The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)(38)



Pons, Ashwin, and Indah come up the side stairway from the lower level. The girls’ high voices pinch off at the sight of the Lestarian warrior with the partly shaved head, bare legs, and hairy chest. They are equally astonished by Ashwin’s good looks, and most of them blush.

“Girls, protect your innocence.” Sister Hetal covers the nearest girl’s sight, and the others shut their eyes. Sarita hides her face but peeks out at Ashwin from between her fingers. “Kindred Kalinda, the wards mustn’t see the men. Priestess Mita—”

“Would not presume to send away her prince.” I tug him forward, and Pons and Indah follow arm in arm.

“I thought you were avoiding me,” Ashwin says under his breath. I was, though at the moment I cannot remember why. His touch is like a sunrise on a frosty morning. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re introducing these girls to their ruler,” I answer and then raise my voice. “Prince Ashwin has come to view your sparring practice.” Sister Hetal blathers on about propriety and innocence. I direct my next statement at Sarita, who has lowered her hands to gawk at Ashwin. “Would you like to demonstrate your skills first or should we draw lots?”

No one moves. The younger girls still have their sight shielded, though many steal glimpses of the men behind Sister Hetal’s back.

“Kalinda, perhaps we should go,” Ashwin says, shifting uncomfortably.

“These girls have been locked away long enough. There’s a point when innocence becomes ignorance.”

“I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Sister Hetal blusters. “Priestess Mita must hear of this.”

She rushes off, and most of the wards lower their hands. Pons bows to them. His kind, wise eyes exude a surprising depth of vulnerability. He does not want them to fear him.

Ashwin chews his lower lip, still torn. “They’re so young. I don’t want to startle them.”

The girls hang on his every word, his strange tenor transfixing them. None of them flee or hide. They are sister warriors in the making.

Remembering how awkward it felt to stand before a group of men as a lone woman, I push a smile of encouragement at Ashwin. “They have never seen a man before, but they’re astute enough to recognize your handsomeness.”

Ashwin’s gaze slowly widens. “You’ve never told me I’m handsome.”

“No?” My voice mellows. “I should have.”

Sarita bows, a curt bend at her waist. “There’s no need to draw lots. I’ll demonstrate my skills for you, Your Majesty.”

The last of the girls uncover their eyes and blink at Ashwin in wonder.

I select a staff from the weapon’s rack and hand it to Sarita. “Go ahead. I’ll be your sparring partner.”

She laughs a little, not in derision but amusement. “You’re still skinnier than a bamboo pole.”

“I’m also a two-time tournament champion.” She would probably flee if I told her I am also a Burner, but I do not want these girls to fear men or bhutas.

“This will be entertaining,” Indah says, tugging Pons to the meditation pond. Some of the wards shuffle after them. They congregate near Indah, but do not shy away when Pons asks them questions about their training. More girls move closer to my friends, mesmerized by Indah’s topaz eyes and Pons’s gentleness. They even request to see his blowgun, and he shows them.

I grab another staff and square off with Sarita in the ring. Her entire focus is on me and not the men. She has recovered faster from meeting the opposite gender than I did. I was thunderstruck by Deven for days.

Sarita raises her staff to ready position. “Until first blood?” she asks, reciting the rules of the last time we sparred.

“Until first down,” I correct. I have shed enough blood inside battle rings. Priestess Mita will return any moment, so I call the start and waste no time swinging.

Sarita blocks, and our bamboo poles connect. The clanging vibration shoots up my arms. She glances at Ashwin for approval. I slide closer and knock her in the side of the head with the end of my staff. She bends away and comes around, striking me in the hip. The impact throws me back a step.

“What’s become of Natesa?” Sarita tries for neutrality, but I hear her concern for her friend.

“Natesa lives. She conceded the final rank tournament match to me.”

Sarita swipes at my nose. I duck, but she gets me on the way back up, hitting me in the shoulder. “Natesa would never concede to you.”

“She did.” I pace away so Sarita can better view my earnestness. “We’re friends now.”

“They are,” Ashwin confirms, standing at the rim of the ring.

Sarita adjusts her grip on her staff while considering this news. I check on Pons and Indah from my side vision. The little ones still crowd around them. One of the girls sits in Indah’s lap, and another plays with Pons’s tied-back hair.

“Where is she?” Sarita asks, jabbing.

I block her, locking our staffs together. “She’s in love with a soldier. I think they’ll wed someday.”

Sarita drops her guard, her voice halting. “Natesa isn’t a palace courtesan anymore?”

“No. She’s been freed.”

Sarita lowers her staff even more. Her incredulous stare goes right through me.

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