Chapter 13 Malini
MALINI
It was presented to her as the unified vision of all her council: They would seek to starve Saketa out.
“Sieging the fort would be well and good if we had a proper defense against their greatest weapon,” Malini said. “Have we gained one that I am unaware of, my lords?”
“Whatever weapons the High Prince may possess,” Mahesh said carefully, formally, “his people cannot survive starvation. In time, they will surrender to our greater might.”
“I see.” Malini allowed her skepticism to seep into her voice. “Have our supplies altered? Our rice stocks? Our fuel? Our water?”
A twitch of his jaw was her response.
He knew what point she was making: For all their superior numbers, a siege was lost by the side that starved first. Malini was an empress only by prophecy and her own proclamation.
Everything she had was negotiated, borrowed or bartered from her allies.
Everything those allies gave her, they gave in order to see Chandra removed from the throne.
And they were growing restless.
“The empress is correct,” an official piped up, much to the obvious ire of a handful of Mahesh’s favored lords, who turned and glared at him. “We do not have the supplies for an extended siege.”
“That is somewhat of a problem,” Khalil murmured.
“Will Dwarali send more supplies to remedy it?” This was asked by a low prince of Saketa, his expression sullen. Seated among Malini’s court, Raziya’s eyes narrowed.
“The Lal Qila has offered what it can,” Khalil said. “But I cannot speak for the sultan.”
“Then you offer nothing of consequence.”
Lord Narayan laid a placating hand on the low prince’s arm.
“Their water supply,” another lord offered. “If it’s cut off—”
“The city holds deep reservoirs,” Narayan said immediately. This was not new information to Malini, nor for any of the men present, and all the more reason why a planned siege was not remotely feasible.
“Nonetheless,” the lord said mulishly. “It is an option.”
There was a rustle from Malini’s left as Lata rose to her feet. The men fell silent as she lifted her chin and spoke, her voice clear and calm.
“I must speak against this plan,” Lata said, without wavering.
Despite all the eyes upon her. “As a sage, I seek knowledge. I have learned about the history of our empire. And I can assure you, my lords, that the maze fort of Saketa has never been successfully sieged. It is famously impenetrable. Armies break upon its walls. In the Age of Flowers, it even kept the yaksa at bay, shielding the High Prince and his kin. To siege the fort,” she concluded, “is to choose failure and the death of many, many men.”
“Empress,” Mahesh said firmly, ignoring Lata. “It is a gamble. None of us deny it.”
She grimly marked how he was already aligning himself with the other highborn, and not with her. More proof that he would need to be dealt with.
“The High Prince,” Mahesh went on. “His fortress. I do not dispute that he possesses—weapons—that we do not.” She marked, again, how he paused over the word weapons, with something akin to reverence.
“We cannot simply leave him here at our backs. He will follow us on our journey to face your brother, and we will be crushed between two forces: Parijat’s and Saketa’s.
Whatever can be done to weaken or starve the High Prince’s forces, the better.
Our own difficulties may be significant, our supplies limited, but the High Prince is hemmed in.
We are not. They will tire long before we do, and then we will have them.
This path, Empress, and this path alone may bring us success.
I am a seasoned general. You have placed your faith in me. Do not let it falter now. I beg you.”
He bowed deeply, every inch the loyal soldier.
It sounded compelling when he spoke in such a way, all fealty. But it was not the whole truth.
They are not worried only about sieging Saketa, she thought. They want to put Aditya in my place. They’re buying time.
She knew. It was, after all, not the first time men had tried. Every skirmish lost, every time the war bit like a dog at their heels—there were highborn who sought Aditya out.
A male scion of Divyanshi should rule us, not a daughter, they said to one another, when they believed she could not hear—the fools, never countenancing that she had eyes among their cup bearers, their maids, the boys who polished their armor.
Aditya is the eldest. The true heir.
Malini’s time was running short. And damn him, Mahesh was stealing what little she had left.
She made sure to not let her expression change.
She knew him. He was devoted to the mothers of flame.
He could yet be swayed, if he could be led to believe in her again—if she could capture the moment when she’d first proclaimed herself empress, a year ago on the road to Dwarali; if she could preserve the worshipful light that had filled his eyes, and spear it through his heart—she could keep control of him.
“Then let us wait,” she said. “And see what can be done, to remind Saketa that for all their weapons, they are our prisoners.”
Malini went to Aditya’s tent.
She brought Swati with her, carrying a tray of food.
“Brother,” she greeted him, as Swati placed the food down and swiftly departed. “I missed our normal meeting. Apologies.”
“None are needed,” he said. “Rao told me what has been—happening.”
If you had simply looked outside your tent, you would have known without his assistance.
She did not say it. She sat, tucking her legs beneath her. Smoothed her sari down. He gave her a calm look in return.
“We need to talk,” she said bluntly. “Mahesh wants to place you upon the throne. Has he approached you?”
“He tried to invite me to a war council,” said Aditya. “But beyond that, no.” He traced the edges of the plate, touched his fingertips to the edge of the roti, feeling its heat. “There are lords who have approached me before,” he said. “But not him.”
“His first loyalty has always been to you.”
Aditya shook his head. “He’s a man of faith.
Not Chandra’s brand of faith in the mothers, but his belief is no less firm.
” Said not with cunning, but with the steady, assured understanding a priest had of religious conviction—the way it could mold a human mind and a human heart.
“And the fire has shaken his faith. Blessed magical fire—”
“The fire was not from the mothers,” Malini said, exasperated. At least with Aditya, she didn’t have to hide that much.
“It sounds very much like the blessed fire from the Book of Mothers,” he said mildly. “To one such as Mahesh, a sign from the mothers will always have greater power, greater significance, than a sign from the nameless god.”
She bit down on her tongue. A light, grounding pain. What was the use arguing with him? He was not saying he believed it—only that Mahesh did.
When she was calm—calmer—she spoke again.
“And if he asks you to take your place, to lead the army, to become emperor…?”
“Ah, Malini,” he said softly. “You once begged me to do the same. If I could refuse you, do you think anyone else could sway me?”
She nodded tightly, the both of them staring at each other, tense and wary.
The curtain parted.
Malini had half-risen to her feet when Rao entered. He was holding a bottle of wine; he paused when he saw Malini there.
Rao offered her a tentative smile. He wasn’t still angry with her, then. That was nice to know.
“I didn’t know you would be here,” Rao said apologetically.
“The guards didn’t tell you?”
“Only a moment ago, at the door,” he said. “So I don’t have an extra cup for you, Malini. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll drink from the bottle then,” she said easily. Rao nodded.
“Eat your food,” Rao said to Aditya. “You’re too thin.”
“You sound like an auntie,” Aditya said. But there was a hint of a smile at his mouth, and he finally began to eat.
“It’s good, after all, that you’re here too, Malini,” Rao said. “It’s easier to speak to you directly, with only trustworthy company. To speak to both of you.”
He poured the wine: one glass for himself, one for Aditya.
Malini took the bottle. She had thought, once, that she would never drink again: that her slow poisoning via tainted wine during her imprisonment would sour her on it forever.
But she’d discovered a curious pleasure in enjoying something that had once been a cause of pain for her.
The wine was a proper Saketan vintage, rich and smooth, warming her belly.
Rao looked between them.
“Malini…”
“I don’t want to discuss politics,” said Malini swiftly.
Rao’s expression was only faintly frustrated.
“You’ll rarely have the opportunity to do so, with me, with your brother, without watchers,” he pointed out.
“You’re going to tell me I have Alor’s support,” she said.
“I know that. You’ll tell me Srugna chafes at the cost of war—the supplies they send us, the unglamorous drudgery of it—but they will stand by me because the nameless and the mothers have both chosen me, and I’m better than Chandra.
And you’re going to tell me that I need to do something about Mahesh.
” She took another sip of wine. Heady. “I’ve been told as much before.
Find me a Parijati lord who can take his place, and I’ll gladly remove him. ”
“I was going to talk about a lot of things, wasn’t I?” Rao said mildly.
“I’m not wrong,” Malini told him. “You would have said it all eventually. But I don’t wish for that. Right now, I would simply like a moment of peace.”
“I am not sure this is as peaceful as you hoped,” Aditya murmured.
No. But it was a peaceful place for Rao.
And mothers knew she needed Rao to remain strong.
Right now he looked fragile, as if the war had leached something from him.
For all the strength of his body, the new sun-darkened deep brown of his face, his arms leanly muscled beneath their bracelets of chakrams, he was…
reduced. Pared down by the ceaseless drumbeat of battle.