A KING AND A CAGE
25GUL
This is not a maze. This is not even an extension of the garden.
While Rani Mahal is a blushing sunset pink, this palace reflects every color, every shift in the sky’s mood, its towers, domes, and finials made entirely of glass. I glimpse a figure running down a corridor when the light in the sky shifts, turning the window into a mirror. Though I haven’t seen it before, I know it’s the king’s palace. Heart racing, I spin around, only to find the hedge sealed over, the doorway I came through gone.
“Well, well. What do we have here?”
A hand grabs me by the arm. My wrists and ankles are shackled before I have time to take another breath.
“I thought I heard a trespasser.” Major Shayla’s voice is soft, almost amused. “What’s your name, girl?”
When I don’t answer, she holds my jaw in a painful grip. “I asked what your name was.”
“S-siya,” I force out.
Behind her, I see another familiar face: Prince Amar, whose eyes widen on seeing me.
“What are you doing here, girl?” His voice is so stern that, for a moment, I wonder if he even recognizes me. “Don’t you know it’s forbidden to cross the rekha? Who let you through?”
“N-no one. I d-didn’t know that was the rekha,” I finally stutter. I think back to the doorway, wonder at why it sealed off again. “I was looking for Rajkumari Malti and thought she might be here.”
“A common girl with a common name, sliding through a magical barrier as if it’s air. Strange, isn’t it, Rajkumar?” Major Shayla says. “Someone might think there is a security breach.”
“Palace security is your jurisdiction, Major,” Prince Amar reminds her, his voice cold.
Shayla ignores him and stares at me, as if trying to whittle out my secrets.
Cavas would advise me to act meek. To plead for my life and hide any strength I have. But I stare right back at the major, years of anger burning through. My fingers itch for my daggers. Or anything remotely sharp.
She turns around and nods at someone else, a gray-haired Sky Warrior accompanying the prince. “Put her in confinement. Let her fight for her freedom in the cage tomorrow.”
“The cage?” Prince Amar glances at me quickly. “Is that really necessary? Perhaps Rajkumari Malti—”
“As you rightly said, palace security is my jurisdiction,” Major Shayla interrupts with a sneer. “Hence, I must treat her the way I would any trespasser.”
“You can’t put her through the cage for a foolish mistake!” Prince Amar sounds angry now, even a little afraid. “She won’t survive it!”
“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”
Major Shayla’s fingers slide down to my throat and tighten in a way that I know will leave bruises. I force myself to stay still and not wince.
She smiles. “Ah, yes. This one will be good for entertainment.”
The gray-haired Sky Warrior leads me away from Raj Mahal to another building in the distance, red dust layered over its rough stone surface.
“Come,” he says, and my body turns of its own accord, drawn by the magic in the shackles Major Shayla placed on my wrists. Shackles can be used in varying ways: to shock, to tame, to control. I’ve read that in prisons, the slightest movement can set off a shackle, turning a prisoner into a mess of nerves. I’ve also read that shackles can be broken if you try hard enough. The only problem: When I was living with the Sisters, I never tried breaking a shackle. Never thought my magic strong enough.
A few feet from the building, the Sky Warrior pauses. “Go in.”
I frown. The building, shaped roughly like a square, has an open door and no guards. The queasy sensation I had on touching Princess Malti’s anklet returns. No, my body rebels. Don’t go in. A shock—both familiar and painful—goes through my wrists and ankles.
“It will be worse if you don’t get in before dark.” The Sky Warrior’s face is serious, a map of hard lines. “Go on.”
The shackles force me to step forward one foot at a time. When I try to resist the shackles’ command, a blade of pain burns down my torso. It’s not until I’m inside the building’s threshold that the pain eases, a moment of sheer relief followed by sudden, unexpected exhaustion. In a moment or two, I’m on my knees, longing to lie on the tiled floor. Why am I so tired? What’s going on? The more I try to focus on my surroundings, the more my vision blurs. It’s this building, I realize. Confinement, as they call it. A place that drains you of energy, that prevents you from moving or using magic.
Better designed than any prison cell.
“I will be back for you at dawn,” the Sky Warrior says a second before I slide to the floor in a deep sleep.
In my dreams that night, I see many things:
A woman with my mother’s voice, stroking my hair, telling me a story about the beginnings of the universe.
The sky goddess on a throne made of air and clouds, spinning a sunlit chakra on a forefinger.
A boy in a plumed turban, firestones gleaming at his ears, the mustache stark on his pale face. Wake up, he says. Wake up, Siya ji.
I am in a room of starlight and shadow. Gul, a boy’s voice says. I turn and reach for his hand, but all I feel against my fingers is stone.
When the morning comes, the Sky Warrior returns for me. A shock runs through the shackles, rousing me from my stupor.
“Come,” he says. Another shock. “Quickly now.”
I cling to his voice, to the stinging sensation on my wrists, and force myself to move out of the stone building.
“Here.” A kachori appears before my eyes, and suddenly my mouth begins to water. I grab hold of the pastry and stuff it into my mouth. Onions burst on my tongue, sweet and savory at the same time. Once I finish, the Sky Warrior gives me another kachori.
