He released his hold and stepped back as Akino activated the fire wall. The fire howled, but then the wall slammed into place, cutting them off from the explosion. Samson stared, his breath loud and deafening in the sudden onslaught of silence. He could feel the flames rushing down the other tunnels, gaining speed, power. By the time the fire reached the main chambers, the Jantari would be powerless to stop it.
“The tinmen are out,” Jaya cracked in his ear. “Move your asses.”
Alarms began to blare, but all Samson could hear was the wicked, bloody cackle of the inferno and its desire beating through him with a terrible, glorious peal. Despite his fear, he grinned. His men watched, transfixed.
“It’s time to hunt,” he said.
CHAPTER 29
ELENA
She is a being of destruction, and the liberator of death. From the darkness she will rise, and to darkness she will descend.
—fromHymns of the Goddess of the Yamuna
The palace smelled faintly of smoke when she stumbled into the throne room. Outside, soldiers quickly put out fires in the west wing, but Elena could feel their presence in her mind’s eye now, and she heard their song of betrayal and destruction as she raised her eyes to the figure on the dais.
She had expected a squarish brute, like the late General Rohtak, or someone polished and sinister, like Samson, but General Daz of the Moksh was neither brutish nor menacing nor cruel. He was frail and lank, with the spindly hands of a scholar. Grey strands glimmered in curly hair that would have looked unkempt on another man but, on him, looked rather charming, if not affectionately scruffy.
But his eyes gave him away. Amber colored, with a quick, discerning intelligence. When she met his gaze, Elena felt herself involuntarily tense as Daz beckoned her forward.
“Queen Elena, welcome.”
She approached cautiously. Behind her, Rhumia and her sister Afira, a Yumi with soft, kind eyes that seemed unfit for a place like this, snapped to a salute.
“At ease, grandnieces,” he said.
“The queen,” Elena began as she searched the throne room for signs of a struggle. Of course, the queen could have been killed anywhere in the palace. Her courtyards. Her gardens. Her bedroom. Elena shuddered at the thought of waking up in her bed to find her own family looming above, blades ready.
Daz studied her intently. “You disapprove of my methods.”
Elena snapped her mouth shut. A part of her screamed to leave this room full of traitors and return to the safety of her desert. But her home wasn’t safe either. It was torn into strips governed by petty men, and she would be a fool to leave without fulfilling her promise of raising an army that would make Farin bend.
Elena hesitated, her mind still reeling. “Why have you done this? Why stage a coup?”
“Not a coup. A revolution.” He surveyed her. “Are you not trying to lead one yourself, in Ravence and Seshar?”
“I expected to meet a queen. Not her usurper of a brother.”
Daz chuckled, though pain skittered across his tired face. “I did not expect you either, little queen, but I can guess why you’re here. You seek Moksh’s aid in your war. Does it matter if it comes from a queen or a usurper?”
It mattered. It mattered because she was a queen who had lost her throne. It mattered because as she stood here now, another man sought her power, her throne, her people, and they, unwittingly, were already beginning to give what had been hers. But Elena did not say this.
She straightened, feeling the heat of her Agni rush through her nadis.
“What can a usurper offer me? All I see is a burning kingdom.”
“You of all people, Elena, know that fire is nothing against a people used to burning.” Daz descended from the dais. “You think I killed my sister. You think that I moved for selfish notions of power. No, little queen.” He began to circle her, and Elena fought down the urge to flinch. “A week ago, the Yumi of Moksh deposed a ruler who was too proud, too vain, to see the dangers posed against our kingdom.”
He gestured out the windows, toward the east. “For a long time, our intelligence has gathered reports of a brewing alliance between Jantar and our pleasant neighbor Mandur. Farin wants to expand Mandur’s mining operations and take a share of the ore. In exchange, he will supply naval ships. Ships that Mandur will eventually use in a war against us.”
Elena froze. “Are you sure?”
His smile was cutting, sardonic. “My sister asked the same. She believed that Mandur would not turn against us. She insisted we do nothing. She reminded me that it is our history to never draw the first blade. That it is below us. Dishonorable. But I know Mandur. They may not sail tomorrow, or in the next few months, but they will sail within a sun. I do not want a long, tiresome war any more than you do, Elena.”
“Then what do you want from me?” she said carefully.
“What you want: Peace. Good fortune. A kingdom that is whole and healthy and strong.” He stopped in front of her then, his tawny eyes bright in the dark room. “And that comes with a seat at your council. You can get that for me.”
