The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)(49)

A muffled voice comes from inside the wagon. “Rohan?”

Opal. I listen for Brac, but another voice calls out.

“General,” says the demon Udug in Tarek’s stolen timbre, “we have a visitor.”

Manas and two soldiers armed with crossbows race out of the tent. Rohan summons a raging gust, and the opulent tent starts to lift off the ground. Furniture tips over, and lamplight flickers. Both soldiers release bolts. Rohan’s wind diverts the first one, but the second strikes him in the shoulder.

Rohan falls, and his winds dwindle.

“Bind him,” says Manas.

The soldiers tie Rohan’s wrists behind him with a vine of toxic snakeroot, and the last of his powers recede. In the stillness, the demon rajah strides out of his tent.

“You’re audacious, boy.” Udug’s snide voice rings with amusement. “Are you alone?”

Rohan bends over, in pain from the bolt in his shoulder. “You have my sister.”

“You mean Opal.” Udug elongates the o and snaps the p. Ooo-pal. “Your sister has proven to be very valuable.”

Manas speaks up. “This boy served as a guard for Kindred Kalinda and Prince Ashwin.”

“Oh?” Udug looms over Rohan as he would a drooping flower. “How are my son and first wife? Have they run into any further trouble?”

My stomach plunges. He must mean the sea raiders. Did they follow the navy or Kali and the prince?

Rohan groans through firm-set teeth. “Release Opal. Take me.”

“I have no need for two abominations.” The demon rajah grabs Rohan’s head as he did when he executed the Galer.

Anu, don’t let this be happening.

Rohan also recognizes the fatal grip and toughens to someone sager than his fourteen years. “Prince Ashwin is our true ruler. He and Kindred Kalinda will stop you.”

His boldness tugs at my pride. His voice did not break once.

“You will not live to see how wrong you are.” Udug’s fingers glow an eerie azure as his fingertips dig into Rohan’s head. “I cast you out, demon.”

Rohan’s expression fixes in a silent scream. White light, his soul-fire, filters out of him and into the demon’s grasp.

Pounding sounds from inside the wagon. Opal bangs against the door, her shouts indistinct. I have to get to Rohan. Perhaps I could dispatch Manas and one of the guards before the other releases a bolt at me, but could I cut down all three? And then how do I stop Udug?

All my muscles strain for me to step forward—to protect Rohan, to stop Udug, to do something—but Opal’s wailing holds me back. I promised Rohan I would save his sister. Revealing my presence would jeopardize my chance of keeping my word. Any attempt to save Rohan would put Opal, Natesa, and Yatin in danger, and by all reason would be suicide. I cannot do anything for Rohan, but I can still help Opal.

Dropping my head against the side of the wagon, I fight the need to act. Why couldn’t Rohan have listened to me and stayed behind? Why didn’t he trust me? I should have known he lied to Natesa about needing the latrine. I should have stayed at the wagon until he returned. I failed him. I failed us all.

The night transforms around Udug, thickening to a suffocating depth of nothing. Rohan’s soul-fire fades like a dying day. I grasp my sword so tightly my palm aches. Finally, Udug steals the last of Rohan’s essence and lets him go.

Rohan folds in a heap like a husk, limbs and head angled wrongly.

Opal’s frantic thuds and cries lessen. Udug stares up at the sky and scowls at the stars that defy his darkness. Then he strides into his tent.

Manas wrenches the bolt from Rohan’s shoulder. I cringe from the grisly sound of blade ripping flesh. “Get rid of it.”

The soldiers pick up Rohan and lug him away. Opal’s weeps reverberate into my bones.

Manas raps his fist against the wagon. “You in there. Shut it.” He mutters to himself and ducks inside Udug’s tent.

I wait two breaths. Then five. Then twelve. No one returns.

Opal’s cries continue. Brac must not be with her or I would have heard him by now. Perhaps Udug stole his soul-fire too.

The pair of soldiers returns and stands guard at the end of the prisoner’s wagon.

I press my lips against the wall and whisper so only the wind can hear me. “I’ll get you out, Opal. I swear it.”

Trusting the wind to deliver my message, I slip away to the end of camp. The moon and stars reveal two sets of footprints leading into the rocky field. I follow their trail to the body.

The soldiers dumped Rohan in the grass. They did not even lay him so he looks to the heavens. I roll him onto his back and sniffle away my tears. He was so young.

Without a tool to dig a grave with, I will lay him to rest another way. I set to work gathering rocks. Taking off my jacket to use as a bindle, I load and carry four or five rocks at a time. I stack them around Rohan, burying his feet and legs first.

A rustle in the grass draws me up short. Scavengers must have caught the scent of the body. Before long, they will circle in. I double my speed, gathering and stacking until Rohan is encased in stones.

I kneel back, sweat dripping down my forehead, and try to center myself. My anger against Udug drove me to labor through most of the night, but I must let go of my hard feelings long enough to pray.

“Gods, bless Rohan’s soul so that he may find the gate that leads to peace and everlasting light.” I recite the Prayer of Rest more often than feels fair, but the blessing always instills harmony in my heart.