He embodies everything distinctly masculine about a man, yet he is too handsome, too flawless. He beams down at me, a molten smile meant to melt mortals to their knees. Fortunately I am already on the floor.
He speaks, his voice full and gentle like a summer rain. “Welcome home, dearest Cala.”
17
ASHWIN
Standing outside the palace in the courtyard, I watch the main entry for movement.
“Prince Ashwin, I’m sorry,” says the nursemaid. “Your mother is caught up with her duties. But it’s all right, young sir. She said good-bye last night.”
We said no farewells when Mama came to my chamber late, nor did she say she was sending me away. I fell asleep listening to her tell our favorite story.
The carriage and horse team wait behind us, as do the soldiers. Our guards follow Mama and me when we ride in the city. I peer up at the ivory walls, which are lemon from the sunrise, and search the balconies. Mama’s coming. She must be. I’m not allowed to leave the palace grounds without her or Father.
The driver signals for us to go, and the nursemaid carries me to the open carriage door. A quiet tightness crouches inside me. When we breach the threshold, I grab the doorframe.
“Mama! Mama!”
I kick and thrash, the tension springing out of me all at once. So much is jammed inside, big tears pour down my face. Only Mama can make this better.
Did I upset her? I tried not to fall asleep during her story last night, but I was so tired.
“Mama! Mama, I’m sorry!” Maybe Father found the potted plant I tipped over while running down the corridor. “Father, please! I’ll be good. I won’t run in the palace!”
A soldier pries my fingers from the door. The nursemaid holds me on her lap and pins me against her. I cannot make myself be still. I squirm and yell myself hoarse. The carriage leaves the palace grounds and jostles through the city.
We near the outer wall. Whimpers bubble from my lips. I’ve never been this far from home, but the soldiers let me through the gate without my mama.
My first up-close view of the desert hushes me. The nursemaid dries my cheeks. I’ve never seen anything so full of nothing.
Our carriage bumps and jostles as we navigate into the dunes. The nursemaid lets me go to grip the bench. I hang on to the windowsill. The orange reds, burgundy browns, and palm-tree green of Vanhi drift farther away. High above the city, the golden domes of the palace remind me of honey-drizzled fried bread.
The nursemaid urges me inside. I stay in the sun. I love my home and city, but more than anything, I love that Mama lives there. Why hasn’t she come?
A thumping noise pries me from the memory, yet it pangs onward, a well-established sore. Every detail of that day has stayed with me. Hanging out the window, I combed the desert horizon for hours. I thought my mother would gallop up on her horse, lift me from the carriage, and carry me home. I was sunburned for days after. Mother never apologized or explained. I grew up thinking she wanted nothing to do with me. After what Nursemaid Sunsee said, I wonder what really stood in Lakia’s way. Is there a sufficient excuse? Does anything merit sending away her child without a good-bye?
Seldom do I pray. The gods do what they please, regardless of what I want or hope for. But I tire of carrying around this heaviness.
Gods, please forgive Lakia . . . and help me forgive her too.
A thud sounds nearby. Kalinda’s lamp has burned out, so I push up in the bed and study the chamber. Deven lurches from the shadows and stumbles to the sitting table. He pours a cup of water and guzzles it down.
“General?”
Deven swipes his forearm across his lips. “Where—is—Kali?”
Something stirs behind him. I look for the source but detect nothing more. I stride to Deven. His beard has grown scraggly, and his garments sag off his frame. He is a fraction of the soldier I remember. “She left to find you.”
“No.” Deven grabs my shoulders. “Tell her not to come. Kali cannot enter the Void. She’ll never get out again.”
“She left for Paljor two days ago. I haven’t heard from her.”
Deven presses the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. “I tried to find her . . . Her soul-fire was hidden.” His fingertips dig into his hairline. “Kali is gone.”
“Come sit down.” I help him into a chair at the table. Kalinda told me nourishment is scarce in the under realm, so I refill his cup and pass him the flatbread. He rips off half a piece and shoves it in his mouth.
“When did Kali leave?” Deven asks, chewing.
I just explained this. Perhaps he did not hear me. “Two days ago. No word from her since.”
He swallows the bread and gulps more water. “Where’s Brac?”
“On an errand. We’ve run into . . . complications with my wedding.”
“What sort of complications?”
Deven is the best soldier I have, but I will not burden him. “Captain Yatin and Brac can manage it. Why have you stayed away?”
“Kur summoned his demons to his lair. Their meeting lasted days and let out just this morning. This was the soonest I could come.” Deven runs a shaky hand over his lips. “Kur may be planning something. You have to get word to Kali.”
“She won’t listen. She’s determined to find you.”
“She cannot come.” Deven’s gaze grabs at mine. “Kur isn’t the worst monster down there.”
Although I cannot imagine who could be more terrible, I trust his estimation.
Deven drinks the last of the water and presses the cup to his cheek. “Tell me about the complications with your wedding. I may be able to help.”
He pushes his tray away and waits. Doubting I can sidetrack him again, I slide his tray back in front of him. “I’ll talk. You eat.”
While I recount Commander Lokesh’s public protests and the people’s anger with my selection for my first viraji, he returns to his meal. Deven, of course, latches on to my immediate problem.
“You have too few guards. Station your nearest units of soldiers at the palace temporarily. Set up tents for them outside to make their presence known. This will discourage the protestors from marching on your gates again.”
Armed troops on these grounds could be interpreted as a countermove. The people may credit Lokesh for influencing my choices. However, I would rather they see me depending on my army than bhutas.
“You’ve done well, Ashwin,” Deven says, “but Lokesh is not for you to confront. Don’t give him any more credence. If there’s anything malignant about Lokesh’s employer, Brac will find it and Yatin will organize your defenses.”
“The captain has been invaluable.” I add belatedly, “and the ambassador.”
“Brac can be difficult, but you can rely on him.” Deven scrubs at his beard, his eyes owlish. “You should promote Yatin to general. He’s fit for the task. When he denies the advancement, tell him it was my idea.”
“Why do you think he’d turn it down?”
“Don’t take offense. He’s loyal to my friendship.” Deven uses the table to push himself up, every movement paining him. “I have to go.”
“Stay a little longer. I’ll get you some more food and drink.” His departure is a bitter end to this reunion. What the Void is doing to him is unbearable.
Deven closes his eyes and draws a deep breath. He reopens them again and answers in monotone. “Find Kali and keep her safe.”
The night shifts forward around him. Shadows clutch his wrists and ankles like manacles.
“Deven—” I reach out and my fingers pass through him, leaving me with a fistful of cold emptiness. I stare at the bare wall he was in front of, my insides encased in ice.
A shadow darts past the balcony. I rotate in that direction. Nothing is visible, but the sensation of not being alone nags at me. I grab the empty pitcher and creep over. My heartbeat ramps up as I near the fluttering curtain. I snatch the drapery back.
Fresh air pours in through the ajar door. The place is empty, the
movement a trick of the wind.
Before my imagination can deceive me again, I leave the wives’ wing and travel up one floor. I knock at a door. A moment later, Indah answers in her robe.
“Ashwin, it’s the middle of the night.”
“I’m sorry. May I come in?”
She lets me inside the chamber. Pons is up, pacing the floor with Jala. The baby squirms and fusses. It is too late for pleasantries, so I rush to the point.
“Deven came and told me to warn Kalinda. He thinks Kur is planning something. Has any word come from Paljor?”
“No,” Indah replies. “Pons, what can you hear?”
While Pons listens to the wind, Indah takes their child and bounce-paces her around the room. Jala rarely cries, yet every time I see her lately, she is in tears.
“Is she ill?” I ask.
“She misses Kalinda. Her fussiness started right after she left.” Indah bounces Jala some more and asks Pons, “So?”
“I cannot hear her.”
Indah paces faster.
“What about Tinley?” I suggest.
Pons clears his throat. “She’s unreachable as well.”
I sit on their rumpled bed. Deven said Kalinda’s soul-fire was hidden from him. I should have never let her leave. “Can we send Tinley a message that they can receive once they travel closer?”
“It isn’t a matter of distance,” Pons replies. Worry wears his voice down to a murmur. “Where Kalinda has gone, no message on the wind can reach. She’s alive; I would know if she had passed on. It’s as if she’s disappeared. As if . . .”
“She’s left our world,” I finish.
18
KALINDA
The stranger extends his hand to help me up. I hesitate, uncertain if I should touch this being with flames for eyes. He persists, so I lay my fingers in his.
A vision blinds me.
Fire Eyes locks me against him. I hang from his broad shoulders, my hands secured around his neck. My cheek rests above his collarbone. I am tall, but my head fits neatly under his chin. He is mountainous and warm as a bonfire.
His shoulders sear into my fingertips. Within him, his soul-fire illuminates little pathways up his arms for me to trace. Tingles dance across my skin. His feverish touch soaks into me like a hot drink in my belly and brings out my inner sunshine. My own veins come alight with powers.
He presses his lips to my forehead. “My dearest Cala. How I have missed you.”
My vision fades and a shudder ruptures from my core. I yank from his touch. “Who are you?”
“You know who I am, Cala,” he says, his voice liquid warmth.
“My name is Kalinda.”
“Of course.” He steps closer. The air between us sizzles, a repeat of my vision. “Do you remember me yet?”
We have never met. Or maybe we have . . . ? The brief vision of us was extremely convincing. Gods alive, it felt so real. “Who are you?”
“I could revive your memory.” He extends his hand again, and I retreat. No more of that. He puffs out his chest, appearing even bigger. “I am Enlil, Keeper of the Living Flame.”
“You’re a . . . a . . . god.” I should have guessed. His good looks are unparalleled. No mere man could be this entrancing.
“Just so, and you are a bhuta. A chosen Virtue Guard of my father, Anu.”
I gawk at him so long I nearly forget what he said. “Yes, I’m a Burner, but that’s not why I invoked you.” I pull out my portrait of Deven. “This man is trapped in the Void. Deven Naik, a faithful soul. I need your help to bring him home.”
Enlil skinnies his eyes. “Who is this man to you?”
“Deven is the general of the imperial army.” I point to his decorated uniform jacket. I selected the portrait for this very reason. Establishing Deven’s importance to our world may persuade the fire-god to return him to us. “I would have gone after him alone, but I need a god to guide me through the Void, do I not?”
Enlil’s tone chills, a contrast to his impassioned eyes. “The demon Kur and his queen cannot harm any god, or any mortal with a god, who enters their realm. To traverse the Void without a divine guide would be imprudent.”
“Deven didn’t do anything to justify this fate. He cannot suffer an eternal death.” I maintain eye contact, afraid to blink lest Enlil disappear.
“You wish to free this man.” Enlil sounds bored with me and our conversation.
“Deven doesn’t belong there. Several moons ago, Kur dragged him through the gate for trying to save me.” I show him the portrait again. “Will you help us as you helped Inanna save her betrothed?”
The fire-god flexes his fists. “The journey to the City of the Dead is fraught with perils.”
“I would be amazed if it weren’t.”
“You are willing to risk yourself to save this mortal?” Enlil surveys my prosthesis coolly.
I boost my chin. “I risk only what he’s worth.”
“Love fortifies the heart,” he says almost sadly. The voice of the wind crying from Wolf’s Peak returns to the forefront of my mind. It was the fire-god? Enlil brushes his finger across my cheek. “I will assist you in exchange for a favor.”
“You want something from me?” I thought gods were benevolent overseers tossing out blessings like coins to beggars.
“Compensation for my aid.”
Wary of bargains, especially with a god, I stare slantwise at him. “What kind of favor?”
“We will negotiate the conditions later. If this mortal man has been in the Void as long as you say, he will not survive much longer. The evernight will gnaw him into fragments of who he was, and he will be broken, never to reassemble.”
A persistent suspicion warns me to understand his terms. “When the time comes, what will you ask of me?”
“Would knowing change your need of my assistance?” Enlil asks and awaits my reply. Knowing would not amend my reasons for coming. I sought the gods for aid, and one answered. I am already in his debt. “You need not fret, Kalinda. If we fail to free the man, you will owe me nothing.”
If we fail, I will have lost everything.
The heat from Enlil’s touch lingers on my cheek. Whatever payment he wants could not cost me more than Deven. What else could the gods desire besides increased obedience?
I measure my response so as not to insult him. “I appreciate your willingness, but I must know your conditions first.”
Enlil gazes far into my eyes, seeking something. He seems to peel back layers of me, flesh and then bone, right down to my soul. The intensity of his focus knocks something loose far down inside. My breath catches on a dig of pressure, and the sensation abates.
“On my father’s name, Great Anu of the Sky, I will require nothing that you are unable to fulfill,” Enlil promises.
A warmth starts at my toes and zips straight up my spine. No greater vow have I witnessed. No greater assurance have I received.
The gods answered my prayers. The fire-god came and offered to serve my will. This is everything I wanted. What could a god ask of me that would be worth risking this chance for?
“We have a bargain.”
“Magnificent.” Enlil extends his hand, and a spear of lightning appears in his grasp. I stop myself from backing up a step, more impressed than afraid. “I will take us to the nearest gate.”
He whistles, and a chariot of fire charges toward us, arcing across the violet sky. The whole chariot, including the horses, is made of flames and sends a trail of embers in its wake.
“Is that chariot made of fire?” Tinley asks from behind us. She has climbed the stairway by herself.
I slip on my sandals and dash to her. “How is your leg?”
She no longer wears the binding around her thigh. The puncture wound has healed closed. “Don’t ask me how,” she says.
“Ekur is a place of rejuvenation,” Enlil replies. “A haven beyond the woes and pains of the mortal realm.” Grasping his spear, he resembles the sculpture in the entry hall of the C
rystal Palace.
“Is that . . . ?” Tinley’s voice trails away, her light eyes gaping. “I need to sit.” She plunks down on the temple steps and drops her head between her knees.
Enlil casts a strange look at her. “She is distressed by my presence?”
“Tinley’s a little surprised you’re real,” I say, which only befuddles him more. I explain. “The gods have been gone a long while.”
“Mortals’ memories are short.” He waves his staff as he speaks in wide, grand gestures. “How speedily they forget the gods’ greatness and mercy.”
His indignation can wait. The blazing chariot is almost here.
“Tinley has no way to get home,” I say.
Enlil whistles, and Behemoth swoops down out of nowhere. The falcon must have been perched above the clouds the whole time. The wild mahati lands by Enlil, then spreads his wings and bows to the fire-god.
“Star-Jumper will take Tinley home.” Enlil strokes Behemoth . . . Star-Jumper. The falcon preens, fluffing his red-and-gold plume. “We have been friends for decades.”
The fire chariot and horses land behind Enlil. The mahati ruffles his feathers and eyes a horse. Star-Jumper probably dines on real steeds for his meals.
Tinley rises and squares herself to the fire-god. “I won’t leave until you tell me what’s become of my grandmother.”
Enlil swings around, his countenance thoughtful. “Your grandmother . . . ? Ah, Anoush. You fret for nothing. She has returned to the Beyond.”
“Oh.” Tinley wrestles against tears.
Enlil slowly approaches her, his expression marked with consternation. “Mortals are blinded to the Beyond so they will not mourn their temporary exclusion from paradise.” His merciful tone could smooth away any care. “As a comfort, I can return your sight for a brief glimpse.”
Tinley looks up at him with needy eyes. “Would you?”
Enlil sweeps his spear above his head, and a portion of the rotunda vanishes. Through the opening, another realm appears, where stars, sun, and moon shine. Beneath them, green hills roll into the horizon.
My heart trips into a run.
The Warrior Queen (The Hundredth Queen Book 4) Page 12