The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)(12)

This was my fear. The demon rajah is pillaging Iresh to feed, clothe, and arm his troops. Once he finishes picking the city clean of everything valuable, they will march on Vanhi.

“The Voider has declared Kalinda and Prince Ashwin traitors. He offered the sea raiders ten thousand coin each for their return. Should Kalinda and the prince return to Tarachand, imperial soldiers are ordered to seize them on sight.”

“I know at least two soldiers who won’t obey that command,” I say, referring to Yatin and me.

“It’s all right, Deven,” Kali says, more weary than outraged. “The people already despise my bhuta heritage. That I anticipated. But Ashwin is their ruler. They need him. We all do.”

Her loyalty to him jabs at me. Does Kali need Ashwin any more than any other citizen of the Tarachand Empire?

Prince Ashwin enters and strolls directly to Kali. He changed his attire to the local cultural favorite for men: baggy trousers and a lightweight tunic with a low-cut collar. Pons is not with him, nor did I see him in the corridor.

“The palace library is larger than the sultan’s,” Ashwin tells Kali. “I’ve already found several texts to comb through while we’re here.”

She grasps his hand in hers. I force my jaw to unclench. They’re friends, family, co-rulers. Nothing more.

“We have news from Iresh,” she says. “The demon rajah has declared us traitors.”

Ashwin sways back on his heels, but she maintains her hold on him. Why is this a surprise? We came to Lestari to plot against the demon rajah. Even the real Rajah Tarek would denounce his son for this. The boy prince is an idealist, and a stupid one at that. If he does not start acting like the leader we need, Brother Shaan will not be our only casualty.

“He won’t catch us,” Kali promises. “We’ll stop him first.”

From the corner of my eye, I see a shadow move outside. I sidestep to the terrace to investigate.

“How? We cannot kill a demon.” Prince Ashwin clutches the hair at the sides of his head. “Maybe we should turn ourselves in and spare our people more harm.”

“No,” Kali counters firmly, “we’ll find a way to send him back to the Void.”

A small figure hides around the corner, pressed against the wall. Reaching back as though to scratch my side, I grab my sword and draw on our intruder.

A young woman leaps into the open, wielding no weapon except for her fists. She stomps her foot, and a vibration carries up from the ground. I stumble backward. She tries to leap over the banister, but I grab her by the tunic and spin her around.

She cannot be more than twenty. In a black tunic over trousers—a man’s attire—her unintimidating frame is lean but scrappy. Her bare feet are decorated with henna patterns, the moon phases, and her toenails are painted pomegranate.

“Princess Gemi?” Indah questions.

I let the princess go and lower my blade. “Did your father send you?”

She snorts. “No. He thinks I’m preparing for supper.”

“Your Highness,” Ashwin says, “I’m Prince Ashwin from Tarachand.”

The princess juts out her pointy chin, her wide-set eyes flat. “Aren’t you the rajah by now?”

“Formally, I cannot hold that title until I take a wife.”

“You aren’t marrying me,” the princess retorts, a hair away from a threat. “I don’t care how badly my father wants to reopen trade with the empire.”

“We’ve come for another matter.” Kali steps to Ashwin’s side, a slight movement of protection that I both admire and abhor. “I’m Kalinda.”

Princess Gemi sniffs. “You’re the two-time tournament champion? You’re thinner than a twig.”

“So I’ve been told. Do you spy on all of your visitors?”

“Only the ones I deem too dimwitted to catch me.” Princess Gemi’s attention roams to me. She has the same heavy accent as her father, dropping her r and k sounds. “I was told imperial soldiers are two tides shy of a full moon. You are . . . ?”

“Deven Naik.” I omit my military title to annoy the prince. He rewards my efforts with a scowl.

The princess swings her leg over the banister. “I’ll reserve you a seat by me at supper, Deven.” Her grin reminds me of Brac’s. And like Brac, beneath her arrogance lies steely independence. I find myself wanting to return her grin, but Princess Gemi drops into the garden and dashes off.

“She’s . . .” Kali sifts for the right word, “dynamic.”

I sheathe my khanda. “Indeed. A spirited one.”

Kali sticks me with a perturbed look. I send one back at her. The princess was abrupt, even rude, but by all appearances, harmless. I can stand bad manners over idealism. Ashwin could take a lesson in authority from the princess of the Southern Isles.



A low horn calls us to supper. Indah says the blare came from a conch shell, but it sounded like an elephant with a bad cold.

We gather on a terrace overlooking the cove. Moonlight silvers the water, and a breeze rustles the canopy. Star-shaped yellow flowers grow along the path, their bright petals splashes of light outside the glow of the chandelier lamp. The datu waves for us to occupy the table. Kali and Prince Ashwin take chairs near him, and I sit between the princess and Ambassador Chitt.