I splay my fingers across his chest, cherishing the low flicker of his soul-fire. “You did?”

“I was very complimentary.”

“Care to share what you said?”

He chuckles, a deep, rich sound. “Where’s your humility?”

“I have none when it comes to your praise.” I tuck my head beneath his chin and swing my leg over his, my knee high on his thigh. His sandalwood musk permeates my clothes and bedcovers.

“I told them you’ll do what’s right for the empire,” he says, his voice husky.

I slide my fingers under his tunic neckline to erase more distance between us. “Ashwin will do what’s right for them. Our people need to look to him for guidance.”

Deven stops drawing on my arm. “Are you and he still . . . close?”

“No, at least not that way. What you saw between us wasn’t real. Ashwin included me in his heart’s wish. In his ideal empire, he imagined me at his side. His vision protected me from harm but also drew me to him.”

Deven’s voice pitches to a dissatisfied grumble. “He manipulated you to get close to him?”

I’m not explaining this well. “Neither of us knew his heart’s wish had that much power. I figured it out in Samiya, and Ashwin had no idea. I would have told you if I knew.” I make myself ask the question I have been dreading since our argument in Lestari. “Did you—or do you—really believe I’d choose Ashwin over you?”

“I prefer not to think that your choice is between him and me, but me and your throne.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I never wished for my throne.”

“But you need it to accomplish the change you wish to see in the empire.” His answer is too smooth to convince me of his dispassion. Deven pretends not to care when he cares the most.

I rest my chin on his chest and gaze up at him. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t think you’d leave angry.”

“I didn’t think you wouldn’t say good-bye.”

“I tried.”

His composure cracks a little. “You did?”

“You were already in the air. Then Mathura came to see me . . .” I did not intend to discuss his mother. I rest my cheek on his chest again, but Deven is curious.

“Kali, what did my mother say?”

I decide against telling him that Mathura disapproves of our closeness, and instead, I summarize her opinion of me. “She thinks I’m foolish for not wanting to be a rani for the rest of my life.”

“My mother had a different experience in the palace than you. She wasn’t . . . valued as you and the other ranis were. To her, becoming a rani was the best life any courtesan could dream of. But she believes in you, Kali. And she’s right. You’re the rani the people need.” Deven brings the back of my hand to his lips, kissing the symbol of the kindred. “But you aren’t foolish for wishing for more. You have a right to your own dreams. That’s why I left without saying good-bye. I was angry, but I also wanted you to make up your own mind.” His heartbeat pounds against our chests. “Truthfully, I thought you’d choose Ashwin—er, your throne.”

“I care for Ashwin like family, but I fell in love with you before I was a rani.” I lay my hand upon his flat stomach. “The day will come when Ashwin will take his own wives, and I’ll step down as the empire’s kindred.”

Deven smooths my hair from my shoulder. “And then?”

“And then . . . I want a future with you. A future of our own making.”

He slides down the bed until we are eye level and strokes my hip. My nerves stir and tingle, hypersensitive to every glancing touch. His beard grazes my chin, his lips a head tilt away. “We have the same dream.”

He throws the sun-scented blanket over our heads. I stretch out against him, and he kisses me until my limbs quiver and my skin burns for more. Silky sheets, wet lips, and needy hands overrun my senses. We explore each other in ways we were never allowed to and never dared. No fears temper our desires. We set our dreams free, soaring to limitless heights of fulfilled wishes.

Deven tries to shift away, but I pull him closer. “Don’t go yet,” I whisper.

He kisses me long and slow, melting me into my pillow, and then sits up and tugs on his trousers and white tunic. The baggy sleeves hang off his arms, and the low neckline reveals the hard cuts of his chest.

He looks back at me. “It’s difficult to leave you.”

I grab the hair at the back of his head and drag his lips over mine. When I let go, hunger shines from his eyes, and I know I can coax him to slide back under the covers with me.

My door to the corridor swings opens. Giggles move across the room, and then Shyla, Eshana, and Parisa pile on the mattress with us. Asha strolls in behind them carrying a meal tray, a bandage wound around one hand. The ranis are covered in various scrapes and bruises. Parisa’s broken ribs are the worst injury. Bandages wrap around her torso beneath her sari. I do not miss what a mercy it is that we all survived.

“Morning, ladies,” Deven says too brightly for my taste.

Parisa assesses the flattering fit of Deven’s loose tunic. “Don’t you mean good afternoon? The kindred has kept you preoccupied.”

“Other way around, actually.” Deven galls me by adding a wink.

Eshana fans herself at his suggestive tone. “The prince is looking for you, and we need to ask Kalinda a few questions.” Her pointed stare is a push for Deven to leave.

“General Naik forgot to tell us how handsome the prince is,” Parisa adds.

“Or how kind,” says Shyla. Her baby girl, Rehan, sits on her lap and sucks one of her mother’s few fingers on her maimed left hand. “He kissed Rehan on the head when he met her.”

“My apologies.” Deven taps my nose in farewell. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat.”

I sit up, clutching the blanket around me. “Do you want me to come with you and find out what the prince needs?” I am not dressed, but I can be in a moment. These women have just learned I am a Burner. I am nervous about what they will say.

Deven tosses one of the fallen bed pillows at me, and I catch it. “Stay and enjoy your friends.” His eyes twinkle, knowing I would rather go with him, but Eshana and Parisa start to natter about Ashwin’s dashing chin, and Deven slips out.

“The prince is even more attractive than Tarek, and—Oh, Kindred.” Parisa picks up my hand and clucks her tongue. “Your nails are ghastly!”

Eshana runs her fingers down my tresses. “But she still has the comeliest hair.”

“Perhaps the kindred wants to get out of bed,” suggests Asha, folding her arms over her chest.

“Doesn’t Asha look pretty?” Shyla notes of my servant. “We had a lot of free time while we were trapped in the Tigress Pavilion. It took some persuading, but Asha finally removed that hideous veil and let us do her nails. Even her toenails are painted!”

“Asha has always been beautiful,” I reply, and her color turns as red as her nails.

“You could have told us you’re a Burner,” Shyla says, altering the tone of the mood.

I grip Rehan’s little hand in mine to avoid meeting their gazes. “I was afraid you’d hate me.”

Eshana throws her arms around me, followed by a more careful Parisa protecting her sore ribs. “We could never hate you, Kalinda,” Eshana says “Your rank tournament brought peace to the palace.” I jolt, certain I had done the opposite. “Your victory brought the courtesans and ranis together. We’re sister warriors fighting alongside each other now instead of against one another.”

“You’re our kindred,” Parisa adds. “We were so worried when you left.”

I never imagined they would miss me. “I worried about you too.”

Shyla cuddles Rehan closer. “Asha kept saying you’d return. None of us doubted you.”

Asha holds herself removed from us. Eshana extends her arm to her, and Asha adds her hug to our collection. Seeing them treat her as an equal gives me hope that change can come to Tarachand.

“Um, Kalinda,” Eshana says, letting me go, “I do believe you’re nude.”

Parisa smacks her side lightly. “As if you didn’t know!”

“I didn’t! I thought she and the general were . . .” Eshana flushes a flattering pink. “Oh my. Does this mean you have no claim on Prince Ashwin?”

Parisa tosses a pillow at her. “I was going to ask her!”

Their petty arguing draw laughs from the rest of us.

“You’re free to pursue the prince.” In fact, I look forward to witnessing how Ashwin fares against the vivacious Parisa and flirtatious Eshana.

A streak of red-orange zips past my open balcony. I slip into my robe and go outside. Tinley and Chare land in the garden. The other women rush out to view the mahati falcon. As they marvel over Chare, I dress, strapping on my mother’s daggers as always, and rush downstairs.

The garden smells of ripe lemons dangling from their trees. I duck under one and walk up to Tinley. “I thought you left Tarachand.”

“I did.” She drinks from her water flask and continues. “We were returning to Paljor when the wind told me Udug escaped. Chare and I tracked him across the desert. He stopped there at dawn to tend to his injured wing. He’ll rest during the day and travel at night.”

All cheerfulness filters out of my good mood. “Is Udug headed for the gate?”

“He must be.” Tinley turns her milky eyes to the clear sky. “The sun was full when I woke this morning.”

At first, I do not understand her meaning, but as I shade my eyes and focus on the sun, I notice a slice of it is missing.

A shadow is eclipsing the sun’s supernal light.

The eclipse is slight, but even as I stand here, the veil falls further and my dread deepens. Demon powers are stronger in the dark. Stopping Udug from opening the gate when the sun is fully eclipsed will be impossible.