Questions Asked, Questions Answered
A bus was waiting for them by the bridge on the nearest side of the river, dark red with a gold star painted on the side; the engine was already humming and hot. The three sisters climbed on board along with Kurien; the injured Narsi; Gomati, still bound and blinded, and three more of the Guard, including both women. It started to get cramped inside by that point, so the rest of the squad headed back to the prop-boat to return to the Palace by that route. As soon as the bus’ door closed, the engine’s purr turned to a raucous roar and the vehicle started moving.
Pranay rolled her shirt sleeves up as high as she could and knelt on the floor beside Narsi’s seat. “How long has it been since her injury?”
“Not long, thankfully,” said one of the men whose name Prem hadn’t caught. “It happened before the false wall cut off our advance.”
“I think we heard your gunfire around that time,” the mantrik said. “Anash, help me.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Together the mage and her jinn began tending to Narsi’s wounds, which meant Pranay couldn’t keep watching Prem as though waiting for her to attack Gomati again.
That suited Prem just fine, and she hugged Pranay’s borrowed coat tighter around herself. The burning sensation in her throat was fainter now, but her chest still ached. Her stomach began bouncing and turning in on itself as the vehicle started moving, so she had to turn away and rest her head against the window, which was blessedly cool and dark. She still felt cold, unable to warm herself, so much so that her quivering stomach offered less of a distraction than normal. She was cold from more than from a lack of proper clothing: she felt like a child again, fresh from her first kill—aloof, distant, looking down at herself through another pair of eyes. Gomati was still alive, which meant she’d succeeded in resisting Vati, but she’d also failed to get the kill. It left Prem feeling conflicted, caught between the pleasure of having a stronger will than the demon’s, and the displeasure of Pranay stopping her in the first place. It also reminded Prem of what her life in Vati’s sway was like, and what she’d freed herself from after breaking his control.
The moon hung high in a clear sky as they left the Grays. On the other side of the bridge, the way ahead was paved with old, cracked stones, but once they entered the Industrial District the streets became narrow and straighter, boxing them in amongst the brightly-lit foundries and tall factories. At that hour the streets would be mostly free of traffic, and the glow of the street lamps combined with the moonlight would make them easier to be spotted.
“The Police are looking for us,” Prem said. She swallowed and coughed around a foul-tasting lump in her throat.
Preet stood at the front of the bus next to the driver, arms crossed, swaying slightly as they rode along. She didn’t answer.
“Preet.” Prem could feel the eyes of everyone on her, but she ignored the urge to fall silent again. “The Parliamentary Police are out there. They had to see us leave the Palace; it’s just a matter of time before they find us. If we’re going to question Gomati, we need to do it now.”
The Seneschal shook her head, looked back over one shoulder. “Not here. He hurt Narsi, Prem—I want him where I can get my claws in good and deep.“ There was a glimmer of something in Preet’s dark eyes, something dark and hungry for violence. Prem knew that look quite well.
Out one window, in the bright moonlight, Prem saw a dark blue vehicle come into view, caught a glimpse of the gold dragon on its side as it sped towards them. A policeman in the front passenger seat spun a hand crank and a siren began to wail. “What did I tell you?” The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she clutched the borrowed coat tighter in her brown fingers.
“Come on, Prem,” Preet said, chiding her. “Did you think we came this far just to get caught now?”
“Well—’
“Hah! Watch and learn, Little Sister.” Preet sounded amused, almost matronly. Prem was definitely sure she’d never heard Preet talk to her that way before.
Right as they passed through an empty intersection, Prem turned her head at the bright shine of headlamps and saw another bus pull in behind them. Almost at the same time, a third bus pulled out at the next corner ahead of them to take the lead. Both bore the same markers that theirs had, right down to the matching shade of red paint and gold regalia.
More blue boilercars approached from up the street. At the next intersection, the bus ahead of them turned left, while they turned right, and the bus behind them continued on straight. Once they reached the next intersection, another red bus turned in front of them to take their place as they turned again, heading further into Industrial. More sirens began to sound in the night air as even more cars appeared, but at the end of every block another bus—sometimes two or even three of them—exchanged places with theirs. Soon the Police cars began to stop, some turning around to give chase while others took left or right turns seemingly at random. At least one intersection they passed was clogged with cars full of bluecoats, some of them standing in the street and shouting as they all demanded a chance to pass ahead of the others.
Preet’s grin looked smug as ever. “What did I tell you?”
“You had this planned from the beginning, didn’t you?” Pranay said.
“Of course! You aren’t the only smart one in this family.” Preet even wiggled her eyebrows, appearing to relish the grand sleight-of-hand she and her Guard were playing. Prem didn’t share her sister’s confidence, but that was nothing new. She stayed quiet, forcing her heart back down from its where it had gotten stuck at the back of her throat.
Round and round the bus went, the sound of sirens ringing in Prem’s ears while the vehicle took one turn after another. She’d never knew if the pair of headlamps that came into view ahead of them would be the ones to finally catch them, but it always turned into another Guard bus that only helped to confuse the chasing cars all the more. The tension was dreadful, mixing with the nausea bubbling up in her throat, but she couldn’t close her eyes or look away. More than once Prem tasted something foul in her mouth, but she swallowed it down every time, knowing that throwing up would only make the rest of the ride that much worse.
The whole world had gone insane, but Preet still stood beside the driver, unflinching and unafraid. It helped Prem to keep her panic bottled up and under control—barely. They picked up speed after turning down one particular side street, but then the boilerbus suddenly gave a sharp lurch of acceleration. Prem half-expected them to drive straight into the side of the building at the end of the street. A sliding garage-style door at the end of the alley opened at the last moment and they drove into one of the tall brick warehouses that dominated that section of the city. The door slid shut behind them as the bus’ brakes squealed and they jerked to a sudden stop. The building’s interior was almost as dark as the catacombs they’d escaped from. Outside, the police sirens continued wailing, but as the moments passed, they grew fainter and moved farther away. Prem could hardly breathe. Her stomach wasn’t done twisting itself into knots, and she kept waiting for the warehouse door to open once the Police caught up with them.
A solitary lantern at the far end of the building ignited, burning away the black fog that surrounded them. Then a loud series of metallic clicking sounds rang through the warehouse. Enormous gas lamps lit up inside huge glass balls, multiple feet in diameter, hanging from the ceiling at the end of long metal pipes. Ceiling fans high overhead began to spin and the warehouse soon started humming with the sound of steam engines and whirring generators. A small crowd of uniformed Royal Guard awaited them outside. Some stood by the doors, with more on the catwalks high overhead, all armed and on high alert.
“Where are we?” Prem said, wiping sweat from her upper lip.
“Nowhere special,” Preet said with a shrug. “It’s an older family asset we use from time to time. Get him up.” Gomati hadn’t stirred during the entire ride, and stayed silent and limp except for a faint moan as Kurien and Heejay picked him up. The Seneschal watched them carry him out, then looked to Pranay. “How’s Narsi?”
“She’ll live, that’s what matters,” Pranay said as she finished buttoning the cuffs of her sleeves with a twist of her wrist. It was something Prem did herself, had done hundreds of times before, but watching Pranay do it reminded Prem of the four sisters’ and their similarities: how they tilted their head when pondering a question, or the occasional twitch at the corner of their mouths—such a strange thing to think about at that moment. “The wounds are deeper than I’d like, but your soldiers got her patched up quickly. They’re to be commended for that.”
“I’ll feel better once she’s had some proper time to recover.”
Narsi showed a weak smile, then gave the softest shake of her head, as if to brush off her commander’s concerns. Just that little movement made her wince, and she didn’t speak.
“Oh no, you’re coming with me to find a place to rest,” Preet said, pointing at the injured woman. “The entire Guard’s been mobilized tonight for this operation. There’s more than enough to pick up the slack for you this time.” Prem watched her sister reach down, help Narsi to stand, then they exited the bus together.
Prem sniffed at the thought of putting her wet clothes back on. She knew it was vanity and foolishness, but she didn’t care. Then she twisted up her mouth, wondering if returning home had turned her soft. She bit her cheek and got dressed anyway, wringing out any lingering moisture in the fabric first, but left her corset, scarf and gloves in a limp pile on the floor. She could’ve used Vati’s magic to dry the clothes, but after losing control and nearly killing Gomati, Prem didn’t trust the demon to dry out so much as a pair of undergarments. Her loose shirt and trousers were cold and stuck to her skin, but aside from a bit of gooseflesh and the unwelcome chill, she could bear it. Prem still felt uneasy for some reason, until she noticed Pranay staring at her. “What is it?”
“That was your Kushin we saw in the catacombs, wasn’t it? The spirit inside you—I’ve never seen magic quite like that up close before.” Pranay sounded fascinated, and the look in her eyes said that she had more questions but seemed unsure of how much she could get away with asking.
Prem knew she couldn’t dodge the subject of Vati any longer—she’d never discussed him with any of her siblings, never knowing how they’d react, what they would think of her. Finally, she nodded. “Yes.” It felt like being naked again, and Prem was very glad she’d gotten dressed then, regardless of how wet her garments were. “He’s always with me. Inside of me.”
“Does it…does it speak to you?” Pranay never stopped being the scholar, always needing to learn new things and ask more questions. She’d been like that even when they were young, constantly inquiring at how things worked, even taking them apart and put them back together again.
“No.” Prem shook her head. “Or, he doesn’t talk to me, anyway. It’s not audible speech, most of the time. I just know what he wants me to do.”
“Can he hear us speaking now?”
“Probably. He’s a part of me—I can sense his presence at the back of my mind, hiding where I can’t see him, waiting where I can’t touch. At night I dream about him—that’s when I see him, speak to him.” Prem didn’t provide any details about her dreams, and to her utmost relief, Pranay didn’t ask. “When I’m awake—when I’m in control like this—it’s easier to ignore him and what he wants.”
“And what is that?”
Talking about Vati with someone else was both liberating and terrifying, but acknowledging his presence wouldn’t condemn her more than the crimes she’d already committed in his name. “Pain. Violence. Death. Suffering. As much as possible, by any means necessary.” Prem stood, handed the coat back to Pranay. “I would’ve killed Gomati if not for you. I needed to kill him.”
“I saw.” Two little words, and Prem wondered how she should feel about them. But she didn’t see any judgment in Pranay’s eyes, only more questions, more wanting to know.
Prem held Pranay’s gaze, smiled before she could stop herself. “You still think I’m not a killer, Pray?”
There was a long moment of silence between them, then Pranay offered her hand. “Not tonight. Come on.”
The warehouse was mostly empty, a tall shell waiting for workers and machines to come back and make it whole again. Together, they walked past a set of wood-framed silk screens blocking off one corner of the structure. Inside sat a metal table, something that would’ve looked more appropriate in a mortuary. The soldiers had placed Gomati onto the table and chained his wrists and ankles at the corners. Preet was standing next to a table laid down with an assortment of torture implements: hammers, saws, tongs, sharpened picks and other, crueler-looking devices. At the other side of the space was a small wooden stool behind a desk, flanked by a pair of soldiers.
Prem couldn’t believe who she saw sitting behind it. “Priya?”
“Yes, Prem?” The Rani looked up from a paper notebook that she’d covered in scribbles and longhand. She wore a serviceable blue blouse and black churidarl leggings under a short, dark brown leather duster jacket with gold buttons and matching royal stars on the lapels. A wide gold hair band was the closest she came to a head covering, matching the ring in her nose.
“What in the world are you doing here?”
Priya looked at the two eldest sisters. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?” Prem felt hot from behind her ears, stretching all the way down her back. Her disheveled state of dress didn’t help, especially when Priya looked so well-kept and pretty by comparison. She couldn’t remember feeling so jealous of her younger sister as she did then. “What’s going on? Why are you here? You’re supposed to be at home, where it’s safe.”
“Oh, Prem.” Priya smiled with a sigh, reached up to stroke her sister’s face. “Did you really think I didn’t know what was going on?”
Prem pushed Priya’s hand away. “I certainly hoped so,“ she answered, glowering at Pranay.
Pranay spread her hands. “This is hardly the suitable place and time for such an argument.”
“She’s right,” Preet said. “Save the scolding for later. Wake him up.”
“Time for your meeting, Old Man,” Kurien said as he stepped up to the table. He struck Gomati several times across the back of the head, earning nothing more than a moan in response.
“He’s faking,” Prem said. Gomati went tense for just an instant, long enough for Prem to spot, and she guessed that she wasn’t the only one, either.
Kurien yanked off the black hood and grabbed the killer by the chin. “The Seneschal needs you to use your tongue long enough to answer some questions. Nobody said anything about keeping it afterwards.”
Gomati, looking angry and very much awake, spat in the other man’s face. Kurien slapped the prisoner and wiped his cheek clean, muttering under his breath.
Preet looked at Prem. She seemed impressed. “How’d you know?”
Prem shrugged. “It’s what I would’ve done.”
“Sachin!” Gomati sounded angry as he pulled at his chains, followed by a tremor of panicked laughter. Prem saw the confusion on her sisters’ faces at the name Gomati used, but she ignored it—there wasn’t time for a proper explanation.
The other assassin grunted. “Tell these imbecilic friends of yours that they can’t do anything to make me talk. Panka, glorious Panka, your servant calls for aid!” Prem thought the physical transformation quite interesting to watch in the light: Gomati’s brown skin began to meld and change into actual stone—the transformation traveled across his bare arms and neck, sliding down to the soles of his bare feet. The physical change was so total that even Gomati’s bushy hair turned to something like a white limestone cap atop his head. Rock scraped and scratched against the metal table, but Gomati’s struggling couldn’t free him from his bonds.
“What’s he doing?” Priya said, fascination in her voice.
“Wasting our time,” Preet answered. She eyed the table covered in interrogation tools and picked up a heavy steel maul in one hand and a bladed chisel in the other, likely intended for amputating body parts with painful precision.
Gomati looked up at Preet and laughed again, showing a mouthful of grainy teeth. “You don’t frighten me, royal dog. Your blades and bullets are useless!”
“You see this?” Preet said, hefting the hammer in one hand near Gomati’s head. “I don’t need to cut you, old fool. I’ll just find something worth breaking…” She left the threat hanging in the air as she lifted the maul and let it drop between his legs, where it clanged against the steel table loud enough to rattle Prem’s teeth. “…and I’ll break it,“ she finished with a smirk.
For a moment, Gomati’s bravado appeared to falter, his eyes shifting from one face to the next.
“Talk!” Preet barked, shouting it so loud that even Gomati flinched. “Tell me about the assassination you were planning.”
The assassin snorted. “I don’t know anything about an assassination. But if I did—‘’ He raised his hand and forefinger in the air, as far as the short chain would allow “—I wouldn’t tell you anyway.”
“We already know about everything you left in your cell in the Waterback,” Preet said. “The newspaper clippings, the death threat, the murdered girl you left behind. We even know that you and the Red Eye cultists had a falling out when they wouldn’t give you more money to do your foul work. Somebody had to pay for your liquor eventually, Gomati—who offered you the contract?”
“I don’t know anything about any contracts!” Gomati said, pulling against the thick chains holding him down. “I don’t know anything about newspapers or, or, or dead children. Is this the best you can do, Sachin?” He looked over at Prem and spat, to whatever degree a man made of stone could spit anything. “You couldn’t kill me, so instead you turn this stupid padma on me so she can badger me on things I know nothing about?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Prem said, crossing both arms over her chest. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
“Shall we find out how tender the meat is inside this shell of yours?” Preet said. She set the chisel in place with one hand and hefted the hammer in the other, bringing the sharp edge down hard against his knee.
There was a loud, brutal cracking sound and Gomati shrieked, bowing his back as pulled hard in his bonds, body shaking so hard the table looked ready to bend under the strain. “Bitch!”
Preet picked up the chisel and let the hammer fall again to the table, then reached over and patted his stony cheek. “At least put some variety in your insults, little man. Shall I start removing fingers next?” She nodded at Kurien, who procured a crowbar and wedged the flattened end into the tight knot of Gomati’s fist. Another guard standing close by, the man named Sanjaya, pinned down the assassin’s wrist and together the two soldiers began the slow, inexorable process of forcing the assassin’s thick fingers open.
“Clock’s ticking, chod,“ Preet said, throwing an insult back at him.
Pranay looked a shade paler than usual. She stood near Priya’s desk without speaking while Anash, standing behind her, laid a calming hand on his Mistress’ shoulder. Priya, by comparison, sat with both elbows on her desk, fingers laced together just below her eyes, stone-faced and unflinching. That, more than anything, showed Prem just how much the youngest of them had changed. Prem wasn’t sure whether that change was a good thing or not.
“Wait, wait!” Gomati said, fighting against Kurien’s grip. “The girl! I know about the girl!”
Preet raised her empty hand to stop her men, but they kept Gomati’s hand pinned in place. “I’m listening.”
“I found her,” he said, eyes darting up to Kurien’s face, then back to Preet. “In my room. She was already dead. I never saw her before, I swear!”
The Seneschal laughed, sounding more to Prem like a snarl than genuine amusement. “Do you take me for a fool? Is that really the best excuse you can muster up now? Where’s all that bravado you had before? Get me the forefinger, Kurien, I’ve got a bottle of dyaru wine that says I can break it off in one blow.”
“You’re on,” Kurien said, managing to smirk and grimace at the same time as he strained with his effort.
“It’s the truth!” Gomati cried as he shook his head, leaving more scratches on the tabletop. “I was gone for days! I only returned when the river flooded—I found the child, the message you spoke of, the broadsheet clippings. I never saw any of them before. In Panka’s name, I swear this to you!” The assassin turned his eyes to Priya, and he tugged his other hand against the chain holding it, as though to reach out to her. “You are the new Rani, aren’t you?”
Priya stared at Gomati, folding her hands in front of her atop the table. “I am.”
His eyes shifted between Priya and Prem for a moment, flickering across their faces, as realization started to show on his. “And y—…You and…Sachin. I… Oh, no.” Prem didn’t think that Gomati could go pale, but the look on his face seemed even more frightened somehow. “I didn’t do this thing. I swear it on my dead mother’s ashes. Sachin, tell her. Blessed spirits, tell her that I would never do this thing. I beg you!”
“Amar. Gomati. Whoever you claim to be, you kill people for money.” Priya sounded droll, almost bored, which fit the look on her face. “Why should I believe anything you say?” She sat back, waved a hand at Preet to continue.
“Get me that finger, Kurien,” the Seneschal said.
“Ma’am.” Kurien nodded threw all of his weight against the crowbar in his hands.
The pitch of Gomati’s panicked voice got higher and more desperate as Kurien slowly but surely pried the man’s fingers open. “I will swear it to you, Great Rani! I swear! The only crime I’ve committed this time is finding a murdered child and running away. I swear on my own life that this is the truth!”
“I don’t believe you,” Priya said.
“So what—… W-w-what can I say to convince you?!”
“Figure it out before my sister starts smashing pieces of you to dust. Right now, this conversation bores me.” Priya yawned and took a moment to examine her nails—such a small, casual motion, but it was likely the coldest thing Prem ever saw her sister do. It seemed a very Sachin-esque move, actually. Prem thought it a little overdone, but also calculated and deliberate, and given the frantic look on Gomati’s face, the trick was working.
“Got ’em!” Kurien said, looked quite pleased with himself as he pinned Gomati’s opened fingers to the tabletop under the flat metal tool.
“Last chance,” Priya said.
Gomati held out long enough for Preet to step behind his head, set the chisel’s edge at the base of his first finger and raise the maul. Then he broke: “A woman! Woman! There was a woman!!”
“Preet.” Priya’s voice froze the woman’s hand in mid-swing. Prem watched the tension in Pranay’s shoulders go slack as she took a breath. Gomati shut his eyes, letting out a soft breath.
“What woman?” Priya said. “Who was she?”
“She…she came to me.” The assassin kept his eyes closed, lying limp in his bonds. “A woman. I didn’t know her. I’d never seen her before. She asked what I wanted—women, fame, wealth—if I would agree to kill the new Rani. She insisted, even after I laughed in her face.” Gomati opened his eyes again, staring up at the ceiling high up in the darkness, chest rising and falling.
“You refused her.” Preet sounded unconvinced.
“Of course! My father was one of the Thagati, assassins in the service of the Raj’s himself, during the war! I know all about how well-protected a Royal is—what chance was I, one man, going to have against that? Better to cut off my own head and be done with it.”
Prem caught Priya’s gaze—the Rani seemed intrigued yet puzzled at the same time. The two sisters stared at each for another moment, then Priya motioned toward the table with a nod of her head. Prem watched Gomati squirm for a moment, enjoying every second of it—her wrist was still sore, so she owed him that much. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the old Idrayani and Hogenkal blood feud, does it?”
“What?” Gomati sounded confused. “No, certainly not.”
Prem didn’t expect the others to understand, so she moved on. “What about the woman you spoke of? What do you remember about her? Her face, her hair—what did she look like? Was she an older woman, perhaps?” Priya stiffened, but otherwise remained silent.
“No, she was young, Sachin, young like you—so insistent, so pure and zealous. I looked at her and saw the fire in her eyes, heard the fervor in her voice. Nothing will stop her, save for death itself.”
Prem tried not to stare, but Gomati’s words struck her, twisting in her gut. His choice of words seemed like a coincidence, but Prem didn’t dare to ignore them. Not after everything that had happened so far.
“Nothing will keep her from her hunt,” Gomati added. He locked eyes with Prem—he looked tired, defeated, even haunted. “She is coming for you, Sachin.”
There came a sound just on the higher edge of Prem’s hearing, a soft metallic humming she hadn’t heard in a long time, but one she recognized immediately. A Guardsman next to Priya gave a cry as he crumpled to the ground; Prem saw a chakram, a sharpened metal ring about six inches in diameter, sticking out of his back. Several more zipped through the air, one passing so close to her head that she felt the sting of its edge cut the top curve of her ear.
“Get down!” someone shouted. A bright flash shot across the Prem’s field of vision. She watched it pass across one of the huge light-balls hanging from the ceiling. Following the path back to its source, she saw the now-familiar hooded figure in gray perched on the catwalk. Several of the Guard ran across the high platforms towards the attacker, but there was no time to make out more as the huge globe above their heads started to descend, falling right towards them.
“Scatter!“ she cried, grabbing Priya by an arm and pulling her out of the way. Someone screamed. The air grew thick around Prem, slowing down with every step. Priya seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. The silk screens clattered to the floor, then an unnatural silence smothered every sound before the huge light fixture crashed to the floor, landing right on top of where they stood just a moment earlier. The smell of gas in the air was so strong Prem nearly blacked out, then the world was on fire as the ball’s lingering spark lit the gas pocket.
The explosion shook the building to its foundations, leaving a deafening ringing in Prem’s ears. She landed on top of Priya, shielding her sister’s body with her own, covering both of their heads. She couldn’t breathe for a moment as the oxygen around them was consumed by the power of the blast. Her wet clothes went hot from her ankles right up to her neck—the sensation of water vapor drying instantly was one she’d never felt before, and one that Prem hoped she’d never feel ever again. Then they were pelted with a shower of broken glass. People started shouting, and there was a clamoring bell of a fire alarm going off. Priya struggled to push up. “Stay still!” Prem ordered as she raised her head and looked around.
The huge glass fixture had shattered, leaving behind a large, burning pool of accelerant with flames colored red and orange, bright yellow and pale green. Bodies were strewn about by the force of the blast. Some of the Guard that had recovered began to heft fire grenades onto the blaze, glass spheres about a half-foot in diameter—when the glass shattered, the chemical mixture inside vaporized and extinguished large patches of burning fuel. Others dragged a long hose from a nearby water station to help. Over the din of the alarm, the building shook again with a second explosion, a raging red fireball at the other end of the building which blossomed in Prem’s eyes and made her duck her head again. She looked up at the catwalk, but the person in gray was gone, as was most the catwalk and corner of the warehouse, leaving a gaping hole and a cloud of thick, black smoke behind. Iron framework dangled from the ceiling or lay strewn upon the floor amidst several charred bodies, their bright coats licked with fire like live coals.
“Let me up, Prem!” Priya shouted.
Prem took hold of Priya’s face in her hands, looking down into her eyes. “Look at me, look at me! Are you alright, Pri? Are you injured?”
Priya shook her head. “No, thanks to you. But you’re hurt!” She touched Prem’s ear then showed off her bloody fingers.
Prem brushed her fingertips across the top curve of her ear, wincing as she did so. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Where are the others?” Priya sat up, turning her head about, having to shout to be heard above a dozen other voices all shouting at the same time. “Preet! Pranay!”
“Over here!” Pranay called. The mantrik stood near the edge of the flames. Her face was streaked with soot and her shirt had burned through in several places, but otherwise she seemed unharmed.
Priya rushed over to embrace their older sister while Prem followed close behind. “Are you alright?” Priya said.
“I’m fine!” Pranay shouted, then when she saw Priya wince, Pranay looked embarrassed. “Sorry—my ears are still ringing.”
“Oh, Pranay!” Priya swiped a hand against the eldest’s neck and pulled it back, showing off more blood. “You’re hurt, too!”
Prem saw a long line of blood oozing out of Pranay’s ear and sliding down her neck. Pranay frowned, raised a hand to the wound. Prem saw more blood on her fingers. “I’ll be fine,” Pranay half-shouted again, still frowning. “Where’s Preet? And Gomati?”
“He’s dead,” Prem said while pointing. Between the grenades and the water hose, the flames were starting to die, but through the shimmering heat they could see Gomati’s dark, charred body still chained to the table, now tossed over on one side. The earth Kushin’s magic had failed to save Gomati at the very end, and the fire in his flesh continued to burn, giving off a greasy cloud of smoke.
“Rani!” Kurien’s voice called from the other side of the hall. The right side of his face was coated in blood from a large, ragged gash on his forehead, the eye swollen completely shut. One shoulder looked injured or else his arm hung at an odd angle, but he stood straight and refused to drop the burden he carried: it was Preet, her head resting against his chest. She wasn’t moving.
Prem heard Pranay gasp, saw Priya slap both hands over her mouth. For that one moment, the world froze and Prem’s heart faltered and turned sluggish, ready to stop. Fear turned to ash in her mouth. Preet’s eyes were closed, and Prem couldn’t see if she was breathing.
They all hurried to Kurien’s side and Prem helped him to lower her sister’s unconscious body to the ground. Preet was breathing, but it was shallow and uncertain, as if her body had forgotten how. Pranay rested Preet’s head in her lap, pressed a pair of fingers hard into Preet’s neck.
Priya sounded sick herself. “Is she—’’
“She’s alive,” Pranay said, her loud voice flat and empty. “But she’s hurt. Badly.”
“Help!” Priya stood, her young voice nearly breaking. Some of the Guard were standing nearby, stuck silent at the sight of their fallen leader, but now they sprung into action as the Rani started barking orders. “Help the Seneschal! Get the injured onto a bus and back to the Palace! Everyone else, get the rest of those flames out!” Priya was visibly shaking. “Who did this?” she said, looking at Pranay. “What happened? How could someone know to find us here?”
“Priya—’’ Pranay reached a hand up to calm her sister.
The younger woman shook it off. “No!” Priya took in a deep breath, then closed her eyes and forced it out slowly. Several of the Guard lifted Preet up and carried her to a nearby bus, with Kurien following right behind them. Priya opened her eyes and took the eldest sister’s arm, helping her to stand. “Pranay, you need to go now. You’re hurt, too.”
“Yes, but—’’
“I’m alright! Go with Preet.”
Pranay nodded after a second, helped to her feet by another Guard before walking towards the same bus Preet was being carried to.
“Prem?”
“Hm?” Prem was staring at the gaping hole high overhead, pondering it, playing the attack over in her mind again. It was good that Priya was taking charge, but Prem found it distracting—she had other things to concern herself with. The attacker was long-gone, but who were they? Was it really the same person from the Red Eye Temple? How long had they been following her? Did someone else tell the attacker how to find them? There were so many questions, so many mysteries that needed solving.
“Prem! We’re going home now. All of us.“ Priya held out a hand, and from the look on her face, Prem knew arguing was fruitless. She sighed, swallowed any complaints, took her sister’s hand, and together they headed towards another waiting vehicle. As they walked, Prem could feel that her sister’s hand was shaking.