There were still so many questions he didn’t have clear answers for, but he could guess what must have happened. Sometime during her imprisonment, Mahati had reclaimed her magic and used it to place a curse on all of Shavhalla. They’d all died, like Amar and his two friends in the forest that day, but their bodies and the city itself had been locked in their own prison—one where time slowed, delaying the effects of decay and deterioration. And it seemed the souls of those Shavhallans still lingered here, reanimating corpses and statues by night.
But not Mahati. While other skeletons paced in their cells, she lay still. She hadn’t been able to escape her prison while she was alive, so perhaps she’d sought freedom in death. A curse strong enough to affect an entire city would have required a tremendous amount of power, and the power that fueled a curse came from blood. She may have even sacrificed her own life in its creation.
Amar shook his head. The anguish she must have felt to resort to something like that, to use her regained powers not to escape, but to hurt those who had hurt her.
She shouldn’t be here. Even though she was only bones now, it wasn’t right. This wasn’t a peaceful resting place—not for her. Amar unfastened the embroidered sash at his shoulder and spread it on the empty mattress beside him. He reached for the nearest bones. They were dry and cracked and felt much too light to have ever belonged to a living person. He was gentle with them as he laid them on the sash and reached for more.
Ranjan joined him after a few seconds, squeezing past him to the corner of the room, where he bent and plucked more bones from the ground. He handed them to Amar one at a time, and they began to fill the empty spaces on the sash. There were so many of them, and when they’d collected all the most obvious ones, Amar stood, holding his torch aloft to make sure he hadn’t missed any.
“We have to get them all,” he said. He didn’t want to leave any piece of the girl in this cell.
Ranjan lifted the edge of the mattress, and Amar searched underneath for bones they might have missed. He found another vertebra in the far corner of the room, and a smaller bone behind the bucket near the door. When he was absolutely certain they’d collected everything, he gently pulled the corners and edges of the sash together and tied them in a knot. Then he followed Ranjan back out of the cell, up the stairs, and into the fresh air.
When they returned to the palace, they found Mitul, Saya, Kesari, and Lucian waiting in the main hall. Kesari sat against the wall, her head tipped back and her eyes shut. Lucian hovered faithfully nearby. Mitul was hunched over his saraj, softly strumming a few chords and mouthing words under his breath.
Saya saw him first. She clutched a single book in one hand, and she smiled at him as he approached. There was a certain ease in her expression that he didn’t think he’d ever seen before. “There you are,” she said warmly.
Mitul’s eyes immediately snapped to him, and he stood so quickly he nearly dropped his saraj.
Lucian chuckled a little as he watched the musician fumbling. “Mitul was starting to worry about you. But only a little.”
“Can you blame me?” the man said. “You said you’d be right back.”
“And here I am,” he replied.
“You certainly didn’t hurry.”
Kesari yawned and looked up at him from the floor. “What’s that you’re carrying?”
Their gazes shifted to the bundle in his hands. He hesitated, unsure of how to tell them what he’d found. “This is Mahati,” he said at last. “Or what’s left of her. She deserves to be properly laid to rest.”
For a few seconds, no one spoke. Mitul shifted back on one foot, away from the bundle of bones. Then Kesari shrugged. “There was that temple we passed. We could bury her there.”
“It has to be somewhere else,” he said. “Outside the ruins. Shavhalla wasn’t a happy place for her. I know it’s late and you’re all probably tired, but I need to do this as soon as possible. She’s been trapped here too long.” He clutched the bundle a little tighter. “Are you ready to leave?”
They exchanged looks, and Amar knew what a strange request this must seem, asking them to go out of their way for a girl who’d been dead for centuries. But they all nodded, picked up their things, and headed for the stairs.
Amar turned to Ranjan. “Thank you for everything.”
His old teacher nodded, then did something he had never seen him do to anyone, not even the king himself. He bowed. Only a little, but it was enough to express his respect. Amar returned the gesture.
“Goodbye,” he said, then followed his friends, and together they walked out of the palace and back into the ghostly nighttime streets of the cursed city.
47
Kesari
Kesari’s feet felt heavy and slow as she followed the others through the streets of Shavhalla. Amar led the way at a brisk pace, his path illuminated only by the glowing blue lights hovering all around them. Occasionally, the skeletons and animated statues they passed would turn to him in acknowledgement, but they stayed where they were, watching from a respectful distance. He still wore the ornate robes and gilded crown that marked him as their former prince, and while they paid no attention to Kesari and the others, they didn’t ignore Amar the way they had only the night before.
Had it really been that recent? So much had happened in the last day. She’d explored an ancient city straight out of legend, learned that one of her friends was the former prince of that city, and—perhaps most surprisingly of all—used her magic to fight against the cursed beings they found there.
She still couldn’t quite believe it. Mere weeks ago, she’d yearned to get rid of her magic. She would have never thought herself capable of using it in combat, where there was so much potential for her to lose control in the chaos of heightened emotion. The experience had been stressful and terrifying and exhilarating in a way that both scared her and filled her with joy—the same joy she’d felt when she’d channeled altma for the very first time. But despite all the emotions surging through her, she’d stayed in control.
She brushed her fingers against the worn fabric of her coat and smiled. Rajiv would have been proud of her. More importantly, she was proud of herself. She was a Tarja. Acknowledging that simple fact still brought some discomfort, but not enough that she wanted to run or scream or tear the magic from her being. It was part of who she was, and even if she wasn’t quite ready to embrace it, she at least wouldn’t reject it, and that felt like a step in the right direction.
She quickened her pace until she drew up beside Saya, who hadn’t said anything since leaving the palace. She still held onto the journal she’d taken from the library. Its pages were filled with handwritten notes and diagrams, addendums scribbled hastily in the margins every now and then. None of them had been able to decipher much, but Lucian’s assessment of the diagrams suggested that the journal was, in fact, a detailed analysis of the same curse Amar had suffered.
“How much farther do you think we’ll go?” Saya asked, glancing over at her.
She shrugged. “We won’t be out of Shavhalla until we cross that stone bridge, I imagine. It should be getting close.”
Saya’s fingers tapped against the worn leather cover of the journal. “I was hoping he’d have a chance to look at this before we left, but he was in such a hurry I didn’t get a chance to ask him.”
“You could ask him now. Maybe he’ll stop for a break.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to bother him. He already doesn’t approve of what I’m doing. I just hope this has what I need.”
Kesari nodded. “And if it does, then what?”
“Then I’ll take it back to my people and present it to our leaders. Hopefully, they’ll accept my offering and my haseph will be complete. There will be a ceremony. I’ll finally get to become an official member of my tribe, and the leaders will decide what to do about the curse.”
Kesari gnawed at her bottom lip. She hadn’t considered that their group might be splitting up when there was so much that remained unfini
shed. They still hadn’t broken Amar’s curse, and in some ways, their journey to Shavhalla had left them with more questions than answers.
“What about you?” Saya asked. “What will you do?”
It was a good question. What would she do? When she’d first decided to travel here with the others, she’d wanted to help Amar break his curse, but she had no idea what he was planning to do now. Should she stay with him? Would he want or expect that? Mitul would go with Amar whatever he chose, but Saya was leaving, and maybe Kesari should, too. She could go back home, like she’d promised Navya. She had a family waiting for her, after all. Was it wrong to keep them waiting even longer?
Her stomach flipped over at the idea of returning to Deveaural. She wasn’t sure if that was residual panic from the years she’d spent deliberately avoiding anything to do with home, or if it meant she still wasn’t ready to go back. It felt like there was more to see and do and accomplish before she returned, but she couldn’t pin down anything more specific than that, and it wasn’t like the others couldn’t function well enough without her. They’d been doing perfectly fine long before she and Lucian came into the picture.
So why did the idea of leaving them behind make her want to cry?
“I don’t know,” she said in answer to Saya’s question.
“I only asked because I thought, if you wanted to, you might come with me. I could use the support and knowledge of a Tarja when I bring this back to my people. We don’t have many, and most of them have never ventured very far beyond the desert. Your perspective could be valuable.”
“You think so?”
“Of course. You’re a skilled Tarja, Kes. Surely you can see that by now. Stop undervaluing yourself.”
Lucian floated a little closer to her ear. “She’s right, you know.”
“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” Saya said, tucking the journal into the bag slung over her shoulder. “And it’s perfectly fine if you can’t or choose not to. I just thought, if you’re not doing anything else and if you wanted to, I’d be happy for the company.”
“I’ll go,” Kesari said. She didn’t need to think about it. As soon as Saya had asked, she’d wanted to go, and if she could truly be helpful, all the more reason to do it.
The older girl grinned. “Good.”
They had come to the bridge now, and a few paces ahead, Mitul and Amar stopped walking, peering across to the other side. There were far fewer blue lights here, and without their glow, the shadows had grown darker. It was difficult to see much of anything.
“What is that?” Mitul asked Amar as the others came to rest beside them. It took Kesari a few seconds to spot the lump they were staring at. It lay right in the middle of the path, something that definitely hadn’t been there when they’d passed through the day before.
“Maybe some kind of animal?” Saya suggested.
“I’ll have a look,” said Lucian, and he flew ahead, casting firelight over the bridge’s stone walkway as he went. When he drew a little closer to the lump, he called back, “I think it’s a person.”
Kesari exchanged a look with Saya. They hadn’t seen a single living person in days. What would anyone else be doing all the way out here?
Lucian’s light fell over the figure, and Kesari sucked in a sharp breath. The clothes, the sharp features, the brown hair and pale skin—it was that woman, the one who’d trailed them all the way through Kavora, into Atrea, and even up the coast by sea.
Saya immediately fitted an arrow to her bowstring. Amar passed Mahati’s remains over to Mitul, then drew his sword. Together, they began to approach the woman. Kesari hung back with Mitul for a few seconds, but her magic meant she could fight, too. She should probably do more than stand by. She scrambled to catch up with Amar and Saya, channeling altma in preparation for an attack.
The young Visan woman remained motionless. She might have been dead, or perhaps this was some kind of trap. One of her hands was wrapped around a crumpled piece of paper, and the smell of a campfire wafted from where a pack lay propped against one of the fallen statues.
“What’s she doing here?” Saya asked, prodding the woman with her toe. She still didn’t move.
“I don’t know, but keep an eye out for the dragon,” Amar replied.
Kesari knelt, reaching under the woman’s jaw to check for a pulse.
“Careful,” Saya warned, her arrow still trained on their enemy’s face.
A faint vibration fluttered against Kesari’s fingertips. “She’s alive.” She rolled the woman from her side onto her back. Her stomach rose and fell in shallow, barely noticeable breaths, and she remained unresponsive when Kesari shook her shoulders. There was no blood or any other sign of injury, but something was clearly wrong for her to be so lifeless.
“How did she find us?” Saya asked.
“No idea,” Amar replied. “Probably the same way she’s found us every time since we first crossed paths.”
“What’s that in her hand?”
Kesari pried the paper away from her fingers, handed it to the others over her shoulder, and continued to assess the woman. She reached out with her altma, trying to sense whatever internal damage had caused her to lose consciousness. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with her physically, but deep inside, she was injured. Not a bodily wound, but something else.
“It’s a letter,” Amar said. “Assuming it was written to her, her name’s Aleida. Someone named Hasan sent it. Apparently, her brother just died.”
Kesari felt a sudden twinge of sympathy for the unconscious woman. She too knew the pain of losing a brother. But that didn’t explain the state Aleida was currently in. She frowned at Lucian as he came to hover in front of her. “There’s something wrong, but I’m not sure what. It’s not anything in her body, I don’t think, but it’s like there’s a gap somewhere. A big, empty hole.”
“What about her mind?” Lucian said. “Can you pull her back into consciousness?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wait a minute,” Mitul said. “Why would we want to do that?”
“We should kill her,” Saya said. “She’s dangerous. She’s attacked us three times now, and if we leave her here, she’ll only come after us again.”
Mitul grimaced. “That seems a bit harsh, but I see your point.”
“No one’s killing anyone,” Amar said. “Not yet, at least. I want to know why she’s been hunting us. We need to ask her how she found us and where her Spirit Tarja is now.”
“That’s it!” Kesari said. The hole she’d sensed in Aleida—it was in the same place she always reached for when she channeled her own altma, something that was very much a part of her, but not in a physical sense. It was the connection she shared with Lucian—the same connection Aleida would have shared with her own Spirit Tarja. Only now, it was gone. “She severed her Bond. I don’t know what happened to the Spirit Tarja, but they’re not connected anymore. I’m sure of it.”
That also explained the state Aleida was in. Anyone Kesari had ever spoken to about breaking her Bond with Lucian had warned that the process could leave one or both of them seriously hurt, if not dead.
“Can you heal her?” Amar asked.
“I can try,” she replied
Saya let out an irritated sigh and muttered something under her breath in Sularan.
“Good,” Amar said. He sheathed his sword and took Mahati’s bones back from Mitul. “I’m going to look for a place to lay her to rest.”
“I’ll help.” Mitul said. “Lucian, do you mind lending us some light?”
The Spirit Tarja looked at Kesari. “Are you going to be all right here?”
She nodded.
“I’ll stay with you,” Saya said. “Our new friend won’t be too happy to see us when she wakes up.”
Amar, Mitul, and Lucian ventured off into the trees, and Kesari bent over Aleida again. She pressed her fingers against the young woman’s forehead, reaching out gently with her altma to search for any damage
inside her mind.
It was slow going, and she didn’t dare rush the process. The mind was a delicate thing, even when it wasn’t injured, and the deeper her magic went, the more damage she found. It was subtle, nothing more than a prickling sense that something was off, which made it difficult to know for certain what the lasting impacts of that damage would be. She was careful to send only the tiniest sparks of healing magic into Aleida’s body to see what would happen before proceeding with anything more. Every now and then, she had to stop to calm her own fears and doubts, but they weren’t as overwhelming as they’d once been, and it was easier to stay focused with Saya’s calm presence beside her.
By the time she was done, Aleida was still adrift in a deep sleep, but no longer locked in unconsciousness. There was nothing more to be done about the hole Kesari had sensed in her. It would have to heal on its own but would likely stay with her for years, if not for the rest of her life.
She was suddenly very glad she’d decided not to go through with her plan to sever her own Bond.
“Will she wake up?” Saya asked.
“We’ll have to wait and see. I’ve done everything I can for her now.”
The older girl frowned. “I still think we’d be better off killing her, but I suppose that’s Amar’s choice.”
There was a rustling noise behind them, and they both turned to see Mitul and Lucian emerging from the trees. “Where’s Amar?” Saya asked.
“Waiting,” Mitul answered. “If you’re done here, Kes, he wants your help digging a grave. We don’t exactly have any shovels lying about.”
She nodded, and Saya hoisted Aleida’s smaller, slender frame onto her back with a grunt. The young woman stirred a little and murmured something unintelligible but did not wake. They followed Mitul and Lucian into the trees, leaving the bridge to Shavhalla behind them.
48
Amar
The spot Amar had chosen for Mahati’s final resting place wasn’t far from the road, a tiny clearing nestled in the bushes and surrounded by moss-covered trees. Flowering vines snaked up their trunks and into their branches, and the ground was covered in long, soft grass.
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