“I understand your disinclination,” Juhi says. “But—”
“I am not the One!” Gul interrupts. “I don’t even know why Juhi Didi thinks I might be!”
“No, you’re not,” I agree. “You’re only another magus who thinks she can change the world for those she considers inferior to herself.”
“Or maybe”—Gul steps forward until her face is barely a breath away from mine, so close that I can see the flush tinting her dusky cheeks, the tiny freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose—“maybe I’m a magus who every night lives with the memory of her parents getting murdered because of the king’s obsession with this so-called Star Warrior. Maybe I just want something simple and selfish, like revenge! Ever considered that?”
Her words don’t surprise me as much as the conviction she says them with, her rage so palpable that it renders me speechless.
“I’m going.” Gul blinks rapidly, and I realize that her eyes are wet. “Clearly, there is no help here.”
“Gul! Gul, no, wait—” Juhi cries out.
Gul doesn’t. She walks until the edge of the street, then breaks into a run, disappearing into the shadows of the alley. I barely hear the pleas Juhi makes next—pleas that I don’t respond to. Finally, she gives up, and I watch her walk away as well.
It’s over. I won’t have to see either of them again. The thought should be reassuring, but it does nothing to erase the memory of Gul’s stricken face from my mind. She’s a fool, I tell myself firmly. A fool bent on killing herself. Privileged magus though she may be, the last thing I want is for her to die.
A cold that has nothing to do with the weather makes goose bumps break over my skin. I shake it off and begin trudging back the way I came, keeping the blanket on even when sunlight floods the blue sky and the air turns hot and oppressive.
14GUL
Fool.
The word enters my mind, echoes there moments after I get to the end of the alley, where our horses are tethered. Hot tears slide down my cheeks. I wipe them away angrily. When Juhi and I left for Ambarvadi this morning, I was feeling buoyant, fueled by my success at passing Juhi’s test a couple of nights ago.
I rode Agni, of course, and the mare and I spent the entire ride speaking through our bond. I told Agni about what I did during the two months I was shackled to the house. Agni warned me not to lose my temper today at any cost.
Now, a wet nose nudges my shoulder.
You lost your temper, didn’t you? Agni asks. There’s no hint of mockery in her voice.
“I did.” Oh goddess, I lost it completely. “It was him. The boy from the moon festival.”
Did he remember you?
“It would have been better if he hadn’t.”
Seeing him jarred me initially, my face warming at the memory of our kiss. But that soon went away, escalating to anger as he continued speaking, his words bringing back every little insecurity I feel about my magic. By losing my temper, I failed myself. And I failed Juhi as well.
Juhi, however, doesn’t scold me for my behavior or curse me the way I want her to. She arrives a few moments later and begins undoing the rope tethering Gharib to his post. “I tried to convince Cavas,” she says simply. “He wouldn’t respond.”
My throat tightens. “Is there someone else who can…” My voice trails off as Juhi shakes her head. “Maybe if I went back and apologized…”
“It wouldn’t work.” Lines bracket the corners of Juhi’s lips. She won’t meet my gaze. “The boy isn’t Xerxes. It wouldn’t be fair for us to expect him to respond the way his father would.”
In the distance, a temple bell rings. Figures emerge in the alley: shopkeepers, who roll up their gates without sparing us a single glance. I cast a look at the gleaming tip of Sant Javer’s temple and instantly feel foolish for doing so. Whatever chance I had with Cavas got lost the moment my pride took over and I burst into that angry tirade. The moment I ran. I climb onto Agni without another word and follow Juhi back out into the city square.
The ride to Javeribad is hot and feels far too long. There’s a horrible ache in my ribs that doesn’t go away. My unease sharpens by the time we enter the town and hear screams rising from somewhere around the main square. Juhi and I glance at each other only once before launching into a gallop, forcing the crowd to part for us, allowing us to see what’s going on.
“No, please!” A woman in her early twenties is kneeling on the ground before the head thanedar, her face streaked with dirt and tears. “Please, Thanedar ji! Please, someone help me!”
No one does. None of the villagers—people who have likely known the woman since birth—say a word.
“You know the law about marked girls!” the head thanedar shouts angrily. From the wooden cart behind him, I hear the sound of wailing: a baby. “Under no circumstances must they be kept or hidden away. For the safety of the land. For the safety of our king!”
Something hot burns inside my chest.
“She’s a baby! Only a few months old!” the woman wails, grabbing the pointed toes of the thanedar’s shoes. “Thanedar ji, have mercy! She can’t even do any magic!”
“Get off me!” The thanedar kicks her away. “Get off, foolish woman, if you don’t want to be arrested.”
I dismount Agni and push past the crowd. “Leave her!” I shout.
