“Come with me,” Subodh says out loud to the four of us. “The birds will bring news, I hope. Nearly two weeks have passed.”
“Yes, Raja Subodh.” Esther bows.
Subodh lightly brushes his forehead against hers. “Bless you, little sister. But I am not a king anymore.”
He leads us out of the courtyard and down a road paved with cobblestones that glitter whenever the sun falls on them. Small, mud-brick houses rise on both sides, their roofs flat instead of thatched with hay. Beyond that, a city—or the ruins of what once must have been one—dust lining broken pillars of stone and marble, gilded rags fluttering from the flagpoles of abandoned temples.
“Tavan used to be beautiful a long time ago,” Subodh says. “Autonomous in many ways and self-sufficient. A city made for the desert. Its people were brave enough to rebel against Lohar’s ascent to the throne. Lohar crushed the rebellion brutally, executed the Tavani governor, and turned the city into a labor camp.” He gestures to the walls of the houses, some of which are marked with red atashbans. “We can’t get the marks out. No matter what we do.”
Two girls are drying dates on one side, a sheet of brown pebbles on a blanket on the ground. When Subodh passes by, they call out greetings, which he returns. I feel them watching me as well; unlike Esther, they’re frowning, as if they can’t quite believe my presence.
Intruder, their body language suggests. Impostor.
“How many people live here?” Cavas asks. He’s looking at the girls as well.
“Of those who have survived these twenty years in the desert, about fifty. There used to be thrice as many before,” Subodh says. “There were about fourteen labor camps when I was imprisoned. I don’t know how many are left now.”
“Still far too many.” Kali is the one who responds. Her lips are ashen, and I suddenly remember that she was at a camp as well. That Juhi helped her and Amira escape.
“Perhaps there won’t be any left by the end of the year,” Subodh says gently. “We’ve sent the new king a message by shvetpanchhi, asking for his pardon. My sources tell me he’s different from his father. More malleable.”
I think of Amar, the confusion I saw in his eyes when I accused him of colluding with Shayla. Was I wrong? Did he really want to help me avoid binding with Sonar? I hesitate before asking Subodh the next question. “Why are you doing this? You’re free now. You could … leave.”
“I can and I will. Once I’m assured that Esther and her girls are safe. That they can return home. After all they did to keep me alive and well, it’s the least I can do.”
His words feel like a gut punch. I think of Juhi, who rescued me. Of Amira, who infiltrated the palace despite the awful things I said to her. I might have talked about avenging my parents, but in truth I was only thinking of one person: myself.
Do not judge yourself too harshly, Savak-putri Gulnaz. Subodh’s voice feels like a gentle breeze in my mind. I am older than you are and have made mistakes that are even bigger. There are always ways to make amends.
Moments later, we’ve left the houses behind and are approaching a copse of date palms and other trees. A mirage, I think, when I see the water, but when Subodh pauses before it, I realize it’s a rectangular reservoir, the surface so flat and clear that it might be a mirror reflecting the clear blue sky.
“Hundreds of years ago, the rulers of Ambar learned that they would need a more consistent supply of water apart from the rain that fell every Month of Tears to sustain their land-locked kingdom,” Subodh tells us. “They built a series of underground aqueducts to supply their towns and cities from the River Aloksha and from the Prithvi mountains. During the Great War, though, Prithvi raised its wall, and many of the underground channels dried up, along with the Aloksha itself. Raja Lohar was forced to build new underground channels from the Jwaliyan mountains to supply the kingdom’s cities and villages.”
“How does this reservoir survive?” Cavas asks. “Raja Lohar might have not been able to get into Tavan because it was invisible, but he still could block your supply of water.”
A shiver goes through me as Subodh turns his great yellow eyes in Cavas’s direction. But maybe meeting his mother changed things, because Cavas stares back at the Pashu king fearlessly, completely different from the cowed boy I’d seen before.
“You’re right,” Subodh says, and I think I hear a smile in his voice. “After the Battle of the Desert, Lohar did block our water supply. Luckily, this reservoir wasn’t empty. With the help of a little magic, I keep replenishing its water and make sure it never dips below a certain level. It’s the only reason we’ve survived this long.”
“What about the food?” Cavas asks. “Surely you can’t grow everything here. The soil isn’t fertile enough.”
“Right again,” Subodh says. “Let me show you. Esther, would you please…”
Without a word, Esther walks to the edge of the water and quietly adds a drop of clear liquid from a vial.
“That is drishti jal from the waterfalls of Aman,” Subodh explains. “The Pashu use it to scour the truth and communicate with one another. To travel and bring provisions—if necessary. It’s how we have been getting food that is harder to grow in the desert, even with magic. It will not work as well for a human.”
“I’ve tried,” Esther admits, a little sheepishly. “I thought I could go out and get us some food. But the
