The Star-Touched Queen (The Star-Touched Queen #1)(24)

“Could I see these places?”

“Eventually,” said Gupta. “But all things must wait. For the right time, for the moment when—” His eyes suddenly bulged as he clawed at his throat.

The moon, I thought. Gupta must be bound into silence by it too.

“I apologize,” he gasped. “I—”

“I know,” I cut in. My hands balled into fists in my lap. I felt helpless. I could feel magic coating the air around me. It felt like starlight and a swoop in my stomach, something heatless and bright and extraordinary. And yet I couldn’t know it. A mere turn of the moon, I reminded myself.

“But, Maya,” said Gupta, leaning forward. His eyes gleamed. “Be careful not to follow the sounds of the palace. It is a tricky thing. It will test you. It is fine to explore. The doors that cannot open to you will not do so.”

He pulled aside one flap of his jacket where a thousand keys—of horn and bone, metal and pearl—jangled.

“Look around,” he said. “Akaran is a land that is, by nature, easily accessible.”

He stood up, pointing to the barren expanse around us. It hadn’t changed. Not a single cloud drifted across its sky. No bird trailed its shadow on the ground. A world draped in silence.

“There are places behind our doors that must never be opened. Cunning, dark things. They can sense an invitation by something as small as another person’s breath in the same room.”

I shivered. “The most minor acts can herald destruction?”

“Well, only if you get behind the doors,” he said, patting the jacket flap. “Those places are locked away. I doubt you’ll ever find them. But you shouldn’t go looking either. Sometimes the palace sings and murmurs. Bored and tricky thing.”

Gupta glanced at the scrolls on the table and his face paled. “Amar!” he exclaimed suddenly. “We must go. He won’t forgive me if I don’t take you to the throne room in time.”

When Amar wasn’t there in the morning, I assumed he’d left Akaran entirely. The thought of seeing him again sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. I looked at my lap, tamping down my eagerness. I’d seen enough of the harem women begging for scraps of the Raja’s attention that my mind revolted against it.

“Is that where he is?”

Gupta nodded. “Yes, he’s waiting for you.”

Waiting. For me. I smiled to myself as Gupta led me through the empty corridors. Doors of all shapes and sizes dotted the halls, some of them carved and inlaid with ivory and gems, others plain slabs of dark wood. Rich rugs sprawled out beneath my feet, softer than silk and festooned with more detail and beauty than all of Bharata’s paintings combined.

All along the hallway, hundreds of mirrors caught the light, but as I stood before them they did not twin my image. One mirror boasted a plain wooden frame, splintered at the edges. When I looked through it, I saw the sands of a desert piddling out beneath an ochre sun. Another mirror studded with sapphire showed the reflection of a glittering port city, heavy boats with ivory prows gently rocking on a gray sea.

Mirror after mirror … giving way to countries spiked with spires, turrets bursting with small ivy flowers, cities awash in color, and a thousand skies painted in vespertine violets of anxious nightfall waiting for stars, dawns just barely blooming pink and orange with new light, afternoons presiding over sleeping towns … it was all here. I could have stared through those mirrors for hours if Gupta hadn’t kept marching forward.

“You see?” said Gupta smugly. “Lovely, aren’t they?”

“And you can get to any of these places?” I breathed.

“Oh yes.”

“Could I go?”

“Soon enough.”

We passed the mirrors, and the corridor gave way to a stone archway.

“May I ask you something?” I said suddenly.

“You may, but I cannot guarantee I can answer it.”

“Why does the Raja of Akaran hide his face? Is he … disfigured?”

“So many of us hide behind our glazed words and practiced expressions. Amar is not like that. His expression leaves no room for mistake. Around you, let us say his expression would make his feelings too obvious. Give him time.”

Gupta threw open a pair of doors. “This is the throne room,” he said, quickly blocking my path. “Gaze lightly. This kingdom is magnificent, but its power is old and runs deep and will not hesitate to test you.”

I nodded uncertainly before walking past him, my eyes widening as I took in the stark and imposing room. But what stole my breath was the tapestry covering the wall beside the dais. On the left wall, obsidian threads shimmered, forming a tempestuous ocean streaked with foamy white waves; rose-gold filaments arced into a bulbous lotus and silken veins stretched into gnarled orchards.

Across the tapestry’s middle stretched a terrible seam, rent apart on either side like the scalloped edges of a flesh wound. Something about the tear struck me, I could feel the rip inside me, forcing me to glance down and lightly tap my wrist to make sure that it was flesh that met my fingers and not a thousand threads. The tapestry stretched far beyond the walls of the throne room. I could feel it like a cloak around my heart.

“We’ll meet again in the evening,” said Gupta.

“Anything else I should know before you leave?”