At the end, Bhumika nodded. Said, “I see.” Then she leaned forward a little, expression thoughtful. “To me,” she went on, “the difference between a place in the empire and a place beyond it, as an ally nation, is—negligible. You may have noticed that our crops and our farmers have suffered greatly. We cannot easily feed ourselves. Our position is weak. To survive as an independent nation would require us to be like any city-state of Parijatdvipa in all but name. And we would still have no power at the imperial court.”
“I cannot promise you power at court and freedom,” Malini said. “But as for independence… Lady Bhumika, surely the symbolism is important, is it not? No one forgets what the Ahiranyi were in the Age of Flowers. Parijatdvipa does not forget the way your temple ancestors and the yaksa nearly took everything. Ruled everything. And my own people think, on balance, you would not have been kind masters.
“Your subjugation, as a vassal nation, has been a symbol to Parijatdvipa,” Malini continued. “A symbol of great power, demonstrating that no one may stand against Parijatdvipa’s nations without consequence. Your freedom, however yoked to the empire by commerce or need, will be a symbol to your own people, that you are no longer under the empire’s feet. Perhaps it would even be enough to make Ahiranya’s rebels obey you.”
Bhumika looked no less pained or tired, but there was a new light in her eyes.
“Should your brother Prince Aditya win, we can perhaps agree that symbolic freedom would be—helpful,” Bhumika said, with care. “But until he wins, Ahiranya will be vulnerable to Emperor Chandra, and to the other nations of Parijatdvipa. We do not have the strength to fend them off.”
“I believe you have a source of power that can protect you,” Malini said. “The rebels sought it. And Priya has the key.”
Finally, the two of them looked at Priya.
“Princess Malini. I think you and I should, perhaps, talk further alone,” said Bhumika.
Priya thought about protesting. She was, after all, not exactly uninvolved in any of this. But then Bhumika said, “Priya, I think there’s someone in my retinue you may want to go and meet.” She smiled, only slightly, but it was a true smile.
Malini did not touch her. Did not try to stop her. Her fingers twitched faintly where they rested on her knees, and in an even voice she said, “Thank you, Priya. You can go. Lady Bhumika and I will both be fine.”
Priya began to walk away. She glanced back only once. Malini’s back was to her. Her face was turned away, invisible, unknowable.
Priya didn’t touch the wound at her ribs. She took the blood-soaked cloth away from her head, crumpled it up, and kept on walking.
There’s someone in my retinue you may want to go and meet.
Sima. There was Sima, standing among the other maids, talking to a warrior who held his mace at his side. Sima, looking up, then running across the forest.
“Priya!”
Sima, hugging her fiercely.
“You’ve kept so many secrets from me,” Sima gasped.
“I had to,” Priya said, then coughed as Sima squeezed tighter. The burn beneath her ribs hurt—a pain she didn’t want to contemplate, a pain deeper than skin and her capacity to understand her own wayward heart. “You’re hugging me too hard.”
“You’re a big girl, you can take it.”
“Your hair is in my mouth.”
Sima laughed wetly and pulled back. She gave Priya a huge grin, even as her eyes streamed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just so glad you’re not dead.”
“I’m so glad you’re not dead too,” Priya said. “What are you doing here? And is that—are you carrying a scythe?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to bring you home safe. And because—because the city is in ruins, and Lady Bhumika is leading us now. So. There’s that.” Sima’s smile wavered, then faded. “I can’t exactly rely on my wages, now that the regent is dead.”
Priya looked at the people around her—at Commander Jeevan, watching her with flinty eyes. Of course the regent was dead.
“Rukh,” said Sima. “You’ll want to see him.”
Her heart was suddenly in her mouth. “See him? He’s here?”
Sima nodded.
“What is he doing in this place?” Priya asked. Who had brought a boy—a child—to the deep forest, to blood and to war?
“Lady Bhumika ordered him to come,” Sima said. She hesitated, then added, “Lady Bhumika… she knows Rukh did something he shouldn’t have. Spoke to people he shouldn’t have.”