One wasn’t enough, two was a coincidence, but three was deliberate. Kunal checked the destination for each of them, squinting at the parchment notes.
Gwali. Martial sector. The citadel.
Kunal sucked in a breath. It was expected that Reha would be taken to the martial sector of Gwali, but he supposed he had been holding out hope that she would be in the palace. That perhaps Vardaan had different plans for her than captivity and numerous guards.
Kunal took out a small piece of chalk and paper, jotting down what he found. He rolled up the small notes and tucked them into his waist sash before carefully putting the original records back. He’d send a hawk to Esha when he got a chance, though he felt himself hesitating. He shook his head. No, they needed a heads-up before they entered the city.
The citadel.
Walls of stone the height of three men, squads of elite Senaps inside and outside, night and day. One of the most heavily guarded, well-fortified buildings in the entire capital city.
Kunal could only hope Esha would be as good at breaking into citadels as she was forts.
Chapter 7
Kunal relaxed into conversation with the new general, telling him as much of the truth as he could over their dinner of cumin- and coriander-spiced vegetables and warm, crusty flatbread.
Alok had been paranoid. The general was perfectly nice, inquiring about the mission and the towns he had been to, which garrisons. He didn’t have too many questions about the Viper.
The hall was as Kunal had remembered, the same din of noise as the soldiers chatted and ate, clinking goblets and knocking the wooden table legs. He had left Alok somewhere in the middle with his squad of charioteers. They’d been celebrating the mastery of a new maneuver, one he remembered his uncle had tried to teach them for almost a year.
Kunal wanted to ask questions, see how the Fort had changed, but he had to focus. He had made a promise to the Blades, and though it made his stomach burn to lie to the men he had trusted for so many years, the past two moons had taught him that trust wasn’t as solid of a currency as he had believed.
The specter of Laksh still hung over his conversations with Alok, who hadn’t noticed anything, thankfully. Kunal didn’t want to suspect him. But until he had proof Laksh had acted alone, he couldn’t confide in Alok.
The last of the food was cleared from the leaders’ table, and General Panak turned to clap Kunal on the back.
“You’ve always been a breath of fresh air, Kunal. I can see why your uncle enjoyed having you at the Fort. Though he regretted bringing you here first, not giving you a choice to explore more of what was beyond these walls.”
Kunal didn’t try to hide his shock.
General Panak looked solemn. “We became closer before his passing, when I took on the mantle of commander. I knew you were important to him. He wanted the best for you.”
Kunal swallowed roughly. Somewhere, somehow, his uncle had turned from the right path, becoming the feared general instead of just stern Uncle Setu. Kunal wished he had known him before, seen the man behind the armor.
“That’s why it pains me to tell you this,” General Panak said.
Kunal’s body tensed.
“I know we set you on an impossible task, but you failed to bring the Viper back. If I let you off without a punishment, it’ll be chaos here. My soldiers need rules and order. You will be demoted, stripped of your Senap armband and position.”
Kunal kept still, trying not to betray any emotion, let alone his worry. If he couldn’t become a Senap, he couldn’t get to Gwali in time for the Mela.
“Unless—” General Panak paused, scanning the room, searching for something before he turned his gaze back to Kunal.
“Unless what?” Kunal asked. “I know I failed, General, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to the Fort. I’ve worked to become a Senap for almost a decade now.”
General Panak nodded, looking out to the soldiers who sat in front of their dais, scattered around the room and oblivious to them. Only a few looked up, whispering and pointing at Kunal.
“You see what I mean?” General Panak said. “To quash these rumors, we’ll need a spectacle. If you want to keep your position, Kunal, you’ll need to undergo a Battle of Honor.”
Kunal gripped the hilt of the knife at his side, the sharp edges digging into his palm. A Battle of Honor was the way they settled disagreements at the Red Fortress, a time-honored, ancient tradition.
Trial by combat.
The gates of Gwali were as majestic as ever. A thick sandstone wall encircled the city, with tall watchtowers dotted along the way. Two eagles with their wings unfurled were carved into the outer wall of the city, their sharp eyes on any intruders—or guests.
The ancient guardians of Naria’s city.
And just behind the legendary eagles were corpses hanging from the two watchtowers, a reminder of one’s fate if Vardaan is displeased. Esha and Harun’s retinue hurried past, and as soon as they entered the gates, they were thrown into the maze that was the center of the city. Throngs of people fitted into every corner of the old city, milling about like crashing waves.
Ancient marble buildings mixed in with new sandstone towers. The city’s denizens approached it with a combination of reverence and casual indifference, throwing out their refuse in the same streets where they put idols of the gods. Esha had uncertain feelings about the place as well—her first childhood memories of the city were of the palace, as well as the palace’s dungeons. She was familiar with Gwali—the wealthy town houses, the merchant and trade quarter, the artisans’ way, the thieves’ den, and the beautiful temples and city halls dotted throughout.
It was the palace, and the people inside, that worried her.
Their procession made its way through the most narrow labyrinth of streets before coming out onto the martial quarter and the Queen’s Road. Even Vardaan’s attempts to change the name to the King’s Road hadn’t changed the hearts and minds of people who still referred to it by its original name. The ancient road expanded, curving right and up a ramp that led to the Pink Palace of Gwali.
The Pink Palace was bordered by the ocean to one side, a forest to another, and the city to the next. A perfect situation for a palace, the stronghold of the warrior queens of Jansa. Esha’s retinue traversed the ramp up to the palace, arriving outside the massive doors as they were opened by a dozen Senaps in ceremonial regalia.
Harun drew to the front of the procession, having switched to riding in his chariot. His driver pulled forward so that they drove in parallel with the entrance of the palace, the tall, solid gold doors carved with ancient myths and tales.
They waited, and Esha began to grow impatient. She admired and hated this part of court politics. Vardaan was showing his dominance in making them wait, but in another few minutes it would be outright disrespect.
Harun and his uncle Vardaan hadn’t seen each other since Harun was a child. What would that interaction be like—would they embrace and play the roles of family? Or would they choose a more true path?
Esha was about to start counting when the doors creaked open and Vardaan, the Pretender King, walked out.
She felt her blood rise in answer to her grief. That old, familiar hatred. Her heart quickened in time to the thudding in her head, everything else receding but that hot, dark feeling. This was the man whose greed had torn apart Jansa. Had killed her family.