“No need for that.” Ashwin runs his finger over the mantle and comes away with a clump of dust. “You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.” He lowers to his haunches and stocks the hearth with kindling. “Did my father board in this room when he last visited?” His simple question carries a strained undertone.
“He did.” I met Deven in the corridor outside this chamber. How different my life would be if he had been a benefactor and claimed me instead. Or had I never been claimed at all.
“Kalinda, would you please?” Ashwin motions to the kindling piled in the hearth.
I go to his side and press my finger to the firewood, coaxing in heat. My powers shine but are still tinged green. Just as the kindling ignites, sapphire sparks fly from my fingers. I quell my powers and sneak a glance at Ashwin. He was preoccupied with the wood pile and did not see. I imagine the blue sparks I saw moments ago evolving into cold sapphire flames and shiver.
Ashwin throws a log onto the growing blaze. “Does the temple have a library?”
“Yes, on the upper floor.”
“I may find a text about the gate to the Void.”
Ashwin has an aptitude for research. If the gate’s location is written in one of the library books, he will find it. “Wait until tonight when everyone’s asleep. How will you solve the temple’s supply shortage?”
“I don’t know yet.” Crouched near the fire, he prods the logs with the fire iron. “Can you find out how dire it is?”
“Yes. I’m going upstairs now.”
Ashwin pushes a tired hand through his hair, which is still damp from the melted snow. “Will you tell the priestess the real reason why we’ve come? She should be made aware about our meeting with Hastin.”
I owe Priestess Mita no such explanation. She lost my esteem as a sister in the faith when she allowed the rajah’s monstrous general to claim Jaya. The priestess should have protected her. She should have protected us both. Instead she still preaches that men are our betters, our gods. My time in the world of men has taught me that any man worthy of my admiration would never force me to worship him.
Moreover, Priestess Mita will be livid to discover the bhuta warlord is meeting us. Her concern will be for the wards; she is not entirely hard-hearted. But informing her of our plans will feel akin to asking permission, which, as her rani, I am no longer inclined to do.
Ashwin watches moodiness come over me—my stiffening features and pressed lips—and rises. “I can speak to her if that would be easier.”
He detects the furious storm brewing inside me, but he cannot identify the origin. I cannot settle upon the right words to explain my upbringing. How it feels to be raised for the sole use of another, to exist to fulfill another’s whims and desires and taught to never think of my own wants or needs. I never had to enlighten Deven. He saw firsthand the damaging effects of his mother’s service as a courtesan. But Ashwin was too sheltered in his youth to grasp the destructive, selfish nature of the supremacy his birthright entitles him to wield. With a flick of his finger, he may claim any girl in this temple or in the whole of the empire.
Still.
Even after I have ended Rajah Tarek’s tyranny.
Even though I am a two-time tournament champion and the kindred.
Even with Ashwin striving to improve upon his father’s legacy.
The unjust division of rights still reigns.