The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen #2)(69)

“Those marks on your wrists are bloodletting scars,” I say, holding my aching arms against my sore rib cage. “Did Tarek order you executed?”

“Does that delight you, Tarachandian soldier?” he sneers.

“I never participated in any of the stonings. My brother . . . well, half brother, is a bhuta.” The vizier’s expression remains fixed in fury, so I press, “What were you doing in Tarachand?”

“My sister, the sultan’s first-ever wife, and I were on a tour of the rice fields along our border when we were caught in the cross fire between imperial soldiers and bhutas fleeing Tarachand. A Burner killed my sister. I was captured by Tarachandian soldiers. Hastin stopped them before they stoned me to death.” Vizier Gyan tries to bury his sorrow beneath his hatred, but I hear it in his voice, raw and raised like the scars on his wrists.

“You’re working with Hastin.”

Vizier Gyan flicks a speck of dirt off his jacket. “Hastin has grand designs to avenge our people. He desires to punish every last half-wit who hunted down and murdered bhutas. But his yearning for vengeance prohibits him from seeing the breadth of our opportunity. A throne tournament was the perfect distraction to finally strike back. While the prince and the other nations have been in Iresh, I have been moving troops into Tarachand.”

My lungs cave in on themselves. I saw the soldiers near our borders. They must be through by now. “Does the sultan know?”

“Kuval has ambitions to expand his rule into Tarachand. He thinks he can unseat Hastin from Vanhi and then use Citra to browbeat the boy prince into doing his bidding and increase his diplomatic power. But the better way is to secure the Zhaleh.”

Does Hastin know Janardanian troops are in Tarachand’s borders? Will he retaliate? I cannot determine how far the vizier’s deceit has spread, but every unresolved offense since coming to Iresh suddenly makes sense. “You had me lashed.”

“I assumed the kindred would run with you and the Zhaleh upon learning Prince Ashwin punished the man she loved. I had troops on standby to intercept her and take the book.”

“You underestimated her.”

“Every warrior has a weakness,” he counters. “Kalinda will let her guard down—and I will be there. Rajah Tarek’s empire will fall for what he did to my sister.”

His surety unnerves me. He must have a plan in place to take the Zhaleh. “Releasing the Voider will destroy more than the empire. Janardan will fall too. The entire world will be lost.”

“I have no interest in using the Zhaleh as a weapon. Instead of strong-arming Hastin with our armies, I will use the book to negotiate the warlord’s exit from Vanhi. I do not wish to go to war.” Vizier Gyan’s antipathy carries stark honesty. “Kuval intends to send bhuta soldiers into battle, and more of my people will die. Bhutas are resigned to squander our powers or serve under Kuval’s rule. I left my scars as a reminder of my sister’s heart’s wish—to set our people free. I will bring her dream to pass through her daughter.”

“Citra won’t win,” I say.

“She will. Kalinda may have wheedled her way back into the tournament, but Citra will be champion, and I will ensure she gains the support of your people by giving them proper supplies and care. The refugees are so desperate for kindness they will love her despite her being a bhuta.” I round my hands into fists, nauseated by his cunning. “Once Citra has the refugees on her side, she’ll get rid of the boy prince and reign over the empire with me as her adviser. Bhutas will flock there for freedom.”

The vizier will dismantle the empire and build a new kingdom on its ashes. “What of my people?” I ask, my queasiness spreading.

“The refugees will become slaves to the new empire, and I will turn you and your soldiers over to Hastin. He can execute you as he pleases.”

I swing my fist at Vizier Gyan, but he opens a pit in the ground beneath me with his powers. I fall in it up to my chin, and the dirt squeezes around my limbs, trapping me.

Vizier Gyan stands above me, casting a shadow across his pit. “The duel will start soon. The amphitheater isn’t far from here. If you listen closely, you’ll hear my people celebrating your kindred’s death.”





28


KALINDA

I awake shivering.

Morning sunlight streams through the windows and balcony. My blanket is pulled up to my chin and my limbs are drawn in close to my heart, yet I am cold. I search inside myself for my soul-fire, but my powers elude me. I throw off the covers and stumble to the mirror glass. I try to push my inner light into my hands. They do not glow.

Natesa glides in, refreshed for the new day. She holds out a black training sari for my duel. “Good, you’re awake. You leave for the amphitheater in an hour.”

I swivel from the mirror glass, and even after I halt, my head continues to spin. “Sultan Kuval gave me neutralizer tonic yesterday before the trial. He said it would wear off by now, but I still don’t have my powers.”

“Slow down,” Natesa says, laying out my clothes. “You took something from the sultan?”

“All of the competitors did.”

My legs wash of strength. I rest against the vanity for support. The sultan poisoned me. Am I the only competitor he sabotaged? Or did he drug Indah as well? He would not impair his daughter.