Deven is at my side in an instant. I avoid his tight-lipped frown and go with him, passing through the clapping benefactors. The women utter proclamations of “With a slingshot!” and “More than the kindred!” Deven escorts me to the platform stairs and returns to his place outside the tent.

Tarek embraces me atop the podium and swings me around to face the people. “My champion!”

His boasting shakes a weak smile out of me. Across the way, Taline crouches in a defensive position, but her chin is lifted high. As I look out over the spectators, waiting for Tarek to stop bragging so that I can speak to him about the fate of his wife, I spot the general. Gautam’s arm is tucked around a young woman wearing a veil over the lower half of her face. Her hair is ebony; her big eyes are vacant. Her figure is tiny beside him, and her skin is icy pale. My heart dives to my feet.

Jaya.

My world spins to an abrupt halt. Jaya and General Gautam sift to the back of the tent and out of sight. I break from Tarek’s hold and hop down off the podium, knees jarring. I reel around, but I cannot see Jaya anywhere.

Eshana rushes over. “Kalinda! You were tremendous.”

I grab Eshana by the shoulders. “Have you seen General Gautam?”

“I—I saw him over there not long—”

I plunge into the crowd. The general’s dark-blue uniform should be easy to pick out, but he is nowhere to be seen. I pause and search in a circle, clutching the sides of my head. They must have gone into the gardens.

I run down the closest path, following the endless trails away from the tents. My distracted weaving leads me to more empty paths. I stop, my lungs heaving on mounting tears.

“Kali!” Deven jogs up behind me.

I slam my fists against his torso. “You told me the general did not claim her!”

“His men lied.” Deven holds his hands up in a plea for peace. “I tried to warn you about Jaya as soon as I saw her.”

“Why?” I hit him again. “Why would Gautam hide her from me?”

“To repay you for standing up to him. He saw you and Jaya at skill trials. He knew you were close.”

“He claimed Jaya!” I cup my hands over my mouth. “Oh, Deven. I let her wait for me. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know the general would stay in Samiya. I didn’t know he . . .” My voice crackles. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes to distance myself from the image of Jaya pinned against the general’s side, but she is all I see. She looked so . . . so empty. “I promised I would return for her. I promised.”

“I’m sorry,” says Deven. I lower my hands and look into his watery eyes. “I am so sorry,” he says, his face ashen.

A scream breaks out from the clearing. I stand taller to see over the shrubbery and glimpse the silver tips of the urumi’s blades flickering as they drop. Another bloodcurdling scream digs nails into my spine. Lakia has begun Taline’s execution. I cannot appeal to Tarek now. I am too late for Jaya, too late for Taline. I bang my fists against my temples and release a guttural groan.

“Taline was going to be punished, regardless of what you did, Kali,” Deven says.

I flinch at a third lash and a pained sob, quieter than the last.

Hot tears burn my eyes. “I suppose she deserves it, then. She deserves to be humiliated and ripped apart for daring to do what she wishes, for daring to love someone of her choosing.”

Deven recoils, my words too close. Off in the clearing, Lakia strikes the wayward wife again. This time, there is no scream.

20

I gaze out the balcony door at the falling sun, Asha hovering at my back. “Viraji, it’s time to prepare for the feast.”

“I’m not going,” I say. Tarek brought General Gautam with him to Samiya. He is the reason Jaya was claimed. I will not dine with a monster.

Servants haul in the tub and steaming buckets of bathwater. I do not go inside. They fill the bath and file out of my chamber. I still do not budge.

Asha lingers, a silent shadow behind me. She waits for me to surrender to my weary bones and emotional fatigue. I do not. My stubbornness prevails, and she pads away.

The sky darkens to ash, and Vanhi burns with soft yellow lights. This could never be my home. I favor snowy winters over this harsh heat. I long for the distinctive spiked apexes of the Alpanas over these rolling dunes of dusty sameness. But I will never again return to Samiya. I have no reason to go back without Jaya there. I have been an orphan all my life, but I have never felt without a home, without a family, until now.

“You aren’t dressed for supper.”

I swivel at Mathura’s voice. She has broken the kindred’s rule, coming to the wives’ wing. “I’m not hungry.”

“Neither am I.” She walks to the doorway with a cane. “You put on quite a spectacle today.”

“A useless delay. Taline was executed nevertheless.”

“I meant in regard to the general’s new wife—and my son.”

Jaya is Gautam’s wife?

I turn my stricken face away from Mathura, but she is not finished. “If you care for my son, you will leave him alone.”

I go as still as a hare. Mathura must have seen Deven track me down in the spectators’ tent to warn me about Jaya. I would hate to know who else saw him.

“You needn’t worry,” I say. “Deven would never choose me over the empire.”

After skill demonstrations, he escorted me to my chamber and left without a word. I am certain Taline’s pained screams echo on through his memory, as they do mine.

Mathura walks to my side. “I thought my son would choose the empire above all else too, and then I saw him charge after you into the garden, risking his career, his reputation, his life. Why?” Her gaze searches my face for answers. “Then it occurred to me. To Deven you are the empire. You are the viraji. The people’s champion. His champion. He has confused his devotion to Tarachand with his obligation to protect you.”

My heart capsizes on a wave of crushing hurt. Deven’s loyalty to me is actually his obedience to the rajah. This realization warps every private moment we have had between us. He did not kiss me; I kissed him, and then he asked me to forget about it. Each time we touched before that, he was comforting me, building me up to fight in the tournament.

“What would you have me do?” I whisper. “I cannot request for him to be reassigned. I have no reason to dismiss him. And fabricating an excuse would damage his standing in the imperial guard.”

Mathura grips my hands in hers. “Protect him from himself. If Tarek finds out that Deven cares for you, he will not understand that Deven’s loyalty is to the throne. I lost one son. I cannot lose the other.”

My heartbeat dulls to slow, heavy thuds. My throat strains from holding back tears. “I will remind Deven that I am Tarek’s viraji.”

“That’s all I ask.” Mathura squeezes my fingers and lets them go.

I exhale the last of my strength and go rest at the foot of the bed. My throbbing head echoes down to my pitching stomach. I want to crawl under my blanket and stay there until my fevers return and burn me up.

Mathura follows me. “You should change for the feast. Tarek is waiting.”

“I cannot face him.”

“The feast is in your honor. Your absence would be a sign of weakness.” She passes me the evening sari that Asha hung on the bedpost. “Get changed. Your reputation is worth more than a fit of rebellion.”

“I don’t care what Tarek or his court thinks of me. I don’t want to be their champion.”

“But you are. If you cannot face them for yourself, do it for your friend. She and Gautam are invited.”

I clutch the cloth in my lap. “He was not supposed to claim Jaya. I swore to return for her.”

“None of us got what we wanted from the Claiming.” Mathura’s expression softens, and she sits by my side. “At one time, recipients chose their benefactors.”

My gaze snaps to hers. “What?”

“When I was little, becoming a recipient was a coveted honor. Very few girls were enlisted to be raised by the sisters. In those days, a Claiming was a reward for completing rigorous training, a symbol of womanhood and devotion to the gods.”

A reward. I have never thought of the Claiming as anything more than an inescapable obligation.

“The recipients were highly desired as wives. At the time, the rank tournaments were not in practice, and the recipient could reject a benefactor’s request.” Mathura’s tone darkens. “Then Tarek came to our temple. He wanted Yasmin at first sight. She refused him, but Tarek did not care for tradition, and he claimed Yasmin against her will.

“Word spread about what he had done, and the other benefactors felt their monetary endowments entitled them to any recipient they desired. The temple priestesses declined to change the rite, so some benefactors withdrew their requests, but most withdrew their funding. Fearing the closure of the temples, the sisters complied. The greediest benefactors began to claim recipients for courtesans and servants. Temple enlistment plummeted, so the brethren sent orphan girls to be wards.” Mathura looks down at the blank backs of her hands. “By the time I came of age two years later, I had no choice.”

She raises her cool gaze. “You are not the only one dismayed by the life you have been claimed for, but you have been given more than most. Yes, you must fight for your throne, but should you win, your children will be heirs to the empire. You will be permitted to raise them and keep them. You will not suffer the heartache I have for my sons.”

I lower my gaze, feeling properly chastised, but my problem still remains. “But how can I hide my loathing for Tarek?”

“You lay up your fury for when you need it most. Hatred is sustenance for survival. Use it right, and your loathing will sustain you through the tournament, all the way to your triumph.” Mathura pats my knee. “This is how I survive. This is how you will survive.” She stands with the dignity of a sister warrior. “I will meet you at the feast.”