The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)(65)

“I wouldn’t mind being under his command,” Eshana replies. Their giggles drift away, and Yatin lumbers after them.

Asha goes to the doorway of the servants’ passageway and waits. I hesitate to leave my brother so soon after finding him. I still need to have a word with him about Chitt. But a new worry stops me. What if Brac is excited to hear about his father? He, Mother, and Chitt will be a family, and I do not know how I will fit in. Our conversation can wait.

“Look after yourself,” I say.

Brac grasps me by the shoulder. “Stop worrying about me, Deven. I’ve been sneaking around the palace since I learned to walk.”

“We’ll meet back here shortly,” I promise. My words are partly snatched away by rising winds. The rebels are gathering their defenses against the army. Time to move.

I join Asha at the doorway and pause to look back. Wind lashes at the silk draperies. Brac’s hair dances about his brassy eyes. I wave farewell and duck into the passageway.





25

KALINDA

Hot wind guides the mahati falcon over the waves of ginger sand dunes. Ashwin and Gemi stoop forward in apprehension as dust builds on their skin. I search the blurry horizon, sepia fading to azure heavens, for the City of Gems.

A shadow deepens on the skyline, materializing into view. Civilization rests upon an old, rounded mountain. The Turquoise Palace appears first, its gold-domed roofs a burnished reflection of the desert sun. White-walled towers gleam like ivory teeth above the drab city kneeling at the palace’s feet.

Red-coated soldiers flying Tarachand banners with black scorpions swarm the outer wall. They crowd a blown-out hole and fling huge rocks to smash the gap wider. The imperial army is only minutes from breeching the city.

Deven and the others would have found a safer, quicker route past the wall to await the navy. He will expect our arrival, so Rohan should be listening for us. Please hear us coming.

Tinley clucks her tongue, and Chare dips lower. The falcon circles a soft-mounded dune and lands. Gemi slips off and then Ashwin. He extends his arms to me. My feet hit the sand, and my knees crumple. I clutch his shoulders and wait for feeling to return to my lower half.

“I’ve been stationary too long,” I explain.

The corners of his mouth crease. He stays close a moment until I can transfer my weight to my feet. Numbness runs down my legs, but my knees adjust to standing and hold strong.

“I must be off,” Tinley says from upon her saddle. The mahati falcon digs her hook-like beak under a scrub bush and comes up with a scorpion to chomp on.

“Will you go to Paljor?” Ashwin asks.

“I wish I . . .” Tinley halts herself. “My father says wishes are for dreamers, not doers.”

“Your father may be the biggest dreamer of all,” Ashwin returns. Chief Naresh is a pacifist, a rare visionary and advocate for peace. “You only have one home, Tinley.”

I sigh inaudibly, or so I thought. Ashwin brushes his hand against mine. Neither of us has been blessed with a family praying for our safety. Tinley’s devotion to her falcon is admirable, but she may be avoiding Paljor for another reason. Perhaps she is not ready to confront her memories of Bya and replace them with Chare. But I hope she finds the strength to go home.

“Thank you, Tinley.” I stroke Chare’s feathers. “Let the sky lead you, the land ground you, the fire cleanse you, and the water feed you.”

“And you.” Tinley yanks on the reins, and the falcon launches into the air. They soar away from the late-afternoon sun, back over the hungry, brutal desert.

Ashwin stares in the opposite direction, at the gleaming palace domes. I slip my hand into his. He has not seen his palace, his legacy, as an adult. It must be odd to return to a place that belongs to him but is vacant of memories.

Gemi frowns at our linked hands. “Should we go?”

I release Ashwin to pull my dagger. Gemi brought a trident from her homeland, wielding it with poise. We ascend the rise and go down the other side. As we climb another dune, I slip and fall forward. The parts of me that are not yet numb radiate iciness.

Gemi crawls to the crest and lies on her belly, batting sand fleas away. Ashwin edges up beside her. I force myself to crawl the incline to them and peer over the ridge. We are about a thousand strides away from the rearmost ranks of the army.

The hole in the wall is finished. Hundreds of soldiers push catapults and wagons through the passage. My anxiety mounts as more troops disappear into the city. The protection of the palace relies upon the rebel army. They must uphold the palace’s outer wall until the navy arrives. By morning, they will be begging for our aid.

“We’ll wait here until the entire army is through, and then we’ll follow,” Ashwin says.

Gemi grabs his forearm. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

She shushes him and then launches to her feet. “Run!”

Gemi takes off across the dune, in clear sight of the army. I gape at her. What is she—?

A fearsome tremble rises from the ground. Ashwin and I scramble up. The quaking grows to a knee-buckling roar like a slumbering dragon has awoken. Gemi does not slow for us but sprints directly east, to the river. Ashwin and I clamber after her across shifting sand.

My leaden legs and feet, weighed down by numbness, impede my speed. Ashwin grabs me and helps me along. Out in the open, our view of the army is unhindered. They see us too. But as we run, an infantry drops and vanishes into the desert floor.