The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)(58)
From above, the temple rubble is more visible. Is this what Anu sees when he looks down upon us? Did he see the fire was an accident?
Wolf’s Peak juts into the slate sky. I comb its cliffs and impenetrable vertexes for Ekur, desperate for a glimpse of the gods’ mountain home. Show me, Anu. Show me you forgive me. But Chare banks south, putting the pinnacle of the mountain behind us.
22
DEVEN
Soon after the wagon stops for the night, Manas returns.
“Get out, Deven. The rajah has asked for you.”
I am hardly surprised. Opal dissatisfied Udug with her lack of knowledge about Vanhi. Who better to inquire of the palace and rebels than the former captain of the guard?
Opal starts to get out too, but Manas throws out his arm. “Stay here, filth. The rajah is finished suffering your repulsive presence.”
“Yet he surrounds himself with you,” I say, climbing out of the wagon.
Manas smacks the back of my head. I stumble forward to my knees, my hands still tethered behind me. As I rise, the scene beyond camp emerges. The Turquoise Palace shines upon the hill, and Vanhi stretches out below it. To those who love Vanhi, it is known as the City of Gems, a sparkling oasis for all. But the mines beneath the palace that once harvested rich veins of turquoise were boarded up long ago. Like those dried-up veins, Vanhi’s shutters are closed and dim.
Men rush around us, situating the catapults and unloading the ammunition. Preparations have begun for the army to break through the city wall.
Manas shuts the wagon door and nudges me across the sand toward Udug’s tent. “Who did you bring with you, Deven? The commander saw a third man.”
“I don’t know who you mean.”
Manas pushes me, nearly tripping me again. I already have sand in places I would rather not think about. “The missing soldier was your fault, wasn’t it?” he asks.
“You’re missing a soldier?”
Another push. “Rajah Tarek will end your life.”
The night thickens as we approach the tent. “I told you in Iresh: he isn’t Rajah Tarek.”
“Quit your lies.” Manas cuts my bindings free and shoves me inside but does not follow.
Lamplight glows upon the lavish gold, purple, and red carpets laid out on the floor. An unnatural coldness dulls the air. A table full of rich dishes of food wafts of decadence. My mouth waters at the spicy scents. Silk cushions are set around the table, and Udug occupies the head.
“You know who I am,” he says, tearing off a chunk of flatbread.
I rub my wrists, bruised from my bindings. “You’re the Voider.”
He smirks as he chews. “My master calls me Udug.”
“Your master is the demon Kur?”
He bites off more bread. “I know him as Kur, God of the Evernight.”
Kur’s name with the descriptor “god” rankles. The Parijana faith teaches that Kur, the First-Ever Dragon, was created by a primeval goddess to combat her son, Anu. But Anu prevailed and usurped his mother. Kur, belonging neither to the skies nor the land, claimed the evernight as home for himself and his depraved followers.
Udug speaks with his mouth full. “I have missed this ritual of eating. You mortals, especially your rulers, bask in self-indulgence.” He smacks his lips. A bread knife rests near the center of the table. If I lunge, I may reach it before he does. “Why are you here, Captain? Why aren’t you with the kindred? Has the prince claimed her?”
“Kali cannot be claimed,” I say shortly. “Tarek is proof of that.”
“Tarek is guilty of selfishness and conceit, but never overreach. He took what he lusted after, claimed what he desired, and ruled what he could seize. He was never complacent.” Udug says the last as though accusing me of such. “You’re here because you’re not that sort of man.” Again, phrased as an insult. “Prince Ashwin, however, has the potential to rival his father. I saw his heart’s wish. He lusts after it all—the empire, the imperial army, the kindred. His desire to rule with Kalinda is why I have not taken her life.”
My joints lock down. “But you wounded her.”
“Not wounded, restored. Within her Burner soul is great potential. I provided her a push toward a better state. Alas, you are utterly forgettable.” His conversational tone contrasts his pitying expression. “Dutiful men are all the same—martyrs. You want for everything but take nothing for yourself. You sacrifice your own happiness for others and validate your ensuing misery with your magnanimous loyalty.”
I lick my lips, my mouth dry and sticky. “I deserted the army.”
“By word perhaps, but not by deed. You blended in with my troops without difficulty. You tricked a commander and went so far as to risk revealing your identity to stop a catapult from landing on a group of comrades. You will always be a soldier.”
His statement reverberates too deeply. My godly duty is to serve the rajah, and whenever I go against my purpose, awful consequences follow.
“You hide behind the will of someone stronger than you and call it honor,” says Udug.
I must point out the irony. “You’re hiding behind Tarek.”
Udug concedes with a twitch of his head. “Tarek’s physical form is required for my bargain with the prince. When I am free, I will reveal my true self.” He drinks his entire glass of wine, gluttonous in his feasting.