He sweeps my hair behind my shoulder, his gaze roving my face. “I’m willing to let you go, but I will fight for you, Kalinda.”

I turn away, undone by his forwardness. “I need to think.”

Ashwin blows out a heavy breath. “Are all women this frustrating?”

“Only those of us with minds.”

He squelches his irritation and replies with politeness. “I need your answer by morning. I hope . . . I hope you will accept my offer.”

I hear him draw away, his feet dragging, and I shove the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. He offered me freedom, but with a stomach-churning contingency—I must battle for my throne. Why must I continually prove my worthiness? I swore when I left the arena that I would not return. Should I break my vow for the ranis being held prisoner in the Turquoise Palace? For the thousands of people trapped in the encampments? For Deven?

I drop my hands, my arms limp beside me. Ashwin is certain I will compete. Is this the arrogance of a prince, or has he inherited Tarek’s domineering will? I cringe from the thought. Ashwin’s intentions aside, can my aversion to violence and my abhorrence for diplomatic necessities justify my doing nothing? The fate of the Tarachand Empire teeters on the edge of a blade. Someone must stand up to Hastin. But even after witnessing Ashwin defend me against the guards, he is not the one. Only a bhuta can defeat the warlord’s Trembler powers.

Perhaps this is my godly purpose. Perhaps the gods are not finished with me yet.

Only one person can clear my confusion. I hurry to the balcony and throw open the door. Opal stands there, blocking my path.

“You shouldn’t go,” she says. “You’ll get caught.”

She must have been listening to my conversation with Ashwin. “Why didn’t you tell me my people had arrived?”

“Brother Shaan asked me not to.” Opal drops her gaze, her dark eyelashes resting against her reddened cheeks. “He wanted you to go with the prince tonight. He thought if you saw the state of our people, you would agree to compete.”

Brother Shaan is trying to coerce me into joining the trial tournament. Was Ashwin privy to this manipulation? The beginning of a headache shortens my reply. “I won’t leave my guards imprisoned. If you have any compassion for what happens to them, you’ll get out of my way.”

Opal opens and then closes her mouth, locked in hesitancy. Then, without a word, she steps aside and allows me to pass.

Kneeling at the banister, I find the vine from earlier. I shimmy down and land in the shadowy gardens, the sweet scent of hibiscus around me.

“Kindred,” Opal calls down quietly, chewing her lower lip. “Captain Naik is being held in a hut on the south end of the military compound. Guards are patrolling the other side of the gardens right now. Take the stairs to the jungle, and hurry. Night watchmen do their rounds every fifteen minutes. If you go now, you should miss their next pass.”

I nod at her, the only apology I can dig out of my anger, and dart through the hushed garden. Sneaking around the palace, I locate the stairs that lead to the base of the hill and down into the Morass. Cicadas chorus loudly, concealing my footfalls through the brushwood. The jungle night air is so thick with bugs I breathe through my nose to avoid swallowing them.

Outside the military encampment, near the wall where Deven’s cell should be, I hunker down in the ferns and memorize the path of the patrolling guards.

Ready . . . and go.

I dash into the clearing, leap onto a fallen tree for height, and jump off the log to the partition. Gripping the lip of the wall, I pull myself up and slide over to the other side. I land in a crouch and survey the still tents.

Dagger in hand, I sneak up to the boxy, windowless hut. No guard stands watch. I lift the crossbar over the door, open it, and slip into the darkness. An iron grasp clamps around my neck. My dagger is wrenched from my hand and held near my eye.

“You bruise my ego, using my own weapon against me,” I garble out.

Deven lowers the blade on a prayer. “Thank the gods.”

“You flatter me.”

He twirls me around and crushes me in a hug. “I haven’t stopped praying for your safety since I saw you fly away in Tarachand.”

“No one told me you’d arrived. Are you all right?”

He nods against my forehead. “You smell like home.”

I smile, and he presses his lips to mine. I link my arms around his shoulders and tuck my curves against him. In the dark, he is all warm arms, hard muscles, and satin lips. My hands roam to his back and find wetness. Deven hisses and pulls away. I light up my hand with my powers.

Blood.

“You’re injured.” My fingers glow hot in fury, and Deven backs away in fear. My powers are blinding in the darkened cell, scarier than they should be. I promptly let the light inside me fade, leaving just enough so I can still see him. “What happened?”

“My men turned me in,” he says, slumping against the wall. “Prince Ashwin ordered me whipped.”

“Ashwin did this? But I was with him all evening.”

“He commanded my sentencing.”

My temper brightens my hands again. Ashwin’s openness and thoughtfulness were a diversion, a manipulation to convince me to compete in the tournament. I wipe Deven’s blood off on my clothes. “You aren’t staying here. You’re coming to the palace with me. I’ll find you a healer.”

“I cannot leave. My men aren’t safe here. I cannot abandon them.”

My expression slackens. Deven wants to stay to look after the same men who turned him in?

“I betrayed the rajah, Kali.” His voice is so small it nearly shatters me. “I won’t betray them too.”

I cross to him and lift his chin. I do not miss his flinch when I touch him. “You opposed Tarek to protect me. Now let me protect you.”

Deven unpeels my dimly shining hand from his face and frowns at the faint number one on the back. “I heard about the trial tournament. You need to compete.”

My voice snags on a surprised breath. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“What’s to decide?” Deven strokes his thumb over my rank number, his lips pinching. “You wed Rajah Tarek. Your life belongs to the empire.”

He is wrong; my life belongs to me. I take a moment to regroup, and then answer. “I married Tarek to end his life. He told me you were dead. Stop punishing me for wedding him.”

“I’m not punishing you,” Deven says, infuriatingly calm. “But I cannot undo the past or change the law.”

“We don’t have to change the law. Ashwin promised me freedom if I win.”

Deven shakes his head forlornly. “The prince would be a fool to let you go. Even if you prevail in the trial tournament, he’ll need you by his side to win the war and rebuild the empire.” Resignation tempers his tone, wrenching my gut. “Kali, the prince will always need you.”

His assertion frays at me, scoring away at the part of me that believes we have a choice in our fates.

An alarm sounds outside the door, followed by agitated shouts. Feet thump nearby, rattling the thin walls. They know I’m here.

The door bangs open, and the first light of dawn falls inside. Guards charge in around us. Deven lowers to the ground and places his hands on top of his bowed head.

Prince Ashwin steps into the hut and observes Deven with open curiosity. Brother Shaan stands at the doorway.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

“One of the Galer guards heard you sneak into camp,” Brother Shaan says, his voice quieter than usual. “Vizier Gyan threatened to apprehend you, but we promised we would bring you back to the palace without incident.”

“Deven is coming with me,” I say.

“Kali—” Deven attempts to look up, but a guard hits him over the head with the hilt of his machete. He stoops in pain.

I yank out my daggers and aim them at the guards. “Leave us.” After a nod from Brother Shaan, they back out of the hut. The torn flesh of Deven’s back bleeds anew. I glare at Ashwin. “You did this to him.”

“I . . . what?” Ashwin asks.

“You ordered Captain Naik lashed.”

“Where did you hear this?” asks the prince.

“Vizier Gyan said you gave the order, Your Majesty,” Deven grits out, his gaze down.

Ashwin raises his square chin. He does not deny Deven’s claim, but his burning resentment causes me to pause.

“Kalinda, we must go, or they’ll imprison you too,” says Brother Shaan, one eye on the exit. “I’ll see that Captain Naik is cared for.”

“Deven has done nothing worse than I have,” I reply. “Release him or I’ll tell everyone the truth.”

Ashwin’s baffled gaze volleys from me to Brother Shaan. The prince is the only one in the hut who does not know I killed Rajah Tarek.

“Your reputation mustn’t be tarnished,” Brother Shaan pleads. “The people need a champion. They need hope.”

“They need their rani,” adds Deven. He hangs his head so low his hair falls into his face. “May the gods protect you, Kindred.”

I reel at his use of my imperial rank. “Don’t do this, Deven. Come with me.”

He offers no reply, so I sheathe my daggers and bend down to search his face for a weakening of resolve. His chin quivers, but he does not meet my gaze.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. “I didn’t want any of this.” I never wanted Tarek to claim me or to fight in his rank tournament or to be the people’s champion.

But I became what Tarek wanted. I am a slave to his throne.

“I won’t stop fighting for us,” I promise. “Even if it means competing in the tournament. Even if it means owning my throne. I will not quit until I have the power to return for you—and then we will walk out of here together.”

I lay my hand over Deven’s, yearning for him to vow to fight with me—fight for me. His thumb brushes across my finger. Gods, let that be a sign. Let him understand that what I do next is for us both. I wait for a stronger signal from him, but none comes.