“You put too much weight on her dramatics,” said Prem, eventually. “Those lords and kings have good reason not to want Chandra on the imperial throne. They would have turned to Aditya without her.”
“I’m not so sure. Aditya removed himself from politics. Perhaps some would have sought him out. But the power that’s amassed around him… She saw a weakness, a need, and she took advantage of it. She gave him this. And without her—”
“He’ll be fine.”
You still think I love her, thought Rao. “Without her,” he continued, quietly, “he won’t know what to do. I was raised alongside him, Prem. I was his companion, one of his closest lords from boyhood. I know.”
Prem glanced at him. But all he said was, “Someone’s coming.”
Rao heard it then: the clatter of hooves. The swish of metal against metal, sabers drawn from sheaths. Prem gave a low whistle, and a moment later his own men appeared in the trees behind him.
There was a distant, frightened whinny of horses. The noise of men dismounting. Beasts of burden were too frightened of the forest to enter it. The Ahiranyi knew that. Even Rao knew that. But the men approaching were dragging their wild-eyed mounts with them, apparently on the orders of a man shouting from behind them.
“We should go,” Rao murmured.
“I thought you were the one who wanted to know the dangers at our back,” Prem whispered in return. His gaze was fixed forward, mouth barely moving. “Well. Now we’ll know.”
After a moment, ten figures appeared in their line of sight. A contingent of soldiers, dressed in Parijati white and gold. Prem’s man, who’d gone into the city, was at the forefront. There was a saber to his throat.
Immediately, Rao reached for a chakram at his wrist. Around him, Prem’s men touched hands to their whips. The ones at the back, nearly in the shadow of the seeker’s path, reached for their bows. Behind them, Lata sank back deeper into the gloom, seeking cover.
“Ah. There’s no need for that. Lower your weapons,” a voice said. The figure stepped forward, and Prem swore, unraveling his whip from his belt in a slithering hiss of steel.
“Santosh.”
“We went to collect you from your whoring, Prince Prem,” said Lord Santosh, eyes glittering. “And you, Prince Rao,” he added, bowing his head in a mockery of respect. “Although I expected to find a Lord Rajan. What a pleasant surprise, to find you instead! The brothel burned down, unfortunately. And you weren’t there.”
“Let my guard go, Santosh,” Prem demanded. “Or you’ll be committing a crime against the royal blood of Saketa.”
“I act in the emperor’s name,” Santosh snapped in return. “I protect his interests. And it has occurred to me that it’s curious for a low prince to spend so long in Ahiranya just when the emperor’s sister happens to be here, imprisoned. Very curious.”
“I told you,” Prem said, baring his teeth into something that vaguely approximated a smile. “I came to Ahiranya for pleasure.”
“And you, Prince Rao? For pleasure alone?”
“What do you want?” Rao asked bluntly. The Saketan man was blinking hard, obviously terrified, struggling to breathe around the press of the blade, and Rao suddenly found he had no patience for games. “For the boy’s life.”
“I want to know why you’re here,” Santosh said. “I want to know where you’re going. I want to know who you’re working with against our emperor.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have the authority for such invasive questioning, Lord Santosh,” Prem said. “Let me explain it to you, since you strike me as particularly slow: You’re nothing but an inbred Parijati lord who loves licking the sweat off Chandra’s feet. We, on the other hand, are royal-blooded sons of the city-states of Parijatdvipa. You are not our equal. Unless Chandra has already handed you Ahiranya’s regency?”
“I am an advisor to the emperor,” Santosh said through gritted teeth.
“All our ancestors, since the Age of Flowers, have been advisors to emperors,” Prem countered, gesturing to himself and Rao. “Our kin are the emperor’s counselors and have always, always placed their blood and their hearts in the service of the whole. You’re nothing but a lackey.”
“You don’t deserve to serve him,” Santosh said, a hectic light in his eyes as he drew his own saber. “You’ve been given too much freedom. It was Parijat that saved your people and Parijati blood that should stand first. Your betrayal only proves it. He is far superior to you.”