The Lotus Empire (The Burning Kingdoms #3)

Chapter 58 Malini

MALINI

Malini was not running, but the torches were a liquid blur at the corners of her vision as she strode through the mahal’s corridors. Her guards around her were making a riot of noise—a clanking of armored footsteps—that did nothing to drown out Lata’s quick breaths, Lata’s voice.

“It would be wise to leave their punishment to Lord Narayan,” Lata said, hurrying to keep up with her, her footsteps a whisper against marble.

“I hear your advice, Lata,” Malini said, striding forward. She wasn’t running. No one could say she was running. “Be glad that I am not dragging Ashutosh in front of me for interrogation. That will have to be enough.”

“They may not be Ashutosh’s men,” Lata protested.

“They’re Saketan liegemen. They must serve a low prince.” And it was Ashutosh, of all the low Saketan princes, who had a reason to desire Priya’s death. His own liegemen had died because of her. Malini had seen the naked grief and anger in his eyes.

“Even if the low prince they serve knows what the guards attempted, or bade them to do it… this is no time to make enemies.”

“Then they should not have tried to defy my will,” Malini said. Her blood was aflame with anger.

The two Saketan soldiers were being held in a single circular room, with Sahar and a handful of guards on constant watch. The guards bowed their heads, gazes intent when Malini walked in.

“Sahar,” she said.

“Empress.”

“Summon Lord Narayan,” she said. “He must be here.”

She looked at the soldiers, bruised and bloodied, down on their knees and chained. They did not meet her eyes.

One had teeth marks on his face. Gouges where flesh had been torn free. She felt a current of emotion so intense it was as though she had left her body. If she’d been able to make her hands work, she would have slit his throat herself.

Finally, Narayan arrived, winded. He bowed.

“Has Sahar informed you of what occurred, Lord Narayan?”

“Yes, Empress. And I must beg for their lives to be spared.”

She did not answer. She clasped her hands behind her back and looked down at the soldiers.

“Will you tell me, as you have refused to tell the head of my guard, whom you serve?”

Silence.

“You will refuse to answer your own empress,” Malini pressed.

One of the men slowly—slowly—raised his head. The one with the teeth marks. He must have been in great pain. “We serve the empire,” he said. “We serve Saketa.”

Her clasped hands tightened, her nails cutting grooves into her own flesh.

“You must understand,” Malini said, back to them, her voice tightly controlled. “The witch of Ahiranya is my hostage. I took her from the yaksa. I have chosen to keep her. It is not for you to question me. It is for you to have faith that everything I do is for Parijatdvipa, and Parijatdvipa alone. You risked Parijatdvipa out of a desire for vengeance.” Her voice trembled with banked fire. “You defied the will of your empress. Of course there is a cost. Of course you will pay, and you will thank me.” She turned to meet Lord Narayan’s eyes.

“With their death, I will seek no further traitors,” she said. “No enemies. I will acknowledge all Saketa as my people, my allies, and these soldiers as traitors who turned their backs on their liegelords. Will you accept my judgment?”

A long pause. Then Narayan inclined his head.

“Cut their throats,” she said crisply, and gestured at one of her own warriors. The woman drew her sword, and did as she was bidden.

Blood pooled across the floor.

“Lord Narayan,” she said. “You will speak to Low Prince Ashutosh for me, and tell him that he remains beloved of me.”

He read the warning in her words, and the frost of her tone. He inclined his head.

“I will, Empress.”

“Good.”

She swept out.

Finally, her anger began to calm. If her good sense was a boat being thrashed on stormy waters, then the calming allowed her to finally navigate her own thoughts with a steady hand.

“Leave me, Lata,” she said. Lata was still behind her—a shadow dogging her footsteps.

“My lady…” She trailed off, then said, quietly, “Malini. I fear—”

“Leave me,” Malini said again. “Sahar will stay with me.” She should have been kinder, softer. But she had nothing but hard edges left in her—nothing but the cold blade of her anger with the heat leached from it.

Lata murmured her acknowledgment and drifted away.

Priya was no longer being held in a cell, but in a room set aside for caring for the sick. When Malini walked in, there were guards in the room. Priya had no ankle chain on her now, but the heart’s shell was still at her wrists. Her arms were scored with lacerations. Her mouth was still faintly red.

When Malini ordered the guards out, it was Sahar who protested. She protested even more strenuously when Malini told her to wait outside too.

“She wears heart’s shell, and I have my saber,” Malini said flatly.

“Empress, she’s a trained fighter.”

“Sahar, I won’t ask again.”

Finally, Sahar left. When Malini turned back, Priya was watching her.

“Your health,” Malini said abruptly, and found she had no more words. She wanted to strangle Priya with her bare hands, and wanted to weep, and wanted to gently cup her face and touch her own mouth softly to the wings of Priya’s black hair. It froze her, those conflicting desires.

“I usually heal fast,” Priya said. Her smile was thin-lipped, her eyes guarded. “But your cuffs are putting a stop to that.”

Malini crossed the room. Someone had made a haphazard effort to care for her wounds. There was a bowl of pure liquor at Priya’s side. Cloth. Malini dipped the cloth and took one of Priya’s lacerated arms.

“What did you do to those soldiers?” Priya asked.

“I killed them,” Malini said. “Stay still.”

She cleaned the wounds. Priya didn’t hiss or wince. Her arm was very still in Malini’s grip, her skin a little cold, and abraded, and so familiar.

“Turning your guards away, killing soldiers, visiting me… I’m leading you astray, Malini,” Priya said softly. “And I’m not even trying. You’re turning into a monster over me.”

“It is not monstrous to make the men who claim to serve me behave,” Malini said tightly. “It is my right and my responsibility as an empress.”

“If I didn’t have these cuffs on,” Priya said, her voice light, “I could draw one vine across the mahal. Just one. I could do it slowly and carefully… and I could slide it into your skull.” She reached out and tapped a finger to the base of Malini’s scalp. Malini’s breath caught, fury snaring it in a quick net. She flinched back. Priya smiled, all teeth. “Just here.”

“Do not touch me,” Malini said. Priya’s hand lowered.

“There isn’t a single emperor who came before you who wouldn’t have killed me or thanked one of their men for doing it,” Priya said. “Your warriors call me a monster for a reason. Maybe you should heed them and think about what your duties really entail.”

“Do you want to die?” Malini snapped, her grip tightening on Priya’s arm. “Is that why you allowed yourself to fall into my hands, to absolve yourself of the responsibility of arranging your own death?”

Priya snorted, amused. But there was still no real mirth in her eyes. Just bone-deep exhaustion, reflected in the shadows smudged beneath them. “That isn’t how I am. But it would be poetic, wouldn’t it? To let you decide if I live or die one more time.” Her voice lowered. “I put my life in your hands so many times, Malini. For faith, for duty, for pleasure. What’s one more?”

“If you want to be poetic, you’ll do me the kindness of shutting up,” said Malini. “You have no head for poetry. You never have.”

“You liked the letter I wrote you once well enough.”

“I was a fool,” Malini said. “Distracted by desires I can no longer indulge, and no longer wish to.” She met Priya’s eyes. “When I look at you I feel nothing but distaste,” she said. “Nothing but revulsion.”

Silence, as she took Priya’s other arm and cleaned that too. As she finally brought a clean cloth, untouched by stinging liquor, and pressed it lightly to Priya’s blood-red mouth.

She put the cloth down. Stepped back. She felt shaken, as if her hands had not obeyed her and were not her own. As if she had not chosen to touch Priya.

“You used to be a better liar, Malini,” Priya said.

I am a good liar , Malini thought. It is not my fault you see through me, as if every mask I wear is nothing but gauze, and my love for you a lamp.

Without another word, she turned and left.