The Fire Queen (The Hundredth Queen Series Book 2) Read online

  19 KALINDA Indah holds my door open. I shove down my agitation at finding her inside my chamber and step past her. After a quick inspection, nothing appears out of order. Pons is stationed near the balcony, in full view of the room and the gardens. Longing sweeps over me. That’s where Deven would stand if he were here. “Kalinda, your guests asked to wait for you to return,” Natesa says, her high voice nervous. “I hope you don’t mind,” Indah adds, settling on my raised lounge. “Your servant offered us tea.” Stick to truths. She can sense liars. “I’m happy to entertain a visit, but I’m in sore need of a bath.” I hold out my dirty skirt as proof. “This will only take a moment.” Indah pats the seat beside her. I join her, expecting this will be brief. Natesa hovers near the teapot and pretends not to eavesdrop. “So you’re a Burner,” Indah remarks, an observation without condemnation. “I should have guessed. Your eyes flash when you’re irritated.” She laughs. “Yes, like that. My mother’s ey

  20 KALINDA I meet my contenders and their parties at the base of the waterfall. Citra and Tinley sling glares my way but stay distant. Off to the side, Pons speaks to Indah. Their closeness would draw attention if he were not her guard. What secret is he relaying to her now? We surround a lagoon that feeds into a stream. The picturesque cascade does nothing to ward off my nerves. I fiddle with the pleats of my sparring sari, the skirt tucked between my covered legs. My competitors and I are all dressed in warrior apparel and strapped with weaponry. Natesa insisted that I bring both of my daggers and a khanda. I did not argue the added weight of the sword; I must be ready for whatever trial the sultan has prepared for us. Sultan Kuval stands near the lagoon, Ashwin beside him. He and our guards, Opal and Rohan, are my support. Brother Shaan is still supervising the care of the refugees. Ashwin looks dashing in an all-black tunic and trousers with silver embroidery and a dark turban. I h

  21 DEVEN Cries sound outside the tent. Yatin does not stir from his nap. He is like a hibernating bear; he can sleep through anything. I bat away more annoying mosquitoes and step outside. Smoke billows over the city skyline. Not long ago, a thunderstorm came out of nowhere and drenched us. Yatin and I took cover in our tent, but my clothes are still damp from the rain. My suspicions double. These odd natural occurrences must have to do with the trial tournament. On the hillside rank board, Kali’s name remains, along with her three competitors. Is Kali up against her own kind? Do they know she’s a Burner? Bhuta prison guards jog past me. Apprehension quickens my pace as I follow them to the gate. Most of the guards file out. Only two bhutas stay behind—even the towers are empty. From the symbols on their yellow armbands, they are Tremblers, not Galers. This is the chance I have been waiting for. I have memorized how many guards are on duty on average—twenty. How many prisoners—approxim

  22 KALINDA A warm bath does not rid me of the scent of smoke or wipe away the ghostly image of Jaya floating in the deep. Natesa leaves me alone with Opal to go and burn my clothes. Riddled with singe marks and holes from shooting embers, my sparring outfit is a total loss. With hair damp from my bath, I stare at my untouched supper. I should renew my strength, but I cannot muster an appetite. Longing pangs through my chest like a lost echo. Did I really see Jaya? Or did I imagine her? I did not dream up the aftermath of the fire. All those destroyed boats. All those frightened people glaring at me and blaming me for burning down their livelihoods. Rohan slips inside my chamber. “Where’s Natesa?” he asks. “She’ll be right back. Why?” He shrugs and comes to the table. “Probably nothing. Are you going to eat this?” “Help yourself.” He sits beside me and digs into my plate. Natesa comes in with the empty laundry basket and spots Rohan eating my food. “That was for Kalinda.” “I told him he

  23 DEVEN In the middle of the night, as I am falling asleep, two large men grab me from my cell and lead me to the guardhouse. Vizier Gyan is seated within at a writing table that faces the door. He jots something down in a book and waves at an empty chair without looking up. I enter and sit across from him. The walls are barren, though hung over the desk is an ornamental imperial khanda with a beryl-jeweled hilt. The writing table is organized to perfection, not an ink quill out of place. In case the vizier is observing me, I steal glances at the stocked armory in the corner, a lock dangling from the closed door. Khandas. Crossbows. Machetes. Enough weapons for a small army. The vizier shuffles his parchments aside, squaring the corners into precise angles. My interest turns to a book before him. Runes I cannot read mark the cover. More experienced brethren of the Parijana faith can understand runes, but I did not study with the Brotherhood long enough to interpret them myself. “Capta

  24 KALINDA I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of ragged breathing. A startling awareness barrels down on me. I am not alone. My bedchamber is dark, my doors to the balcony closed. A soupy thickness clots the air. The darkness presses down upon me like an iron curtain. Something brushes past the side of my bed. My heartbeat hammers inside my skull. When Jaya appeared to me underwater, she was light, true, and warm. This is the antithesis—a pressing, cloying chill. I experienced this pervading despair one other time, in Ki’s throne room. I slip my hand under my pillow for my daggers. Whatever is here exhales across my face. Its breath smells of rubble and ruin, loss and sorrow. The scent permeates my senses, squeezing my heart and spinning my mind into places I never wanted to return. I am blindfolded in the Claiming chamber. Rajah Tarek inspects me, a predator circling his prey. An invisible force tugs at my hair. I grasp one of my daggers, but the backs of my hands burn, an

  25 DEVEN The grave has to be six feet deep, the guards said. As quickly as we dig, the hole fills with rainwater. Even so, the three other diggers and I somberly shovel mud into a slippery pile while the guards observe our progress from under the eaves of a tent. Why must we bury the dead in the rain? The Trembler guards could excavate a grave with the crook of a finger. But that would be too easy, and they are entertained, watching us labor. Gradually, the hole deepens. I shovel alongside Manas and the other two men until the grave is finished. We lean our shovels against the outer wall, and a guard orders us to drop the bodies. The deceased are wrapped in bedrolls, their stocking feet sticking out, since the guards stole their boots. I imagine Yatin’s big feet hanging out of a bedroll and scrub away the miserable thought. I wish I had the power to heal him, but at least an Aquifier is tending to him. He will be all right. I repeat it to myself, He will be all right. We roll the first

  26 KALINDA A hot bath washes away the mud but does not touch my numbness. I peel myself out of the cooling bathwater to dress, my wilted limbs drained of strength. I have lost my throne. All this time I have thrashed and gnashed my teeth, trying to break free, but I am stripped bare of the only part of my life I was certain the gods had a hand in. The gods wanted Tarek to claim me. I fought that truth until I lost Jaya—and then I fought for her death to have meaning. I spilled blood to earn my throne. I held on to it with both hands as I searched for Ashwin. I wielded my rank against my enemies. I wore my nobility like a shield. I stood upon my throne to see into the future, dreaming of a better empire. Having my title taken is like tumbling down endless stairs. I am falling for an eternity, with no means of stopping. You can turn to the Voider. The errant thought sprouts from nowhere. I try to pluck out the terrible idea, but it grows roots. The Voider can answer your heart’s wish. It

  27 DEVEN Someone kicks me in the side. “Get up,” says a gruff voice. I turn over on my bedroll, away from the guard’s feet. “Meathead.” “What did you say?” he asks. “Nothing,” I mutter. The guard rounds back to kick me again. I roll out of the way onto my knees and then push off the floor. Manas is awake and gone, as are the other men I bunk with. “Is Yatin all right?” I ask. “Did he ask for me?” “He’s alive. Now move.” The guard prods me out of the tent and into the first rays of dawn. The rain clouds have cleared, and the stuffy morning air sticks to my skin. The whole of camp has been woken. I follow the line of men to the quad. The rank board on the dusky hillside has been altered, b
ut I question my vision in the grainy light. Kali’s name has been added to the board again, and Indah of Lestari’s name is missing. Kali’s still in the tournament. We have a chance. Vizier Gyan waits in the quad, flanked by his men. Since today is the tournament, I anticipated the grounds would be mostl

  28 KALINDA I awake shivering. Morning sunlight streams through the windows and balcony. My blanket is pulled up to my chin and my limbs are drawn in close to my heart, yet I am cold. I search inside myself for my soul-fire, but my powers elude me. I throw off the covers and stumble to the mirror glass. I try to push my inner light into my hands. They do not glow. Natesa glides in, refreshed for the new day. She holds out a black training sari for my duel. “Good, you’re awake. You leave for the amphitheater in an hour.” I swivel from the mirror glass, and even after I halt, my head continues to spin. “Sultan Kuval gave me neutralizer tonic yesterday before the trial. He said it would wear off by now, but I still don’t have my powers.” “Slow down,” Natesa says, laying out my clothes. “You took something from the sultan?” “All of the competitors did.” My legs wash of strength. I rest against the vanity for support. The sultan poisoned me. Am I the only competitor he sabotaged? Or did he d

  29 KALINDA A cool, soothing sensation wakes me. Ashwin hovers near my bedside and dabs my face with a damp washcloth. Indah stands on my other side and heals my khanda wound with expert concentration. Pons assists her, holding a jug of healing waters. Ashwin slides his hand into mine. Dried blood and dirt stain his jacket. “Where am I?” I rasp. “We brought you to my chamber,” he says. “I suggested we go straight to Indah’s boat, but we wouldn’t have made it through the city. Indah insisted we return here so she could start healing you immediately.” “Kalinda wouldn’t have made it any farther with her bleeding,” Indah replies. “She’s fortunate she’s awake.” I turn my head and see Opal in a chair, washing her scraped knees. Rohan stands guard out on the balcony. His cheek and chin are bruised. “What happened?” I ask. “We had trouble getting you out of the arena,” Ashwin replies. “The spectators rioted. Opal and Rohan reached you first and shielded you from the mob. I carried you out, and

  30 DEVEN Vibrations rumble through the ground around me. I try to move, but the pit holds me like a clenched fist. The guards outside shout orders to launch a defense attack. More quakes shake through the land, the whole world trembling. The cell door is blown off, devoured by incredible sapphire flames. A figure manifests in the smoky haze. I cough and blink to clear my vision. Tarek? The man looks like Rajah Tarek, except his hands weave blue fire. The rajah casts more cobalt flames at the guards, and they fly back against the walls. He marches past the open cell door, Prince Ashwin behind him. Neither sees me buried up to my chin in the cell, but someone sneaks in. Natesa kneels beside me and begins to dig me out. “What in the gods’ names is going on?” I demand. Natesa presses a finger to her lips to shush me. “We don’t have long. You have to show me the way to the sick tent.” More bhuta guards are flung back by the rajah’s power. When no more Janardanians charge him, the rajah rais

  31 KALINDA My fire streams through the Voider’s blue flames, dispersing them to plumes of smoke. Deven and Ashwin depart, on their way to the boat. I was there moments ago but ran back when I saw how close the demon rajah was to us. Indah is still at the vessel, waiting with the others, including Natesa and a fatigued Yatin. The Voider starts toward me, his hands glowing with aberrant powers. “You are bold, Kalinda.” I lock my trembling knees, rooting myself to the ground. I hoped, prayed, I would be given the opportunity to stop the flood of wrongs I undammed by killing Tarek. Ending his life was the gods’ will—fate. So this must be fate too. “I’ve been waiting for this,” the demon rajah says. “So have I.” The Voider has been plaguing me through my nightmares of Tarek. My burning hands and the eerie eyes I saw were signs of my real tormentor, this demon. Whether my soul is tied to Tarek’s or not for eternity, I am done with him in this life. No more Tarek. No more guilt. No more mercy

  32 DEVEN Kali is falling. I run for the edge of the boat and dive into the river headfirst. I rise to the top; the golden surface reflects the remnants of her fire dragon fading in the sky. She hits the water a short distance away. Panic seizes me as I swim to her body floating in the waves and drag her back to the boat. A young Lestarian woman, an Aquifier, coaxes a wave that lifts us up to the deck. I heave Kali out of the river with me. She hangs limply in my arms, her skin icy cold. “I’m Indah,” says the Aquifier. “I can help.” The image of Kali tumbling through the sky shocks me into compliance. Indah rests her hand on Kali’s forehead and murmurs. “Blood is water, and water is mine.” Kali coughs up fluid but does not rouse. Blue flames burst at our stern. The demon rajah nears the riverbank. Indah’s guard yells to the pole pushers with their bamboo rods on both sides of the wide, flat boat to draw us from shore. But man power will not move us out of the line of fire quickly. “Pons

  33 KALINDA I wake to steady rocking and dull, ceaseless pain, the most vulnerable parts of me turned inside out, exposed and bare. Lanterns swing gently above, casting pale light on my memory. Last I recall I was falling . . . Warmth hugs one side of my body. Deven sleeps beside me, sharing my pillow. I snuggle into his dormant strength, and his eyes flash open. “How long have I been asleep?” I ask, my voice hoarse from disuse. “Three days.” Quiet relaxes between us, raindrops drumming against the wheelhouse roof. Deven props his head under his hand and observes me closely. A full beard blankets his jaw. “How do you feel?” “Like a washcloth wrung and hung to dry.” I tip my forehead against his, inhaling his sandalwood scent. Home. “Are you all right?” Emotions stream across his face: relief, joy, and yearning that stirs an ache inside me. “I missed you.” His low voice eases through me like a warm drink. He cups my chin, and his tender lips seek mine. My nerve endings spark with happine

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Many thanks to the following: Marlene Stringer, thank you for your patience with my numerous e-mails and your heartfelt enthusiasm for this book. I took a screenshot of the lovely tweet you posted right after you finished reading this manuscript and will keep it forever. Thank you for continuing to be amazed. Thank you to the best editor I could have asked for, Jason Kirk, for jumping on board with this next installment of my characters and world. Your guidance and unfailing support are a dream come true. I’m thankful for Clarence Hayes, who helps me dig out the heart of my story and polish it to a shine. Also, thank you to everyone else at Skyscape and Amazon Publishing, especially Brittany and Kim. I am grateful to work with your amazing team. Kate Coursey (rhymes with “horsey”), thank you for loving something I thought was unlovable and handling my stress texts with admirable grace. Kathryn Purdie, thank you for your love, understanding, and much-needed line edits. T

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR Photo © 2015 Erin Summerill Emily R. King is a writer of fantasy and the author of The Hundredth Queen. Born in Canada and raised in the United States, she has perfected the use of eh and y’all and uses both interchangeably. Shark advocate, consumer of gummy bears, and islander at heart, Emily’s greatest interests are her four children. She’s a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and an active participant in her local writers’ community. She lives in Northern Utah with her family and their cantankerous cat. Visit her at www.emilyrking.com.

  ALSO BY EMILY R. KING

  The Hundredth Queen

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2017 Emily R. King

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Skyscape, New York

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  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Skyscape are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781611097498

  ISBN-10: 1611097495

  Cover design by Jason Blackburn

  For Marlene Stringer, a true sister warrior

  CONTENTS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  1 KALINDA

  2 KALINDA

  3 DEVEN

  4 KALINDA

  5 DEVEN

  6 KALINDA

  7 DEVEN

  8 KALINDA

  9 DEVEN

  10 KALINDA

  11 KALINDA

  12 DEVEN

  13 KALINDA

  14 DEVEN

  15 KALINDA

  16 DEVEN

  17 KALINDA

  18 DEVEN

  19 KALINDA

  20 KALINDA

  21 DEVEN

  22 KALINDA

  23 DEVEN

  24 KALINDA

  25 DEVEN

  26 KALINDA

  27 DEVEN

  28 KALINDA

  29 KALINDA

  30 DEVEN

  31 KALINDA

  32 DEVEN

  33 KALINDA

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR