The Library of Fates(30)

“Are you going to return to Macedon now?” I felt a pang of panic in the pit of my stomach. Would she leave me too?

Thala shook her head. “I won’t leave you, don’t worry. I’m indebted to you.”

“For what?”

“I’m free for the first time in years.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Perhaps I had helped her, but I hadn’t been able to save those I loved the most.

She must have read my thoughts, because she took a deep breath and said, “It’s not over yet. You’re the heiress to the throne. As long as you’re still alive, there’s . . .” But she didn’t finish, as though the word hope didn’t exist in her vocabulary.

“I don’t even know how to navigate my own kingdom by myself.”

“I’ll help you. And there must be other people in Shalingar we can approach for aid.”

“I don’t know a single person in Shalingar.” I shook my head. “And look at me.” I gestured to my filthy clothes, my matted hair. “Who would ever believe that I’m Princess Amrita?” I whispered.

“Think,” Thala said. “There has to be someone you know, someone we can speak to.”

“Mala said something about a cartogapher. She said it was my responsibility to warn someone.”

“That’s a good place to start.”

But my mind was already trying to untangle what had just occurred. “How could we have trusted Sikander?” I whispered. “We were fools. We greeted him with a parade, acrobatics shows, music, and dancing. And he planned on attacking all along.”

“You didn’t trust him. Why would you? Sikander is full of tricks,” Thala said offhandedly, stopping before a vendor selling sandals made of braided leather and pieces of linen. She selected some linen and two pairs of sandals and then bargained with the vendor in simple Shalingarsh. Once she was done, she nodded to me, and I handed him the coin the woman in the orange sari had given me, along with some of the silver in my satchel. He barely took note of us as he placed the shoes, the linen, and some coins in my hand.

Thala collected the fabric from me and then led me to the fountain at the center of the square.

I quickly removed the scarf and glanced at my reflection in the pool of water before me. I could barely recognize my tear-streaked and muddy face. My clothes were filthy from crawling through the Temple, drenched in sweat. My throat was parched.

But Thala was right, I was alive, and some instinct had propelled me to stay that way, despite myself.

Thala lowered a wooden pail into the water, and when she brought it up, I was startled at how clean and refreshing it looked. We drank it thirstily, cupping our hands and trying to take in as much as we could, before she refilled the skin and dampened the cloth she had purchased from the vendor. Then she sat on the ground before me, wiping my feet clean. I looked down at them and gasped. I hadn’t even noticed till now how badly cut up they were or how much they ached. I watched as Thala carefully cleaned my wounds, remembering how I had done the same for her when she first arrived at the palace. It made me feel humbled, cared for.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

She didn’t respond. “You risk infection,” she said. “We’ll have to get you some herbs for those cuts.” Her tunic was torn, and I noticed again the curlicued tattoo on her shoulder, whorls of black ink. I pushed back her sleeve.

“What is it?”

She looked around before she pulled her shirt over her shoulder to show me. “The Tree of Life. It’s an old symbol, from the time of the Diviners. I’m a descendant of the Diviners.”

I nodded. “So are the Sybillines.”

She looked up at me, a drunken smile across her face that made me nervous. She was a survivor, and I admired this in her, but there was also something unpredictable about her reactions. She was gruff one moment, then lucid, then it seemed as though the chamak had overtaken her mind, making her eyes cloudy, a loose smile across her lips. “My people wear the mark of the Tree of Life when we choose to commit ourselves fully to the Gift. I chose that life when I was nine.”

“Why a tree?”

“Because the Diviners derived their power from the Earth, and trees were considered the wisest living things on the planet once upon a time. The Parable of the Land of Trees is a famous tale where I come from. But it’s told all over the world.”

“Does it still exist—the Land of Trees?”

“That I don’t know. But it did once. In the time of the vetalas and the Diviners. They had their conflicts, but they ultimately felt the same way about the forests, the oceans, the land. That’s why they were able to coexist on the Earth for so long.”

“You know about the vetalas?”

“Everyone knows about the vetalas,” Thala said. “In Macedon, they’re called the Tithons. In the east, they’re the Xians. They used to dominate the Earth, but they’ve been edged out, hunted down by men like Sikander.”

“Do you know what happened to the vetalas and the Diviners?”

Thala shrugged as though she could barely care. “What always happens. A fight that made them forget all the things they had in common, and all their gifts. That’s why they went extinct.”

It made me think of Thala’s gift. “How long have you had visions?”