The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen #2)(7)

“I know,” I reply, sighing, “but this gives us some semblance of privacy.”

I glance from face to face, seeking my friends’ cooperation. I have convinced them to follow me this far, but asking them to leave the empire, their home, is a lot to require.

“So now we know where the prince is,” I start carefully.

“I cannot believe he ran.” Natesa’s voice crackles with condemnation. “He left us. He left his people.”

“He went to seek aid, little lotus,” says Yatin. Natesa’s frown fades, charmed by his nickname for her.

“That’s true,” I say, still proceeding cautiously. I will thank Yatin for his support later. “The prince needs our help.”

Brac tips his head to the side in deliberation. “I was the first to call Prince Ashwin a coward, but he’s right to seek aid.” Natesa mutters something snide under her breath. She has adapted to the brothers—Deven, who does not let her boss him around, and Brac, who parched her with his powers the first time they met—but she is less tolerant of Brac. “We should go,” he finishes.

“Absolutely not.” Deven draws an unequivocal line in the air. “The sultan could be using the prince to lure Kali into his borders.”

Brac confronts his brother’s scowl straight on. “The imperial army is disbanding. Our soldiers are running to escape a war they’re ill equipped to fight. We need an army that can stand up to Hastin. The sultan has bhutas in his royal guard. Bhutas can better fight bhutas.”

“No mortal army will stand against Hastin,” Yatin agrees in his low voice. “The fall of Vanhi has proven that.”

“Once we set foot in Janardan, we’ll be under the sultan’s rule,” argues Deven.

Natesa scoffs. “We’re no safer in our borders.”

The same may be true for the Zhaleh. I am hesitant to mention the sacred book—I do not know how much Opal and Rohan know—but Brother Shaan must believe it will be safe in Janardan. I hold my tongue and wait for Mathura to offer her opinion.

She puffs on her pipe and answers, pushing out smoke. “I’ve always wanted to see the sultanate.”

Deven glowers at each of us in turn. I step to his side, tug on his arm, and lure him out of the circle of firelight. He stares down at his dusty boots, distant and tight-lipped.

“This is our best chance at defeating Hastin,” I say.

“I understand . . . I just . . .” Deven raises his beseeching gaze to me. “Let’s be done with this, Kali. Leave the prince to fare on his own. This is his war and his empire. He’ll find a way to defeat Hastin without us.”

“What if he doesn’t? What happens then?” The weight of my throne is tethered to my ankles, weighing me down. Prince Ashwin must claim his throne in order to sever me from mine. “Once the prince steps into power, we’ll be free.”

“What if he’s unfit to rule? He is Rajah Tarek’s son.”

“Not every son is destined to become his father.”

Deven drops his pleading gaze and glowers at his boots. His distrust of the prince is unlike him. He believed serving the rajah was his fate, but that changed when we planned to run away . . . the act that led to his accusation of treason.

Gods, does Deven blame me for Tarek stripping away his military command? I cannot handle yet another toppled fate on my conscience.

Deven’s gentle voice breaks our silence. “I’m worried for your safety.”

I step closer and run my fingers up his neck. I feather the silky locks beneath his turban, trying to remember the last time we kissed. “We’re so close to freedom.” My entreaty sounds like a desperate prayer, but my optimism swells within him through his softening mouth and loosening shoulders.

“All right,” he says finally.

I squeeze Deven nearer in thanks, and his arms come around me. I inhale his calming sandalwood scent, masked slightly by the campfire smoke, and soak in his sweet warmth. As I burrow into his cozy arms, the frown line between his brows eases and his dark eyes soften. For an idyllic moment, the strain between us lifts away.

The brother and sister Galers rejoin us by the fire. “We, ah, couldn’t help but overhear you’ve made a decision,” Rohan says.

Deven lets me go and threads his fingers through mine. We step back into the firelight.

“We’re going to meet the prince,” I say.

“How about we go right now?” Opal suggests.

“Why?” Natesa challenges. “Will you be paid upon our delivery?”

“We aren’t being paid,” Rohan says. “The rebels are on their way.”

Deven drops my hand and stalks to the cliff’s edge. A storm gathers in the distance.

Brac glares at the Galers. “You were followed?”

“We thought we lost them,” says Rohan, ducking his head in chagrin.

My skin tingles with the first ominous stirrings of wind blowing through camp. No one need give the command; we all rush to pack up at once.

“Rohan and I can each carry up to four additional people on our flyers,” Opal says.

Stronger drafts battle us, building one powerful strand at a time. Across the valley, a wind tunnel careens our way, throwing a curtain of dirt and heaving silver lightning bolts. Thunderclaps roll across the grassland valley. The camels squawk in alarm and kneel, hunkering down for the storm.