I hate that title of command and what it meant to my father. If he were here, he would order Yatin, Natesa, and Rohan to follow him with no thought for their safety. I will not force them either way. “Your choice, but if you come along, I’m not your commander.”
“Understood,” Rohan replies, mustering a brave front. Still, his disappointment in not finding his sister drags his mouth down.
I asked him along. I put it in his head that we could find Opal and Brac, so I distract him from his concerns by asking him to help me drag the wing flyer into the trees for cover. Yatin and I also drop our swords there. Their size and weight will slow our pace. Yatin sulks back into the field, brooding about leaving his khanda behind.
Natesa offers him her haladie, a double-sided knife. “I still have daggers.”
“Thank you, little lotus.” Yatin bends his huge frame over her and kisses her nose.
Kali kissed my nose just two days ago. The memory pulverizes me. She made her choice, and it wasn’t me. I may need to get used to this feeling.
Our group takes turns whittling down our packs to necessities. Rohan is the smallest of us, even slighter than Natesa. As Yatin helps him tighten his straps, I slip goods from Rohan’s pack into mine and then regard the path left by the army. The flatland lies open ahead, beckoning us homeward.
I set off at a jog, and three sets of footfalls follow. My friends match my assertive pace, and we trek onward to our beloved empire of unforgiving deserts and unreachable mountains.
9
KALINDA
Freezing weather has come early to the Alpana Mountains. We fly in a steep climb over the powdery hills, the higher peaks obscured by soupy clouds. Snowflakes pinwheel around us. The white flecks land on Ashwin’s dark eyebrows and pale cheeks. We huddle together on the passenger plank, our teeth chattering out of sync with our shivering.
Pons guides us up, up, up, into thinner air. Indah burrows under a wool blanket, her eyes shut; she’s awake but barely tolerating our ascent. Our two-day flight has felt endless. I have never known a wintry depth this dreary. I cannot distinguish where the poisonous cold inside me ends and the bracing weather starts. Each pull of air drives icy spikes into my chest. A growing numbness dulls my focus and drags my eyelids closed.
“She must stay awake,” Indah calls to Ashwin over the wind. “Warm her!”
Ashwin wraps his arm around me, and I curl into his side. His body heat combats my chills and helps me withstand the pressing cold.
He lays his cheek against mine, and his voice rouses my senses. “You smell like moonlight.”
I lift my chin, and our noses bump. His soul-fire glows deep in his eyes, a well of captivating warmth.
Pull away. Don’t be enticed—
His lips graze my cheek. Heat blazes through me, starting as a spark and igniting to a blessed burn. The ice inside me melts, dripping away. I’m so close to feeling whole again . . . I press against him more snugly and slide my hands around his bare back, the bitter winds a distant force. His lips grasp at mine and bore past the last of my restraint. My return kiss writhes with need as Ashwin’s soul-fire blinds all else.
The wing flyer banks sharply, wrenching us apart, and I see the beacon atop the temple’s north tower. Home. The last time I saw this light, Deven led me into the forest to show me what I thought would be my final glimpse of Samiya.
The reminder of Deven sobers me. I pull away from Ashwin, sick to my stomach. I do not know how to stop wanting or needing him. Even now, while shivering once again, I crave a reprieve. But I have to fight the cold, if only to outlast the war.