She told him to walk away. She told him to wait in the distance, beyond the bower of bones. She couldn’t think. Her mind was a narrow point of focus, all of it honed upon her brother—her living, breathing, infuriating brother.
Her brother gave him a nod, and Rukh went. And then her brother told her his tale.
They had both been hungry all the time, when they had lived on the streets of Hiranaprastha. She remembered that. But Ashok had caught an illness—not rot, something far more prosaic—that had made his lungs rattle and made him spit blood. He’d grown weaker, his magic fading with his body’s strength. And Priya had still been his responsibility, small and hungry, her magic splintered along with her memories. The power that had condemned their siblings had been beyond both of them.
He’d worried about feeding her. She’d woken him, sweating, shaking, from nightmares he’d had of what would become of her after his death. And then one night, when his hands were drenched with blood and Priya slept curled against his side, he had made his decision.
“I went to Bhumika and asked her to take you in,” he said.
“You abandoned me,” Priya murmured.
“I let you go.”
Was that agreement or correction? She didn’t know.
“You did not have to simply leave me,” she said. “You could have told me the truth.”
“Ah, no. I thought I was finished. I thought I’d leave you at that old bastard Gautam’s for Bhumika to save you, and go into the forest, and die a good Ahiranyi death.” A faint, bitter smile curled his mouth. “And I couldn’t say good-bye to you. I couldn’t stand the thought. I was weak.”
“But you didn’t die.”
“No.”
“And still, you never came back for me.”
She wouldn’t weep or clutch at him like a child. He’d have no patience for such emotion. He never had.
“I was found by a woman,” he said. “She took me in and nursed me. She told me she knew what I was. ‘I remember your face,’ she said. ‘I was a pilgrim many a time, to the Hirana. I remember all your faces. And I have a gift for you.’
“She gave me vials of deathless water. She fed me the waters. She saved my life, and she gave me a mission. A purpose. With her, I finally learned the use of what we are,” he said, light in his eyes. “The elders trained us to be strong. Then the waters gave us gifts the likes of which our elders hadn’t seen for generations.”
He moved his hand above the ground. Priya watched the grass move, bending as if under a physical touch.
“We are like the temple elders of the Age of Flowers, Priya. Those thrice-born who conquered swathes of the subcontinent. I realized—surely we have strength enough to take Ahiranya back as our own? Surely we must? Parijatdvipa refused us the right to our own rulers. The empire calls us depraved even as it takes its pleasure from us, and profits from it. They let the rot kill us and do nothing, because our lives hold no value to them. This emperor…” Ashok’s lip curled. “This emperor is a monster. But even before he rose to power, I realized all this. My purpose. My task. And you, Priya—you were just a child.”
“Weak,” she said. “You thought I was weak.”
“You were a child,” he said again, which wasn’t disagreement.
She looked at his face. His strong, hale face.
“You drink from the vials,” she whispered. “Even now.”
He nodded once, slowly.
“The water keeps me alive. And it makes me strong.”
“The waters must be taken from the source,” Priya retorted. “Ashok, you know that. Remember what happened to pilgrims who tried to drink from the vials? To rise you need source water, rich with magic—not something bottled and made small and—and faded. And to feed it to others—” She thought of Meena, her stomach roiling.
“The three journeys through the deathless waters aren’t without danger either,” he cut in calmly. “Plenty of temple children died in those trials.”
That isn’t the same, she wanted to say, but didn’t.
“I drink to be strong enough to see the people who wanted to burn us—who debase us—removed from our country. And those who choose to drink with me do the same. It’s a calculated risk,” he told her, more gently, perhaps in response to the look of horror on her face. “We only have to survive long enough to find the deathless waters and pass through them. No more.”
“You won’t,” said Priya. “You can’t. The way is too well hidden.”