The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen #2)(77)

“That isn’t true,” I say, harnessing boldness in my faith. “Anu bestowed man with fire powers in honor of Enlil, not Kur.”

“The other bhutas are descendants of the wretched sky-god. But you . . .” Tarek hisses near my ear. “You and I share the same venomous demon blood.”

I shake my head, rustling the pillow. My powers are god-given. Brac would have told me if Burners were descendants of Kur, or does he know? This is a Janardanian myth. Perhaps Brac has not heard of this, or, like me, he scoffed at it.

“It isn’t true,” I repeat.

“You know it is. You saw your soul’s reflection in the flame. Fire shows you dragons, serpents of the dark.”

My soul’s reflection in fire is a dragon, but that is not me. Despite all my wrongdoings, I was born a bhuta. I am good. This man is inherently evil.

“You’re the Voider,” I say. He smiles with Tarek’s lips, but he is not Tarek. This is not the man who claimed me from the temple, not the man who brought life to Ashwin. He is not a man at all. “How do you know me?”

“Tarek was sent to the Void after his death. We became well acquainted.”

Souls that abide by the five godly virtues go to the Beyond, where they await judgment and are rebirthed into their next mortal state. Disobedient souls are sent to the Void. I should have supposed Tarek’s tyranny would not qualify him for rebirth.

“But why did you return as Tarek?”

“I must repay my debt to Prince Ashwin for releasing me. His heart’s wish is to regain his palace. Thus I assumed the form of the person who could aid in fulfilling my favor to him.”

He strokes my cheek and moves in to kiss my neck. I recoil, my hand glowing threateningly.

The demon rajah picks up the Zhaleh from the end of the bed and offers it to my glowing hand. “If you want to burn something, burn this.” I do not take it, so the Voider lights his fingers and holds the book over the blue flames. I watch as the Zhaleh, my only means of returning the Voider to darkness, burns.

Panic kicks deep in my chest. I cannot let this demon stay in our world. After he fulfills Ashwin’s heart’s wish, he will destroy everything. I grab his forearm and feel inside him for his soul-fire. His skin is cool, and within I sense a feral, destructive heat.

“I would not do that,” he singsongs.

I use my powers to scorch the demon rajah, but instead, his cold-hot powers rush into my veins. I cry out and yank free. Tears of agony fill me.

He smirks. “I warned you.”

“I’ll tell everyone what you are,” I say, panting through the pain.

“No one will believe you. Even my own son thinks I am the rajah . . . and you are my kindred.” The demon rajah bends down, his lips above mine. His musty breath sours my stomach. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a body to touch and feel with. Bhutas revolt me with their godliness and divine light. But you and I are kin.”

“We are not,” I croak.

“You killed your husband and aided in the fall of Vanhi, the very act Prince Ashwin employed me to reverse.” The demon rajah rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “You know I speak the truth. You belong with me in the dark.”

“Father,” Ashwin says, returning. He sees Tarek close to me, and his expression goes flat. “The guards want proof of the sultan’s death.”

The demon rajah aims a prolonged stare at Ashwin. Please let Ashwin be stalling. Please let him realize this man is not his sire. Please let him discern that this replica of Tarek has no humanity whatsoever.

“We will give them proof.” The demon rajah waves at a dead guard’s sword. “Hand me that khanda. We’ll show these people what happens to traitors.”

Ashwin does not move. “I won’t rule with fear.”

The demon rajah rises with deliberate calm, dispassionate as he picks up the khanda. “Fear is the only way.” Clenching the sword with both hands, he arcs down the blade. I grimace at the sultan’s severed head. Natesa still lies motionless on the floor, unconscious.

The demon rajah straps on the sword and returns to my side. “Wait here, love. Soon we will march on Vanhi, and I will return us to our rightful thrones.”

He presses dry lips to my cheek, lingering as Tarek once did. While the demon rajah faces me, Ashwin reaches for one of my daggers. Gods’ mercy. He does realize his father is an imposter. I curtail my revulsion and withstand the demon’s chilling touch long enough for Ashwin to pocket a blade. Then I jerk away.

The Voider picks up the sultan’s decapitated head. “We will go down to the prison camps and show our people their rajah has returned.”

Cooperating with the demon will put Ashwin in danger, but he understands the ramifications of his heart’s wish more than I do. He does not spare me a glance as they walk out.

Alone in my chamber, I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling in frustration. I must get up. I have to wake Natesa and warn our people, warn Deven. My broken leg is bandaged, and my side still weeps blood. Ignoring the pain, I scoot to the side of the bed and try to stand. My injured leg gives out, and I wind up on my back again.

Footsteps echo closer. I brace, anticipating palace guards or perhaps the demon rajah’s return, but Brother Shaan rushes in with Pons and a limping Indah. They falter to a stop and scan the bodies.

“Kalinda,” Brother Shaan stammers. “I saw . . .”