Chapter 31 Malini
MALINI
There were too many people demanding Malini’s attention—a cacophony of noise, her court women and highborn men and officials all thronging around her.
Eventually, she left the council tent entirely.
As she walked through the press, Malini searched the crowd with her eyes.
When she found Priya she caught her gaze.
Held out a beckoning hand to her. “Elder Priya,” she said. “Please accompany me.”
Priya didn’t hesitate. She matched Malini’s footsteps, shadowing her back to the tent.
Lata moved to stand by Malini’s other side. Malini turned to her and said, in a low voice, “Ensure I have a moment. Alone.”
She did not say with Priya. But Lata looked carefully between Malini and Priya, comprehension in her eyes, and said, “There are going to be many people who want to speak to you directly, Empress.”
“Tell them they will have to wait,” Malini replied.
“You may want to speak to them,” said Lata.
“Later.”
“Empress,” Priya said. “If you’re needed here…”
Malini didn’t let her finish. She grasped Priya’s wrist—one firm press of her nails to skin—and drew Priya into the tent behind her. The curtain fell shut behind them.
Inside, the tent was empty.
Malini turned on her heel. She didn’t look to the curtain, or listen to the sounds beyond the canvas.
She trusted Lata to do as she asked. Instead, she cupped Priya’s face in her hands, feeling the unhurt wholeness of the face under her hands, meeting the warmth of her lovely brown eyes.
“Are you really well?” she demanded. “Priya, be truthful with me.”
“What does it mean to be well when there’s a war going on?
I’m well enough, Malini. I… some of my men were lost. Men I knew.
I lived with them in Ahiranya. Our tent burned.
All my things are gone. I…” She swore, and Malini felt the movement of her jaw, the shift of those delicate bones under skin.
“I brought hashish, you know. And wine. And I have no idea if any of it survived. I suppose it doesn’t matter. ”
“Lata will find you a new place to sleep,” Malini said. “And we’ll make sure you’re reunited with any of your men that survived, I promise you.”
“What if I stay here with you?” Priya asked. She gave Malini a watery smile, a teasing edge to her smoke-strained voice. “Just like I did when we were Ahiranya, and I was your very own maidservant? I could sleep on the floor. You wouldn’t even notice me.”
“Priya,” Malini said, a tug of desperate fondness beneath her breastbone. “I always noticed you.” A beat. She brushed the dark hair back from Priya’s face, not wanting to release her, wanting to touch her just a little more. “You’re not a maidservant anymore, elder.”
“No,” Priya said. “Not yours. Not anyone’s.”
“Priya…” She hesitated, thinking of Priya’s pride, and the war council, and the hand curled against Priya’s chest. She knew the answer to her question, and yet she wanted to ask it. Wanted the reassurance of words from Priya’s own lips. “Does it offend you that I did not name you my general?”
That drew a laugh out of Priya.
“What would I do with being a Parijatdvipan general? Ahiranya doesn’t belong to your empire.
No—I’m better off as I am. Besides, it seems dangerous work, being one of your creatures.
” Her smiled deepened, wicked. “It was an amazing thing,” she said, voice low, “watching you in there with those men. You spin beautiful webs. Even when I can only see the edges of them, I have to admire them.”
Malini never told all her plans and machinations to anyone. She had grown less open, she knew; had hardened her heart and closed the doors upon it, so she would never let anyone truly know her.
She could not risk being hurt. Could not risk giving anyone the strength to betray her.
But Priya had saved her life time and time again. Priya had let Malini hold a knife to her. Had kissed her beneath a waterfall, and seen her utterly, all the things in her that were cruel and vicious and broken, and cared for her, regardless.
“I’ll tell you anything you like,” Malini said, letting the tenderness she felt seep into her voice. “Just ask, and it’s yours.”
Priya gazed back at her. Her lips parted slightly, a temptation, an invitation.
“Empress.” A call from the entrance. Lata’s voice, pitched loud. In the space of a breath, Malini’s hands lowered and Priya turned her face away. “Prince Rao is here.”
“I’ll meet him outside,” Malini said. Then she looked at Priya again. “Priya, I…”
Priya shook her head. “I’ll go and find Sima. And you…” She paused, and touched a hand to her own cheek, where Malini’s fingers had been. Then she let her hand drop. “You have work to do. I’ll leave you to it.”
Malini met Rao under the respectable cover of an outdoor parasol, which offered a modicum of shade, but kept them exposed to watching eyes. He looked different. He’d put aside the clothing he’d worn earlier, and was in a simple tunic and dhoti. His hair was damp. He must have washed.
In the distance, behind his back, the land around the High Prince’s fort was still glowing, burning with flame, a light limning him.
“Stand with me for a moment,” Malini said, after Rao had bowed. He joined her under the large parasol.
“I consider Elder Priya part of my inner court,” Malini said, speaking of her women. “But I also need her in the battles ahead. And I would like her to face them with you.” She trusted Rao—and therefore his men—more than she did anyone else. “What do you think of her?”
“I remember the first time I met her,” said Rao. “She was—blunt. Difficult.” A pause. “I liked her.”
“Of course you did,” Malini said. Affection bled into her voice. “You don’t like simpering, quiet women, do you, Rao?”
His jaw twitched.
“If you accuse me of harboring some kind of—interest—I won’t be pleased.”
Malini bit down on her own tongue to stop herself from laughing at that. When she spoke, her voice was suspiciously choked, but there was no helping it.
“Ah no, I’m certainly not trying to imply anything, Rao. I’m sure your intentions are entirely pure.”
Rao nodded. He looked a little flushed.
“She won’t be bothered by anyone when she travels with me,” he said.
“I’m sure she won’t.”
“I’ll treat her as I would any highborn leader.”
“I expected no less.”
“But there may be rumors,” he cautioned. “I can do nothing to stop that.”
“There will be rumors no matter which contingent she accompanies. There will be rumors if she travels alone. At least with you, Rao, I know there is no risk of any further incidents that may require my—intervention.”
Rao made a hum of acknowledgment.
“Why did you summon her here?” Rao asked. There was curiosity in his voice, but also something very like exasperation. “It’s going to cause you nothing but trouble.”
“Chandra has his fire,” Malini said, after a moment. “And I have her. She won’t be an expected weapon. No matter what Chandra may believe he knows of Ahiranya, he has not seen her wield her gifts as I have. She gives me an advantage I sorely need.”
There were two truths inside Malini’s heart. It was the colder one she spoke.
But the other was this. Because I need her.
Because she saw me once, for everything I was and could be, and wanted me anyway.
And she sees me and wants me still, over the chasm that should make enemies of us.
And yet it does not. Cannot. It was a truth like a wound, like a fragile heart exposed, and it frightened and awed her in equal measure.
Rao nodded. From the way he looked away, staring across the camp at the soldiers packing away weaponry and tents, he did not believe her, but had decided there was no worth in arguing.
“What would you have done if Lord Mahesh had not volunteered to remain behind?” Rao kept his voice low so that his words wouldn’t be overheard. “Did you plan for this? For Mahesh and Aditya both to remain and risk their lives?”
“I planned for Mahesh,” Malini admitted easily, without shame. “But Aditya? No, that surprised me as much as it did you. He has never offered to fight before. Why would I expect that to change?”
“It didn’t surprise me,” Rao said. “The minute you spoke of it, I knew… I feared I knew what he would do. And Malini, please. You must have known Aditya would volunteer. It was like a trap perfectly woven for him. A hopeless task, a service that could break him—how could he resist?”
A doubt struck her, painful as a blow. Her breath hitched. Priya had spoken so admiringly of her webs. Had Malini woven this one without realizing it?
No, she told herself fiercely. No, I love my brother. I would not. I did not.
“I do not think about Aditya,” Malini snapped.
“Why would I? If I thought of him—really thought of him and what he does, what he represents—I would have to kill him. I would have to make it appear accidental. It would need to be something less obvious than leaving him here.” She gestured at the distant, glowing fort, angry.
“Can you see why I doubt you?” Rao asked. “Why I think this could be a trap arranged for him?”
“You would never have thought this of me when you knew me as a girl,” Malini said, trying not to feel hurt. “Never.”
“I didn’t know you then,” Rao said heavily, “as I know you now.”
You were not so spellbound by love for my brother then, Malini thought. And not so led astray.
But she would not speak of things he could not see.
“I’m not his keeper,” said Malini. Though in another world, another time, he would have been hers.
“If you truly didn’t plan for this…” Rao paused, exhaling. “You could have refused him. Given the task to someone else. You still could.”
“I could have,” she said. “I could have belittled him. Refused him and shamed him. Would that have been the act of a kind sister?”
“Don’t mock him, please,” Rao said, jaw tight.
“I am not mocking him, or you,” Malini said evenly, forcing herself to be calm. “I am telling you he is still his own man, able to make his own choices.”