The Lotus Empire (The Burning Kingdoms #3)

Chapter 69 Priya

PRIYA

Priya woke in daylight with Malini beside her. It was still early in the morning, and the light creeping into the tent was pale. But Malini was dressed. Her hand was over Priya’s heart. A gentle weight.

“You’re ready,” Priya whispered. “Is it time to go?”

Malini nodded.

“Our last journey,” Malini murmured. “We’ll see Ahiranya today.”

Last journey. Malini had no idea how true that was. Priya drew her down for a single kiss.

Malini drew back. They met each other’s eyes, and Malini laughed—a real, breathless little thing, her mouth shaping into a smile. There were tired shadows under her eyes, but those dark eyes were full of wonder.

“There you are,” she said, cupping Priya’s cheek. “My Priya. My love.”

As they traveled, Priya held that moment in her mind’s eye. My Priya. My love. If she was going to die, then she wanted to hold that image close—one taste of sweetness, one last treasure to carry her through to the end of her life. It made the burden of her fate easier to carry.

The Parijatdvipan army made its war camp far enough from Ahiranya that the trees of home were a smear of green on the horizon. But Priya could feel Ahiranya regardless.

Ahiranya was waiting for her.

There were bows being strung, and weapons being sharpened. The churn and noise of an army preparing for war. But Priya had no weapons to prepare. She found Sima preparing her own bow. When Priya approached, Sima looked up at her. Paused, her eyes narrowing.

“What’s wrong?” Sima asked.

“Sima,” she said. “I need you to come with me. Please?”

She’d already begged for Sahar’s help, and the guardswoman was ready, waiting to escort them. They were led to a well-guarded tent.

The guards around the tent would not argue with the empress’s personal guardswoman, so they drew back, allowing Priya to enter the dark tent with Sima beside her.

“Be quick,” Sahar muttered as she went in. Priya nodded. She knew that Sahar—and everyone else, for that matter—had bigger things to worry about than Priya’s farewells.

Jeevan stood in the center of the tent. He looked, despite his chains, as if he were ready for war, shoulders squared. His expression and his stance softened with relief when he saw them.

“Priya,” he said, low. “Sima. Are you well? Have you seen Bhumika?”

“We’re all fine,” Priya said, feeling strangely teary. She forced the feeling away and went to him. She grasped his hand in her own. “It’s good to see you. I thought I might not again.”

“I believed the same.” His gaze turned to Sima, questioning.

“Parijatdvipa’s not been so bad for me,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve been well protected.”

Jeevan did not look like he entirely believed her, but he nodded.

“Jeevan,” Priya said, drawing his attention back. “I need to speak swiftly.”

She told him what Malini planned, and the deal she and Bhumika had made with the empress. He listened solemnly.

“What I want more than anything,” she said, at the end, “is for Bhumika to be safe. Can I be sure of that with you?”

She pressed a key into his palm. Closed his fingers over it.

“These chains aren’t so difficult to escape,” she said. Low enough, she hoped, that the guards wouldn’t hear her. “Take Bhumika somewhere good. Somewhere better.”

“She wants to go home,” he replied.

“She doesn’t know what home is.”

“You do not need memories to know the shape of home. I would not have believed so once, but I’ve seen it in her.” His hand tightened on the key. “But I will take her away from here. I promise.”

“Good,” Priya whispered. She smiled at him and released him.

Priya and Sima exited the tent. Then she scrubbed her stinging eyes with the back of her hand.

“I’m going somewhere I probably won’t come back from,” Priya said quietly. “Am I a fool, Sima?”

Sima clutched her hands. Pressed their foreheads together.

“Yes,” said Sima. “A huge fool. A madwoman.”

“You can stop,” Priya protested, laughing through tears.

“You’re a fool for not taking me with you.”

“Shut up,” said Priya. “Do you think I’ll be able to do anything if I’m worrying about you? Don’t let Bhumika follow me, either. I know she wants to.”

“And who is going to stop me from following you, huh?”

“Don’t joke,” Priya said, her voice wobbling. “I need to know you’re both safe. I can’t do this if I think you’ll come to harm.”

“The whole world’s full of harm, Pri.”

“Please.”

“Fine. I promise.” She clutched Priya tighter. As if she never wanted to let her go. “But you need to tell Bhumika yourself. You need to say goodbye.”

“I know,” Priya said. She was dreading it.

Sahar cleared her throat, and Priya finally let Sima go.

She went to Bhumika’s tent, next. One step. Another. The sun was hot on her shoulders.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t look into Bhumika’s eyes and see a stranger.

It was selfish of her. Selfish and cowardly.

She had to do it. Time was running short. Soon she would go into Ahiranya. She would take those priests to the Hirana and then she would die.

Even if Bhumika never remembered her, she deserved to know that her sister loved her. Priya owed her that.

She touched her fingertips to the curtain of Bhumika’s tent. Drew a deep breath.

And stopped. And turned.

Lata was behind her. Lata had called her name.

“I’m sorry,” Lata said. Her voice shook. “I need your help, Elder Priya. The empress is making a terrible decision. You must convince her not to.”

Malini’s guards and her maid were dressing her in armor.

It was armor built for movement—a fine and strong mesh over white cloth. She wore no jewelry now, no crown of flowers. But she was still empress—in bearing, in the fierceness of her eyes. In the way her people ringed round her, all those guards and soldiers she’d trained into loyalty.

But she was not meant to need armor. She was not meant to be going into Ahiranya. She was meant to be safe.

She shouldn’t have noticed Priya—shouldn’t have heard her—but somehow she did. Malini’s gaze turned unerringly toward her. No smile shaped her mouth. There was no softness in her face. Her dark eyes were serious, almost furious. She knew exactly why Priya was here.

“Leave me,” she said to the women around her. They left swiftly, some looking at Priya curiously as they departed.

“Who told you?” Malini asked.

“Lata,” said Priya shortly.

Malini shrugged. “Well, I knew she’d meddle.”

Priya took a controlled breath, then said, “If Mani Ara isn’t destroyed, every part of her, then this doesn’t end. Mani Ara’s strength lies inside me. Her power, her memories.” It was hard to say it, hard to face the reality of what lay ahead of her in the cold light of day, with Malini’s dark eyes looking right through her to her fearful heart. “I… I don’t want to die. But I know what I have to do.”

“Tell me,” said Malini. “Tell me exactly what you have to do.”

“I have to lead your priests to the deathless waters. And when they destroy the waters, I have to. I.” She stopped. Whispered, “Don’t make me say it, Malini.”

“You will allow the priests to kill you,” said Malini. “You will let the power they draw upon consume you too. You will burn and you will perish. I understand. But I can’t allow it.”

Malini walked to her. In armor and white cloth, she grasped Priya’s shoulders.

“You’ll come back,” she said. “With me.”

“Coming with me won’t save me,” Priya said. “It will just—condemn you too. I can’t bear that, Malini.”

“Then live. I won’t allow you to die,” Malini said, her voice low. “I have no better leverage to use against you than my own life. If you die, then I die. So you will have to live.”

“You’re mad,” Priya said, choked. “Malini. I have to do this. You understand what lies in me, don’t you?”

“What lies in me, then? I share your magic. A piece of Mani Ara lives in me too.” Malini arched an eyebrow, as if she’d made a worthwhile point instead of punching Priya in the stomach; as if she’d won. “If you must die, then I must die too.”

“The whole point of this was so you’ll live!”

“And I intend to. I intend for both of us to live.”

“Malini.”

“Priya. I have no faith in gods,” Malini said. “I never turned to the guidance of the nameless god. I do not worship the mothers as I should. Every iota of faith I have professed, I used to my own ends. For my own survival, and my own power. So visions and prophecy say I must die. So your sister’s visions dredged from the deathless waters say you must die. I reject it all.

“I will take this victory,” she said softly. “I will accept the possibility that future generations will face the yaksa again. So be it. But we are going to destroy the deathless waters together, and then we are both going to walk away, alive and free.”

Priya shook her head. Her head felt like it was full of fire. She couldn’t listen to this. She couldn’t hope . It was so cruel.

“We’ve paid enough, you and I,” Malini said.

“Why should we live if those priests die?” Priya asked hotly. What worth did her life have, compared to anyone else’s?

“Because they are willing and we are not.” A hard smile curved Malini’s mouth, reflecting the cold determination in her eyes. “Because I am selfish and hungry, and I make no apologies for it. I want us to live, Priya.

“I have won an empire, and we will kill your gods,” she said. “If we want a future together—a life together—where we no longer need to wear masks, or shape ourselves into monsters, then we will have one.”

Priya did not know if she walked to Malini, or if Malini walked to her, but Malini was drawing her close. Her head was against Malini’s shoulder, against warm skin, cold metal.

“I still don’t want you to do this,” Priya said quietly. “I want you to be safe.”

“I know,” Malini replied. Her arms around Priya were gentle. “I know, my love.”

They left Lata in the war camp. She exchanged quiet words with Malini, her eyes red, then watched them all go.

The army followed. Arrayed itself at the border. Malini and Priya—and their retinue of soldiers and priests—walked to the forest’s edge.

Priya raised a hand. Before her, the thick wall of trees parted at her command.