“You’re hurting my arm,” Priya said steadily. “Let go of me. And we’ll return to work and forget any of this happened.”
“Aren’t you listening to me?” Meena’s face was a picture of despair. “This mad emperor will burn us all. We need to be strong. We need to be what we once were.”
“I am listening to you,” Priya said levelly. “And I think we should return to work. I think you want something from me that I can’t give you.”
There was a sound, beyond the triveni, as two maidservants passed, chattering to one another. Priya stiffened, utterly silent. Do not come in here, she thought. By soil and sky, please, do not.
They passed. Their voices faded.
Meena was watching her, intent as an animal gazing upon prey. But she trembled, and trembled, as if her own instincts terrified her.
“Show me the way to the deathless waters,” Meena said in a quicksilver whisper. “Just tell me how to reach the waters, simply tell me, and I’ll leave here. I’ll cause no trouble.”
“What do you mean, ‘trouble’？” Priya asked.
Meena swallowed. Her gaze was unflinching.
“Being strong means being ruthless,” said Meena. “I know that. And I am—not afraid. To do what needs to be done.”
“Strong,” Priya repeated. Oh, she remembered what strong had meant, when she was a girl. “Do you mean that you’ll torture me? The other maidservants? Do you mean that you’ll kill them, to force me to show you the way?” When Meena remained silent, Priya smiled at her—a fierce, hard smile. “There would be no point, anyway. I don’t know the way.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Meena said, voice suddenly high and thin as if she could not control it. Her grip tightened. Ah, that hurt. “I’ve asked the others. You’ve lived in the regent’s mahal since you were a girl. If anyone knows the way, it’s you.”
“Meena,” Priya said, in the calmest voice she could muster, even as her heart raced, “if I had the power of the deathless waters at my fingertips, do you truly believe I’d be toiling in the regent’s household? Wouldn’t I be more than a maidservant? Think sensibly.”
“I think you are a coward,” said Meena, suddenly viperous. “I think you’re willing to lick the regent’s boots, and you disgust me. You’re nothing like him.”
Priya could not ask her who he was—could not say a word—because Meena released her and clasped her face instead. She dug sharp nails into Priya’s jaw; tightened her hand like a vise. For a small woman, she was strong. There was a feverish light in her eyes.
“Tell me the truth.”
Priya felt Meena’s hand dig in tighter and tighter.
She forced words out through a mouth pressed tight by Meena’s grip.
“Meena. Stop.”
Meena’s nails dug in harder.
When Meena did not stop, Priya did the only sensible thing she could and stomped down on the other woman’s foot. Heel first, the full weight of her body behind it. Meena gave a shriek, her grip slipping, and Priya grabbed the hand still latched to her face. She dug her own nails into Meena’s wrist and wrenched herself free.
She could have yelled for help, then. But Meena was panting before her, a crown mask clutched in her hands, and she had called Priya a temple daughter. Fear left Priya’s lungs airless. She thought of her brother, his eyes terror-wide in yellow firelight. She thought of darkness, and water, and his voice in her ears.
Don’t cry. Oh, Pri, don’t cry. Just show me the way.
Meena raised the mask.
“Meena,” Priya said sharply. “Meena, do not do it. Do not.”
“I’ll risk anything. I’ll do anything,” Meena said, voice taut with fear and despair—and something else too. Something poisonous. “I have no choice. I can’t go back without an answer. So tell me now. Please.”
“I’m being honest with you. I don’t know.”
In the silence that followed, Priya heard a distant roar of thunder.
“This was your choice,” said Meena. Her lower lip was trembling. “I hope you know that.”
She placed the mask over her face.
Priya stood still, cold except for the place where the bead warmed her wrist. She watched the crown mask press against Meena’s skin. In the spaces between the bands of wood, she watched Meena’s skin flush instantly, suffused with heat. Meena gave a gasp and raised her head; in the dim light her face was like a lamp, glowing from a deep light within as the strength of the sacred wood poured through her.