The Library of Fates(51)

“I’m the seer.”

“Even so, I know in some deep part of me that my life is already over, Thala. It doesn’t matter that you’re the seer. I know it in my bones. Everything I once was . . . is gone. I’ll never return to that life. I’ll never be home again.”

“Then maybe you should tell me what you’ll miss.”

I took a deep breath and smiled at my memories, alighting upon me like benevolent fireflies. “I’ll miss laughing with my father, eating breakfast with him in the mornings. Toast with mango murabba and chai. Shree showing me how to read my first book. Running with Arjun through the orchard in the rain. The way Mala woke me up every morning, with such care. Tippu the gardener giving me a flower from the garden practically every time I passed him. Falling in love with Arjun. The view of Ananta from my window, neem trees, hot baths, cardamom kulfi, stories that Mala told me.”

I was crying now, and laughing too. It had all been so . . . beautiful, despite the last part. I had lived such a rich life. I had been lucky.

“What do you regret?”

I thought for a moment. “That I never got to meet my mother. And leaving Arjun behind.”

Thala nodded. “You’ve lived a wonderful life, Amrita.”

“I know.”

“You’re right,” she said to me after a moment. “You’ll never return to Shalingar. You’ll never rule your kingdom, the way you hoped you would one day. You have to accept it. That life is gone.”

Even though I knew this, hearing Thala confirm it stunned me. I felt a deep panic welling inside me. It was one thing to feel resigned, to feel as though that particular life had ended, but it was an entirely different thing to relinquish my identity altogether. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Look at these men around you,” Thala whispered. “Look at me. We all had to give up who we were once. The only advice I have for you is that your identity means nothing to Alexi, to these men, to the sandstorm that’s coming our way.”

I shook my head. I might have been ready for death, but if I wasn’t Amrita, who was I? If I wasn’t the collection of my experiences, then what was left of me?

“You’re not Amrita anymore,” Thala told me, her voice soothing. “You’re Maya.”

But every molecule in my body rejected her words. “I don’t even know who Maya is! To me, she’s just some statue in a temple.”

Thala had no words for me then. She simply rested her shackled hands over mine.

In the distance, the wind howled. Please, I asked the vast landscape, pitching my desperate wish across its surface like I was throwing a stone. Please keep my friend safe. Please get her to the Janaka Caves. It had become an hourly prayer. Something I did simply to pass the time, to make myself feel better.

Thala lifted her head, turned to look out toward the sunset. “It’s coming,” she said. I expected to hear dread in her voice, but instead, I heard a crackle of excitement.

¤

The sandstorm hit well into the night, just when Thala predicted it would. All of a sudden, a wall of dust engulfed the stars. The horses began to whinny, and fear radiated from Alexi’s face. I knew there was no way we would survive a sandstorm out here without supplies. And yet, there was nothing we could do tied up in chains.

“Make a barricade with the horses,” Alexi yelled over the terrifying hiss of the wind. “We’ll stay in the middle.”

“That won’t work.” One of the soldiers shook his head. His voice was surprisingly calm. “We’ll be buried alive. All of us.”

“You have a better idea?” Alexi shouted over the wind.

Two soldiers approached Thala and me, lifting us up to carry us to higher ground.

“Thank you,” Thala said, touching the arm of the soldier who carried her.

I watched Alexi frantically yelling at his soldiers as he gesticulated at the wind. But it was obvious to the rest of us: We had no chance of surviving this sandstorm.

I turned back to Thala, who was speaking loudly over the howl of the wind to the two soldiers who carried us. She spoke quickly in Persian, and after she finished, the soldiers glanced at one another. They ran in the other direction, mounted their horses, and took off. I watched them ride away from the storm.

“What did you say to them?” I shouted.

“I told them that I predicted this storm. And I can make another prediction that might be of use to them. There are a few outcomes to their fate. Had they made it to the caves, Alexi would have killed them so he could keep the loot for himself. Lucky for them, he’ll never get there. If they stay here, they’ll die in the sandstorm. If they go back to Sikander, he’ll kill them. Sikander is going to see them as deserters. It wasn’t their fault, but they abandoned their post, kidnapped the princess.”

“Those are all terrible outcomes,” I said.

“Yes, but they have one good option.”

“What?” I asked.

“Run,” she said. “I told them to get ahead of the storm. They can still make it. Ride back where we came from. Hide in the forest. When they emerge, they can make their way back to Persia, taking the Silk Road all the way west. They can return to their families alive. They can fight to have their lives back. It’s not going to be easy. But it’s possible. And worth trying for.”