My father staggered back suddenly, and I felt the pearl grow hot in my hand. I dropped it with a clatter. “It just burned— ”
He bent over to retrieve the pearl, but I could tell from the stoop of his shoulders that he was in pain. “That’s because it’s special,” he told me. “If it gets hot like that, it means that I’m not feeling well. And I might need your help.”
“I’ll always help you,” I told him, and something flickered behind his eyes.
“Thank you, Reya,” he said. “Now tell me, what’s your new name?”
“Reya Patel,” I said proudly. “Not Reya Kandhari. Because that’s a secret.”
“Good girl,” said my father. His smile sent warmth flooding through my body. “Are you ready to go to work?”
I nodded, and together, we slipped out of the hut and walked until we were standing in front of a pair of huge iron gates, locked beneath a royal sign. Between its bars, I could see endless golden stalks, mango trees, cows.
“Fields,” I read aloud. “Is this the place?”
My father leaned against his crutches, breathing hard. “Yes,” he answered, but it sounded more like a wheeze. He gave me a kiss across the forehead, clutching his staffs for support.
“Go on, now,” he said. “I’ll watch from here. They don’t let fathers with crutches come into the Fields.”
I ran through the gates, ignoring the scowls of the overlords I had not yet learned to fear. I ran through the golden grass and crowds of peasants until I collided with a raven-haired girl.
“Why are you smiling?” she demanded. She tossed her long hair impressively, and I gazed up at her in wonder. “Because today is my first day,” I told her. “I’m Reya Patel.”
“I’m Nina Nadeer,” the girl said. “And you shouldn’t be smiling. If you look like you have extra energy, they give you extra work.”
“Why should I listen to you?” I countered, hands on my hips. The girl frowned. “Because I’m nine, and you’re not,” she said decisively. “I’ll take care of you from now on, if you want.”
I opened my mouth to say that there was no need—I already had somebody to take care of me. But when I turned back, the Field gates were empty. My father had gone.
“Your father’s not coming back,” said Nina matter-of-factly. “Mine didn’t. He dropped me here when I was a little girl and never came back. I think that gate does something to fathers. It makes them stop loving their babies.”
“My father isn’t like that,” I reassured Nina, but as I gazed back at the empty gates, I wasn’t so sure.
—
The dawn sky was streaked with shadows when Sita and Trisha drew the curtains the next morning. My eyes stung and blurred—I’d barely slept during the night, heart pounding over what the morning would bring.
To my relief, Kira was nowhere to be seen, which could only mean one thing: Naveen had heeded my advice and taken her away to safety.
I smiled at Sita and Trisha as they filled my bath. “Why don’t you both take today off?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “I can take care of myself this morning.”
Sita frowned. “Are you sure, my lady?”
“Very sure,” I said forcefully. “Go to the bazaar today. The weather’s lovely.”
The sky outside had turned an ashy gray, but Sita said nothing. She and Trisha merely nodded and slipped through the door, closing it much more gently than Naveen had.
Lady Sharati appraised me coldly in the library after breakfast. “I don’t suppose you know where the Chadav boy’s run off to,” she said briskly. “He didn’t submit his report last night.”
“No,” I squeaked, and she sighed. Devendra, however, narrowed his eyes, and I had the uncomfortable sense that he suspected more than I’d have liked.
“Certain you don’t know where he is, Kandhari?” he said quietly, and I remembered the way his eyes had bored through mine during my interrogation. “Looked to me like the two of you were getting close.”
“Really,” I said, forcing my voice to sound flat and emotionless, like Devendra’s. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were getting jealous.”
Devendra opened his mouth to retort, but was silenced by Sharati. “Chadav’s absence aside,” she said, “the time to perform vayati approaches, and you must be prepared. Today, we will refine your Ancient Kasmiri vocabulary.”
She glared at me. “You aren’t listening.”
I blinked and pushed my hair out of my eyes. Because maybe I was imagining it, but I could have sworn I’d seen a hulking figure crouched behind the bookshelf—
Noting my gaze, Devendra turned around and peered behind him. “What are you looking at?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I said, but color had flooded my cheeks. I could feel Devendra’s hawk-like gaze on me.
“Something’s not right,” he said slowly. “You’re hiding something. You’re nervous.”
“And you’re losing your grip,” I argued, but my nerves were tight cords of tension, and my legs were drumming rapidly under the table.
Devendra’s stare felt like a weight.
“Kandhari,” he said slowly. “If there’s anything you’re hiding…” His voice trailed off dangerously.
I was spared a reply, because right above Sharati’s head, the shelves began to sway. Every tome and scroll began to thrum ominously. A single book fell from the shelf, narrowly missing Devendra’s head. He whirled around.
“What the— ”
And then the bookshelf smashed in half.
As shards flew everywhere, sending clouds of dust flying, I saw a man step up out of the smoky gloom, his voice colored with dry amusement. “Nice to see you, too,” Niam said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
For a moment, he was a shadowy silhouette on top of the broken bookshelf. Then Niam rolled to his feet in a blur of speed, weaving through the bookshelves like he was more liquid than solid. Devendra drew his sword with a snarl, looking murderous.
I barely had time to register what had happened, though, because there was a shout behind me.
“Halt!”
A squadron of soldiers burst through the opposite door, and Lady Sharati flagged them down frantically. “The intruder!” she howled. “He’s run that way—”
Rough hands seized the back of my arms.
I whirled around, nearly colliding with the soldier who had seized me from behind. Instinct took over, and I kicked wildly, but the soldier dodged my flailing limbs and hoisted me into the air. Somehow, I managed to smash aside the soldier’s mask—and froze, mid-punch. Because the face beneath it belonged to Aisha Chori.
These weren’t soldiers. These were Renegades.
“Stop fighting me, damn it,” she hissed. “We’re trying to rescue you—”
Just then, a dozen actual soldiers poured in through the doors, weapons aloft. “Pursue the intruder!” one shouted to Aisha, evidently mistaking her for his comrade.
Aisha didn’t wait for further orders. She turned and ran, seizing me by the arm. The Renegades formed a protective huddle around me as we thundered through the caved-in door.
“Wait!”
I turned in a panic to see Lady Sharati at my heels, her veil askew. Bolts of magic levitated above her palms. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Her golden eyes met mine briefly before landing on Aisha, whose guilty expression was as good as a giveaway. An inkling of the truth dawned on her face.
I raised my arms defensively, but there was no hope of stopping her as she opened her mouth and screamed, “Inimico!”
And the room erupted.
I felt myself flying backwards, uncontrollably fast. Before I could stop myself, I’d smashed into a bookshelf. A deluge of tomes poured down on my head—one caught me painfully in the skull, and tiny lights burst before my eyes. Everyone within a ten-foot radius was blasted by Sharati’s spell—friend and foe alike. Aisha stumbled—Aran pulled her out of Sharati’s range, slicing through a row of books as he did so.
It was a mark of the gravity of the situation that I could not object to the destruction of literature.
Sharati’s mouth was opening again—to scream a second curse, to shout for the soldiers? We never found out, because before she could gather her voice, I jumped onto her back, completely forgetting for a wild instant that she was a fully trained Mage. Sharati bucked violently, but I clung to her bony shoulders for all I was worth. That was all Aisha needed.
“Inimi—”
Aisha smashed Sharati across the jaw, cutting her spell short. Sharati crumpled beneath a broken table and was still.
The shelves were starting to sway precariously, chunks of wood raining down like hail. We needed no further invitation to leave. I stumbled to my feet, hitched up my skirt, and ran.
Right before Aisha flung me into the hallway, I caught a glimpse of the war raging inside the library—manuscripts in shreds, dust everywhere, Devendra’s sword a blur of silver in the air. Niam ducked, laughing like he was having the time of his life, even as the blade whistled past his head—
“Devendra!” I shouted. “Missing someone?”
I saw him whip around.
The prince’s eyes widened and he lunged, but he was too late—Niam slipped out from behind him and through the doorway. I slammed the door shut as Devendra hurled his sword—it impaled the wall over my head with a deadly twang.
“Move on,” Niam urged. “They’re coming—”
No sooner had he said this than the library door burst open once more. I flung myself behind a column as five imperial soldiers hurtled after Aisha; she twisted around a corner, leading them out of sight. Niam dispatched two soldiers with a powerful kick, sending them tumbling away.
“Are you hurt?” I called, catching up to him.
I could see the thrill of battle on his face; it made his eyes wild, cheeks ruddy.
“No, but we’re outnumbered,” he said. “We’ve got to find a way out of this godforsaken place—”
The soldier beneath him was beginning to stir. “Don’t watch,” Niam warned me. He lifted his sword and smashed its hilt into the soldier’s head, knocking him out with a crunch that made my insides twist. He saw my expression and sighed. “I told you not to watch.”
“I’m fine,” I said, even though I wasn’t.
The shouts and clanging swords were getting closer, and Niam’s jaw tightened in grim resolve. “Are you up for a fight?” he asked.
“Always,” I replied, and I could practically hear his smile. “That’s good, Bookweaver, because that’s what we’re about to get.”
Niam handed me a sword, and I couldn’t help but remember the time he had handed me his blade in Bharata. This time, the sword felt light in my arms. I had gotten stronger.
I could truly appreciate how massive the mahal was now that we were breaking our way out. The identical hallways warped and merged into an endless maze of columns, distinguished only by the ever-growing piles of fallen fighters.
“Here,” I panted, pulling Niam into a hall I recognized. “Come on, there’s a courtyard this way—”
The door across from us swung open, and a horde of soldiers burst into the room, led by Devendra Zakir. He was limping, but his expression was livid.
“KANDHARI!”
Devendra let out my name with a terrible bull-roar of fury, and I dove out of the way. Swords smashed across the room, filling the air with metallic screams.
Niam stepped in front of me, but Devendra knocked him aside, his sword pointing straight at my heart. I twisted away and tore along the corridor, torrents of glass splintering like rain.
I could hear Devendra gaining on me, his ragged breathing growing louder even as the sounds of battle grew softer. I hung a wild left—he stumbled but kept on coming, wounded leg and all—
The floor beneath me gave way, and all of a sudden I was staring down a spiral staircase, twisted like the belly of a serpent.
And then I was falling down stone step after stone step, legs wheeling uncontrollably, jarring against the banisters until I collapsed onto the landing. My sword skittered onto the floor.
Devendra staggered down the steps, his leg dragging awkwardly. I wheeled around, but I was trapped.
“Zakir,” I said desperately, but he cut across.
“Why?” he shouted, his voice echoing in the close quarters. “Why do you constantly defy me? You have everything. You have a mission from his Majesty himself. You have—”
“Because I don’t want it!” I interrupted, smirking because I knew it would incense him. “God, do you think I wanted my father murdered, and my friends to go the same way?”
His purple eyes were like a seer’s amethysts: twin omens of pain and death. “You certainly act like it,” he said, advancing slowly towards me. “The crazy, suicidal stunts you pull, like this home invasion? It’s like you have a death wish.”
“Maybe I do,” I snapped, surprising myself. Devendra hadn’t taken his eyes off of mine; he wasn’t looking at Niam’s sword, laying on the floor beside my feet.
“If there’s one thing I learned from my father,” Devendra said quietly, “there’s no honor in dying for a lost cause. Now come with me before I—”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said.
With all the strength I had left, I dove at the sword—it thrummed in my grasp, the leather still warm, and I slashed at Devendra, taking him by surprise. His arms flailed as he tried to keep his balance, but I kicked savagely at his wounded leg—
The crown prince tumbled to the floor, but not before he had grabbed the hem of my wildly impractical sari, jerking me forward. The ground rushed up at me, and I narrowly missed landing on top of him. He stumbled to his feet, but I grabbed his leg. Devendra screamed, a guttural sound that turned my lungs to water—
Somehow, I was on top of him, and I raised the sword and brought it down…
The blade bent.
The arrested momentum caused the sword to jerk to one side, twisting my wrist with it. Swearing, I staggered back, struggling to make sense of what had happened.
Bursting from Devendra was a haze of bright magical heat—too sharp to be mine, too icy to be mine. I saw his eyes, reflected on the steel of the blade, widen in fear. And that’s when I understood.
Devendra had used magic.
I scrabbled backwards, sword forgotten on the floor, but Devendra couldn’t seem to move. The magic was swirling around him, glowing and potent.
“You’re a Mage?” I said, and the sound of my voice seemed to jerk him from his stupor.
But Devendra, a Mage? No, the heir of the anti-magic Zakir dynasty couldn’t be a sorcerer, he just couldn’t—but there he was, spasming with magic and panic combined—he was staggering up, his arms outstretched—
His lips moved to form my name, and I hit him so hard that my knuckles split. Devendra’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. My hands were still stinging when I rushed up the stairs and turned the corner, just as another girl rounded it from the other side.
I grabbed the wall to slow myself down, but even so, I crashed into her. She let out a familiar shriek, shaking dark hair from her eyes, and my heart leapt.
“Nina!”
“Reya!” Nina gave me a smothering hug; half of her face was purple, but she, like Niam, was smiling from ear to ear. “Hell of a reunion, don’t you think?”
“Nina,” I repeated breathlessly, too overwhelmed to say anything else, drinking in her aliveness, her wholeness—“Where is everyone?”
She shrugged helplessly. “We all got split up,” she said. “There are more soldiers than the Renegades were prepared for. Niam thinks that they must have suspected we were coming.”
“They did? But how?”
Her face mirrored my confusion, but a pit had formed in my stomach. I had only warned one person in the palace that the Renegades were coming.
“It doesn’t matter,” Nina was saying. “We can still get out of here. Come on—”
She stopped mid-s
entence as guards flooded the hallway. I tugged her back into a stone recess, but they had already noticed us. Nina swore as the soldiers converged. “Run!” she screamed.
I didn’t need to be told twice. With that, we dashed down the hall, Nina’s sword swinging to the rhythm of her feet.
In spite of everything, it felt like nothing had changed as we ran together from death itself—the soldiers gave chase as we tore down the stairs, jumping the last couple of steps. Nina slammed another door behind us—
A metallic hand forced it back open.
And like a bad nightmare, the temperature was dropping, the doorknob frosting over with ice—
“You thought you could escape without my notice?” a cold voice was chuckling, like rocks scraping on bone. “I see all, Bookweaver. And although I alerted the soldiers to take care of your cohorts, I decided that I would look after you myself.”
The Spider was standing over us, and as it advanced, the hallway seemed to darken, blotting out the mid-morning sun.
Its silver mouth was smiling, and Nina was shivering beside me. It was Nina I had in mind, and not the consequences, as I raised my hands and stoked the fire within.
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