“Father,” she said, giving him a respectful nod. When he returned it, she continued. “How did mother die? Why did the Solars kill her?”
Her father sighed, staring at the candle on the dresser. “Because of Calon.” He grew quiet. Chandi waited. “Rahu married Calon because she was a witch. I don’t think either expected love at first. I hadn’t, when he arranged my marriage to Simhika. But Calon provoked the Solars, brought pestilence among them. One of the Arun Guard killed her. We think Simhika tried to intervene.”
Everything Malin had told her.
“Why didn’t you remarry? It’s been thirteen years.”
“I loved her deeply.” He would not dismiss her question, but getting a straight answer would be difficult. Chandi hated to admit it, but sometimes her father intimidated her. More now that her mother was gone than he used to.
“You think it would dishonor her memory to love again?”
“No, that’s not it.” She could almost see him fight not to look away. “Her memory would remain, no matter if I remarried or not. But I won’t love again. Love is a luxury. I have a cause, my child. Chandra has given us a great duty to claim these lands in his name. We have no time for anything else.”
Chandi folded her arms around her knees. “You think we can only love once?”
Her father sighed. “You remember the story of Jaka Tarub your mother used to tell you?”
She recalled the story as if she’d heard it yesterday, though it had been years. The hero had searched the world over for the complement to his soul. When at last he found her, the Wheel of Life had returned her in the form of a bidadari—divine bird maidens. Jaka Tarub stole her magical clothes, taking with them the power of flight.
With his heart’s desire unable to flee, he’d won her love, and they married. With her magic, she’d enchanted a pot to provide them limitless food. Despite her warnings not to look inside, Jaka Tarub couldn’t resist. And he found nothing. By breaking his wife’s trust, he’d broken the spell. Distraught, she’d taken back her winged garment and flown away. But Jaka Tarub never stopped searching for her.
At the time she’d insisted her mother tell it again and again, thinking it romantic. The man searched for his beloved, despite all odds. Maybe the point was that different worlds couldn’t be reconciled. But even now, the story spoke a different truth: that even the Wheel of Life could not forever separate two souls in love.
She hid her face, not wanting to explain her emotions, not sure she understood herself. But her father saw. “I can’t say Anusapati was the love of your life. You’ll find someone else. When this is over, when we return to Swarnadvipa, you will have your dreams.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Chandra sees to these things, child.”
“And what do I do when I find this man?”
“You’ll know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“He’s made his decision,” Landi said. “He’s called the whole Arun Guard… Unless he’s planning to declare war on the Lunars…”
They looked at each other without pausing on their way down the hall, and both shook their heads. The emperor should have declared war. And yet, the thought sickened Naresh now. Perhaps it was Chandi, despite her actions yesterday. Perhaps he’d lost his way over her, but he couldn’t see the Lunars as monsters. Their Macan Gadungan, though, were another story.
“If it’s not war, then he’s chosen,” Landi said. “Don’t think just because you were his favorite you deserve the position.”
“You want it, too. What makes you think you deserve it?”
“I’ve been here longer. I’ve worked harder. I’ve—”
“Others have been in the Guard longer than either of us. We don’t measure based on seniority.”
She drew closer. “Apparently we measure based on popularity.”
“Jealous? Maybe if you’d tone back the attitude, you’d have some friends, too.”
She was so close he could feel her breath on his face. Would she take a swing at him, right here in the hall? She should. Maybe it would help them both to draw the damn blades again. She spun on her heels and stormed into the Great Hall. If he thought himself friendless among the Guard, he had to remind himself Landi had it worse, even if she brought it on herself.
Naresh followed behind her. Most of the Arun Guard had already arrived, along with some courtiers and his mother. Declaration of war or investment of a new First, either required a full ceremony. The almost total silence that enveloped the hall made his footfalls echo.
The emperor sat on his throne, Ratna on hers beside him, her face empty. Revati squirmed in her mother’s lap. Every so often Kakudmi reached over to smooth his daughter’s hair.
The Stranger stood behind the emperor’s throne, his green eyes searching the room, his face expressionless, except for a moment when he met Naresh’s gaze. In that moment, Naresh felt the man reading him, analyzing every aspect of who he was. Naresh suppressed a shudder under the man’s scrutiny.
The rest of the Arun Guard filtered into the room. Only eight left. The three that had gone to the Astral Temple would not return. Kakudmi should have chosen a new First within days. His indecision would cost them all. It made him look weak to his subject kings. What would Naresh’s mother think of it?
The emperor let them wait a moment before he spoke. “Sun warm your faces.” A rather informal greeting, for such a formal occasion. “We have lost much. We have lost Empu Baradah and many young Guard and soldiers. But the hope for peace remains. The Arun Guard has need of a new leader. And I have been careful deliberating on the matter.”
Had the Stranger played any role in that deliberation? For the emperor had taken few meetings, outside the Lunar envoy. One could only hope they had no vote in the choosing of the First.
“Empu Baradah left me many reports to consider. Of all the Guard, I believe Landorundun is best-suited to replace him.”
Landi jerked, then sucked in a deep breath before stepping forward. Naresh couldn’t let himself glower. He grit his teeth, but tried to look impassive. This shouldn’t surprise him. His own actions had led to it. He couldn’t blame Landi for Kakudmi’s choice.
His mother glided toward Landi then placed her hand on the woman’s forehead. “You have sworn the oath of the Arun Guard. You have received the Sun Brand. Now swear the oath of the First.” She paused for a breath. “My blade for the people, my life for the emperor, my honor for Surya.” Landi intoned the oath after Naresh’s mother. “I accept the office of First of the Arun Guard. I accept all it entails, including the responsibility for the lives of the rest of the Guard. I accept the responsibility to protect those lives, and to sacrifice them if necessary. The safety of the emperor, his family, and his guests are my charge now.”
She rose and approached the dais. Kakudmi took Landi’s face in his hands, pressed his thumbs against her cheekbones. When the emperor released her, she stepped back and bowed.
“This assembly is concluded,” Kakudmi said. He rose and two Arun Guardsmen stepped forward to flank him as he left the great hall. Ratna followed with Revati in her arms. The Stranger slipped out behind them.
Landi waited for them to pass through the archway before she dismissed the rest of the Arun Guard.
“I guess you got what you deserved,” he said. “I wonder if the Stranger played a part in the choice.”
“The emperor is entitled to any advisor he wishes.” Landi’s voice was soft, her face blank.
“Anyone? This foreigner appeared without explanation the day we learned the Astral Temple fell. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
“It’s not our place to question the emperor’s judgment.” If she had doubts, she hid them well. She brushed her hair from her face. “I hope I can count on you as my Second. Things will be difficult for a while.”
His mother summoned him with a curt wave. Landi gave him a parting glance. His mother had always intended him to become First, even before she sent him to the Academy. Every decision in his life, sh
e had made to guide him toward a grand future.
But maybe Landi was the better choice. After all he had done, all of his mother’s plan he’d followed, maybe Landi wanted it more. She had more discipline, more skill at the Kebatinan. Maybe that meant she was closer to peace with her path.
“Sun warm your face, mother,” Naresh said with a bow.
“Sun warm your face, Naresh.” Neither smile nor frown creased her face, as usual. “We have excellent news. We have arranged a marriage for you. It is past time, of course, but we had to find the right person.”
He couldn’t quite form a thought. He opened his mouth, but could only grunt.
“Landorundun’s parents came to us, eager to keep her from outside influences. One must admire their gall, after prior events. But they could see circumstances were different now, and indeed they are. It’s time for you to begin families. Congratulations, my son.”
Marry Landorundun? Naresh gaped. In the Academy they had thought they had a future together, but his mother wouldn’t hear of him marrying a flutist. Musicians might receive honor aplenty, but she demanded more for the son of the Radiant Queen. Landi had never been the same after that rejection. She had left the Academy and joined the potentials, but if she wanted to prove something to his mother, it wasn’t so she could be with Naresh. When he had joined the potentials himself a year later, Landi had been cordial, but not warm, never warm again.
His mother left the hall without waiting for his answer. Maybe she thought she was giving him what he wanted. Or maybe she didn’t need his input. She never had.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Solar servant sighed, but Chandi couldn’t tell whether it was pity or frustration in his eyes. “Please just send him another message. Tell him I await any time convenient for him.”
Chandi had waited all morning to see Naresh, but he ignored every entreaty. After her conversation with her father she had resolved to see him, no matter what. She stood on the fourth floor of the palace, in the lounge leading up to the gardens. The Guard had rooms in the halls just off the lounge, but she didn’t know which belonged to Naresh.
The servants wouldn’t take her, though they had passed along her messages.
She’d gone only for a moment to relieve herself, and found Naresh had returned to his rooms but wasn’t receiving visitors. She’d wait. If he wouldn’t see her today, maybe tonight. Maybe in the morning, before breakfast. She wouldn’t leave again.
“Just tell him I’m here.”
The servant sighed again and trudged off down the halls. She could follow him, but it would only further upset Naresh. Now was not the time for that.
Sooner or later he’d see her. And then she’d tell him everything. Well, maybe not everything. She couldn’t betray her people. But she’d tell him she loved him. And if he knew that, he’d have to forgive her. He’d understand that she hadn’t wanted to hurt him. For someone so driven by duty, he didn’t give much consideration to her duties.
The lounge had a large window that opened out to a landing on the sea. She smiled, remembering chasing the midwife through here. At the time, this place still seemed alien. A crystal pane sealed the tall window, so she couldn’t step outside, but she could see the edge of the sea and where the dome slipped beneath it.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, but not the servant’s clumsy shuffle. She turned from the window. Deep breaths. Had to start it right, had to say the right thing so he’d give her time, hear her out. He’d give her a chance. He had to.
But it was Landorundun who came around the corner. The Arun Guardswoman shook her head when she saw Chandi, but walked straight over. Her face smiled, but her eyes laughed. Let her laugh, then. She didn’t matter. Naresh didn’t even like the woman. He said they were friends, but they never acted like it. Still, she was the most beautiful woman Chandi had ever met. Naresh had to notice her.
“You don’t give up, do you, handmaid?” The Solar woman wore a red baju, partly unlaced, with a finely stitched sarong. Her long hair hung free, running halfway down her back, glistening in the light. Did she intend to meet some beau this evening?
If she were of such a mind, maybe she’d be in a good mood. Maybe she’d help. “I need to see him. Please, please tell him I’m here.”
Landorundun shook her head and sighed. For a moment Chandi thought the Solar might reach out and touch her, but Landorundun just brushed her hair from her eyes. “Look, I’m sure it’s nothing you did. But your people killed Pak Empu Baradah.”
Naresh hadn’t told anyone. Not even the rest of the Arun Guard. He knew she was a spy and he didn’t tell anyone. What did that mean? Was he still protecting her?
“Your friendship with him was cute, handmaid,” Landorundun continued. “But he’s got bigger problems. You can’t expect him to—” Landorundun stopped, as if caught off guard by some look on Chandi’s face. She didn’t say anything for a long time. Pity filled her eyes.
The Solar drew her to a stone bench in the center of the lounge and sat beside her. “It’s not friendship, is it?” Landorundun nodded, as if answering the question for herself. “That’s why you were following him around. And we all thought it was some kind of hero worship like everyone else.”
“Hero worship?”
“Naresh was recruited younger than anyone else. Probably for his fighting prowess.” She added the last bit through her teeth. “He attracted some attention, especially among the soldiers and palace staff. Everyone wants to see what he’ll try next.” The Solar took her hand then. “But it’s worse for you. What you want, you can never have.”
No. He had to feel something, too. If he knew how she felt, he might think about it. A Solar and a Lunar had been married before: they had a beautiful daughter.
Landorundun stood, still holding Chandi’s hand in her own. “I’d tell you to let it go. But I doubt you can. I know what it’s like to be denied what you want most.” For a moment, Landorundun looked away.
“Please. You’re his friend. Ask him to see me. But don’t tell him about—”
“I wouldn’t. A woman’s heart is her own to share. I’ll tell him you won’t give up. But I’m not sure I’m doing you any great service. You’ve got to know his mother will never let him be with a handmaid. Much less a Lunar.”
Rangda damn Solar obsession with rules and propriety.
Landorundun returned down the same hall and was gone for long enough for the bench to grow uncomfortable. When the Guardswoman returned, she just shook her head as she walked by. Chandi sat on the bench and watched the sun set.
Then she lay down, folded her arms under her head, and pulled her knees up. It wouldn’t be a comfortable place to spend the night. But the sunrise would wake her and she could catch him in the morning. He had to pass by her.
She ignored the servant’s intake of breath when he realized she wasn’t leaving. He touched her shoulder and tried to convince her to leave, but she only shook her head. Even at night, even with the opening into the garden just beyond, she’d be warm enough, thank you.
She felt herself drifting in and out of sleep, so it was hard to say how much time had passed. Another hand touched her shoulder.
“They told me you planned to spend the night here.”
She jerked upright at the sound of Naresh’s voice, then swayed as the blood ran from her head. She had to say something right, first thing. Her neck had gone stiff. She rubbed her hands over her face.
“I didn’t want to miss you.”
She slid over so he could sit on the bench beside her. He didn’t. “So you decided to move into the lobby? Think you might hear many good secrets here?”
Her grip tightened on the bench. Why did he have to make this so hard?
No, she deserved it. “I’m sorry.” Her voice squeaked.
“What?”
“I should have…” She reached out to take his hand, but he didn’t move to accept it. “I should have kept your confidence.” She let her hand drop back to the bench. He stood
there watching her face. The night might have been pleasant, watching his eyes, if they weren’t so searching right now. “Please. Don’t send me away. I—” She had to tell him. Why was this so hard? She had never backed down from anything before.
“You what?” He spread his hands. His face had gone slack.
“I—” She couldn’t say it, not like this. Not with him so empty, so angry. “Miss you. You were my friend. That wasn’t a lie.” Ratna had grown distant. Still hadn’t forgiven her for the things she’d said. And Malin was Malin. “You’re the best friend I have left. I can’t lose you.”
Naresh shrugged. “How can I trust you?”
“Please, Naresh. Don’t send me away. Don’t shut me out. The delegations are meeting now. Maybe we can work everything out.” She was doing it again. Letting him believe he could trust the Lunars, so they’d betray him later. “Security’s already been arranged. You must have some time for your friends.”
He straightened. She’d said the wrong thing. Because she wasn’t his friend. Even now she didn’t treat him like a friend. She had to find the right words. This might be her last chance.
“Friends? You betrayed me, betrayed Empu Baradah. People are dead because you, with intent or simple thoughtlessness, shared information you had no right to. Because I shared it with you.”
Her chin dropped to her chest under his glare.
“And even after all that, you go sneaking around my mother’s house. And it doesn’t matter whether you knew she was my mother, or even whether you knew it was her house. You had no business snooping about, anywhere.”
Elbows on her knees, face in her hands, she looked up at him, pleading. Then, with a sigh he sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. He didn’t speak for a moment. “A Solar and Lunar, best friends?” he said at last. “Maybe that’s why I couldn’t let them kill you. That friendship is not something I’ve had before.”