain. But in that moment, she realized two truths: She was not going to die right now, and she could not allow anyone to know that she had overcome the power of the heart’s shell holding her.

Had the soldier seen what she’d done? There was a starburst fracture in the stone, but his eyes were hazy with blood. Perhaps. Perhaps not. But there was no time to kill him. The voices beyond the cell were closing in, almost here. There was time to inhale deep, and draw on her magic, and smooth the ground into wholeness again. So she did.

Then, and only then, she found her voice, the fullness of it, and yelled, “Don’t hurt me! These men tried to kill me . Before you turn your swords on me, know that your empress will not forgive you if you take my life!”

Useless. They were all waiting for a chance to kill her. When they saw her standing over an unconscious guard, they would.

But there, at the head of them, was Sahar. Grim, brow furrowed—but Malini’s personal guard, and acutely aware of Malini’s orders. Sahar looked into the room. At the unconscious man on the ground, and the Saketan guard still in the cell, expression defiant.

At Priya, blood on her mouth and a saber in her hands.

“Lower the weapon,” she said to Priya.

“Not while he carries his,” Priya said, gesturing at the guard.

Sahar jerked her head at one of her soldiers, and the woman went in. The Saketan handed over his weapon without a fight. There was already a distance in his eyes. He knew he’d failed, and he knew what came next.

Finally, Priya let the saber drop. It landed with a clang.

Sahar nodded, her brow smoothing with relief.

“You,” she said to another soldier. “Get the empress. Immediately.”