The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen #2)(21)

Did I imagine that? Or did the book lure me to it?

I pull off the cover of the sketchbook Prince Ashwin gave me. The real front of the Zhaleh is worn and creased like an old man’s face. I run my hand over the tanned deer hide, and my pulse hitches. I should leave it alone. The Zhaleh holds darkness. And yet . . .

As I open the true cover, I brace for an assault on my senses. I assume the mere act of unsealing the book will unleash evil, but nothing happens. Exhaling shallowly, I start in.

The first page is divided into four columns. At the top are symbols, one each for water, sky, land, and fire. Names are written beneath the symbols. The top four names are the First Bhutas, including Uri under the fire symbol. Below them, line after line, page after page, are the proceeding bhuta generations. After twenty pages or so, the column of Burners becomes shorter than the others. Starting at the bottom, I skim the list backward. My finger stops.

Kishan Zacharias.

I brush my thumb over my father’s surname. KZ. We have the same initials.

“Kalinda Zacharias,” I say, testing how it sounds. The last part rings foreign, like an off-tune sitar string. I whisper my full name to myself once, twice, a third time. “Kalinda Zacharias.” The last time the sound slides out of my mouth and sits right in my ear.

A shadow appears on the wall, cast from behind me. Someone is here. I whirl around and grasp the intruder by the throat. My fingers glow, pulsing with fire.

“It’s me.” Prince Ashwin gulps hard, his gullet bobbing against my palm.

I drop my hold on him and retract my powers before he sees. With my pulse charging, I hide the Zhaleh behind me. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I entered quietly.” The prince rubs his throat where my handprint fades. “I thought you might like to come with me to the encampments.”

I shield the Zhaleh with my body while I stow it away in my satchel. “You told the sultan we wouldn’t go there.”

The prince grips the strap of a bag slung over his shoulder. “I gave it some thought, and I agree with what you said. We should see our people. Will you come with me?”

I have no qualms about defying Sultan Kuval, but I will not go anywhere with the prince until we discuss the Binding of the Ranis. “Brother Shaan told me of the law. You have first rights to me.”

“He mentioned your conversation to me.” Prince Ashwin’s tone is maddeningly neutral. How can he be offhand about my future?

“You tricked me into coming here,” I say, venting my anger.

Hurt crosses his face. “I was told you knew about the law. Remember it was my will to tell you about the tournament prior to your arrival. I’m truly sorry you were misled.”

The prince’s apology dumps icy water over my temper. I do not recall Tarek apologizing for anything. Ever. Either Prince Ashwin is a terrific liar or he was also misled. Gods, I hate that I feel sorry for him. I am the one wronged.

“As I said,” Prince Ashwin goes on, “you can leave at any time.”

“You won’t compel me to compete?”

“No, but I will do my best to persuade you to stay.”

His eyes shine with sincerity, driving me to look away. I simply cannot trust him. Prince Ashwin may not be Tarek, but he holds the same power over my fate.

“All right. I’ll go with you.” I came here to support the prince, after all.

“Good. I’ve arranged for a distraction, so we need to hurry.” Instead of going to the corridor, he strides out onto the balcony.

I follow him into the late-day sun. “There’s no way down.”

“Certainly there is. I used to sneak out of the temple all the time.” His smile is a tad daring and plenty dashing. He swings his leg over the banister and offers me his hand. Ever so cautiously, I rest my fingers in his. He brushes his thumb over my wifely rank. Sympathy emanates from him with a trace of understanding. We are both tied to the throne.

Shouts rise up from the garden below. The prince helps me over the banister and grips a vine growing up the palace wall. He climbs down hand over hand.

Brother Shaan’s voice carries to us. “I tripped on that rock! Who put that there? Are you trying to injure an old man?”

I pause at his ranting. Brother Shaan is the most even-tempered man I know.

“Kalinda, come on,” Prince Ashwin whispers. “He won’t buy us much time.”

Oh. Brother Shaan is the distraction.

I scale down the vine. At the bottom, we duck behind a flower bush and check the path. While Brother Shaan berates the guards, we dart across the empty pathway into the tree cover.

A shrill voice erupts from across the garden. “What’s all the commotion?”

Princess Citra marches up to Brother Shaan and the palace guards. As her back is to us, we sprint to the overhang where the stream lunges off the cliff in a waterfall. Prince Ashwin reels up a rope that hangs over the edge.

“I was assured this is safe,” he says, tugging me against him. “Hold on.”

Before I can object, he leaps over the cliff with me. I strangle a scream, clutching him with all my might. We swing down in an arc. Wind whooshes through my hair, and then we break through the streaming water. Cold wetness shocks me, drenching me down to my skin, and Prince Ashwin lets go of the rope. We drop to the floor of a cave behind the waterfall and roll to a stop, lying beside each other and dripping wet.