My fingers seek the soft hairs below the neck of his turban. “I want that too.”

He tilts forward, resting his forehead against mine. I realize that any second he will come to his senses. His morals as a soldier will force him to stop, and he will warn me that we can never touch again. But Deven inhales through his nose, breathing me in, and presses his lips to mine.

His lips touch mine urgently, without a care for regulations or threats. He runs his hands through my hair and pours his unspoken words into me. I should stop this. I should be the reasonable-minded one. But there is no reason when it comes to my feelings for Deven.

I kiss him back and remove his turban, dropping it, and my fingers weave into his silky hair. His hands travel to my waist, and his kisses deepen. His gripping fingers loosen as they begin gentle strokes. Slowly, so slowly, his lips part from mine.

Deven releases an explosive breath. “Jaya’s waiting for you in the herb garden. Yatin will show you the way.”

I do not know how long we have been hiding behind the curtain, but I want to stay inside this silk chrysalis forever.

“Why don’t you come with me?” I trace his jaw up to the curve of his bottom lip.

He kisses my fingertips and pulls my hand away. His other hand smooths down my hair. His own hair is ruffled and free, a soft tumble of waves around his flushed face. “The rajah saw me approach you at skill demonstrations. We don’t want to give him another reason to look our way.” Deven kisses me again and smiles to lift my worries. “I’ll be all right. Go meet your friend.”

“Kali!” Jaya flings her arms around me and locks me in a hug that reminds me of the musty, dark temple corridors and ever-burning incense of home. “I’m sorry about my message. Those were Gautam’s words.”

“I knew it wasn’t you.” I lean back to look at her, and my heart topples over. She is very thin, even thinner than I am. Thanks to Healer Baka’s expert stitching, her cheek healed with minimal scarring, but a bruise darkens her chin. Rage for the general rises so fast and hot that withholding it burns.

“We don’t have long,” says Jaya. We sit on the rim of the raised garden bed. Yatin waits out of sight at the end of the path. “Gautam thinks I’m in my chamber.”

My gaze explores her face for all I have missed since we last parted. “How have you been?”

“Leaving Samiya was difficult. Gautam isn’t a gentle man, but I’m learning how not to cross him.” She rubs at her bruised chin and sends me a falsely optimistic smile. “What is life like in the palace?”

“Nerve-racking.” I feel wretched for complaining when she has suffered so much worse. “I couldn’t have survived without Deven, my guard. And I have so much to tell you about Tarek”—her eyes widen at my informality—“and his ranis and courtesans.”

“I want to hear all about them, especially about your guard, but first I have something to tell you.” Her eyes are grave with seriousness. “The night we arrived in Vanhi, the general met with the rajah. I listened at the door while they spoke for an hour about a book they don’t want the bhutas to find.”

“The Zhaleh.”

“That’s what they called it.” She frowns at my paling complexion. “The Zhaleh is the reason for the war, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The bhutas want it back. Do you know where it is?”

“No, but Gautam and the rajah said it is here somewhere.”

The Zhaleh truly is hidden in the palace. Perhaps that is what the bhutas want from me—to locate their book. “Maybe I can follow the general and find it,” I say.

“You cannot. Gautam met with the kindred. I overheard them say your name, and then they moved out of earshot. They’re watching you.”

No good can come from Lakia and Gautam meeting together. I have to get Jaya away from them, away from here.

A bird stirs the bushes. Jaya peers down the garden path. “I should go.”

I seize her hands. Sending her back to Gautam feels like a dagger twisting in my side, but she has given me the answer I needed to force my next step. “Everything will be all right,” I promise.

“How?” Her eyes swim with doubt.

“The bhutas want to bargain with me. In exchange, they will sneak you out of Vanhi.”

Jaya shakes her head. “You’re always trying to protect me, Kali. This time, let me help you. I’ve learned a lot by listening at doors. Let me help you find the Zhaleh.”

“It’s too dangerous,” I reply just as adamantly. “You mustn’t get involved.”

“I already am.”

The truth of that slaps me hard, the blame of it entirely in my hands. “I’m sorry. If you hadn’t waited for me—”

“This is what we wanted. We’re together again.” She smiles and wraps me in her bony arms. I search my soul for gladness, but I will fear for her safety so long as she is with Gautam.

Jaya leans back and tucks a tiny ointment bottle into my hand. “I made this oil from one of my plants. Dab a little on your skin, and anyone who touches you will become ill.”

One of her plants. This is poison. “Will I get sick too?”

“Your head will ache for a day or so.” Her mouth twists up. “But so will his.”

I squeeze her hand. She must have used this ointment on Gautam. If he were to find out she poisoned him, he would do worse than bruise her jaw. “Be careful, Jaya.”

“You too. I was so worried about you.” She squeezes my hand harder. “Then I saw you at skill demonstrations. I could not believe . . . You are suited for this place, Kali. You are suited for the life of a rani.”

She would not speak so if she knew how difficult it has been. I have more to tell her, but Jaya kisses my cheek and runs off, leaving me alone with a chill entombing my heart.

23

I dine alone in my chamber and then send my supper tray away with Asha for the night. The palace is still crawling with guards on high alert, but the Burner will come. He must, or we will run out of time.

I sketch to calm my mind, but I find myself mulling over what lie to tell Deven. I do not know how I will hide this from him, but I have to try. He will not understand what I must do.

“You draw beautifully.” Deven sits beside me on the bed and looks at my drawing. “Where is this?”

“The meditation pond in Samiya.” I shut the sketchbook, feeling foolish. “I don’t know why I thought of it. I will never see it again.”

“You don’t know that.” Deven takes the sketchbook from me and reopens it. He flips through the pages, pausing on a portrait of the fire-god, Enlil, that I drew last night after the Burner left. Less is known about the fire-god; his history is shrouded in smoke. So I drew him obscured in a haze, but I could not get his ember eyes correct.

I take back my sketchbook and set it out of Deven’s reach.

He grips his knees and looks down at his hands. “I have been thinking about us since I last saw you, and I have decided it would be best for us both if I request to be reassigned at the conclusion of the tournament.”

His words take a moment to hit me, and then I fall back into the mound of pillows. “Earlier you said—”

“I was impulsive and selfish. I shouldn’t have misled you. I’m a soldier. This is what the gods want of me. And you”—he looks up at me with a mix of wonder and regret—“you are fated to be rani. I won’t stand in your way.”

“But you aren’t in my way. You’re my only safe place in the world right now.”

“I cannot be anything to you, Kali.” His fingertips dig into his knees. “I cannot watch you wed him. I cannot escort you to your husband’s bedchamber night after night. I cannot protect you from him.”

I steel my tone. “You chose to stay and guard me.”

“I shouldn’t have. As your guard, I should be able to do all that is required of me, but I cannot separate how I feel for you from my duty. I cannot be what you need.” His voice breaks with the admission. “I will see you through the tournament. Once it is over, please don’t ask me to stay.”

His plea strikes me breathless. “Of course I won’t ask you to stay. I want . . .” I soften my overwrought voice, my insides tumbling apart. “I wish you every happiness, Deven.”

His chest rises and falls in uneven levels. “And I, you,” he whispers.

The Burner steps in from the balcony. “Dearest brother, still sacrificing your own happiness for the betterment of the empire.”

Deven springs to his feet and draws his khanda. His jaw goes slack. “Brac?”

The Burner bows. “I have a meeting with the viraji.”

Deven’s attention flings to me. “You spoke to him?”

“You know him?” I rejoin, mirroring his shock.

Brac presses a mocking hand over his chest. “I’m wounded,” he says to Deven. “I thought you would have told her about your dead younger brother.”

“Half brother,” Deven says sharply. “And if you haven’t noticed, you aren’t dead.”

Brothers. My gaze bounces between them. They have the same slope to their nose, but otherwise they look nothing alike. Brac’s coloring tends toward copper, and he is wiry, whereas Deven is robust, but I see pieces of Mathura in both of them. Deven has his mother’s large dark eyes, and Brac has his mother’s bright, wide smile. But it is what I cannot see in Brac that astounds me. Deven’s brother is a bhuta.

“You’re a traitor,” Deven pushes out of a tight jaw. “You pretended to be a soldier, but you worked for the warlord. You knew the Galer planned to attack. That’s the only way you could have survived.”

“Just as well.” Brac’s eyes burn tawny in the low light. “You left me for dead.”

Deven steps back from the blow of this accusation. “You betrayed our troop. You let me think you had been killed. Kali mentioned that the Burner she met had golden eyes, but I didn’t want to believe you would do this to me.”