“Why would you say such a thing?”
“No one should have access to another person’s thoughts! Well, apart from living specters—but you can’t help it. I don’t want to know what’s in Gul’s head!”
“You also blamed her for Xerxes’s death,” Ma says, her tone cool. “Why does it bother you if she does the same?”
I take a deep breath, feeling the telltale prick of blood curling up my ears. Don’t lose it, Cavas. Ma isn’t as patient with my anger as Papa was. She has the tendency to leave me midsentence, refusing to respond until I calm down.
“That’s not the point,” I say. “Besides, I don’t blame her for it anymore.”
“Perhaps not. But you took out your anger in other ways, didn’t you? You gave her a hard time for not using her magic during training.”
“I wasn’t angry about that; I was frustrated. And I wasn’t the only one. Without Gul doing magic, there’s no way we can win this war!”
“You mean, there’s no way you can take your revenge the way you want to,” Ma retorts.
I grimace. It’s near impossible to hide your thoughts from a living specter—especially if she also happens to be your mother. Ice travels down my spine when Ma’s hand briefly cups my cheek. Spectral touches can be cold to the point of discomfort. Not that I would ever tell Ma this.
“Your father loved you, Cavas,” she says, her voice hard. “He sacrificed himself willingly to save you. But all you want to do is throw that away!”
“How could he love me if I wasn’t really his son?” The thought, always held back from being voiced when Papa was alive, spills out. “How could he love me when giving birth to me killed you?”
“He didn’t love you at first,” Ma admits. “He wasn’t even willing to look at you. That first month after you were born, Ruhani Kaki took you to her little hut and kept you with her while Xerxes grieved for me. She still went to him each week, though, hoping to persuade him to take you back.”
Curiosity pokes out a head, breaching the grief clouding my chest.
“Then one day, something strange happened,” Ma continues. “You put your hand on his knee and smiled at him. That’s when something changed. He picked you up and began playing with you. At the end of the day, when Ruhani Kaki wanted to leave, he said he would keep you for the night. But I knew—and so did Ruhani Kaki—that he wasn’t going to let you go.”
My throat closes for a brief moment. “Ma. Who was my real father?”
My mother stiffens. Her hand drops to the side. “Why does that matter?”
“It was General Tahmasp, wasn’t it?” I prod. “That’s why he was nicer to me than he was to the other stable boys. Ma, wait! Please don’t go.”
In desperation, I reach out to grab her wrist and feel its icy touch go right to my pounding head.
“What is it you want to hear, Cavas?” Ma says, her voice low, dangerous. “That the man who sired you raped me to do so? That your papa, who always held his head high, was forced to lower it when everyone in the tenements called me a whore? Tell me, son: Is the general the sort of man you would call your real father?”
“N-no! Of c-course n-not!” I stutter, letting go of her hand. I don’t know what makes me feel worse—Ma’s anger or her pain. “I … I’m sorry I asked, Ma. It was stupid of me. Why does it matter how I came into the world?” I lie.
General Tahmasp was dead now, I remind myself. What was the point of verifying a truth that will only hurt Ma all over again?
My mother’s fury burning bright in her eyes deflates as suddenly as it arose. “My son, my son. I’m the one who’s sorry. It does matter to you—the way it would to any child. I don’t blame you for wanting to know. Yes, it’s true. The magic in your blood comes from the man who sired you. But this”—she presses a hand over my heart—“this was shaped by the man who raised you. You think the way Xerxes would; you even scowl like him when you’re mad. Your nightmares aren’t about General Tahmasp dying, they’re about your papa. It’s why you’re so desperate to avenge him, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I whisper. It’s my fault that Papa died. Mine, not Gul’s.
“By Javer, stop that!” Ma snaps. “It’s not your fault, either, son. Your father chose to come to that palace with you. He chose to throw himself in the way of that atashban. If anyone was responsible for Xerxes’s death, it was Xerxes himself. I’m glad he isn’t a living specter, Cavas. It’s not restful, this life. I wander endlessly, sleeplessly. Stuck to the living world when I’d rather be released of its clutches.”
“Why are you still here, then?” Pain twists my insides into a knot. As much as I don’t want to lose my mother, I still don’t know why she hasn’t faded like so many other specters.
“I want to see you safe. But you aren’t,” Ma says simply. “You haven’t been for a long time. Now listen carefully. Don’t discount the threat you are in right now under Rani Shayla’s rule. But also, don’t underestimate your own power. You are more than what you’ve believed to be. The living world calls you half magus, but you are also half non-magus. My blood gives you powers that magi do not have, powers that have made you a seer.”
“Ma, there are other seers out there. And I’m sure the Scorpion is using them to the best of her advantage.”
“Yes, but those seers don’t have the Star Warrior as their complement.”
I bite my lip. I was wondering when Ma would bring up my bond with Gul.
“In fact, maybe that explains how you accessed her thoughts,” Ma says thoughtfully. “I don’t understand the magic behind it; I doubt most people do. But anyone can sense that more than lust connects the two of you at this point. Don’t look so shocked, young man. I know what you’re thinking when you look at her.”
Saints.
“Have you told Raja Subodh about this?” Ma asks, ignoring my embarrassment.
“Not yet. You’re the first. I … I thought I was going mad, honestly.”
“It’s not bad to be afraid of something you don’t understand,” my mother says gently. “But it doesn’t mean you are going crazy. It’s dangerous to think that way. Fear of the unknown can make people do terrible things. Many years ago, some magi grew afraid of us. They first accused us of taking away their jobs and later said we were stealing their powers.
“But things are changing now. Magi, too, saw cruelty under Raja Lohar’s reign; they lost siblings, children, and mates. They don’t trust the new queen, either. To them, Gul will always be important—even if Rani Shayla has declared her a traitor. As for non-magi, they are looking to the Star Warrior as well. But they will also look to you. They will see themselves in you—and will fight for you when the time comes.”
My already taut nerves begin fraying. Revenge is one thing, but—
“I’m not a leader, Ma. Who is going to listen to me?”
“You won’t know until you begin. Talk to Gul. To Raja Subodh. Tell them about what happened tonight.”
Ma’s body begins disappearing the way Latif’s does, bit by bit, until only her face remains for a brief moment. “The Sky Warriors are close. Too close…”
Her last word is a hiss, the sound hovering in the space where she once stood. Moments later, a throat clears.
I spin around, facing Gul, whose gaze darts from my face to the pillar behind me. “What happened tonight? What is it you aren’t telling me?”
I note the rosy tint to her brown cheeks and wonder if she overheard my conversation with Ma. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long. Why? Were you waiting for someone else?”
For a brief moment, there’s no sign of the girl who screamed her fears into the dark. Gul’s gold eyes sparkle the way they did the first time I saw her at the moon festival. Right before we kissed. My gaze, traitorous thing, instantly skips to her mouth, to her slightly fuller upper lip. I force it back to her eyes.
“Only thinking,” I say.
She clears her throat. “I want to thank you. For coming to my room tonight. It helped
, seeing you. Felt like I wasn’t alone.”
Guilt floods my face with heat. Behind Gul, dawn is breaking, the sky a pale lavender. Soon enough, the others will wake and it’ll be time for breakfast.
Tell her. My conscience sounds a lot like Ma. Tell her you could hear her voice in your head.
“You don’t need to thank me,” I say instead. “I acted like an ass for the past month. I’m sorry for that. I didn’t have any right to pressure you into using magic. No one does. You were right when you said I wanted revenge for Papa’s death. I still do. But that doesn’t mean I have the right to transfer my burden onto you.”
“I thought burdens lessen when they’re shared,” she says, a hint of humor entering her voice.
“Mocking me with my own words, are you?” I give her a sheepish grin. “I suppose I deserve it. But you don’t have to do this, Gul.”
She sighs. “You don’t need to lie to me, Cavas. You only began talking to me tonight because you hope I’ll use my magic during training. Despite your words, I know you’re still hoping I won’t take you up on your offer.”
My protest balls up in my throat. She’s right. I am lying. Not only do I want Gul to fight with magic, I want her to amplify my own when I take aim at General Alizeh and sink a spear into her chest.
“Besides, I no longer have a choice, do I?” Her voice hardens, a note of bitterness creeping in. “Who knows how long the specters will hold the boundary safe? Doesn’t matter, does it, if I end up killing someone in the process.”
“You won’t kill anyone!” I protest. “Maybe you injured me a little last night, but my arm is healing nicely. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
She says nothing, her forehead furrowed, her gaze steadily holding mine. Once again, I find myself studying her smooth brown skin, the perfect pink of her lips. I wonder again about what happened in her bedroom—how I ended up hearing her voice.
Before I can say anything, though, Gul begins speaking again:
“Subodh tells me that Shayla’s ascent to the throne is the worst thing possible for Ambar. Maybe that’s true. But Shayla isn’t stupid. She closed the labor camps for a reason. She needs the support of the citizens to legitimize her rule.”
“You’re putting too much weight on a single grand gesture,” I point out. “It’ll take more than shutting labor camps for Ambaris to side with a usurper.”
“And you think they’ll side with me instead?” she scoffs. “Non-magi will never trust a magus leader. As for magi—they looked the other way when their own girls were being kidnapped and drained of magic. Some of them also helped the Sky Warriors. They won’t join any rebellion.”
“Maybe some people won’t join the rebellion. But what about the rest? No, wait, hear me out. Raja Subodh says that Ambar’s coffers are empty, right? And that the Scorpion has begun taxing magi and killing off anyone who complains. Don’t you think it will affect the people? Make them angry?”
“Maybe, but most people will simply pay the tithes out of fear.”
“They might. But there’s a limit to how much people will tolerate. Raja Subodh gets new reports every week about what’s happening in the kingdom. More and more people are questioning how a mere Sky Warrior took over the throne a week after a legitimate heir was crowned. Ambaris are slow to anger, but they do get angry, Gul. Everyone has a tipping point. That’s what led to the non-magi rebellion during Rani Megha’s rule.”
“Are you telling me they’re angry now?”
“I’m telling you that it’s in the nature of a scorpion to sting. It can’t help itself.”
“You’re saying Shayla will make a mistake,” Gul says wryly. “Isn’t that too much to hope for?”
“Probably. But what have we got to lose?”
She remains quiet for a long moment. Then: “So we begin training today.”
“I guess so.” A little bit of the weight that has been crushing my ribs ever since Papa died lifts.
“I’m not taking responsibility for your getting blown up during a session.”
She’s only half joking. Her hands shake slightly as she reaches to move a strand of hair sticking to her cheek. It falls back into place. I struggle to keep my own hands in check.
“You won’t blow me up, Gul. I’m your complement, remember? Any sign of trouble and I’ll rein you in.”
I expect her to raise an eyebrow or stab back with a witty retort. But she doesn’t even smile.
“How can you be sure that I won’t lose control of my magic again? The sky goddess … I asked her for help that day in Raj Mahal, Cavas. And she gave it. She let go of her hold on my power and I completely lost control. What’s worse … I liked it. I liked destroying everything.” A visible tremor goes through her. “I know it sounds disgusting.”
“It doesn’t,” I say quietly. “I get it. Maybe I wouldn’t have before, but now I do. When Papa died, I wanted to destroy the whole world. There are days when I still do.”
When I imagine filling up bottles upon bottles with madira and firestone powder, planting them in the Sky Warriors’ barracks. When I think of the innumerable ways I can carve the smile off General Alizeh’s face.
I am worse than you, I want to tell Gul. You don’t hide your violence the way I do.
But, coward that I am, I say nothing. Instead, I press my palms to Gul’s trembling ones, exactly the way people do while making an oath.
“You won’t lose control as long as I’m with you,” I tell her. “I promise.”
6
GUL
For breakfast, Cavas and I head back to the housing area, which lies east of the temple. Various small shacks populate the land along with two tall buildings linked by a compound.
Once a vibrant city built for travelers, Tavan was one of the few places in Ambar that stood up to King Lohar during the Great War, protesting his hunt for the Star Warrior—a girl with a star-shaped birthmark prophesied to bring an end to his reign. In retaliation, Lohar invaded Tavan, killed its governor, and turned the city into a labor camp for marked girls.
It was not until the Battle of the Desert, and the invasion of the Pashu kingdom of Aman, that things changed for Tavan. But the city’s relative freedom came at a price. King Lohar unleashed his maha-atashbans—giant versions of the Sky Warriors’ deadly crossbows—which nearly decimated the Pashu forces and destroyed Tavan. He also shot a spell, shackling Subodh to the city, unable to break free. The Pashu king and the Tavani women survived only because of the shimmering golden bars I now see in the distance and thousands of living specters, who had risen as one, turning the city and its inhabitants invisible.
As long as I can see the bars, I am safe, I remind myself. It’s only when I can’t see them that I need to start worrying.
Over twenty years have passed, but Tavan still holds traces of the labor camp, its old libraries and havelis lying in ruins, depictions of red atashbans marking many of the houses like wounds. The building where Cavas, Kali, and I are now housed once formed the barracks of the guards, though it, too, is designed like a haveli. Remains of old paintings still embellish its cusped-arch doorways, and an enormous, latticed balcony overhangs the courtyard below.
Wooden posts jut from the earth outside, broken black chains hanging off them. Girls like me were chained here once. Made sport of by the guards for the birthmarks on their skins.
Called Freed Land by the Tavani women, the compound is both a reminder of the past and a testament to the future. Over the past two decades, this patch of land has been allowed to run wild. Broom-shaped honeyweed bushes grow from the base of the posts, with tiny clusters of starry blue flowers. Dew clings to clumps of the wild desert grass, which brushes my bare ankles as I walk, sidestepping a thhor plant’s prickly green limbs.
Across the compound is another building, which functioned as solitary confinement of the most dangerous prisoners. Now it’s a mess hall and activities center. Women have begun practicing with lathis on the roof overhead, their shadows dancing with the r
ising sun. The air fills with sounds of clacking bamboo. A cry rings out, and I wonder if someone has broken a bone. The Legion are experts at spinning lathis, but accidents do happen, and I’m sweating at the thought of facing them at practice today.
As Cavas and I approach the mess hall, a figure steps out of it.
Esther is dressed for practice in a short blue tunic and billowing blue trousers. Silver-and-black stars etch the dark-brown skin of her forehead, along with a tiny gold star carefully marked above her chin. Her real birthmark—the one that got her imprisoned in Tavan years ago—is a mole in the shape of a shooting star on her left cheek. She now smiles as she looks down at me.
“Ready for your first training session with Raja Subodh?” she asks us.
Before either Cavas or I can answer, a voice rises overhead in a taunt, cold fog chilling my skin: “We’ll be lucky if they both come out of it in one piece.”
“Ignore her, please,” Esther says, rolling her eyes. “My older sister has developed a habit of mocking people ever since she turned into a specter.”
“Wait—Indu is your sister?” Cavas asks, surprised.
Sorrow flickers across Esther’s features. “She was my twin,” she explains, seeing the confusion on my face. “Older by a few minutes. She died trying to save me from being tortured. She only wants to see me safe now. That’s why she’s still here. Hanging on.”
Queen’s curses.
I never knew, could have never guessed, that Indu was Esther’s sister. For a brief moment, I can imagine another figure, gray and spectral, forming beside Esther, the faded half of a whole. But then I blink and the image vanishes. Only Esther remains, her shoulders drooped with exhaustion, her pain so palpable that I feel myself breathing it in.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know.”
“No need to be sorry. I don’t talk about it much.”
“What about Latif?” I ask, recalling the other specter I know best, having brought Cavas and me together initially, then helping us reach Tavan, along with Indu, after chaos erupted at Ambar Fort. “Is he still here?”
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