She returned to the main camp, where people were milling around Bhumika’s tent. The tent itself was silent. As she approached, Khalida emerged, grim-faced. She looked a little ill.
“Where have you been?” Khalida barked.
“There’s a group of Parijati ahead up the path,” Priya said in a low voice, drawing closer so she wouldn’t have to speak up. “They’re allies of Prince Aditya. The princess is with them, and Jeevan and the men are there. I’m going to remain here to keep Lady Bhumika safe.”
“Prince Aditya’s allies,” Khalida repeated. “You’re afraid the Parijati will turn on us?”
“Jeevan is with them,” Priya repeated. “And if they attempt anything, I’ll use everything I have—we all will—to keep them at bay.”
“You have a deal with the princess,” Khalida said, in a voice that needled. Her eyes glittered. “Are you telling me you don’t trust her word?”
“I’m telling you that when there’s a large group of men with weapons who aren’t my friends, even I’m not stupid enough to trust them,” Priya said evenly. “I want to see Bhumika.”
“And how will you guard her from in there?” Khalida gestured at the tent.
Priya’s power was depleted, but she let it touch her voice, just a brush of it, when she said, “I’m strong enough to make you move.”
“You can’t scare me,” Khalida retorted.
“I’m not trying to,” said Priya. “We’re allies, Khalida. Don’t be dense. Just move aside, or I’ll make you. And you won’t like that at all.”
“You,” Khalida hissed, “bring her nothing but grief. You know that, don’t you?”
Priya stared at her. Stared, and said nothing.
Without another word, Khalida drew the tent flap aside.
Bhumika was kneeling on the ground. She was nearly silent, but there were low, animal noises of pain coming from her. Her face was damp with sweat.
It was a dark, intimate terror that consumed Priya when she kneeled by Bhumika’s side.
“Priya?” Bhumika gritted out.
“I’m here.”
“Come closer.”
Bhumika reached a hand out and Priya took it.
“I don’t know anything about birthing,” Priya confessed, holding Bhumika’s hand tight.
“Oh, good,” said Bhumika. “Well. Neither do I. A shame that we’re going to need to learn like this.”
“I thought you’d know what to do,” Priya said, appalled.
“Well, I thought I’d have trained midwives with me,” Bhumika said through clenched teeth.
“You have me,” Khalida said, sounding hunted from the entry.
Priya gripped Bhumika’s hand tighter in comfort—a difficult task when Bhumika’s own grasp was iron.
“Khalida,” said Priya. “Get Sima.”
“Why?”
“Her mother used to deliver the babies in their village,” said Priya. “She’ll certainly know more than either of us.”
Khalida left at once. A few moments later, Sima’s quiet voice cut through the dimness. “I can help.”
The tent flap opened again, another woman entering with water. “And I’ll need some of the other maidservants as well. I’m sorry,” Sima added.
“This tent is becoming overcrowded,” Bhumika gritted out.
“I’ll go and keep watch.” There was an edge of relief in Khalida’s voice.
Women came back and forth, bringing water from the fire, boiled clean, and cloth, as Sima whispered to Bhumika, guiding her to breathe, coaxing her into one uncomfortable position after another. Helplessly, Priya sat and held Bhumika’s hand and talked nonsense at her.
She was watching Sima rub Bhumika’s back through the next set of pains when she felt one of the maidservants kneel at her side, passing her a wet cloth for Bhumika’s forehead.
“I have the boy,” a voice said quietly. “Come and speak to me, and I’ll return him to you alive.”
Priya looked up.
She did not know the woman’s face. But she knew those eyes. She’d seen them through a mask of wood.
Before she could do anything, the woman was gone, and Priya was clutching the cloth in her hands, the water dripping against her palms.
“Priya. Priya? Give that to me.” Sima pried it away. Then she turned back to Bhumika, and Priya could only rise to her feet. Turn to the entrance of the tent.