The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)(48)

I can determine how upset he is by how often his voice breaks. That was three times. “It would be suspicious for us to wander around together. After today, we have to be selective about our risks.”

“You mean after you nearly got us caught?” Rohan grumbles.

“I won’t repeat my mistake,” I promise. “Have you heard anything?”

“No.” Rohan crosses arms, his frown understandable.

I lower my voice between us. “If Brac and Opal are indeed in camp, we’ll find them. Please wait here while I’m gone.”

“Is that an order?” Rohan’s voice pitched only once, but it was so apparent Yatin glances over.

“I’m asking for your trust.”

After my prolonged stare, Rohan concedes with a begrudging mumble.

Natesa stretches out her legs. “I’m fine right here.” She sneaks a tentative glance at Yatin seated at the end of the wagon. His aloofness bothers her, but she leaves him be.

I stride over to him. “How are you faring?”

Yatin glowers at his fist, his sight in line with my boots. “Natesa shouldn’t have taken her turban off today. She risked too much.”

I purse my lips in thought. “I doubt she sees it that way. Natesa’s a sister warrior. She was trained to stand up for herself and those she loves.” Yatin unclenches his fist, and I spot the lotus ring in his palm. Holding on to it must be adding to his unrest. “You should propose to her again. She may give you a different answer.”

“She’s stubborn.”

“Be more stubborn.”

Yatin grunts noncommittally and slips the ring into his pocket. The noises around camp have lessened. The men are turning in for the night. I pat his shoulder and then walk back to the others. Natesa is by herself.

“Where did Rohan go?” I ask.

She picks dirt out from under her nails. “He needed the latrine.”

“Keep an eye on him and Yatin while I’m gone.”

“Are you assigning me to watch duty, General?”

Why does everyone take what I say as an order? “You can call it that if you prefer.” I thumb at Yatin. “He’s worried about you.”

“No, he’s mad that I took off my turban, but we would have been caught. At the very least, you would have. Kali will burn us alive if anything happens to you.”

“I’m not so certain she cares,” I admit.

“Don’t be a dolt. Of course she does.” Natesa thumps my shin, a friendly bump. I return her badgering with a nudge of my toe. She does not smile. “Yatin wants to marry me.”

“Oh?”

“You’re an awful liar, Deven. I know Yatin told you. He doesn’t understand why I want to meet his family first, because he has a family. But it matters to me.” Natesa hugs her knees to her chest and tries unsuccessfully not to glance at him.

“He wants you for his wife,” I reply. “He already considers you part of his family.”

She loosens some. “You better go before Rohan comes back and talks you into taking him along. Be careful.”

“You too.” I pick up my empty water cup, salute her in farewell, and head off.



I maneuver through the sleepy camp, careful not to draw much attention. The soldiers have settled in tents or lain out under wagons. To keep up the appearance that I am out for a drink, I stop at the watering hole. No one pays me any mind as I down a cup of stale water and head off in a direction opposite to the one I came from. Since we have not found any sign of prisoners, the demon rajah must be keeping them close by, so I set out in search of his tent.

Near the front of camp, the covered wagons multiply. At the end of a long row, the demon rajah’s grand silk tent is pitched. Manas ducks out the tent’s entry. I flatten against a wagon, and he strides to the far end of the nearest row.

I start after Manas. Heaviness burdens my approach, and a high signal drones in my ears, as though I am standing too close to a ringing gong. I close in on the tent, and a thick, cloying darkness permeates the night. Even the torchlights do not shine as far.

A blue light flashes from inside the tent, and a sudden tremor shakes the ground. Then stunning quiet.

Cold fingers pry at my chest. That quake came from a Trembler.

Ignoring the fear simmering in my gut, I tiptoe down the row of wagons, navigating the gloom to my advantage.

A shadow moves in front of me. Someone else sneaks to the wagon at the end of the second row. I recognize the person’s small, slight shape and whisper his name.

Rohan pauses, the only indication that he heard me, and carries on. I hiss for him to come back, but he tiptoes closer to the last covered wagon.

Skies above. I should have ordered him to remain with Natesa and Yatin.

I dart to the line of wagons and nestle in the shadows. A swift, suspicious gust ruffles the draped opening of the demon rajah’s tent and knocks over a lamp within. Two guards and Manas dash inside to stomp out the fire.

Rohan must have caused the sudden wind. He hurries for the wagon nearest the tent. I stop at the front of the wagon, by the coachman’s bench, and peer around the corner. Rohan hovers at the corner of the covered wagon’s rear door.

“Opal?” he whispers.

I strain my ears but hear nothing. Manas will have weakened the bhuta prisoners by poisoning them with white baneberry and snakeroot or by bleeding out their powers.