“I don’t know what you mean,” said the messenger.
“No tale would claim yaksa are inherently benevolent beings,” said Lata. “Not even to their own people. If they have made a path, if that path still exists long after their demise—I have no doubt that the magic of it is a double-edged sword.”
“Well, it’s not a safe path,” the messenger said thoughtfully. “Sometimes people go missing along it. Or turn up dead. But that’s no different from traveling the woods the normal way. You could just as easily be shot by a poacher or eaten by some wild animal.”
“Did you last travel it alone?”
The messenger shook his head.
“And how many of you made it to the other end?”
“That isn’t important.” Prem interrupted firmly. “We’re going the swift way, like it or not.” His voice held nothing of its usual languorous gentleness. It was a voice that brooked no argument. “We’ve stayed in Ahiranya far too long.”
There was a noise from behind Lata. One of the men who’d been on watch appeared, his expression grim.
“The city’s on fire,” he said.
“What do you mean, on fire?” Prem barked.
“I don’t know,” the guard said helplessly. “I went near to the edge of the forest and, my lord, the smoke isn’t from the festival lights. It’s something far bigger.”
Alarmed, Prem and Rao went to look for themselves. The smoke from the city was beginning to billow into the forest. From here, it was difficult to tell the cause. But Rao could smell burning wood and the distinct, cooked char of flesh on the air. He covered his nose, staggered that he had not smelled it sooner, or felt the sheer heat of the blaze.
Ahiranya’s forest did not obey normal rules. Somehow, the forest’s strangeness had muted the worst of it until they had stepped nearer to its borders.
“Someone needs to be sent back to find out what’s happening,” Rao told Prem.
Prem crossed his arms. “I think we should head directly to Srugna,” he said. “As fast as possible.”
“There are Parijatdvipans down there, and we need to know what’s become of them,” said Rao grimly. “We need to know what kind of dangers we’re leaving at our back.”
The guard who had been on watch volunteered to go.
“If there’s any trouble at all, you come straight back,” Prem told him. “You understand?”
“Yes, my lord,” the man said. He bowed his head, then straightened, adjusting the whip at his waist. “I won’t be long.”
“No more than an hour, or we’ll have to leave you behind.”
“My lord,” agreed the man, and then he bowed once more and strode off.
Rao slumped against a tree, rubbing his forehead. Prem joined him, sitting on the ground by his side with a wince.
“Are you hurt?” Rao asked.
“Me? No. Besides, Rao, I’m more interested in talking about you.”
Rao looked at him. Prem offered him a lopsided smile.
“So much yearning,” Prem murmured. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like you do.”
“I’m not in love with Princess Malini,” said Rao. “That isn’t why I’ve waited here.”
Prem snorted in disbelief. “Whatever you say.”
“Prem. She was my sister’s closest friend.”
“Are you telling me you’ve left your family behind, hid here under an assumed identity, consorted with Ahiranyi, and refused to leave with me, because you think of her as a sister?”
“No! No.” Rao took a deep breath. “I’m here because I know Aditya.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “He needs her.”
Prem was silent for a moment. His smile turned into something more thoughtful. “He’s managed to gain plenty of followers without her.”
“Has he? I was there when he chose to leave,” said Rao. “When he decided to become a priest—to abandon the role of crown prince and choose another way.”
“And now he’s seen the error of his ways.”
“I was there,” Rao pressed on, voice as low as he could make it, “when Malini wrote him letter after letter, convincing him to take up his birthright again. I was there when she convinced lord after lord, warrior and prince and king, to join her brother’s cause. I was there when… when she stood before the court and called Chandra a false emperor on a stolen throne and proclaimed that she spoke for the mothers of flame. When she promised he would fall.”