Ashwin sways back on his heels, but she maintains her hold on him. Why is this a surprise? We came to Lestari to plot against the demon rajah. Even the real Rajah Tarek would denounce his son for this. The boy prince is an idealist, and a stupid one at that. If he does not start acting like the leader we need, Brother Shaan will not be our only casualty.
“He won’t catch us,” Kali promises. “We’ll stop him first.”
From the corner of my eye, I see a shadow move outside. I sidestep to the terrace to investigate.
“How? We cannot kill a demon.” Prince Ashwin clutches the hair at the sides of his head. “Maybe we should turn ourselves in and spare our people more harm.”
“No,” Kali counters firmly, “we’ll find a way to send him back to the Void.”
A small figure hides around the corner, pressed against the wall. Reaching back as though to scratch my side, I grab my sword and draw on our intruder.
A young woman leaps into the open, wielding no weapon except for her fists. She stomps her foot, and a vibration carries up from the ground. I stumble backward. She tries to leap over the banister, but I grab her by the tunic and spin her around.
She cannot be more than twenty. In a black tunic over trousers—a man’s attire—her unintimidating frame is lean but scrappy. Her bare feet are decorated with henna patterns, the moon phases, and her toenails are painted pomegranate.
“Princess Gemi?” Indah questions.
I let the princess go and lower my blade. “Did your father send you?”
She snorts. “No. He thinks I’m preparing for supper.”
“Your Highness,” Ashwin says, “I’m Prince Ashwin from Tarachand.”
The princess juts out her pointy chin, her wide-set eyes flat. “Aren’t you the rajah by now?”
“Formally, I cannot hold that title until I take a wife.”
“You aren’t marrying me,” the princess retorts, a hair away from a threat. “I don’t care how badly my father wants to reopen trade with the empire.”
“We’ve come for another matter.” Kali steps to Ashwin’s side, a slight movement of protection that I both admire and abhor. “I’m Kalinda.”
Princess Gemi sniffs. “You’re the two-time tournament champion? You’re thinner than a twig.”
“So I’ve been told. Do you spy on all of your visitors?”
“Only the ones I deem too dimwitted to catch me.” Princess Gemi’s attention roams to me. She has the same heavy accent as her father, dropping her r and k sounds. “I was told imperial soldiers are two tides shy of a full moon. You are . . . ?”
“Deven Naik.” I omit my military title to annoy the prince. He rewards my efforts with a scowl.