Weeds withered and resurrected in a frenzied cycle beneath her hands as she dry heaved. She swore, dizzy on her hands and knees.
“Can you get up?” Malini asked. Her voice was near. She was kneeling by Priya, her own eyes fixed on the path behind them. Looking, perhaps, for other people running for refuge, or soldiers.
“I can. Just give me a moment.”
With great effort, Priya stumbled to her feet.
Fell.
“Well,” said Malini. “Apparently not.”
“I’m going to have to,” Priya gritted out. “We can’t stay here. Not with the city in the state it is.”
Malini was silent for a moment. Then she said, “You understand that my strength is—limited.”
“Of course I do.”
“Then you’ll forgive me if this ends badly. Come. Put your arms around me.”
Priya did. Somehow, Malini managed to leverage them both to their feet, with Priya’s face against the crook of her shoulder and Priya’s hands clutched tight against the cloth of Malini’s blouse.
“What on earth has happened to you?” Malini whispered, voice feather-light on Priya’s hair. And Priya shivered, not from the fever alone, and said, “I can’t explain it.”
“Can’t?”
“Won’t, then. My magic is—my business.”
“Leave your magic and your gifts a mystery, then, if you must,” Malini said. “Just tell me where we need to go, to reach this bower of bones.”
Priya told her. And Malini began to walk—slow, careful steps, mindful of the stumbling weight of Priya in her arms. Priya forced herself to move one foot in front of the other, again and again, even as her blood felt like a tide turned backward inside her body.
“Priya,” Malini whispered. “Priya, Priya. Listen to my voice.”
“Why are you saying my name?”
“Because you’re not answering me.”
Priya’s breath gusted out of her. “I’m sorry I’m scaring you.”
“I’m not scared,” Malini said, sounding furious. She was still holding Priya—still using her strength to drag Priya through the fronds of great dark leaves.
“Of course you’re scared,” said Priya. She meant her words to sound gentle, understanding, but they came out of her slurred with pain, and Malini ignored them.
They walked. Walked.
“I can’t drag you any farther,” said Malini, after an age. “We’re going to need to wait here.”
Wait for what? Priya thought. But she didn’t ask. Malini was trembling and sweating, gray-faced as she sank against the knotted trunk of a tree, the light of the sun streaming over her. Her cheek, where Pramila had struck her, was livid.
“The needle-flower,” Priya said faintly.
“I wish you would shut up about the needle-flower,” Malini said. But after a moment, she swore and reached over Priya. Priya turned her head so that Malini could remove the chain from her throat.
Malini took a dab of the tincture on her lips. Grimaced. “There,” she said. “Now we don’t need to discuss it further.”
“Put it—round your neck.”
Malini gave her an unreadable look and slipped the chain over her own head, the small cask settling at the hollow of her throat.
“Why do you want to know about my magic?” Priya asked. “Why does it matter to you?”
“I told you that you interest me,” said Malini. “I told you that I want to know everything about you.”
“You said that to make me think—you liked me,” Priya said haltingly.
Malini’s dark gray eyes fixed on her own. “I do like you,” said Malini.
“Please don’t say that.”
“You have helped me. You tried to save me from poison. You comforted me. When reality felt far away, and I didn’t know what was real, you—”
“Please,” Priya said, and knew she sounded like she was begging this time. “Don’t.”
She didn’t want to be convinced into foolishness again, to let herself like Malini too much. She didn’t want to trust her, or want to be friends. She didn’t want to want her. And it would have been so easy, after all they’d been through together—after she’d seen Malini nearly die and watched the way Malini’s eyes had gone wide and cold with fury when Pramila had held the knife to Priya’s throat. She was teetering on the edge. She did not want to fall.
A silence settled between them.