The Star-Touched Queen (The Star-Touched Queen #1)(81)

Sacred flames lapped up from the ground. Ribbons of fire snaked out like tongues and grasping hands. I looked to Amar. His face was stern. Hopeful. For what outcome, I thought I knew. But I was wrong.

The agni pariksha scraped through me, burning talons that combed through my being. Survive unscathed and it was proof of my worthiness as queen. I did not doubt that I would pass. The question was what to do after. Nritti’s words floated through my mind as I burned and burned and burned. He wants you to fail, sister. He does not know how strong you are. When you succeed, leave. Leave his horrible kingdom. Let him fend for himself. Let him weep. Let him fail. Start anew. With me.

Nritti had fed me so many images—Amar dancing with a beautiful nagini in a sea palace carved of glass. Amar flinching from my touch. My tongue was full of smoke and heartbreak. My mind was full of lies.

I don’t remember when the agni pariksha ended. I only remembered emerging, my ankles encircled with ash. A deafening roar—applause or resentment, fury or joy—as I left. And I remember Amar’s face, one dark eyebrow arched as he surveyed the crowd, a proud smirk on his face as though he expected this all along.

All that time, I thought he was merely pretending.

*

In Naraka, a feast awaited me. Every room dripped silver, glass blooms and petals carpeted the floor. The walls of our kingdom shimmered as if underwater and moonlight glimmered through the lattice windows. Sweet kafir cream and pista cakes in golden bowls lay piled high among the tables. But I would touch none of it.

“Are you disappointed?” I asked coldly.

Amar slipped his arms around my waist. “I always believed in you. It is the world outside who needed convincing.”

“Liar,” I hissed, stepping out of the ring of his arms.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“You humiliated me. You left me to them like carrion before vultures. And like vultures, they devoured me.”

My voice was hoarse and brittle. I hated him. I hated him for abandoning me. I hated him for needing him.

Amar stepped back, his jaw clenched. “I did it to quell dissent. To keep you safe. I was ashamed that I had to ask you to undergo the agni pariksha.”

“So ashamed you distanced yourself from me the moment you demanded that trial?”

Amar looked stunned. “I am the Dharma Raja for a reason. I would not have my own impartiality questioned by favoring you. Surely, you knew this.”

“What would you have done if I failed?”

“You couldn’t fail,” said Amar. “That’s why I did not worry. You were meant to be the queen of these lands. We were meant to rule together. For all of eternity.”

“I would rather die than rule by the side of a coward.”

Shadows curled away from Amar’s body.

“Coward?” he hissed. “Cowardice is running from the difficult choices made by the ones that love you most. If I have been a coward, so have you, jaani. But we may start anew. Let us not speak of this time any longer.”

He tried, once more, to tilt my face into a kiss, but I moved away.

“I saw you spread the rumors yourself in the Otherworld. I watched you take solace in another’s arms. And if surviving the agni pariksha means spending eternity with you, then I would rather live life as a mortal.”

The room became damp and sticky with darkness.

“What lies you hurl at me,” he murmured.

“I don’t trust you.”

He stepped back, wounded. “Has your judgment become so compromised? If you truly do not believe the truth in my words, then you have no place here.”

We stared at one another, fury swelling between us. The silence expanded, solidifying our words like manacles.

“Once, I thought you loved me,” I said in a broken voice. “I refuse to live in your shadow for the rest of eternity.”

His eyes widened, obsidian eyes searching and disbelieving.

“Then leave!” he said, gesturing to the door angrily.

*

So I did.

I stepped into the reincarnation pool, letting the waters tease my life apart, inflicting upon myself the same curse that had forced me to undergo the agni pariksha. In the distance, Amar’s voice roared for me. Pleading. But it was too little. And far too late.

*

I blinked furiously and the images spun away. The two threads lay against my palm, scalding and writhing like twin serpents. My head was full of what I had seen and what I now knew. I had allowed myself to hear lies and never questioned their truth. I had let suspicion rule me at a terrible price.

My grip on the threads tightened. I had to release myself from her hold.

Outside, the sky pulsed yellow and the marble floors of Naraka sweltered with heat. In the distance, I heard the faintest shattering sound and my heart lurched. Nritti had gotten through. Any minute now and she would run into the throne room. She would wield her powers and I—still powerless, still mortal—would fall.

I tugged at the threads. But they wouldn’t budge. My lungs filled with fire. No. No, please … not now. The tapestry was leering and weighing, waiting and wondering. The weight of its magic was a crushing thing and my mind was splintering beneath it. Images skittered across my skin, pushing up beneath my fingernails, prickling against my feet. I heard Nritti’s voice filtered through the threads—“unworthy.” I heard my own thoughts echoing, tilting around my hurt.