“I’ll be there in a moment,” I say, staying with Indah and Pons. “Will you two be all right going to Paljor?”

“We’ll be fine.” Pons rests his big hand over Indah’s small belly. They must be glad to miss the war front.

Indah pats Pons’s knee. “Would you leave us a moment, please?” He kisses her cheek and goes. I presume Indah wants to speak about her father or her pregnancy, but she focuses her serious gaze on me. “I’m concerned about you, Kalinda. I saw what you did to Prince Ashwin last night. Parching may seem like a reasonable remedy for your pain, but too much parching is dangerous.”

I bristle in defense. People are not afraid of Burners merely because they fear fire. They fear the violation of someone parching their soul. “I only borrowed Ashwin’s soul-fire because I was trying to stop the wildfire from spreading.”

“You didn’t borrow anything—you robbed it. Parched soul-fire cannot be returned.”

I snap my mouth shut. The opposite of parching is scorching, wherein a Burner pushes their powers into another and scorches them to ash. So, no. I cannot return the soul-fire I take.

“Parching too often is addictive. You could become dependent on others’ soul-fire to replenish your powers.” Indah places her hand on mine. “What are demons most known for?”

“Frightening people.”

“They frighten us because they thrive off destroying all that shines. Demons spite the stars, curse the moon, and abhor the sun. I know Udug’s cold-fire is still within you, but the cost is too great for you to give in. You’ll sacrifice your inner radiance for a moment in the sun—then it will fade, leaving you parched for light.”

I tell Indah what I dare not admit to Ashwin. “I don’t know if we can defeat him.”

“You can. Fight him, Kalinda. Hold on to your inner star and don’t let go.” Indah seals her encouragement with a kiss on my cheek. Being with child has opened her to all sorts of affection. “I’ll go see where Pons got to.”

She leaves the chief’s quarters, but her caution acerbates my worries. Will Udug’s cold-fire forever change me? I know of only one way to find out.

I exhale and close my eyes.

A tiny light glows in my mind. My inner star’s color has changed from a clear light to brilliant sapphire. The longer I search for purity in the blue light, the icier I feel. The star grows razor-sharp points that spike into my skull. Behind my eyes, it burns like frostbite. I open them, and tears pour out. The stinging inside my head stays, a rising pressure of cold.

Indah and Pons come back in to find me doubled over and clutching my head.

“Kalinda, what happened?” Indah asks, hurrying to my side. I wait for the flash of cold to thaw, but the icicles impale deeper. She presses her warm palm to my forehead. “You’re freezing.”

Her warmth is like a cool drink in the desert. I react as a starving soul and draw in her heat. Her soul-fire flows into me, trickling down my body. Indah gasps, locked against me, as I parch more and more—

Pons wrenches her away. She teeters, and passes out. He catches her limp body and jostles her. Indah does not wake. His terror-filled gaze darts to me. I have devoured Indah’s soul-fire, chewed it up and swallowed it down.

Backing away, I have no words. No justification.

I flee the chief’s quarters and run down the plank. A brisk wind slaps my cheeks, but I am warm. So wonderfully warm and bright.

Demons steal the light.

Is that what I am becoming? Udug’s cold powers are strangling the mortal and bhuta sides of me. Without them, just one part of my heritage will be left—the ancestry line that traces back to the fire-god’s natural father, the demon Kur.

Clutching the bearskin at my throat, I slow near the mahati falcon. Tinley and her father ready the great bird for our journey. While they pass heated words back and forth, Ashwin waits a respectful distance away. He also wears a bearskin for our flight.

After a reticent glance at me, he explains, “Tinley wants to stay in Vanhi and fight, but her father forbids it.”

“I’m sorry I was angry with you. It was unfair of me.”

His attention jumps to me. “I’m sorry my heart’s wish hurt you. I wasn’t aware I had . . . that it tied us together.”

Behind the squabbling father and daughter, strings of smoke rise from the temple wreckage. Standing before the ruins of my home, my own heart’s wish comes to mind with painful clarity. “For years, my dream was to live here in peace with Jaya.”

“And now?”

“I still wish for peace.” I bury my chin in the bearskin, imagining Indah’s disappointment in me when she wakes. Though I could try to rationalize my actions, I endangered her and her unborn child. I stole her peace of mind and possibly ruined her trust.

Chief Naresh’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “I’d like you to come home when you return from Vanhi, Tinley. Your mother and I miss you.”

“I cannot,” she says in a frustrated growl. “Chare didn’t hatch from one of our nests. The flock will view her as an intruder. She’s so small, she could get hurt.”

Ashwin and I size up the falcon. Bya was massive, but Chare is still large. How big do mahati falcons grow?

Chief Naresh briefly closes his eyes, seeking restraint, and strides to us. “Tinley will take you now. Kindred, it’s been a joy.” He envelops me in a hug. Deven holds me like this, until my heart may burst from his goodness. “The gods will watch over you. Go on your way now. You’re losing daylight.”

The chief hands his bearskin cape to his daughter. She accepts it, kisses him hastily on the cheek, and leaps astride her great bird. Ashwin helps me up and hoists himself behind me. The hems of my trousers ride up, and the bird’s sleek feathers skim against my ankles.

Chare extends her swooping wings and leaps into the air. Tinley summons an elevating gust, and I momentarily lose my breath. The abrupt climb is like taking off in a wing flyer.

From above, the temple rubble is more visible. Is this what Anu sees when he looks down upon us? Did he see the fire was an accident?

Wolf’s Peak juts into the slate sky. I comb its cliffs and impenetrable vertexes for Ekur, desperate for a glimpse of the gods’ mountain home. Show me, Anu. Show me you forgive me. But Chare banks south, putting the pinnacle of the mountain behind us.

22

DEVEN

Soon after the wagon stops for the night, Manas returns.

“Get out, Deven. The rajah has asked for you.”

I am hardly surprised. Opal dissatisfied Udug with her lack of knowledge about Vanhi. Who better to inquire of the palace and rebels than the former captain of the guard?

Opal starts to get out too, but Manas throws out his arm. “Stay here, filth. The rajah is finished suffering your repulsive presence.”

“Yet he surrounds himself with you,” I say, climbing out of the wagon.

Manas smacks the back of my head. I stumble forward to my knees, my hands still tethered behind me. As I rise, the scene beyond camp emerges. The Turquoise Palace shines upon the hill, and Vanhi stretches out below it. To those who love Vanhi, it is known as the City of Gems, a sparkling oasis for all. But the mines beneath the palace that once harvested rich veins of turquoise were boarded up long ago. Like those dried-up veins, Vanhi’s shutters are closed and dim.

Men rush around us, situating the catapults and unloading the ammunition. Preparations have begun for the army to break through the city wall.

Manas shuts the wagon door and nudges me across the sand toward Udug’s tent. “Who did you bring with you, Deven? The commander saw a third man.”

“I don’t know who you mean.”

Manas pushes me, nearly tripping me again. I already have sand in places I would rather not think about. “The missing soldier was your fault, wasn’t it?” he asks.

“You’re missing a soldier?”

Another push. “Rajah Tarek will end your life.”

The night thickens as we approach the tent. “I told you in Iresh: he isn’t Rajah Tarek.”

“Quit your lies.” Manas cuts my bindings free and shoves me inside but does not follow.

Lamplight glows upon the lavish gold, purple, and red carpets laid out on the floor. An unnatural coldness dulls the air. A table full of rich dishes of food wafts of decadence. My mouth waters at the spicy scents. Silk cushions are set around the table, and Udug occupies the head.

“You know who I am,” he says, tearing off a chunk of flatbread.

I rub my wrists, bruised from my bindings. “You’re the Voider.”

He smirks as he chews. “My master calls me Udug.”

“Your master is the demon Kur?”

He bites off more bread. “I know him as Kur, God of the Evernight.”

Kur’s name with the descriptor “god” rankles. The Parijana faith teaches that Kur, the First-Ever Dragon, was created by a primeval goddess to combat her son, Anu. But Anu prevailed and usurped his mother. Kur, belonging neither to the skies nor the land, claimed the evernight as home for himself and his depraved followers.

Udug speaks with his mouth full. “I have missed this ritual of eating. You mortals, especially your rulers, bask in self-indulgence.” He smacks his lips. A bread knife rests near the center of the table. If I lunge, I may reach it before he does. “Why are you here, Captain? Why aren’t you with the kindred? Has the prince claimed her?”

“Kali cannot be claimed,” I say shortly. “Tarek is proof of that.”

“Tarek is guilty of selfishness and conceit, but never overreach. He took what he lusted after, claimed what he desired, and ruled what he could seize. He was never complacent.” Udug says the last as though accusing me of such. “You’re here because you’re not that sort of man.” Again, phrased as an insult. “Prince Ashwin, however, has the potential to rival his father. I saw his heart’s wish. He lusts after it all—the empire, the imperial army, the kindred. His desire to rule with Kalinda is why I have not taken her life.”