Chapter 58: Malini

MALINI

The encampment was larger than their first sight of it suggested, long rather than broad, winding to match the narrowness of the space the seeker’s path allowed between the arch of trees. There were fine tents, and men sharpening their swords. No horses, and no fires—just a silent watchfulness that swelled into something new when Malini entered the camp with Rao at her side and Commander Jeevan and his small force of soldiers at her back.

Priya had vanished. Malini bit down on her tongue, a light and assuring pain, and did not look for her again.

She looked at the men in the camp instead. Dwarali. Srugani. Saketan. Aloran. These were men of Parijatdvipa, of her family’s great empire. She straightened, wishing she had some of her finery about her—her crown of flowers, the armor weight of her jewels—but she would make do with what she had, even if all she had was her mind and her pride. She had accomplished plenty with less, in these past harrowing months.

“Here,” Rao said, ushering her forward. He guided her to a tent, opening the way for her.

She turned back for a moment. Met Commander Jeevan’s eyes, steady and unwavering, even with enemies at his back.

She faced forward. “Rao,” she whispered. “Make sure the Ahiranyi men aren’t harmed.”

“I will,” he told her.

Good, she thought grimly. Or Bhumika and Priya will see us buried.

With a nod, she entered the tent.

It was no fine Parijati royal tent. There was no carpet rolled out across the floor. No cushions, no braziers burning, beneath a canopy of gold and white cloth. The tent was well made but plain, a Srugani domed construction. There was only a low writing table upon the floor. And a man standing before it.

Aditya.

His face was familiar and strange to her, all at once. There was that same firm jaw, those same arched brows. Those wide, dark eyes, exactly like her own. Her memory of him had always been so clear to her, so unchanged. But she had forgotten, somehow, the length of his nose. The mole under his left eye. The way his ears stuck out, just a little. The way his face warmed, always, infinitesimally at the sight of her. Her brother. Here was her brother.

“Malini,” he said, and he smiled his old smile. He held his arms open, fingers curled toward her, openhearted and beseeching. “You’re here. At last.”

Malini had never been the kind to fling herself into embraces with the ease of a small child, even when she had been a child. She gripped his hands instead. Then his arms. She simply held on to him, just to assure herself that he was real.

She had worked so hard to be here. It had seemed impossible, at times. But here they both were. At last.

“I’ve dreamt of being here,” Malini said. Tears threatened, despite herself. “For so long, I thought perhaps I’d not… not live to see you again.”

“You’re here now,” he said, his voice low and warm. “You’re safe.”

Safe.

That shook some of the fog of emotion away. Left her cold and still and once again, herself.

“Malini,” he said. “Sister. You’re so thin.”

She shook her head, wordless. He could draw his own assumptions on why that was the case. As if he understood that she was not disagreeing, that she was simply shaking his words off, like cold water, he smiled again. Said, “We’ll get you as much food as you want. Anything.”

“When we’re home in Parijat and all is well, and you have the throne safe in your grasp, I will do nothing but eat my fill,” she told him. “But where is your army?”

“We don’t need to discuss that now,” he said. “Not when we’ve only reunited.”

She shook her head at this, too.

“I sent you men from across the empire, and I see many faces, but no horses. No elephants. You lack the numbers to see yourself on the throne.”

“They can’t fit upon this path,” he said with grating patience. “The forest disturbs them. And the monastery has no place for war elephants.”

“Monastery,” she repeated. “You still remain at the monastery?”

He inclined his head.

“The bulk of forces await orders upon the path to Dwarali.”

“Then why,” she said, “are you not on the path to Dwarali, leading them?”

“I was waiting for you.” But she knew at once that was not the entire truth.

“Aditya. Don’t lie to me,” she said.

He hesitated, drawing back from her, his hands clasped behind him. “I have a task here, among the priesthood. A purpose. And I am not sure how yet to proceed.” A pause. “If you call Rao back, he can, perhaps, explain.”

“What is there to explain?” Malini asked. “What is there to do but wrest the throne from Chandra’s hands?”

Aditya studied the writing desk, as if the answers he sought were etched there. Then, finally, he looked at her. “I am not sure that is what I am meant to do, Malini. I am not sure if ruling Parijatdvipa is the right path.”

Fury, pure and ugly and hot, rushed through her. It cut through her elation like a knife, leaving her raw. She had not been braced for it.

“You’re not sure you want to rule Parijatdvipa,” she said slowly, trying to keep the coldness from her voice. “Do you think that surprises me? I know you, Aditya. But I thought you’d put aside your reluctance, after I wrote to you what Chandra had done—the advisors he replaced, because they were not Parijati. The ones he executed. The frothing priests he raised above our father’s wisest holy confidants—and you still think your desire to rule matters? The throne is yours. If not by desire, then by necessity and by right.”

“You’re always so very sure,” he said.

“Not always. But of this, yes, I am sure.”

He shook his head. “I have seen something, in the visions granted to me by the nameless. I have seen…” He trailed off. “Let’s not talk about this now, sister,” he said. “I am just so glad you’re here.”

Fine. If he didn’t want to argue, then she wouldn’t argue. There would be time enough for that. What her letters to him had not accomplished could perhaps be done in person.

She forced her body to relax. Forced down her fury and said, “I have brought allies with me. Ahiranyi who have rebelled against Chandra.”

“And they want to join me, these Ahiranyi?”

“They want their freedom,” said Malini. “Their independence as a nation. And I have offered it on your behalf, as thanks for saving my life and seeing me into your care.”

Aditya blinked at her, startled. “You would carve a piece from the empire, in my name?”

“If my life is not worth such a price—and surely, brother, to you it is—then consider only the liability that Ahiranya represents. It suffers a crop blight that can infect flesh. Its people rebel against our rule. Soon it will be a nation without resources with a people that hate us. What use is that? We don’t need this country,” Malini said, with utter conviction.

He shook his head.

“Perhaps this is fated,” she added. “Once, we quelled Ahiranya for trying to conquer us all. It was a righteous punishment. Surely now that the Ahiranyi have helped me, we can consider their debt paid.”

“Malini. I can’t give anything to your Ahiranyi now,” said Aditya.

“But you will be able to, when you are emperor.”

He gave her a considering look. “It matters to you so much, does it?”

“Yes,” Malini said simply. He did not have to know the well of feelings that lay behind those words. “The fate of the Ahiranyi matters to me a great deal. Promise me this, Aditya. Vow it to me.”

“Whatever you want,” he said.

She was not satisfied with that answer. He should have had questions for her. He should have been weighing up the consequences of such an act, measuring whether the promise was worth fulfilling. These were the calculations that leadership required. But he was not, and his casual agreement, his tired disinterest, filled her with unrest.

Aditya looked at her, something pained in his dark eyes. “We’ll return to the monastery,” he said eventually. “And from there—we’ll see, Malini.”

“When?”

“After a night’s rest,” said Aditya. “Or whatever passes for night in this place.”

So. Soon she would be in the monastery. And from there, at Aditya’s side, she would see Chandra’s removal truly begun. She would do so as a free woman, the threat of fire no longer hanging over her head. She would begin reshaping herself into the kind of person she needed to be in order to destroy Chandra—to claw him from his throne and see his name disgraced and erased from Parijatdvipan history.

Why did she not feel entirely exultant? Why had her initial joy become a spear point of pain beneath her ribs?

She thought of Lady Bhumika laboring upon the path, and Commander Jeevan looking at her and considering whether to run her through.

She thought of Priya.

“Tomorrow,” said Malini. “I look forward to it.”