The Lotus Empire (The Burning Kingdoms #3)

Chapter 82 Rao

RAO

“Wake up,” said Aditya. “Rao.”

Rao groaned and opened his eyes. It was dark around him. Formless darkness. He rolled onto his side and saw Aditya sitting cross-legged on the ground, watching him.

“Do you remember what stars are, Rao?”

“Am I dead?” Rao asked.

“Sunata, then,” Aditya said patiently. “You remember his teachings. The kai spoke to you of him.”

Rao stared at him.

“I am dead,” he whispered. Aditya was here, at last. Serene, dark-eyed Aditya. They were together again.

“The tale he told you was wrong,” Aditya said. “No great king died to make that stone. It was born from the earth’s own strength, which is no magic. It is the strength of time and heat and cold; the strength of lifetimes upon lifetimes. The not magic that makes mountains.” His mouth shaped a smile. “I’ve had time to learn, you see.

“Heart’s shell is empty, Rao,” he said. Rao reached for him, and Aditya came. He held Rao in arms of light, his hands, callused and beloved, cradling Rao’s face. “It is a promise that there is more strength in our world than in anything from the void.”

Firelight shone on Aditya’s skin. He shifted like candlelight.

“Do you understand what emptiness is, Rao? It’s a gift. It is a promise. You need no god. Only your own fate, carved by your own hand.” He kneeled over Rao. His gaze was gentle, and vast—a world of soft starlight. “I am nothing,” the wavering image of Aditya said, smiling at him. “What you see here is nothing. Forget me.”

“Don’t leave me again,” Rao said. He was weeping.

A hand closing over his own. “ Live. ”

He returned to his own skin. His hand was closed into the fist Aditya had made of it. Inside that fist lay the hilt of his heart’s-shell dagger. Even unconscious, he must have reached for it.

Hemanth was raising his spear of fire for a killing blow. Rao raised his heart’s-shell dagger to meet it.

The fire broke around the blade, spreading wild tendrils in every direction but Rao’s own body. Hemanth’s eyes widened. It was distraction enough.

Rao surged to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg. He roughly pushed Hemanth to the ground, pinned him, and raised his blade.

“Your death will not save the empress,” he said. “But your death will save Malini’s heir. It will save Parijatdvipa from your influence.”

“There will be other priests who fight for our faith, who speak truth,” Hemanth said raggedly, fighting him still. “You will never be forgiven for killing me.”

“There will always be men like you,” Rao agreed, pinning him harder. It was easy. “But they will not be you . That’s enough for me.”

He held the knife to Hemanth’s chest.

“I don’t kill you because it is right or good, or because any great sense of justice compels me to,” Rao told him. “I am killing you because you deserve to die, and the world will be better with you gone. I am killing you because you do not deserve to choose the shape of your own death.”

“Rao, Prince Rao, do not—”

He stabbed Hemanth in the heart. Hemanth seized under him, his face a rictus of agony. His hands scrabbled uselessly against the blade. Rao did not move.

In a matter of moments, the High Priest’s eyes dulled, and he was gone.