The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen #2)(26)

“I’m your authorization.” Ashwin strides up to the guards’ line of defense. “Commander, bring us the rest of the kindred’s party.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” says the commander, bowing. “My orders come from Vizier Gyan. No one may enter either camp without his permission.”

“Those are my soldiers,” Ashwin says louder, with more backbone than I thought he possessed.

Natesa gapes at Ashwin in disbelief. “That’s the prince,” I whisper to her.

She shakes her head slightly to dispel her shock at his resemblance to his father. Our onlookers comprehend that their prince stands before them, and their muttering starts anew.

“I understand, Your Majesty,” replies the commander, “but those men deserted their posts. They’re cowards and traitors.”

Ashwin steps up to him, radiating authority. “According to your reasoning, I too am a traitor. Do you believe I’m a coward, Commander?”

“Prince Ashwin,” Princess Citra calls from above. She and Opal soar down on a wing flyer and land nearby.

“Who’s that?” Natesa asks me.

“Princess Citra,” I say lowly. “She’s all beauty and, as far as I can tell, no heart.”

The princess struts up to our group and snaps orders at her soldiers. “This spectacle will end now. Return the refugees to their tents.”

The guards corral the bystanders away from the fence and back inside their temporary quarters.

“She stays with me,” I say, stepping in front of Natesa.

“Refugees aren’t permitted inside the palace,” Princes Citra replies with icy contempt.

“Kalinda requires a servant she trusts, Your Highness.” Ashwin follows up his statement with a deferential nod. “Surely you must understand.”

Princess Citra offers him a mild smile. “I appreciate your consideration for the kindred’s comfort, but my father’s decrees are final.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to disobey your father.” Ashwin accentuates his charming good looks with a conspiratorial smile. “This would be between us. I would consider it a personal favor.”

Princess Citra sidles closer to him and skims a trimmed nail down his arm. “I suppose the kindred may retain one servant.”

“What of my guards?” I ask.

The princess’s attention slides to me. “They’ll remain here.”

“I’m not leaving without them.” I raise my hands to employ my powers, but some of the refugees still watch from inside the camp. My people cannot know I am a Burner, or I will lose my influence to help them. As much as it pains me to leave Yatin and Deven, I do not see this quarrel ending in our favor.

I retrieve my dagger from the dirt and sheathe the blade. “We’re done here.”

Princess Citra loops her arm through Ashwin’s. “Ride with me back to the palace?” she asks, dripping sweetness. After a swift glance at me, he agrees. She tips up her nose in victory, and they stroll to the wing flyer where Opal waits.

“Kindred, I’ll have your servant escorted to the palace,” the commander says.

Natesa bristles at being called my servant, but I am in no mood to pacify her. I go to the wing flyer and climb on opposite Ashwin and Princess Citra. Opal’s summoned draft elevates us into the night sky. Looking down, I quickly memorize the layout of the military camp.

My throne is a noose around my neck. I must be careful that what I do next does not trip the trapdoor.



Ashwin escorts me back to my chambers. As soon as the door shuts, I step up to him. “You aren’t the naive boy you put forward, are you? I saw you with those guards. You have mettle when you want it.”

He waves aside my recounting of his bravado. “I’m whatever my people need.”

“Your people need a leader. Release Captain Naik. He’s the reason I escaped Vanhi.”

“I have no authority here.” Ashwin holds up his empty hands. “This isn’t my land. I cannot release him or anyone else until after the tournament.”

“You haven’t even tried,” I growl.

Ashwin edges nearer to me. “I’m not blind. You care for this Captain Naik.” He reads my answer in my defiant gaze, and his voice softens. “Should you win the tournament, I’ll free you from your wifely rank.”

“You lie.” I dare not trust the prince’s tempting offer.

He comes right up to me, our eye level equal. “I was bold tonight because you were there. I’m a better ruler with you beside me. But if you compete in the tournament and win, I vow you’ll no longer be a rani unless that’s your wish.”

“You’ll let me go?”

He sweeps my hair behind my shoulder, his gaze roving my face. “I’m willing to let you go, but I will fight for you, Kalinda.”

I turn away, undone by his forwardness. “I need to think.”

Ashwin blows out a heavy breath. “Are all women this frustrating?”

“Only those of us with minds.”

He squelches his irritation and replies with politeness. “I need your answer by morning. I hope . . . I hope you will accept my offer.”

I hear him draw away, his feet dragging, and I shove the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. He offered me freedom, but with a stomach-churning contingency—I must battle for my throne. Why must I continually prove my worthiness? I swore when I left the arena that I would not return. Should I break my vow for the ranis being held prisoner in the Turquoise Palace? For the thousands of people trapped in the encampments? For Deven?