The Lotus Empire (The Burning Kingdoms #3)

Chapter 71 Bhumika

BHUMIKA

The tent was growing warmer as daylight rose. She sat cross-legged and watched the play of shadows across the canvas as soldiers moved, all of them departing the camp for Ahiranya. Grief curdled in her heart.

Did she mourn her child? Ahiranya?

Was it Priya she would mourn? Her sister who moved like she owned the world, who grinned crookedly, who was far too strong and far too open? Surely if Bhumika had loved her once she’d feared for her. Surely she’d looked at that girl and thought, That one will die laughing, die bravely, die young .

When she had met Priya in the imperial mahal, looking at her had been exactly like gazing at one of her watchers—a creature bound to death, with waters flowing brightly through her. Bhumika’s veiled ghosts had stood behind Priya—reached for Priya with mottled, yearning hands.

Bhumika did not know her well enough to mourn her. But the thought that Priya would soon be dead made her heart ache. Without her knowledge Bhumika should have been nothing and felt nothing—but she felt so much. She was aching with anger, aching to move. She wanted to enter Ahiranya. She wanted to save it.

She did not want Priya to die.

She had served her purpose as a vessel of knowledge, and instead of emptiness, she had found in herself a well of determination that would not allow her to placidly rest.

There was a noise behind her. A blade, cutting smoothly through canvas. A figure stooped and entered.

“Jeevan,” she said, relief coursing through her. She strode to him. “Are you safe?”

“We need to move swiftly,” he said, which was no answer. “Sima waits for us. She stole two horses.” His forehead creased in a frown. “I didn’t ask how.”

He was already turning to go.

“Jeevan,” she said. He stopped, meeting her eyes. “I missed you,” she said to him. “And I am glad to see you again.”

“I am glad to see you too,” he replied, after a beat.

“You’ll take me to Ahiranya, then?”

He nodded.

“Why? You know what dangers face us there.”

“You vowed you would go,” he said. “And it’s my desire too. Our people are there.” Hesitation—a flicker of grief. “Your daughter.”

She swallowed, the grief a knot in her throat.

“Jeevan,” she said. “I need you to understand this now. For all that I have lost, I am glad I never lost you.”

His eyes widened.

“Bhumika,” he said. Only her name.

She took his hands. They were so much larger than her own, and scarred and callused, but they felt fragile all the same. They were a part of him, and that made them precious to her. She held them tenderly.

“You must trust that I mean it,” she said.

“I trust you,” he said. “I always have.”

He raised their joined hands to his mouth and kissed them. It felt reverent, like a promise. When he raised his head he said, “My lady. Bhumika.”

She did not tell him not to call her my lady . It felt different now. Precious.

They escaped the tent and met Sima with her two horses, standing near the edge of the camp.

“You took so long,” she complained. “I’m not exactly able to hide, am I?”

“Apologies,” said Jeevan.

“Thank you,” Bhumika said to her. “Truly—thank you.”

“I’m going for me, too,” said Sima. “Even if you don’t remember—neither of us wants to see Priya hurt. We’ll make sure she’s safe.”

They wended their way to the border, dodging stray soldiers and warriors on horseback, until they reached the edge of the forest.

The trees were vast and forbidding. The ground treacherous with thorns. The horses were skittish, uncooperative, so Sima cursed and then slapped one of them on the rump, sending both running to safety.

“Can you carve us a safe path?” Jeevan asked, as the clatter of hooves faded.

Bhumika shook her head. “But I don’t believe I will need to,” she said. “The green knows me. It will let me in. And you with me.” She held out her palm. “Take my hands,” she said.

Sima took her left, as Jeevan took her right. Before them the forest rustled. She took a step forward, and another… and slowly, surely, the trees began to part.

The three of them walked into Ahiranya.