“I will complain to Rani Ma about this,” Malti continues, her voice trembling. “That Sky Warrior should be punished for hurting me. Imprisoned at the very least!”
I say nothing. I don’t want Malti to see how disturbed I am by the captain’s brazen questioning. In the five years I’ve worked at the palace, I’ve never seen members of the king’s most elite force treat the royals with anything other than deference. I wonder if General Tahmasp’s death has emboldened the captain—and the thought does not sit well with me.
“Cavas?” Malti’s voice is soft. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and I realize she wants to tell me something in private. I glance back, but the serving girl, now separated from imminent danger, appears more concerned about her bruise, examining her face in a puddle on the ground.
“What is it, Rajkumari Malti?”
“You like Siya, don’t you?”
My jaw tightens. “I can’t say I dislike her.”
“Does it matter to you if she lives or dies?”
I glance up sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I overheard my brothers Sonar and Jagat talking to the palace vaid about how they met Siya for the first time,” the little girl says quietly. “They say that she fought them with death magic, that she was so strong she might have killed them if Rani Ma hadn’t interfered. The vaid said he could test Siya’s magic by cutting her up and drawing her blood out in little vials. He did that to me when I was three, before he gave me these.” Malti points to the anklets she always wears. “Sonar wants to bind with Siya, but I know he wants to find out more about her magic as well. I … I’m afraid for her, Cavas.”
There’s a long pause. “Rajkumari, I don’t know what I can—”
“You can help her,” she interrupts. “You’re her friend, aren’t you?”
Warmth floods my face. I glance up at the sky, pretending to check the clouds. “Looks like a storm’s coming. We’d better end the ride now, before you get soaked.”
Malti’s mouth trembles, but she does not argue when I change course and lead her back to the stable, ignoring the serving girl’s annoyed questions.
Time passes quickly when you’re troubled. As a boy, whenever my problems got too overwhelming for me, I buried myself in work. This is what I do now, feeding horses, cleaning stalls, moving the feed, sawdust, and hay. By the time I look up again, most of the stable boys are gone. Sunheri has gone dark as well, the first day of a new moon cycle.
“Lock up,” Govind tells me. “Give the key to the night guard.”
He pauses for a moment, and I think he’s going to say something else. But Govind simply frowns and leaves without another word. I continue working, washing out the trough—my final duty of the day. Even the sound of anklets rustling behind me doesn’t give me pause, and it’s not until a hand lightly brushes my shoulder that I finally turn with a start.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
The sight of Gul, still in the ghagra-choli she was wearing that morning, different only for the coarse blanket covering the top of her head and shoulders, nearly makes me forget that I’ve been trying to avoid her. Nearly.
“I told you before. I need to talk to you.” The faint light of the overhead fanas outlines the angles of her thin face, glows in her wide eyes. “I don’t have much time. Someone might discover that I’m gone and come looking for me again.”
“Then you should leave,” I say coldly. “We have nothing to say to each other, Siya ji.”
“Will you stop calling me that?” she says angrily. “Listen, Cavas. You need to get out of here. Tonight, if possible.”
Something about her tone slides like a hook under my skin, scatters my already unsteady heartbeat. “What for?”
“People have noticed us. Together. You can’t stay here if I end up finally doing what I came here to do. You’ll be in danger.”
I struggle to remember Latif’s and Malti’s warnings again, but they fade away at the sight of Gul’s face: perfectly royal except for the gold that will dust her cheeks once she binds with Sonar. She won her freedom at the cage, a voice in my head reminds me. She’s safe. What can you give her except a lifetime of hiding and misery?
“You can still be a princess, Gul,” I force myself to say. “I’m not going to tell the yuvraj about a few kisses.”
“What in Svapnalok—I didn’t come to the palace to get bound! You know that!”
I don’t know anything anymore, I think bitterly.
The silence that falls between us might have lasted for a second, perhaps even a day.
“I came here for one reason and one reason alone,” she says, a slight tremor entering her voice. “That hasn’t changed. But I can’t do it while you’re here. If something goes wrong, they’ll find and punish you, Cavas. Maybe even your father. I won’t ever be able to forgive myself if that happens.”
“Why? I’m not important to you. I have nothing to do with your mission!”
“Maybe you weren’t important at first. But things have changed since then.”
“Oh really? What has changed?” I demand.
My question hangs in the air, makes her shrink back slightly.
“In Chand Mahal, the living specter said we need to stick together,” she says after a pause. “It … I feel that’s important.”
There’s a sour taste at the back of my mouth. Specters and prophecies and missions. Why did I expect any more from the fabled Star Warrior?
“Or perhaps there was no reason at all,” I say. “It doesn’t matter. I enlisted for the army yesterday. I’ll be gone soon enough.”
Gul’s mouth tightens. “The army. I see. Cavas, I hope you haven’t given them a thumbprint or anything of that sort. It’s the worst thing you possibly could have done.”
This warning is even more jarring than her earlier one
