The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen #2)(36)

My chamber door flings open, and Ashwin marches in. “Are you all right? I saw you leave the feast in a hurry.”

I lay the book in my lap and conceal it with my hands. “I’m fine. Indah said something that worried me.”

“Was it about the Zhaleh?” His directness blindsides me. Ashwin sits beside me on the bed. “Brother Shaan told me you brought it from home. Do you have it?”

Brother Shaan trusts the prince enough to tell him about the book, so I might as well show him. I remove the Zhaleh from the sketchbook facade and set it in his lap.

Ashwin rests a tentative hand over the weathered cover. “It’s real.” He opens the book and peruses the pages. “I appreciate all books and texts, but this . . . The Zhaleh has existed since Anu bestowed godly powers on the First Bhutas.” He reaches the back of the book, farther than I sought. The final page has symbols all over it, runes.

“Can you read them?”

“A few.” Ashwin runs his fingers over the marks. “This means ‘evernight,’ this means ‘smoke,’ and this here means ‘awaken’ or ‘rekindle.’”

My skin bristles in alarm. “This is the incantation to release the Voider.”

Ashwin pulls his finger away from the page, as if touching it alone will transfer evil onto him. “I dare not read more, for once the incantation is started, it must be completed. I don’t know if this belief is true, but I’ve heard the invoker will go mad with desire to finish the spell.”

“The incantation is a curse?”

“From what I can glean, it is sort of a prayer, but not to the gods.”

“Then to who?” I question.

“Not who, what. When the day was made, so was the night. When man was made, so was his shadow. The Void dwells in darkness, and life dwells in light. The Voider cannot cross over to where light reigns unless he’s invited. But once welcomed, everything the gods created would be consumed by evernight.”

My nerves tingle from heightened awareness. The shadows between the lanterns grow sinister fangs.

Ashwin goes on in a hushed tone. “It’s said that the Voider can call to those in the light, tempting them with the promise of a favor. From what I have read, it isn’t a favor as we know it. Whatever the person who releases the Voider desires most is the bargain the demon must fulfill. Even knowing the dangers, having your heart’s wish granted is an enticement many cannot resist.”

My heart’s wish is to start a life with Deven independent of the rajah’s reign, but I would not unleash a demon to attain it. “A heart’s wish won’t mean much when the world is ending.”

Ashwin closes the Zhaleh and offers it to me. “Desperate people can be deceived. A mirage tricks them into believing cool waters await them, but when they bring a drink to their lips, they draw in sand.”

I hold the Zhaleh, a plan to hide it forming in my mind. I will need a contingency arrangement should something happen to me during the trial tournament. I offer Ashwin the oil vessel. “The Zhaleh and vessel are both needed to release the Voider, so we’ll hide them apart. You take the vessel, and I’ll take the book.”

Ashwin studies the small container with a troubled frown. “How many bhutas died to fill this?”

“Tarek needed a thousand drops of blood, one each from a thousand bhutas.”

Ashwin’s fist slowly curls around the vessel, and he slips it into his pocket. “I should return to the feast.”

“Citra is probably wondering where her dance partner went,” I tease.

He grimaces. “Are all kisses so . . . wet?”

“No.” I laugh and then my heart pangs, thinking of Deven, my first kiss.

Ashwin’s demeanor sobers. “I’d like to know what you’re thinking.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” I shift away from him, and the corners of his mouth turn downward.

Ashwin rises to leave, pausing at the door. “Kalinda? Don’t tell me where you hide the Zhaleh. I may not be strong enough to resist the call of the Voider. I’m still of Tarek’s blood.”

“Brother Shaan wouldn’t have told you about the book if he was worried.” I push a reassuring smile at him. “You shouldn’t be afraid of becoming your father.”

Ashwin’s gaze pulls inward. “Unfortunately, I should.”



I tiptoe into Natesa’s darkened antechamber and stop beside her bed. Her sleeping face looks peaceful without her typically cross expression and sarcastic smirk. When I knew her at the temple, Natesa dreamed of marrying a rich benefactor. She was livid when Tarek picked her as his courtesan. Does she have nightmares about the Turquoise Palace? Do visions of Tarek disturb her sleep?

I have not thought to tell her of my own nightmares. I trust Natesa—she would not be here otherwise—but I have only ever confided my deepest fears in Jaya.

I shake Natesa’s shoulder gently. When she does not stir, I jostle her harder.

She groans. “You better be on fire.” Lamplight streams through the open door, falling across her groggy face. “It’s the middle of the night. I need at least eight hours of sleep, or I’ll have puffy eyes tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry for waking you, but I need your help.”

Natesa pushes herself up to sitting, her dark hair wavy around her. “Do you really need me right now?”