He thought of Priya. Trying to make her strong.
The absence of her.
“We find her,” he said, “and we take the way from her. Being strong means doing what is necessary, no matter the cost.”
Kritika nodded. “Then you will allow us all to drink the water with you,” she said. “And join you in saving our country.”
Thirty drinking. A high number. They would need more water to sustain them, and Ashok—who had spent years sourcing vials of deathless water—knew it wouldn’t be possible. If they drank today, this would be a final gambit. If they did not find the deathless waters soon, it would be the literal death of them.
“You have sacrificed enough. I cannot ask this of all of you.”
“I am older than you, Ashok, but not as old as you seem to think,” Kritika said, with her usual gravity. “I still have the desire in me to seek freedom. To burn Parijatdvipa’s soldiers and lords and see the regent strung from his neck. Allow me that. Allow us all that.”
“We may all die,” said Ashok, finally. “We may not obtain my sister. We may be killed by Parijatdvipa’s men. This may be our end.”
Kritika said nothing. She knew the shape of Ashok’s thoughts, his words, his silence. She knew he was not done.
“Knowing this may be our death,” he said slowly, “knowing this may be the last time we are so strong, we should destroy as many of our targets as possible. The nobles and the wealthiest, the merchants and physicians that Parijatdvipa needs to keep its claws in our land—we need to kill them all. Whether we obtain my sister or not, we must have some sort of victory.” He looked at Kritika. “Are you ready?” he asked. “Are you ready to risk everything we have?”
“You have prepared for it,” said Kritika. “We all have.”
Yes. They’d accumulated weapons. They had loyal men and women, and the people they’d bought loyalty from too, with fear or hope or coin or some alchemical combination of all three.
“A little poison,” said Ganam, “is something I am willing to take.”
“We all are,” said another boy. “For this, we all are.”
His mind was moving, bird-swift. They could leave the ones who could not fight in the forest. The youngest and oldest. The rest…
The rest were already standing before him. The men and women who had allied to see Ahiranya free. Who rejected the shackles of outside rule. Who sought better than the rot that had stolen their homes and killed their loved ones; the hunger that followed when the regent did not care to ensure that they were fed.
And Kritika, the woman who had saved him when he had thought he would die, her lined face already set and implacable. She knew what was coming. They all did.
“We can’t be cautious any longer,” he said. “You’re right. Care has not won us anything. This is our last stand. Our last howl of rage. Let us show them that we are heirs to the forest, brothers and sisters. Heirs to the deathless waters. Let us show them tooth and claw and put an end to Parijati rule.”
Kritika apportioned out the vials. Only a taste. It only required a taste.
She placed a vial in his hand, too. His fingers trembled. He did not have long.
“We’re taking the Hirana. We’re taking its magic,” he said. “We’re taking Ahiranya.”
“A last stand,” said Kritika.
The circle around him lifted the vials and drank.
BHUMIKA
She returned to her body with a ragged groan.
Ashok. Damn him. She felt as if the poison of his rage were swimming in her own skull. She rose up from the ground, her maids fussing about her, and said, “I need to see my husband.”
“Shall I fetch the physician?” a maid asked.
“The physician? No. Fetch my husband. Him alone.”
She settled on a floor cushion. Accepted a glass of something sweet and cool, drinking it swiftly to settle the shiver of her limbs. Vikram entered, walking slowly still as a result of his wound, followed by his closest guards. He’d been at some kind of meeting, she guessed, from the tired look of his eyes. She’d seen that expression before.
“Is the child unwell?” Vikram asked abruptly, looking her over with concern. She rose to her feet, shaking her head.
“I’m well,” she said. “And so are they, I expect.”
“Then why am I here, Bhumika?”
“I asked to see you alone,” she said, glancing briefly at the commander, who was staring straight ahead, his eyes fixed on nothing in the distance.