The Rogue Queen (The Hundredth Queen #3)(75)

Deven groans. “Kali?”

I crawl to him and touch his chest. His burns have healed. His clothes are scorched, yet his skin is smooth and unblemished. “How?” I breathe.

“I don’t know.” Deven opens an arm to me. I lie down beside him and stroke his bearded chin.

Ashwin looks away from us. “Don’t question a mercy from the gods.”

Brac strides in, burn patches covering his trousers. “I lost sight of Udug over the desert.”

“I thought he was dead,” Gemi says.

“He cannot be killed,” Ashwin replies bleakly, “only vanquished.”

Out the open entryway, the bloodshed has ceased. When Udug flew away, the false rajah was unmasked. I hear Natesa calling for the imperial army to lay down their weapons and the rebels to rein in their powers. But peace arrives too late. Bodies litter the courtyard. Losses were sustained only on our side. Mankind’s.

“What now?” I ask, laying my cheek against Deven’s shoulder.

“Udug is injured. You saw him. He could barely fly out of here. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out how best to pursue him. For right now, we get off this hard floor.”

“In a minute.” I nuzzle into the crook of his neck, and for the first time in a long while, I am warm.



My open balcony door teems with morning light. I stretch my toes to the end of my canopy bed, reaching for sunshine. Noises of working men rise from the garden. Last night, Gemi closed the gulch in the palace grounds, and Brac led the surrendered rebels to the dungeons. Most had exhausted their powers during battle, preventing them from fighting or fleeing. Including Anjali, just over half survived.

Ashwin sent Deven and me to rest and then took charge, sorting through the dead and overseeing aid for the wounded. Though I wanted to visit with the ranis and courtesans, I was glad to leave the battle site. Until yesterday, none of my palace friends were aware that I am a Burner. We have much work to do to reeducate our people about bhutas.

Deven rubs his foot up my insole, tickling me. I prod him with my toe to stop.

“We should get up,” I say, a suggestion born of guilt more than desire.

Deven hooks me with his arm and drags me against him. “Not yet,” he mutters sleepily.

After peeling ourselves off the marble floor, we stumbled to my old bedchamber and passed out from exhaustion. I hardly remember pushing the ridiculously huge pile of satin pillows from the bed and falling asleep beside Deven.

In thinking over last night, I remember the initial death toll—twenty-one ranis and forty-nine courtesans. We have yet to tally the soldiers, though the total missing and deceased is anticipated to be in the thousands. Deven also informed me of Rohan’s demise. In turn, I told him of the destruction of the Samiya temple. My sorrow returns for all those who gave their lives, but some aspects of yesterday remain murky.

“How did you convince Hastin to unite with the sister warriors?”

Deven traces swirls across my arm. “I realized you were right and told him we needed to work together. I even gave a speech to the ranis and courtesans about your devotion to them.”

I splay my fingers across his chest, cherishing the low flicker of his soul-fire. “You did?”

“I was very complimentary.”

“Care to share what you said?”

He chuckles, a deep, rich sound. “Where’s your humility?”

“I have none when it comes to your praise.” I tuck my head beneath his chin and swing my leg over his, my knee high on his thigh. His sandalwood musk permeates my clothes and bedcovers.

“I told them you’ll do what’s right for the empire,” he says, his voice husky.

I slide my fingers under his tunic neckline to erase more distance between us. “Ashwin will do what’s right for them. Our people need to look to him for guidance.”

Deven stops drawing on my arm. “Are you and he still . . . close?”

“No, at least not that way. What you saw between us wasn’t real. Ashwin included me in his heart’s wish. In his ideal empire, he imagined me at his side. His vision protected me from harm but also drew me to him.”

Deven’s voice pitches to a dissatisfied grumble. “He manipulated you to get close to him?”

I’m not explaining this well. “Neither of us knew his heart’s wish had that much power. I figured it out in Samiya, and Ashwin had no idea. I would have told you if I knew.” I make myself ask the question I have been dreading since our argument in Lestari. “Did you—or do you—really believe I’d choose Ashwin over you?”

“I prefer not to think that your choice is between him and me, but me and your throne.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I never wished for my throne.”

“But you need it to accomplish the change you wish to see in the empire.” His answer is too smooth to convince me of his dispassion. Deven pretends not to care when he cares the most.

I rest my chin on his chest and gaze up at him. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t think you’d leave angry.”

“I didn’t think you wouldn’t say good-bye.”

“I tried.”

His composure cracks a little. “You did?”

“You were already in the air. Then Mathura came to see me . . .” I did not intend to discuss his mother. I rest my cheek on his chest again, but Deven is curious.