The Skyfall Era Trilogy: Books 1-3
Date: 2015-09-12 04:00:00+00:00
Description: This volume presents the complete Skyfall Era trilogy including the expanded edition of Children of Sun and Moon. Children of Sun and Moon The marriage of the Solar Emperor to the Lunar princess can end decades of war among the Skyfall Isles. Chandi, a scion of the Moon God, might have relished that peace … if only that Lunar princess were not her cousin. If only the two of them were not being sent the live in the Solars’ underwater city. And if only Chandi were not ordered to steal the Solar secrets for her people. Chandi’s heritage makes her stronger, faster, and stealthier than any mortal--
Publisher: Incandescent Phoenix Books

THE SKYFALL ERA TRILOGY

Books 1-3

MATT LARKIN

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

THE SKYFALL ERA TRILOGY

Copyright © 2012-2015 Matt Larkin

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Edited by Steve Parolini and Brenda Pierson

Covers by Robin Ludwig

Published by Incandescent Phoenix Books
incandescentphoenix.com

For Juhi, under the sun, under the moon.

Author’s Note

This volume presents the complete Skyfall Era trilogy including the expanded edition of Children of Sun and Moon. Children of Sun and Moon was my debut novel and consequently took the longest to write of any of my works. I want to thank Steve, Brenda, Margo, David, Robin, Doug, Chris, Shannon, Ginny, Amber, Quintin, Eric, and so many others for their support of the project, and most especially, my wife Tarannum Juhi Larkin.

For those wanting an even more complete picture of the characters and events, I also recommend the interludes (Currents of Wind and Tide and Fragments of Memory and Dream) and the prequel, Curse of Witch and War. The recommended reading order is:

Children of Sun and Moon

Curse of Witch and War

Currents of Wind and Tide

Legacy of Moon and Fire

Fragments of Memory and Dream

Avatar of Night and Day

And if you finished all that and want even more mythic fantasy? Consider the Ragnarok Era.

Sign up for the author’s Readers Group and get a free copy of this prequel to the Skyfall Era series: Curse of Witch and War

Click here to get started:

http://incandescentphoenix.com/mattlarkin/free-offer.html

PROLOGUE

Twelve hundred years ago the Pact had broken here, though no one could say any longer who started the First War. All of the ensuing conflict, four wars spread over twelve centuries, fought over a place Anusapati had never seen before this night. Twenty-four Lunar dhows anchored offshore, war canoes carrying over a hundred Moon Scions and Macan Gadungan toward the beach.

Astral Shore—so called because it sat in the shadow of the cliffs upon which rested the mythic Astral Temple. Sacred to all three dynasties of the Skyfall Isles, the Temple represented mankind’s only direct connection with the gods. And tonight, under the bright moon, the Lunars would finally reclaim it. For years the Lunars and Solars had alternated custody of the Temple. The war ended all that. It was past time the Moon God’s children claimed what was theirs.

Anu leapt out of the canoe and joined the throng of Lunars charging up the beach. Almost immediately a hail of arrows began to fall on their position. Too much to hope they might have caught the Solars by surprise. It didn’t matter. Their numbers were overwhelming. They could do this. They had to do this. Anu raised his keris knife and roared at the night as he charged forward. Almost his entire life had seen this war. When he went home and married his girl, it would be under a moon of victory.

Arrows fell in the sand around him, many cutting down men charging beside him. Macan Gadungan surged forward, assuming the form of tigers as they ran. The weretigers easily outpaced the Moon Scions and human Lunar warriors, closing the distance to the Solar archers in a few heartbeats.

Men shrieked as tigers pounced on them, ending the rain of arrows. Solar soldiers rushed forward, bearing their keris swords and their spears. Anu grinned. Where was the mighty Arun Guard now? Where were the Solar elite he had heard such horror stories of? Afraid to come out in the moonlight?

He drew his Moon Blessing of Potency, relishing the torrent of power that flooded his muscles, making him stronger and faster than any human, to say nothing of more resilient. Anu charged right into the midst of the Solar soldiers. One lunged at him with a spear, the thrust seeming to come with all the speed of a raging tortoise. Anu stepped around it, slit the attacker’s throat, and slammed his palm into another Solar’s face before they knew what had happened. The man he hit was lifted off his feet and crumpled, cartilage and bone shattering in his skull.

A pair of swordsmen slashed at him, working together, perhaps thinking to offset his Moon Scion speed. It might have worked if Anusapati was an untrained oaf. He bent backward, avoiding both blows, and came up sweeping the two men’s legs out from under them. He stomped on one’s skull as the man fell, caught the other attacker’s forearm on his own, and twisted, slamming his keris into the man’s armpit.

This was too easy. He loosened his grip on his Moon Blessings, holding just enough to give him a slight edge over ordinary men. After all, you couldn’t overuse them—to do so would drive you lunatic. A taste of the Moon God’s power was all a mortal could handle. Too much, and you’d be raving with delusions of godhood yourself.

More and more Solar soldiers fell before the Moon Scions. Chandra above, they should have attacked this temple long ago. Were these the people his leaders so feared? They were nothing, mere mortals before the children of the Moon God.

A tiger’s yelp drew Anu’s eyes back to the dying archers. He had only taken a step toward the weretigers when a woman in a blue baju appeared between two of them. Her keris sword blurred from one to the other faster than Anu’s eyes could track. In another instant, the woman was above another tiger, thrusting down between its shoulder blades. She was gone again before the tiger could even cry out. The weretiger slumped to the ground, resuming human form as it died.

Anu’s mouth hung agape. No Moon Scion could move that fast, much less appear out of nowhere. The legends were true. The Arun Guard were like gods. No one knew how many there were, but the number was thought to be very few. A dozen or fewer. They were the ones every Lunar feared … But if Anusapati killed one he would go down in history, his name celebrated in song for generations alongside Malin’s. Who hadn’t heard the stories of the weretiger who had killed Arun Guardsmen? And better still, it would end the war. According to their sources, only one Guardsman—or Guardswoman—protected this place.

He drew his Potency hard once again and surged onward, empowered muscles carrying him forward at a stunning pace. He slammed his arm into a Solar as he passed, sending the man sprawling while not even slowing himself.

“Guardswoman!” he shouted. “Guardswoman!”

The Solar paused, looked to him, then vanished. At the same instant someone collided with Anu, hurling him to the ground. With his Blessings drawn, the impact barely stunned him. He shoved the man—Malin, the Macan Gadungan leader, now in human form—off him. The Solar stood above him, swinging. Before Anu could even rise, the woman twisted and thrust down at Malin. Malin reacted faster, blocking the blade with his forearm and earning himself a nasty gash for it. Again and again the Macan Gadungan blocked and dodged impossibly fast strikes. Then the Arun Guardswoman vanished again, appearing behind Malin. The weretiger reacted as if he knew it was coming, immediately diving to the side in a roll.

Anu roared and launched himself at the Solar. The woman vanished again. Anu twisted, trying to repeat Malin’s maneuver, but the Solar’s keris opened a gash on his back and Anu stumbled.

“Remember your training!” Malin shouted at him.

Run them out of sunlight. Somehow, the Arun Guard drew their energy from the sun. At night, they eventually ran out. Before Anu could take the fight back to her, the Guardswoman was gone again, appearing behind Mahesa, one of Anu’s friends. The boy didn’t even see it coming as a slash tore through his shoulder and back and sent him sprawling to the ground. The war band Mahesa had led shouted and rushed the Solar. Eyes glowing like sunlight, she danced around them at superhuman speeds, appearing and disappearing with impossible ease. Twenty Lunar warriors were dead in the time it took Anu to close ten paces.

And she was gone again before Anu even reached his friend. He skidded to a stop in the sand and knelt beside him. Mahesa lived, but his breath was ragged and pained. “Draw your Blessings!” Anu shouted at him. “Draw them, damn you!” With Potency drawn, maybe there was a chance, maybe Mahesa could hold on until his wounds could be tended to. “Malin!”

The Macan Gadungan was at his side almost immediately, kneeling to inspect Mahesa.

“Get him to safety,” Anu commanded.

Malin hesitated, looking around the battlefield.

“That’s an order, tiger!”

The first of the Macan Gadungan snarled at Anusapati, but he lifted the boy’s body in his arms and took off running back toward the dhows. Mahesa was not only Anu’s friend, he was probably Chandi’s best friend. His love would never forgive him if he let something happen to Mahesa.

The Guardswoman cut down another Lunar war band, its Moon Scion leader included. Anu grit his teeth. He’d do this without Malin. He’d do it for Chandi. Fuck glory. He just wanted to make it home to his girl. And this woman had probably killed a hundred Lunars tonight alone. Chandra let her be running out of sunlight.

Still kneeling in the sand, Anu switched Blessings from Potency to Glamour, the illusion washing over his clothes and making them appear as a Solar uniform. The effort left him giddy, swaying. Glamour was the hardest of the three Blessings, after all. He sprinted toward where the woman fought another war band, pausing only long enough to cast aside his keris knife and grab a Solar sword. When he reached them, before the woman’s eyes, he clubbed a Lunar over the head with his sword. The Guardswoman nodded at him, leaving him to engage another Lunar. A mortal, not a Moon Scion. His life was nothing compared to the Guardswoman’s. Anu swung his keris sword, cutting down the Lunar. Then he rammed the sword into the Solar woman’s back, letting the Glamour fade.

Without it he was suddenly empty, too mortal himself, so he immediately drew his Potency Blessing again. The rush calmed him. Made him once again a god among men. He repeatedly rammed his blade into the Guardswoman’s back even after she grew still. Lunars stood staring at him. Impressed with his might? They damn well should be. This was his Rangda-damned moment.

“Who’s next?” he shouted.

As if in answer, more shouts went up among the Lunars as additional Guardsmen appeared among them. Their information was wrong. More than one Guardsman protected this place. And they were easy prey before him. Chandra, Anu was going to be a legend when he killed the entire Arun Guard.

One of the Guardsmen—his cerulean uniform meant he must be—hung back, protecting a man in golden regalia. Anu grinned, then burst out laughing. This was too precious. The Solar Emperor was here. That explained the presence of multiple Guardsmen. They must have caught the emperor while he was inspecting the Astral Temple.

“Macan Gadungan,” he shouted. “Converge on those Guardsmen.”

The weretigers existed solely to protect the Moon Scions. They would do as he bid, even unto their deaths. And dozens would die wearing thin the Arun Guard, but it would be worth it. This was what they had been waiting for all along. This was the end of the war. Anusapati was going to save the Lunar Empire. He was going to kill Ken Arok, the famed Solar Emperor.

He waded among the Solar troops, killing a few while letting the Macan Gadungan distract the Guardsmen. Everything depended on this. He had to get close. He once again drew his Glamour Blessing, disguising himself as a Solar and not bothering to drop his Potency. Why would he? He needed every edge. And the Moon God walked with him tonight. He drew every ounce of power he could from his Blessings, letting them flood through him until his limbs felt like iron, ready to explode into motion.

A Macan Gadungan lunged at Ken Arok, trying to steal Anu’s prize. The Solar Emperor spun, whipping his keris sword in an arc that cleanly sliced through the tiger’s foreleg, into its skull, and out the other side. The dead weretiger dropped to the ground in gory, too human pieces.

Anu paused just a moment, then closed in on the emperor. The Solar leader opened his mouth, perhaps to demand what one of his troops was doing. It didn’t really matter. Anu lunged forward and grabbed the man by his golden baju.

All at once, everything shifted around him and Anusapati was in the sky. He clenched his fist around the emperor’s baju, holding on for all he was worth. His perspective shifted twice more, threatening to leave him vomiting despite his Blessings. The emperor was a Guardsman? Or had their power.

Don’t let go. Malin said they couldn’t get away if you didn’t let go.

They plummeted from the sky and Ken Arok swung his keris at Anusapati. Anu parried and his own keris sword snapped in half under the blow. Rangda’s spit! The emperor’s sword bore some kind of power. And it would be his. He caught the emperor’s wrist and squeezed until he felt bones crunch.

Yes. The Guardsmen were fast. Yes, they could appear anywhere. But they weren’t any stronger than other men. Ken Arok shrieked in pain and they appeared on the beach. The impact flung them apart and Anu stumbled away. With his Potency drawn, he was barely stunned, and he immediately launched himself back at Ken Arok. The man tried to rise. Anu couldn’t afford to let him get his bearings and vanish. He landed atop the emperor and pounded him with blows that crunched bone beneath his fists. The emperor reached for his sword. Anu grabbed it instead, then rammed it straight down. It punched right through the Solar’s heart and out the other side.

A geyser of blood washed over Anu’s face, almost drowning out the sounds of men screaming around him. Something slammed into him, and another Guardsman appeared above the fallen emperor. The man turned on Anusapati, murder in his eyes. And then a tiger collided with the Guardsman, its jaws clenching down on the back of his neck.

The tiger shifted back into Malin, who stood towering above Anu, eyes locked on the dead emperor, face a mask of shock. Then he turned, taking in the battle, and Anu followed his gaze. In the harbor, half their dhows were ablaze. Thousands of men and women from both sides lay dead and dying, staining the sands crimson. Far more Lunars than Solars had fallen. They’d never hold the Temple this night.

And none of it mattered. Anusapati had not only killed the Arun Guard, he had slain the Solar Emperor. He was the heir of Chandra the Moon God. He was a god. And when the Solars fell, he would rule all the Skyfall Isles.

PART ONE

1191 After Pact, The Dry Season

CHAPTER ONE

Word came with the tide that the battle had gone badly. Chandi would grieve for their losses, of course, but Anusapati was alive, was returning to her. The first sailors back had told her that much.

So she stood on the cliff with her cousin Ratna, watching the sea in the early moonlight, as they had done every night since the ships left for Astral Shore on Puradvipa. Chandi bit her lip and paced back and forth, running her fingers over the pearl statuette in the palm of her hand. A carved rhino Anu had given her.

“I’d feel the same if my betrothed were sailing to me,” Ratna said.

How many countless nights had they spent here, fantasizing over that? Ratna, more beautiful by far, not to mention the War King’s daughter, should have found a husband first. But her cousin didn’t say it.

Chandi adjusted her bodice wrap. She’d bought the brightest white kemban she could find for this moment. Every little detail had to be just right for his return. She tucked the statuette into her sarong—the skirt patterned with white jasmine to match the kemban. “How do I look?”

“Same as before,” Ratna said. “Perfect.”

Perfect might be a stretch, but Anu had thought her pretty enough to court. A Moon Scion of his prowess could have called on any woman in the Lunar Empire. But he’d chosen her. She blew out a deep breath. He’d chosen her.

At night, the cyan sea of the Skyfall Isles turned dark sapphire. In the distance, dhows threaded through the waters, approaching the harbor below. Far fewer ships returned than had left to retake the Astral Temple. For twenty years the Lunars and Solars had fought over that place.

Chandi started to run down the path from the cliff to the harbor. Ratna caught her arm before she’d gone three steps. “What are you doing? You have to make him come to you. He’ll know you’re here, soon enough.”

With a sigh, Chandi returned to her post atop the cliff, forcing herself not to fidget. Well over a hundred Moon Scions and Macan Gadungan, and several thousand soldiers, had gone to fight. Two thirds of those would not return home. Could one more Moon Scion have made a difference? Her father, Ketu, had gone, but ordered her to guard the War King and his daughter.

Ratna might need protection, but Rahu, the War King, surely did not. To hold the throne, he had to be the finest Silat martial artist in the Lunar Empire. But the War King needed to coordinate the war, so Chandi’s father, the high priest of Chandra, had led the attack instead. When Chandi learned her father and Anusapati were both well, she’d allowed herself to relax.

Allowed herself to forget so many would not return.

“Do you think Mahesa’s with them?” Ratna asked.

“I’m sure he is.” Had Ratna heard the hesitation in her answer? “I notice he’s the only one you ask about. Maybe your own wedding isn’t so far off, then?”

Hands on hips, Ratna spun to face Chandi. “And why not? I’m older than you—”

Chandi snickered. Ratna was only a few months older.

“—and my father could gain a powerful alliance.”

“With little Mahesa?”

Ratna shrugged without taking her hands from her hips. “Not so little anymore.” She smirked at Chandi’s raised eyebrow. “House Indu has fair influence. And he has a nice smile, too.”

A boyish grin, maybe. How many nights had they sat in these mountains as girls, dreaming of love and their futures? Mahesa had been chasing Ratna since they were children, exploring the mountains and rainforests around Bukit. Or, more accurately, Chandi had been exploring and dragging the other two along with her. It made her smirk.

A solitary figure trudged up the cliff path while the rest of the returning soldiers took the mountain road to Bukit. Anusapati’s sarong trailed behind him as he ascended the slope. His breath came evenly despite the steep hike.

Ratna pinched Chandi’s arm and flashed a wicked grin before wandering down the road back to the city. Chandi patted down her hair and brushed the brambles from her sarong before Anu could crest the rise.

Let him come to you.

Anusapati caught her eyes as he stepped onto the plateau. Chandi threw herself into his arms before she knew what she was doing. Head on his chest, she tried to think of words to say, but nothing came.

“A fine homecoming,” Anusapati said, pushing her away to arm’s length at last. His eyes darted hungrily around her face, then lower. “Could be finer, even.”

Chandi hesitated. “We’ll be wed soon enough, love.”

Anusapati grunted and stepped back. “So why wait? A wedding is a simple thing. We could do it now. Tonight. I’ve returned. All I should have had will be mine.”

“Let the people grieve their losses, then we can arrange a proper wedding feast. Once Rahu says it’s time, then you’ll have it all. I promise,” she said, trying to look sultry.

Anusapati shrugged away from her hand. “Rahu? The War King will tell me when I can have what’s mine? Oh, but that’s not how we do things. No, no. The strongest rule the Lunars.” He chuckled under his breath, spinning around, then thumped his chest. “The strongest. Why should I bow before Rahu?”

Chandi backed away, shaking her head. What was he saying? No one challenged Rahu. The War King had been the unquestioned ruler of the Lunars since before Chandi and Ratna were even born.

“The fool sent us to Puradvipa with little plan.” Anu waved his hands around in the air. “He started the war with the Solars. But I’ll finish it. Unite all the Skyfall Isles under Chandra. Under me. With you at my side, my queen.”

Chandi felt her lip tremble and struggled to bring it under control, shutting her eyes for a moment. This couldn’t be happening. They all heard the stories, but it didn’t really happen, did it? Not to him. “I’ll make preparations for … for the evening, my love. I, uh … Wait for me here a phase or so.”

“Yes, my queen. Prepare everyone for my return. The Voice of Chandra has come to call upon his children.”

Without taking her eyes from him, Chandi backed away from the plateau and down the path to Bukit. Only when he was out of sight did she turn to face the city. It had grown darker, colder. Empty, despite the people out at the night market.

The Lunar capital lay nestled just below the mountains, in southeastern Swarnadvipa, the westernmost of the Skyfall Isles. Stilts supported the houses in the lower city near the marsh—the Loghouses, people called them. The palaces in the hills had no need of stilts. The saddle roofs came into view first, like the horns of a great beast rearing its head in the night. One ready to devour the unwary.

The largest sat highest on the hill, Rahu’s palace. Chandi struggled to remain impassive as the gate guards waved her on. Much as she wanted to bury her face in her pillow and hide in her room, she went instead to the courtyard. Rahu was there, as expected, practicing his Silat by the fishpond. His guard dog looked up at her approach. She was one of the few it never growled at. Rahu had bought the animal days after Chandi’s and Ratna’s mothers died, as if it could take their places. As if anything could.

“Chandi,” Rahu said, without looking at her. “I thought you went to meet the ships?” His venom was probably as much at the failure of his men as at their deaths. Rahu was not given to sentiment, but any loss could send him into isolated melancholy or apoplexy in equal measure. He was not a leader who tolerated anything less than success. In this war, it meant he was never happy.

Chandi nodded, but didn’t speak. Her uncle turned to her, half scowling. “Anusapati,” she began, then clenched her eyes. “He changed.”

Rahu tapped a finger on his lips, but said nothing.

“I think he … he may have used the Moon Blessings too much.”

She didn’t say the word “lunatic.” She didn’t have to.

Rahu watched her, expressionless, before speaking. “Are you strong enough to do what needs to be done? Can you serve your family before your own wants?”

Sweet Chandra, he wanted her to do it? Was this just another test? She could almost read the accusation on his face. She had wanted to bring him into their family, after all. She had chosen him. Rahu could certainly deal with it himself, but by forcing Chandi to face him he must think she’d prove herself.

“Well?” he asked, when she hesitated.

Chandi bowed, hot tears staining her face, then turned before Rahu could see them. “I serve my family.”

She stopped at her room, pausing before the toyaks hanging on the wall. Malin had given her the rattan fighting sticks when she was ten, had trained her to master Silat. As a Moon Scion, ordinary warriors didn’t stand a chance in battle with her. Last year, she’d taken six at the same time. Her father had beamed with pride, and even her uncle had graced her with a rare smile.

Anusapati had defeated ten at once.

Chandi ran her thumb over the rhino statuette he’d given her, before leaving it on the dresser. A chilling numbness had settled over her limbs and she could barely contain the trembling in her chest. Anu.

He had given her the rhino before he left, had asked for her hand. And she had dreamed about his return. About the palace they would build, the children they would raise. It was so real. More real than this.

She tucked the toyaks into the back of her sarong.

As she left Rahu’s palace, she saw Anu walking toward it. Was it too much to ask that he might have waited on the plateau like she told him?

“You’ve been crying,” he said as she drew near.

“Because I love you.” She blew out a hard breath and drew her toyaks. “They always say the Moon Blessings have a price. Hard to believe, sometimes. Until it comes to this.”

It must have been the battle. He’d pushed his Blessings beyond the limits to live through it and they had taken his mind, turned him lunatic. The Solars had forced him to it. Had taken her love away from her, had forced her to destroy that which she most cherished.

Anusapati laughed, but where the laugh held humor one moment, it turned to wrath the next. Chandi recoiled from the fire in his eyes as he assumed a fighting stance. “You dare stand against me, beloved? Then come.”

Chandi opened herself to the energies nestled within, drew her Moon Blessing of Potency. Anu wouldn’t hesitate to use his to the limit. She would need every drop of the strength and speed they’d grant her if she was to do this. And how could she? A pit had opened in her stomach—in her very soul. This was a nightmare. It could not be real. She just had to press forward and she would wake up, she’d find something, anything else. Anything but this. “Forgive me.”

She launched a series of lightning-fast strikes.

Anu dodged each in turn, then caught her wrist. With a twist he sent a jolt of pain through her whole arm and into her shoulder. One stick fell from her grasp. Before she could react, his elbow caught her across the face and sent her spinning through the air.

Her other stick skidded across the ground. With Blessing drawn, she could fight through the pain. As Anu approached, Chandi pushed off the ground in a reverse handspring. She landed with her legs around his shoulders. In a single motion she swung both hands at his temples.

He jerked his arms up, parrying the attack. She kicked off his chest and flew through the air, then drew her Gliding Blessing to shift her gravity to the nearest palm tree. She landed on its trunk and stood there, parallel to the ground.

Anu ran and leapt toward the tree, so Chandi jumped to another. Each move she made, he matched. She ran up the tree and leapt to the roof of a nearby house. Her foot slipped. Too steep, even with her gravity adjusted.

Her love launched himself even higher, landing farther up the roof. He must have cleared twenty-five feet on that leap. A crowd had gathered beneath them, but no one would interfere with a Moon Scion duel.

She had started this. Now, one of them would have to finish it.

“Betrayal has its price, too,” Anu said, launching a string of blows with his hands and elbows. Chandi blocked again and again, losing ground as he pushed her toward the edge. She dropped to her back and caught his leg between hers, then kicked her legs together. Anu tumbled down atop her. Chandi connected with several body blows before he got a grip on her. She heard ribs snap from the force of her punches, but in his lunacy, he seemed not to feel it.

He rose to his feet with one hand on her shoulder and one on her thigh. Chandi braced herself, but he didn’t hurl her off the roof as she expected. He slammed her into it.

Splinters of wood and straw cascaded around her as she plummeted through the roof and into the house. A shattered support post ripped open her shoulder, sending a wave of fire through her. And then she hit the floor. On impact everything went black for an instant and she lost her Potency Blessing. Without it, the agony hit her full force.

Gasping, trying to get air back in her lungs, she drew her Potency again as Anu leapt down beside her. Her vision swam, but she forced herself to her feet. Forced herself back into a fighting stance.

Once, twice, she blocked his strikes, and then he had her in a grapple. He was too strong. Every twist, countered. Every blow, stopped. Her head was locked. She couldn’t breathe.

Drawing her Potency Blessing as hard as she could, Chandi launched a hook to his kidney. Again. Again. Anu staggered and dropped her, sputtering and spitting blood.

Chandi fell hard. She had only begun to rise when he had a hand on her again. He tossed her through the bamboo wall as though she weighed nothing.

Chandi hit the street and rolled once from the impact. For an instant, her muscles wouldn’t respond. He was coming for her. Rage lined his face. Lunacy had broken through any inhibitions that might have limited his use of his Blessings. Even if she could have beaten him in a fair fight, she was going to die now. The realization hit her with uncommon certainty. And part of her welcomed it. The nightmare would be over.

And still. Still she couldn’t give up.

One of her toyaks rested nearby. She staggered toward it, clutching her sides.

“Chandi!”

Everyone turned at the sound. Already, Malin had torn open his baju and tossed it aside. Well, almost no one would interfere in a Moon Scion duel.

Malin always protected her—her and Ratna—ever since they were children. Protected her from her own folly, like this, challenging a man she couldn’t hope to defeat, to prove Chandra-knew-what to Rahu.

The Macan Gadungan’s muscles rippled as his form shifted from human to tiger. His jaw elongated and fur sprouted all over his body. Only the eyes remained the same. He shifted as he ran, kicking off his sarong.

Chandi barely had time to rise or sort through her thoughts. She’d be shamed if he interfered … and dead if he didn’t.

Anu turned to face his newest attacker. He twisted, dodging the lunge, and smashed his fist into the weretiger’s jaw. Anu might have continued to dance, might have held off Malin. But Chandi’s blows to his kidney had slowed him.

Chandi saw the end coming, but Anu never seemed to. Malin reared on his hind legs and sunk his claws into the lunatic’s shoulders. The tiger’s jaws closed on the man’s throat and his great weight bore Anu down.

Chandi fell to her knees as her beloved at last stopped twitching. She didn’t see Malin shift back. She didn’t see him retrieve his sarong. Only when he hefted her in his arms did she look at him. Blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth and covered his face, his neck, even his chest.

Malin was taking her to the infirmary, some part of her knew. The Macan Gadungan was always there, had always been there, serving her family. “Astral Shore,” she stammered.

“The battle broke him,” her bodyguard said, without slowing or looking at her.

The Solars had driven him to lunacy.

Chandi wanted to look back at Anu, to reach for him. It wasn’t real. Rangda damn Malin for this. Damn the Solars. Damn her, she should have been the one to fall. And why didn’t the earth just open and swallow everything? It ought to end it all. And she couldn’t look, couldn’t open her eyes, could only bury her face in Malin’s bloody chest and weep.

Somewhere, deep inside, she reached a hand toward Anu. Toward the children she still saw herself bearing for him. If she could only just hold on to that. It could not be gone.

It could not.

CHAPTER TWO

The ravages of this war had cost everyone so very much. Ratna sat by the fishpond in the Hill Palace’s courtyard, cradling poor Chandi in her arms. Her cousin had wept until she was empty and now she simply trembled like a girl who’d had her soul eaten by a leyak or some other foul denizen of Kahyangan, the Spirit Realm. When Ratna had been a child, so long ago now, her mother had held her like this, running her fingers through Ratna’s hair in the way she now did for Chandi. She could only hope it was some comfort, since despite wracking her mind for a phase, she found no words to offer.

Nor, regretfully, could she afford to direct her undivided attention to her bereaved cousin. Ratna’s and Chandi’s fathers had been in meetings with the heads of the other Moon Scion Houses for days. Twenty-seven Houses ruled the Lunar Empire, at least in theory. Now, however, several Houses had been eradicated and others near enough so. And since the beginning of the Fourth War twenty years back, her father had been named War King. Of course, that might well have been the reason he started this war way back then, simply to advance his political position. Their House, House Soma, was small compared to many of the others.

But Rahu was the undisputed master of Silat throughout the Lunar Empire, and, more importantly, he and Ratna’s mother had created the two Jadian bloodlines. The Macan Gadungan and Buaya Jadian—weretigers and werecrocodiles—were meant to change everything, to be able to finally break the Arun Guard who had protected the Solars for the past six centuries. Giving the Jadian to the other Houses as servants, protectors and spies and assassins, had proved a stroke of genius on her father’s part, enough to sway any doubters to his favor. Except it turned out to be not nearly enough to overthrow the mighty Solar Empire that ruled most of the Skyfall Isles.

Still, the Solars had been roused to war, and it was far too late for the other Houses to turn on House Soma and risk losing their precious Jadian. Ratna had no illusions about that—the werebeasts were all that let Rahu maintain his grip on the Lunars.

A slave brought another plate with two steaming cups of tea. Since Chandi hadn’t touched the last two cups, the slave simply carried them away. Ratna ignored the man and continued stroking her cousin’s hair.

Chandi was a Silat master herself, trained by Malin. The Maitian had tried to teach Ratna too, but she’d had little aptitude for fighting and at least enough wisdom to recognize the fact. In theory, the warrior caste was the top of Lunar society and Moon Scions, as the ultimate rulers, were meant to be warriors. In practice, no mere mortal questioned a descendant of Chandra, regardless of how good—or poor—that Scion might be at Silat.

“There’s hot tea here,” Ratna said, once again pointing out the painfully obvious. Not that she could blame Chandi for her ennui. She couldn’t even imagine how she’d feel if she’d been forced to kill someone she loved. Or at least be involved in doing so.

Chandi grunted as if in pain, saying nothing.

Ratna sighed and shook her head. The poet prince Bandung had once written that time alone could heal some wounds and that any other salve applied might well enflame them. Of course, Bandung had also written that some few wounds ran so deep that only a return to the Wheel of Life could assuage their pain.

At last the sore phase came and the moon rose. With it, the slaves brought fresh ketupat dumplings, fruit, and satays. All the things Ratna had ordered. Chandi just shook her head.

“You have to eat,” Ratna chided. “This cannot continue forever.”

Chandi sighed and pulled away from Ratna but, blessedly, did accept a stick of satay.

The girl had eaten a bite when Malin slipped into the courtyard. The weretiger made so little noise when he moved that Chandi jumped at his sudden appearance. Indeed, if he hadn’t walked right into her line of sight, Ratna might not have seen their bodyguard at all, despite his impressive build. He had to be in his forties, but he could have passed for not much older than Ratna’s own twenty years, especially with his long hair and clean-shaven face.

Malin knelt in front of Chandi and cupped her chin in his thick hand, forcing her to look up at him. “I know it hurts.”

Chandi jerked her chin away from him. “What the fuck do you know about it?”

Malin scowled. “You are not the first person to lose the one you loved.” The Macan Gadungan sighed, looking over at Ratna, who shrugged. As children Malin had told them many stories of his days sailing the South Sea before he came to the Skyfall Isles. He’d always refused to tell tales of romance, but Ratna suspected he had lost someone along the way, as much because of what he would not say as what he did.

Everything had changed after Chandi and Ratna’s mothers had died during the Battle of Bangdvipa. Before that, Malin was like a big brother to them, watching over them on their adventures, bringing them trinkets from his victories in the war. After … after he’d been obsessed with teaching them to defend themselves. And Malin had never hidden his obvious pride in Chandi’s bravery and skill and tenacity. He had eventually given up on training Ratna, and even if that had been at her own insistence, it had still stung more than it should have. But Ratna’s Blessings were not a fraction as strong as Chandi’s and trying to learn toyak fighting had only ever earned her bruises and broken bones.

“What do you want, tiger?” Ratna asked.

Malin cracked his neck. “We received an envoy. The new Solar Emperor, Ken Arok’s son, has sued for peace.”

Ratna opened her mouth but couldn’t form a response. Peace? After a lifetime of war, she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the idea. The war had begun mere months after she was born. She’d never known anything but war. She’d studied the histories, the long period before the Fourth War. The Lunars and Solars had alternated years holding the Astral Temple, with the Lunars otherwise keeping themselves in relative isolation. Was it even possible to return to that? And, after all they had lost, could they afford to do so? Wouldn’t that mean the death of her mother, of Anusapati, of all who had fallen, were for nothing? Of course it would. But to turn down peace now might spell the end of the Lunar Empire. They were losing. The Battle of Astral Shore had been a last, final effort to break the Solar lines and morale.

“Is my father going to accept?”

Malin nodded. “He wants to see you both in his chambers. Ketu’s there too.”

Her and Chandi’s fathers, the brothers of House Soma. Had that been what these meetings had been about? Why hadn’t anyone told her sooner? She scowled at Malin as if it was his fault, then rose, thinking to pull Chandi to her feet. She needn’t have bothered. Her cousin rose on her own, eyes dark enough that Ratna had a sickening feeling about what Chandi intended to say to Ratna’s father.

“Now is not the time to voice your doubts,” she whispered as they headed for the palace interior.

Chandi said nothing, just pushed ahead and stormed into Rahu’s chambers. Ratna’s father sat on an imported Tianxian carpet, legs crossed under him, sipping tea as calmly as though nothing had happened. Ketu, Chandi’s father, on the other hand, paced around the room. Ketu had not aged as gracefully as his big brother, his short hair having begun to show streaks of gray among the black, his face wrinkled. And yet, his muscles remained taut. The father trained as hard at Silat as the daughter. In truth, Ratna was the only member of House Soma who couldn’t hold her own in a fight, but at least her father had never looked down on her for it.

Both men nodded at them as they entered, Rahu’s face a mask of calm, Ketu looking far more stern.

“You’re not really going to make peace with those bastards, are you?” Chandi demanded before Ratna could even speak.

Well, that was one way to start this conversation.

Ratna’s father raised an eyebrow at his niece’s tone and Ratna grabbed Chandi’s wrist, squeezing before the idiot girl could say something else they’d regret. One did not speak such to the War King.

“We are, yes. This new emperor, Kakudmi, has seen just how far we’re willing to go and it has frightened him. That will make him pliant. So we will grant him an alliance and gain whatever we can from it.”

An alliance? Ratna wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “Obviously we have to take whatever steps we must to preserve our empire,” she began.

“I’m glad you feel that way, daughter,” her father said. “Because this needs to be an alliance of marriage.”

Ratna opened her mouth but only managed to squeak. Sweet Chandra, don’t let him be saying what it sounded like he was saying.

“The new emperor is unmarried, a young man. Giving him a Lunar bride is a show of faith. And that bride must be you, the daughter of the War King. You alone can be his equal.”

No. Absolutely not. There was no way in Rangda’s frozen underworld Ratna was going to marry Kakudmi or any other Solar. No, she was destined for Mahesa and that was that. She opened her mouth, trying to say so, but the words wouldn’t come. Chandra save her, she’d die before she’d do this. She was supposed to marry Mahesa.

“You can’t make her do this,” Chandi said, voice detached and faraway.

Ratna felt like Rangda Demon Queen had ripped out her soul and fed it to her leyaks. This was lunacy. She … she … She blew out a long breath. She’d die? No. She wouldn’t, and who did she think she was, putting her own happiness before the needs of her family? Before those of her people? Ratna was not that person.

“He doesn’t have to make me do anything,” she said, voice almost breaking. “I’ll do what I have to.”

Chandi spun on her. “You’re going to make peace with them?”

Ratna scowled. “Yes, Chandi. I’m going to save the Lunars from further war. I’m going to do whatever it takes to see that no more families and lovers die because of the fighting.” She turned back to her father and bowed. “May I be excused?”

Her father sighed, then rose and walked to her side, at last putting a hand on her cheek. “I’m proud of you. And don’t worry, I’ll be sending Malin to protect you. No harm will befall you, daughter.” Then he drew her into a quick, uncharacteristic embrace. “Go on. Make your peace with this.”

Ratna choked down a sob. She was the daughter of the War King. Tears were pointless. She pulled away and bowed again, then ducked out of the room.

Chandi chased after her. “What are you going to do?”

Ratna shuddered and braced herself against a wall. “I’m going to do my duty, Chandi. What else?”

“What about Mahesa?”

The sound of his name finally spoken aloud was almost more than she could bear. She’d fooled herself. Maybe her father had never intended to marry her off to House Indu. It wasn’t one of the strongest Houses, after all. Had she fooled herself into thinking any good could come of this?

“Chandi,” she began, struggling to keep her voice level. “Would you do something for me? Would you go and tell him?”

She would have to say goodbye before she left. She owed him that much. But being the one to break that news to him … No. She wasn’t strong enough for that. She had rarely been strong enough for anything, really. Chandi was the braver and stronger of them.

But this time, this time, it would be Ratna who would save them all.

CHAPTER THREE

The hollow look in Mahesa’s eyes when she told him stuck with Chandi as she worked through her Silat forms. Most times, the exercise and the precision it took was enough to still her mind. Nothing did that anymore. Not since the Solars had stolen Anusapati from her. Not since the war had driven him beyond the bounds of lunacy, surely in desperation.

She swept her toyaks in wide arcs, spinning rapidly. Five Solars—no, ten!— fell in her dance, as twilight swept over Swarnadvipa. She’d send all those Surya-worshipping bastards straight to Rangda’s frozen underworld. Sweat streamed through her short hair and over her forehead, stinging her eyes. And she welcomed the pain of it. Down on the beach, some distance beyond the palace of House Indu where she had broken Mahesa’s heart, she fought. On and on for what seemed a phase. Until her limbs felt like water, until she collapsed into the sand, gasping for breath and unable to still her raging heartbeat.

She was a descendant of Chandra, a Moon Scion. The blood of the Moon God pounded through her veins. Why wasn’t it enough? How could Chandra let his children fall before the cursed Solars?

“The War King summons you,” Malin said.

Chandi started. How did the damn weretiger always manage to sneak up on her? “And what are you? His errand boy?”

Her bodyguard recoiled and Chandi immediately regretted snapping at him. Malin narrowed his eyes. Chandi was pretty sure most people who saw that sneer were about to be torn to shreds. “Is that what you think of me?”

Chandi shook her head. Malin would never hurt her, of course, no matter how badly she mouthed off to her former mentor. “No. Sorry, I just …”

“I get it. And you do not want to keep Rahu waiting.”

Probably not. The War King did not tolerate anything less than obedience. He’d commanded his own daughter to prostitute herself to a Solar, for Chandra’s sake. And Ratna would do it, the foolish, innocent child, walking right into the den of horrors that was the Solar’s undersea city.

Chandi sighed, then motioned for Malin to lead the way. She followed him along a narrow path leading back up the cliff and toward Bukit. Most people shunned this path, taking the long way around. It was steep, and especially slick during the monsoons. More than one Lunar had fallen and broken legs, arms, or worse trying to take this route. But then, Malin had been training Chandi in balance for a decade.

The weretiger led her back through Bukit and toward the Hill Palace where her family reigned over Lunar society. He paused outside, eyes expectant. So Rahu had sent for her alone? Chandi bit back another barb about Malin being Rahu’s loyal servant. He deserved better from her. Instead, she nodded at him. “You’re going to protect her, right?”

“With my life.”

Chandi nodded, then headed into the palace. Slaves filled the halls, but parted before her like men fleeing a burning house. Chandi found her uncle in his sitting room, staring at a scroll spread over his desk. It was low, perhaps a foot off the ground, and while Rahu sat on a cushion, there was none on the other side of the desk, so Chandi simply settled down on the floor.

“Where have you been?” No inflection tinged his voice. If having to wait for her had annoyed him, he gave no visible indication. That could be good—or very bad.

“Training.”

Rahu tapped a finger against his lower lip. “Yes. Good. That’s excellent, in fact. How does that progress?”

“I’m sure as Chandra’s dark side ready to kill some Solars.” Chandi immediately grimaced. She should not have said that.

Rahu frowned almost imperceptibly. “I suggest you not let Ketu hear you spew such blasphemies.”

Shit no. Chandi’s father was ever the moon priest and one of the most devout people she had ever met. Sure, she was the child of a god, and that was something few on this Earth could claim. It didn’t mean every word out of her mouth was sacred or anything. Rather than answer, Chandi just bowed her head, acknowledging Rahu’s words.

“You can’t kill any Solars,” Rahu said then. “We’re at peace, or we’re going to be.”

Chandi bit her lip and said nothing. Any response she could make to that would only land her in more trouble.

“That’s what we need them to think, at least,” Rahu said.

At that, Chandi’s eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

“I have a special mission for you. You’re going to Kasusthali with Ratna and you’re going to watch over my daughter.”

“Isn’t that Malin’s job?” Not that Chandi would hesitate to protect her cousin, or even that she’d want Ratna to face this horror alone. But wouldn’t the Macan Gadungan be the better bodyguard? Malin had been protecting House Soma the last twenty years, after all.

“He’ll be there most of the time, but he has to come and go, bring us news. You can be there when he’s not around.”

Chandi nodded. As distasteful as going to a Solar city was, it was better than leaving Ratna to face it alone. And if Malin couldn’t remain by her side every moment, well, then Chandi would. And she’d break any Solar that crossed Ratna in half.

“As far as my daughter is concerned, that will be your only mission in Kasusthali.”

That didn’t sound good, though Chandi struggled to keep her face impassive.

“For six centuries the Arun Guard have terrorized the Lunars. A handful of men and women proving a match for the very children of Chandra. This is … unacceptable. But for the first time ever, we have a chance to truly learn about them. The Solars have invited us into their midst, into their secret city. And that gives us an opportunity to learn all we can about the Arun Guard and to take any steps necessary to undermine their power.”

A hard knot formed in Chandi’s belly and she felt sick. “You want me to be a spy? Isn’t that what you have Buaya Jadian for?”

“The werecrocodiles have their uses. This is not one of them. It is you I trust to protect my daughter. Go to Kasusthali, pose as her handmaid and do this. And for her safety, she cannot know your true mission, niece.”

Was this it? Her chance to hit the Solars where it would hurt them most? To break them for what they had taken from her? Rahu had said to undermine the Arun Guard. Undermine them, because no one knew the source or limits of their power. And if she could learn that, if she could disrupt them, maybe the Lunars could achieve the first real victory in the whole Fourth War. Unless she failed. If she got caught, she’d die, and maybe Ratna along with her. But if she refused—assuming that was even an option with Rahu—he would just send someone else. Someone with less interest in protecting poor Ratna.

He was using his own daughter as a pawn, but Chandi managed to keep herself from saying so. Instead, she rose and bowed. Maybe it didn’t matter what she did. The emptiness inside her threatened to swallow her up like the gaping maw of a whale.

Rahu offered her a nod of dismissal, and Chandi slipped out of his sitting room, then out of the palace. She wandered the city for a time, drinking in the moonlight, uncertain where she was going, and not really caring. She spun at the sound of someone approaching, then relaxed when Malin stepped from beneath the shadow of a teahouse. At least she’d finally caught him sneaking around.

“Something troubles you,” he said. “I can smell it.”

Chandi shrugged. “He’s sending me with Ratna. As far as she knows, I’m there to protect and support her.”

Malin stared up at the moon before he answered. “I’d be glad of your company. But what do you mean, as far as she knows?”

“He’s sending me to spy on the Arun Guard, to learn their secrets. Try to break them.”

“Rangda devour that man’s soul!” Malin snapped. “That is madness, Chandi. How in the Demon Queen’s underworld do you think you’re going to do that?”

She’d been asking herself the same question. It didn’t matter, she supposed. She’d do whatever it took. “I’ll figure something out. I am going, Malin. I’m going to get what we need, and then I’m coming home. And maybe we can use whatever I find to crush the Solars.”

Malin groaned. “Chandi … you are so quick to blame them for Anusapati’s fate. But he made his own choices. He chose to abuse the power of Chandra, knowing full well what it might cost him.”

“They forced him to it!” she shouted, not caring who she might wake, even in the dead of night. “You don’t know anything about being a Moon Scion, weretiger!” Chandi spun and stormed away, not interested in anything else Malin might have to say on the subject.

Yes, Anu knew the price of his Moon Blessings. And he used them because he had to, because his people needed him.

And now, Ratna needed Chandi. And she would do whatever it took to protect her cousin.

CHAPTER FOUR

The harbor beneath Bukit was thicker with ships than Malin remembered seeing in decades. Lunar pirate cabals had made port openly. Waiting. Everyone holding their breath to see how this cyclone would break. If the war would grow worse or if it would finally end. Fear. The place smelled of fear and anticipation. The tiger spirit inside him growled at the thought of dealing with such men. Always did.

But they weren’t his focus today. Malin stalked up the gangplank to the Queen of the South Sea, perhaps the finest dhow in the harbor. Her captain sat upon the gunwale, whittling away at some carving. Eyes locked on his former pirate brethren, men who would gladly hang the Serendibian by his own guts if not for Malin’s protection. The Queen’s foreign captain, Bendurana, was dark-skinned and wore his hair in braided locks that hung halfway down his back.

The Serendibian twisted at Malin’s approach, then hopped down onto his deck and swept an elaborate bow. “Ah, Malin. A royal pleasure to see you again, my good man. Tiger. Man-tiger.”

Malin nodded at him. “The War King has agreed to your emperor’s terms. You will ferry Ratna and her handmaid to Kasusthali and the War King will proceed you in his own dhow.”

“Ah, well. He’s not really my emperor, Malin. I mean, I’m not exactly a Solar.”

“And yet you climbed into bed with them. I gave you this ship when you had nothing, and you turned around and started hunting my people with it. How many pearls did they have to offer you to betray us?”

Bendurana chuckled. “Your adopted people, Maitian. And, technically, those pirates hunted me first. It only seemed fair, indeed, poetically ironic—or ironically poetical, even—to return the favor.”

The tiger inside crouched, ready to pounce. And Malin did have half a mind to beat Ben senseless for his actions. The Serendibian had switched sides so many times no one trusted him. Maybe that was why he was the one the Solars sent here to make this offer. Or maybe because no other Solar was crazy enough to make port at the Lunar capital. Either way, Malin had to let Ben slide. Malin was in charge, not the tiger.

Malin cracked his neck, then leaned in close to Ben’s face. “The pirates have been warned off, Captain. But if anything happens to those girls, there is nowhere in the South Sea where I won’t find you.”

To his credit, not only did the Serendibian not recoil, he patted Malin on the cheek. “Worry not, my overprotective friend. Captain Bendurana is here now, ready to save the day. Or the night.” An exaggerated shrug swayed his locks, clanking the beads in them together. “Twilight. Dawn. Whatever.”

With a last roll of his eyes, Malin stepped away. Hard to stay angry with the impossible Serendibian. The tiger growled inside him, as if to dispute that fact. But the tiger was always upset about something.

He stalked back through the harbor and, rather than returning to Bukit, headed for House Indu on the beach. Indu oversaw the harbor and, as such, was the only House that had chosen to build its palace down here, close to the sea. In another lifetime, Malin had been a sailor and might have called this place a paradise. Now there was only the Macan Gadungan’s mission. Protect and avenge. It was the mantra that let him hold onto some tiny bit of his humanity. A ward against the entity Rahu had called out of Kahyangan and bonded with Malin’s soul. And Malin, too much the fool, had not asked the price beforehand. After more than twenty years, it was hard to remember ever being just human.

Little Mahesa sat up in a tree, giving no acknowledgment to Malin’s passing. Poor boy had been following Ratna around since before he was old enough to know what a man should do with a woman. Now he’d have to find another girl. Malin wasn’t here for him, anyway.

Palace Indu stood on stilts, raising it a good fifteen feet into the air, keeping it clear of flooding. And mosquitoes. Humans always feared those. Not without reason. Chandi had almost died of malaria as a child. Malin had found her in the rainforest, burning with fever, delirious. Ratna wailing at her cousin for her to get up.

As he neared the palace, a shadow overhead jumped the railing and landed in front of him. The young Macan Gadungan, Sunten, was part of the first generation born to this. Quite likely he was one of Malin’s own bastards, though it was hard to tell. Tigers did not live by human sexual inhibitions. Malin had slept with almost every female weretiger of the original Macan Gadungan. But then, those women probably mated with other weretigers when Malin was away. He hadn’t loved any of them. Well … one. Maybe. He was never quite sure if he’d be capable of love again, not after the death of his wife so long ago. But Sunten’s mother had been special, whether or not Malin was the father.

“Malin,” Sunten said, and dropped into a bow.

Other males feared him, Malin knew. They rarely approached him unless he came to them first. It was the tiger way. And still, despite their fear, they looked to him. In a sense, both Jadian bloodlines did. Malin was the first of them all, and his was the most powerful spirit Rahu or Calon had ever bonded to a human. They might have called it a gift. But the Jadian were traded among the Moon Scions like slaves. It had taken Malin years to see it, though a few other Jadian had recognized it sooner. Many of the original lot had been slaves to start with, and, thinking they were trading up in life, volunteered. So they had gone from serving their masters tea or in the bed to serving them in battle. Maybe that would have been fine, had they been accorded the respect of the warrior caste. They were not.

And Malin had promised them he would change it. Somehow. However long it took, the Jadian would find their place, no longer outcasts to be feared and used.

“Has the news reached here?” Malin asked.

Sunten nodded, clearly knowing Malin referred to the marriage of Ratna. The young weretiger had been assigned to House Indu since completing his training on Bangdvipa and was thus privy to most secrets of the House. “The little Scion has been bemoaning it since last night.”

“I have to go to Kasusthali. I want you to watch over things for me here.”

Sunten lowered his eyes in silent acknowledgment.

“Do not act,” Malin said. “I just want to know everything that goes on in my absence. We have to find the right moment to prove to them we are their equals. Reveal our play too soon and we lose everything.”

“How much longer do we have to pretend to serve these Scions?”

Malin grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck and pulled his face close, speaking in a terse whisper. “We pretend nothing. They are children of the Moon God, the lord of the very spirits that give us our power. And our rightful place is by their side, not living on the outskirts.”

“It’s been ten years since mother died. What have you accomplished on that front?”

Malin grabbed the boy’s open baju and shoved him. Sunten collided with a stilt and fell the ground, clearly staggered by the impact. The tiger roared in Malin’s ears to further punish the boy for his temerity. Malin grit his teeth against the sound of it.

“We will work within our society and earn respect!” he snapped. “And you will do as you are told, whelp.”

Sunten ducked his head, at least pretending to be cowed. Malin shook his head. No. Probably not pretending. They knew they needed him. The Jadian would do this his way. He would not betray the Moon Scions who had made them what they were.

Not if he had any other choice.

He stalked back toward Bukit, feeling more uneasy than when he’d arrived. Sunten would do as he was bid. They all would. Still, Malin hated to leave the capital now, when he might have finally been making progress. And yet, neither could he leave Ratna and Chandi alone in the Solar nightmare city. He had promised their mothers he would protect them. Nothing came before that.

Protect and avenge.

It was his reason.

CHAPTER FIVE

When morning came, Chandi would lose her cousin. Her gravity shifted against the dhow’s hull, Chandi ignored the sea spray tickling her legs. Her ribs still ached from the beating Anusapati had given her a week ago. Her heart ached from the response she’d given him. Chandra’s smile would soon be hidden by Surya’s glare, and she didn’t have much time.

She peered into the cabin’s window. The captain, Bendurana, stood over a chart table, jotting notes in a log. Though dressed like a Skyfall native in baju and sarong, he hailed from beyond the archipelago. Serendib, probably, with his hair in dozens of small twisted locks.

The sapphire sea spread out before her, close enough to touch it. What would it be like to run on water like the greatest Moon Scions? Would she run away now? No. She’d never leave Ratna behind. Rahu had given her a mission, and, if she did it, maybe she and Ratna could both go home.

It had taken days to reach Yawadvipa, the main Solar island, and to sail along its coast. Soon they’d reach the capital. And with it the dawn, and the end of their freedom. She hadn’t asked to be a spy. Rahu thought they could shatter the Solars from the inside, but Chandi didn’t even know where to begin. The Buaya Jadian, the werecrocodiles, they were trained as spies. What did she know of it?

The door opened and then closed. The sun-worshippers loved to leave their windows open in the dry season, even on their ships. Chandi glanced inside to make sure the captain had gone, then pulled herself up through the window and dropped into the cabin.

The place smelled of curry, coriander, and other delicacies from the Spice Islands. Trinkets from around the Skyfall Isles decorated the room: a straight-bladed Solar keris sword, an undulating Lunar keris knife, and an Igni-carved chest. The foreigner might serve the Solars, but he didn’t discriminate in his collection.

His log recorded having picked up Chandi and her cousin in Bukit several days ago. Before that, months of hunting sugar pirates. Killing her people just like the Solars did. Back and forth she flipped through the pages. Nothing. No sign of treachery. No proof of duplicity that might stop Ratna from marrying the new Solar emperor. And certainly nothing about the Arun Guard, other than occasional mention of them paying him for slain pirates.

With a wail of frustration Chandi slapped everything on the chart table onto the floor. The crash froze her in place. If the captain heard her in his cabin, things would not go well for her. Her arms trembled as she raised her hands before her, fingers curled in a fighting stance. Maybe best if it all ended here. But no one came, and slowly her muscles unfurled.

Dammit, she couldn’t afford this. There had to be something here. Anything. What was she looking for? A letter from a traitor? Secret orders? Anything about the damn Arun Guard would be a start. They had sent him, hadn’t they?

She knelt beside the Igni chest—locked, of course. She drew her Potency Blessing, giving herself the strength to smash it open. For a breath, and another, she hovered over the chest. But she couldn’t do this without giving herself away. Who knew spying would be so damn frustrating? Instead she ransacked the cabin, scattering the captain’s books and possessions. Let him think the sea had tossed them about. Releasing the Blessing only reminded her of the pain across her side and face.

She found the key buried in the footlocker. Chandi kicked aside the junk she had strewn about the floor, then cracked open the chest. A foreign naval uniform, wrinkled and unkempt. Serendibian, probably. The island nation lay far to the west, near El-Hind, and had little contact with the Skyfall Isles. What had brought the foreigner into the Solars’ service? His uniform bore a medal, a golden tiger.

Chandi pushed the uniform aside. Beneath it, a sketch of a woman, another foreigner by her clothes. Books in Serendibian. Ratna could read the language, but Chandi had thought it a waste of time. Didn’t care much for Maitian, either. Funny how tutors always seemed more useful years after they were gone.

The Solars must plan to betray this alliance. They’d never go through with it. Maybe they just didn’t tell the Serendibian about such plans. They were lying, deceiving murderers. This had to be a trick. A shudder ran through her and she had to steady herself on the chart table. If she didn’t find something, she’d never go home. If Ratna married the Solar emperor, they’d buy peace. For a time. It wouldn’t last. Couldn’t. They’d driven Anusapati lunatic. They’d taken her wedding from her, killed her future. How could such peace last? The Arun Guard had done it. It had to be them that had pushed Anu over the edge. And they must have some weakness.

She climbed back out the window, muttering curses about the Solars and their Sun God, but lacked the energy to come up with anything creative.

As she crawled along the hull, the waves splashed up at her. Ratna would not be happy if Chandi ruined her clothes. As best she could, she pressed herself higher. Why should she care if the Solar ceremony was spoiled? But she couldn’t disappoint Ratna. Her cousin was all she had. House Soma ruled the Lunar Empire, at the moment, but they were one of the smallest houses. Really, it was just the two brothers, Rahu and Ketu, and their two daughters.

When no one was looking, she vaulted back over the rail, then walked the length of the ship to perch at the bow.

She recognized Ratna from the scent of jasmine in her hair, but didn’t turn as her cousin approached. Ratna had accepted her mission with too much grace. Not happy, but proud. Peace, their fathers said, if only their daughters would come and do their duties. Peace for the Lunars, if only Chandi and Ratna would sacrifice their futures. Chandi stopped herself from reaching for the rhino statuette in her sarong.

“I have something for you,” her cousin said.

Chandi forced a smile before she turned to face Ratna. Her cousin had already donned the golden headdress she would wear for the ceremony, her long black hair tied in a bun beneath it. The captain had given it to her when they boarded. Sprigs of jasmine stuck out from the top—a concession to Lunar tradition in a Solar wedding. Her cousin had finer, more delicate features and fairer skin than Chandi, traits that had turned heads since Ratna was a girl. Perhaps word of her beauty had even reached Kakudmi. Or perhaps the Solar emperor only cared that she was his enemy’s daughter.

Ratna pressed a sandalwood jewelry box into Chandi’s hands. As Chandi ran her fingers over the intricate gold trim, her cousin glanced over her shoulder and leaned in. “Don’t worry about me. Watch yourself. My marriage will end the wars.”

Chandi watched her cousin’s face, struggling to keep emotion from her own. To say she didn’t believe in the peace would only undermine Ratna’s sacrifice. For centuries the Solars and Lunars had fought, their wars punctuated by brief periods of peace. Ratna’s own father had shattered the most recent period, and now he claimed to offer to restore the truce through his daughter’s hand. And which side would break it first this time?

“The box has a false bottom to conceal your reports,” Ratna said. “I know they must have told you to make reports.” She hesitated. “But don’t do anything to jeopardize this, Chandi. This is our best chance—”

Ratna cut short as the foreign captain scurried toward them. Had he learned someone was in his cabin? Chandi jerked the jewelry box behind her back, but Bendurana paid it no mind, pressing on toward the rail. “Watch, my ladies, and we’ll see it soon,” he said.

Chandi looked out over the rail. “Did your people really build Kasusthali under the sea?” Chandi asked.

“Ah,” Bendurana said, “they’re not my people. But yes. The Harbor District is the only part completely above sea level. A marvel, even I admit. Built from crystal that captures the light and refracts it throughout the city. An unassailable city without need of fortifications.”

And a testament to Solar arrogance.

Ratna moved away. Chandi ignored Bendurana. Once he got started, he’d never stop talking.

If he noticed her disinterest, he didn’t show it. “The Arun Guard will meet you in the Harbor District and escort you to the Temple District for the wedding.”

The Guard. The whole damn reason they were trapped in this arrangement. She was trying to formulate a question when Bendurana pointed beneath them. Chandi’s breath caught as she looked down. Though the waters were darker at night, she could still make out the city stretching beneath them. Like legs of a strange sea creature, crystal tubes connected a series of domes arranged in a rough circle. At the center of this circle, the greatest dome rose almost out of the water, and from that dome rose the palace roof. The dhow would never crash into it, though. A series of crystal spires rose from the sea floor around the central dome, preventing any ship from drawing near.

Ratna’s startled gasp drew Chandi’s vision to a dragon gliding on the surface of the water.

No, not a dragon, though it had a dragon-like head, wings, and tail. But its long neck seemed less flexible and its wings non-functional. A man rode the creature.

“Is that what I think it is?” Ratna asked.

“Warak Ngendog,” Bendurana confirmed.

Ratna might not have believed, but Chandi didn’t doubt the Solars used monsters. Thirty-foot long monsters that could smash Lunars to pulp or bite them in half.

“Ah, looks like they assigned Naresh as your escort. Shame,” Bendurana said.

“What about him?” Chandi asked before remembering not to encourage the captain.

“Well, he’s quite competent, I suppose. It’s just that he’s rather enjoyed being the star pupil of the First of the Arun Guard. Everyone’s certain he’ll get the next spot on the Guard. More than a bit arrogant for it. I’d watch myself if I were you. I watch myself around him, and I’m me.”

“How nice for you.”

Beyond the monster, she could see the harbor. It didn’t seem that different from the one she had left in Bukit. As they drew closer she saw a few people starting their day, though dawn was still almost a phase away. The damning dawn that would seal their fates.

The Warak Ngendog bellowed as it drew alongside the ship, sending her staggering backward, reaching for her toyaks before she remembered they were in her cabin. The Solar climbed from its neck onto the bow of the ship.

Beneath his sleeveless baju, the man had the build of a warrior. His clothes were wet and his wild hair hung down past his eyes. Like a ghost of the sea.

“Ah, Pak Naresh,” Bendurana said. “Why, we were just thinking of you, my friend.”

“I’m sure.” The Solar’s eyes scanned Chandi, his hand resting on the edge of his keris, though he made no threatening move. Unlike the Lunar keris knives she was familiar with, the Solars used straight swords almost two feet in length. “You’re late, Captain.”

“Well, it seems I was the only one you could get to dock at Bukit, so perhaps you should be grateful. Or maybe the Lunars just don’t trust you military types. Can’t imagine why.”

Naresh turned from the captain to look over Chandi’s head at her cousin. “Ibu Ratna?” The Guardsman bowed. “We must hurry to make it to the temple before dawn.” He stepped toward Ratna.

“And we’re supposed to trust you to protect us?” Chandi said, repositioning herself between her cousin and the Solar.

“Forgive my handmaid,” Ratna said. “She’s nervous about her role.”

Naresh’s posture relaxed a bit and he made no further move toward Ratna. “I knew Lunars liked their food spicy. I didn’t realize they liked their servants the same way.”

Chandi glared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

As Bendurana’s crew docked the dhow, Naresh leapt onto the pier to join a man in a cerulean baju and a long-haired woman of such stunning grace Chandi instantly felt jealous. Bendurana waved to the pair and tossed a mango to the woman. The woman looked back and forth between it and Bendurana with suspicion.

“Pak Empu Baradah,” Bendurana called to the man. “An honor to have you here.”

“We cannot linger, Captain,” the Arun Guardsman said. “Ibu Ratna, please follow Naresh to the Temple of the Sun.”

Ratna preceded Chandi down the plank, then fell in behind Naresh as he led the way. Chandi glared at the back of Naresh’s head, hiking up her sarong as she followed. Who did he think he was? If anyone was going to protect Ratna, it would be her. After centuries of slaughtering Lunars, the Arun Guard was now on their side? And yet, Ratna stuck close behind him as though she thought he would keep her safe.

Naresh led them through the crowded harbor to a crystal tube that descended beneath the waves. Chandi hesitated a moment at the threshold. A city under the sea. Madness.

After a steep ramp the tube leveled off at an intersection. Naresh continued north without slowing. Empu Baradah and the woman followed behind Chandi, but neither paid her any mind when she looked at them.

The water above might be crystal clear, but in the darkness just before dawn, little light passed through to the dome. Lanterns hanging from poles lining the streets provided the only real light.

“This is the way to the Sun Temple?” Ratna asked.

Naresh glanced back at her. “The Temple District is the easternmost part of the city. This tube leads to the Civic District. We’ll have to go around the palace, but it’s still faster than using the Circuit around the city.”

He led them from the tube into a great crystal dome filled with buildings carved from golden-yellow stone. At the center stood a palace tall enough that the top reached beyond the dome. Before the palace, Chandi paused at a fountain. Of all the absurd ideas. An underwater fountain. She stood at the bottom of the sea, dry and breathing, feeling a chill though the dome was warm.

A throng had begun to gather around the palace, awaiting the food gifts the emperor would bestow to celebrate his wedding. Servants had prepared large tables filled with rice and fish, but guards kept the people from sampling the dishes before the ceremony. So much fish in one place filled the dome with a noxious stench no amount of spices could cover.

She rushed after Ratna, unwilling to be left alone in such a place. Or to leave Ratna alone in it.

By the time she caught them, Naresh had already led Ratna into another crystal tube, one that caught the echoes of a song. Perhaps it would reverberate throughout the whole city. How had they managed such perfect acoustics? The haunting hymn left her lightheaded, as though wandering in a dream, unsure whether to flee or delve deeper.

“How can you live in such a place?” she asked.

“There’s an arboretum in the Igni District for food, and, of course, fishermen in the harbor. We use crystal pipes to purify water and draw in air.”

“But how can you stand to live so confined?”

“I was born here.” He seemed to think that answered the question. Maybe it did. The man’s hand still rested on his keris. If he wanted to attack them, one of these empty tubes would give him the perfect chance. Even his own man, Bendurana, had said he didn’t trust him.

“How did you warrant this duty?”

Naresh paused, watching Chandi a moment before answering. “I was awarded the honor as a potential for the Arun Guard.”

Potential? She tried to keep scorn from her face. He couldn’t have been much older than her own twenty years. So they thought the safety of the War King’s daughter should be left in the hands of a man who hadn’t even been accepted into the Arun Guard? Worse, he didn’t seem to realize the insult to Ratna.

The tube led into another great dome. Much of this one was taken up by circular walls of white and gold stone, forming the Temple of the Sun. Even more people had gathered here, and many turned to stare at Ratna. Chandi could see other tubes leading from the district, most clogged with people, but Naresh waved them to a large archway leading inside. The rising sun lit the dome like fire. Here, the hymn intensified to a soul-twisting aria.

Chandi followed Ratna in. The dome itself formed the roof and layers of angled mirrors lined the walls, reflecting light everywhere. Even the inside of the temple was arranged in a circle, with the altar on a dais at the center, and the audience standing in a ring around that platform. The scent of flowers filled the air, wafting up from the bouquets decorating the entrance. Ratna drifted toward the man at the altar, who could only be Kakudmi, the new Solar emperor. Older than Ratna, but still in his prime, he wore a long-sleeved green baju with woven gold threadwork that looked like Lunar songket. Did the emperor think to honor his bride by wearing Lunar clothing? His warm smile almost seemed genuine. The bastard.

Behind the emperor a woman in her early forties stood alone, garbed in a crimson baju, a diamond-encrusted stagen across her chest. The Radiant Queen, Aji Bidara, leader of the Solar faith and supposed bride of their god, Surya. Bendurana had mentioned her with reverence, like she was a living goddess. The woman who would bind Ratna forever to her fate in this charade of a ceremony. She was no goddess. Chandi and Ratna were children of the Moon God. Chandi shifted her feet and flushed as she realized Aji Bidara watched her, eyes cold, hands folded behind her back.

A hand touched her shoulder and Chandi jerked, then spun to see Naresh pointing toward the Lunar delegation. Her father nodded at her, but any more would reveal her as more than a handmaid. Her uncle, Rahu, didn’t even spare her a glance. He had sent for her, demanded she watch over his daughter, told her to risk her life spying on the Arun Guard, finding their weaknesses, and still he did not bother to meet her gaze. As always, his face remained unreadable.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose when someone leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Are you well, Chandi?” The tension in her shoulders eased. Malin. The Macan Gadungan’s breath was hot, his voice throaty. Of course he was here. Always a step behind her, always watching over her.

She nodded, once, without looking back at Malin. This should have been her wedding. Not like this, of course, and not to a Solar. A simple, true Lunar wedding. For Lunars to marry, they need only proclaim their love and kiss before witnesses.

On the plateau, beneath the full moon, she’d have kissed Anusapati. Held him close. Even Rahu would have smiled to see them. They’d have danced until dawn. Instead the Solars took him from her. And now they were taking Ratna, too.

And her mother should have been there. These people Ratna was marrying, they had killed both their mothers. Had Ratna forgotten that?

The Solar hymn rose with the sun, hundreds of voices cascading together like a waterfall. The entire city would hear their song, would know that the war ended today. Ratna and Kakudmi joined their voices to the hymn. Her cousin had practiced all through the journey, trying to imitate the Solars under the ever-present tutelage of Bendurana. The captain delighted in teaching Ratna the Solar hymns, but then he seemed to delight in everything.

Singing should be for the celebration after, not the wedding. And yet they had agreed to do this the Solar way. Everything here spoke of Solar religion. Where were the Lunar values in this alliance?

At last the hymn broke. For a moment, stillness filled the temple. After the echoing song, Chandi’s heart clenched at the silence. Then she heard footsteps on the gilded floor. An initiate—or maybe a curate—carried a bowl of water to the Radiant Queen. He would take three steps, stop, take three more, stop. Chandi squeezed the rhino statuette, its tiny horn digging into her palm.

When the man at last reached the Radiant Queen, she dipped her fingers into the water and praised the Sun God. “Be blessed,” she said, wiping the water on both Ratna and Kakudmi’s brows. “May the lord of heaven watch over you and your union.”

“I pledge my love until the dying of the sun,” Kakudmi said.

Ratna did not hesitate in her role, not even for a moment. “I pledge my love until the dying of the sun.”

Chandi bit her lip as Kakudmi kissed Ratna. As Ratna kissed him back and ended the war.

CHAPTER SIX

The Queen of the South Sea drew up to the pier in Kasusthali, Bendurana’s crew knowing exactly what he wanted them to do without him needing to give an order. Which kind of took some of the fun out of being captain, but he supposed he’d get over it. Since leaving Serendib, Ben had sailed all over the South Sea, and Kasusthali remained one of the greatest wonders he had ever seen. A city beneath the sea, built from crystal and looking for all the world like something only Nyai Loro Kidul—the real Queen of the South Sea herself—could have built. And yet, the Solar capital was not built by any mermaid goddess, but by humans. Damn fine story.

Naresh was busy with the Lunar girls and Ben paid him no further mind. Or pretended not to. The prickly Solar had had a pineapple up his ass ever since he learned Ben had used to run with Lunar pirates in another lifetime. Since those pirates had abducted him and planned to kill him if he didn’t join them, Ben wasn’t about to make any apologies, least of all to some young Solar who was too dim to realize half of what he didn’t know about the world.

On the other hand, out there on the pier, Empu Baradah waited. The First of the Arun Guard had accepted Ben’s tales freely and offered him the chance to find a place as a merchant and sometime privateer. It meant Ben owed him almost as much as he owed Malin, and what kind of a gallant hero forgot his debts? Mollusks. Mollusk heroes forgot their debts. And Ben was pretty sure there was not a drop of mollusk in his blood.

Beside Baradah stood a young woman, her long hair blowing in the breeze and shimmering despite the predawn darkness. She was slender but with the tone of a warrior, and eyes that grabbed him and just would not let go. Ah, he was no mollusk. Ben reached into his satchel and pulled out the ripest golden mango he had, one of the batch he’d picked up in Bukit. The mangoes of Swarnadvipa were said to be the most succulent in all these Isles. And a princess deserved a gift from her prince, after all. He tossed it to the girl and she caught it, looked down at it like she didn’t quite know what to do with it, then back up at him. Ben winked at her. Ah, one bite and the princess would be his forever.

Instead of biting the mango, the girl held his eyes, staring a silent challenge at him. Ah, well, perhaps he’d have to introduce himself to win her heart.

“Pak Empu Baradah,” Ben shouted. “An honor to have you here.”

“We cannot linger, Captain,” the First said. “Ibu Ratna, please follow Naresh to the Temple of the Sun.”

Naresh did so, leading the Lunar girls and his princess away while Ben saw to the tie-down of the dhow. When it looked like the crew had that well enough in hand, he set a brisk pace down through the Circuit. It was unlikely the Solars would hold the ceremony beyond the dawn for him, and almost as unlikely that Surya would delay the sunrise on his behalf. “Just this one time,” he whispered to the Sun God, offering the deity a wink. Hadn’t worked thus far, but there was a first time for everything.

Of course, the Solars were still singing when he reached the Temple of the Sun. Maybe Surya hadn’t arranged it for him, but he supposed he’d better offer supplication to the Sun God anyway. One couldn’t be too pious, after all. Or, one could. In fact the Skyfallers were all a bit too pious. Maybe the best way to even things out was to skip on the prayers after all.

The Temple was crowded with dignitaries, officiates, courtiers, and imbeciles from both dynasties. Ben saw more than one man who probably fit into all such categories, but he was more interested in spotting his princess. She was there, watching over the Lunar delegation, just a bit out of his considerable reach.

Since he didn’t want to deprive the locals of his talents, Ben decided to join in the marriage hymn. With the Queen’s luck, maybe his princess would hear his voice and swoon. Then they could have two weddings to save some time.

After the Solar ceremony ended, the congregation broke and spilled outside to take in the feast. Ben danced about, positioning himself until he could catch the woman’s eye, then winked at her again. With his best smolder plastered on his face, he sauntered over, making damn certain to sway his braided locks. Girls loved the locks.

“Ah, my princess,” he said, “your shimmering hair has enchanted me. Since you’ve stolen my heart, it seems only fair I should steal a kiss.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” his princess said, then turned away.

Ben skittered around back in front of the girl. “Indeed, I jest often, and sometimes loudly. I promise to keep a smile on your face, and laughter in your heart. But I hardly joke about your beauty, my fair Solar.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “It’s Landorundun, and I’m not interested.”

Ben offered her his most gallant bow. “And I am Bendurana, traveling hero, lover, and all-around source of adventure. Also, my dear, I am both interested and interesting.” He grinned, pretending not to notice Landorundun rolling her eyes, then cocked his head. “And if you weren’t interested, you wouldn’t have told me your name, would you?”

“Really, I was just being polite.”

“Did you not eat my mango?”

The girl opened her mouth, then scowled.

“And that was a gift from my heart. I grew that myself, on the shore of an uninhabited island, just so I could give it to my true love when I found her. And a little bird told me, if I came to Kasusthali, I would. So my dear, I brought this golden mango for you, and you alone. And having accepted it, you have taken a piece of my heart.”

“Is any part of that story true?”

“You wound me, dear Landorundun,” he said. “A part of it is most assuredly true.”

Landorundun snickered. “Excuse me, I have places to be.”

“I as well,” he said, and chased right after her. She turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “My place is by your side, of course, my dear.” Where else would a hero go?

Ben stuck to her side throughout the feast, making every effort to regale the girl with any story he could think of. Tales from around the South Sea of adventure, mischief, and romance. Especially romance. One had to keep in the right frame of mind, after all.

“So,” he asked later, as the celebration wound down. “What do your friends call you?”

She folded her arms. “That’s between me and my friends.”

“Fortunately, my dear, I am your friend. The best friend you could hope for, in fact. I mean people who know me call me swell. I heard them, once. They said, Ben, he’s swell. Or swollen. Past, present, either way, I’m here for you, my princess.”

Once again she rolled her eyes in that adorable way that made him want to kiss her breathless. “Stop calling me that. I’m not a princess, I’m a soldier. And fine, if it will shut you up, you can call me Landi.”

Ben swept another bow. “Believe me, my dear, I shall call you thus. Repeatedly and in many situations. Now then, about me stealing that kiss.”

“Don’t push your luck, Serendibian.” With that, Landi spun and sashayed away, obviously conscious of the sway of her beyond perfect hips.

“I promise no such thing!” Ben shouted after her. “You can, in fact, count on me to push luck to the limits time and again.”

That was, after all, what a hero must do.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A dozen or more people had gathered in the gardens atop the palace, watching Naresh and the other potentials in the morning sunshine. They had waited a week past the imperial wedding, but some things could not be put off too long. The gardens should have been closed off for this, but maybe Empu Baradah thought they needed to learn to work under pressure. Naresh didn’t care. Let them watch.

They could all sense what was happening today. The way Landi stood swaying back and forth, the way Lembu Ampal kicked at the cobblestone path. They all knew.

“Lunars living in the palace,” Wanebaka said. “Never thought I’d see that.”

“Pak Kakudmi knows what he’s doing,” Naresh said. At least, Naresh prayed he did. To forgive after all they’d done—the war had lasted almost his entire life—Naresh couldn’t imagine it.

Empu Baradah stood beneath a palm tree, eyes closed, seeming to drink in the morning sunshine. Naresh had no doubt he noticed his students’ unease, but the First did nothing. Everyone knew why they were here. Arun Guardsmen had died at Astral Shore. Someone had to fill their places and take up the honor of protecting the imperial family.

The First had always liked him, so he’d be chosen, same reason Empu Baradah let him ride that Warak Ngendog. No, that wasn’t why—he was good. The First had to choose Landi, too. Landorundun had worked harder than most to get here. Of course, Lembu Ampal was the strongest, so he’d be a good choice. Tohjaya was a bully, but he had skill.

At last the First pushed off the palm tree and paced in front of the potentials. “Eleven Arun Guard receive the Sun Brand,” he said with an air of ritual. “Eleven men and women guard the emperor against the night.”

Naresh struggled to remain still.

“Three died at Astral Shore. You were the finest of the potentials. The fastest, most skilled, most worthy. But there are only three places, and six of you. Who will rise and become Guardsmen?” Empu Baradah smiled and clapped his hands together. “We will decide who will receive the honor by combat.”

A murmur drifted through the onlookers, though the potentials did not speak. The First always chose new Arun Guard. It didn’t often happen he had to choose more than one at a time, but this contest defied convention. Naresh frowned. The traditions of the Empire had held for centuries. Whatever his intentions, the First shouldn’t set new precedents.

Landi kept her voice low. “I’ll enjoy putting you in your place. I can’t believe the First let you ride the Warak Ngendog without a Sun Brand.”

Naresh smirked. He hadn’t believed it either. The First had controlled it for him, but even so it was an honor few ever received. At least, he hoped it was to honor him, rather than to slight the Lunars, whom Empu Baradah hated.

“I’ve put each of your names on a tile,” Empu Baradah said. “We’ll draw lots to match fighters. Single elimination, non-lethal bouts, with the keris. First blood.” He motioned, and an Igni servant brought forth a jar that jingled with ceramic tiles. “Lang, choose first.”

Like Landorundun, Lang came from Suladvipa, one of the Outer Isles beyond Puradvipa. But while Landi had come to Kasusthali as a child, Lang had come much later. He had only spent one year of his training at the Academy. Naresh didn’t know the man half as well as he knew the other potentials, but he’d seen him fight and he knew what he was doing.

Lang drew Wanebaka’s tile. Lithe and short, Wanebaka came from the Spice Islands beyond even Suladvipa. Both men fell into fighting stances, swords in hand. At first they danced about each other, testing one another.

“Lang will take him,” Tohjaya said. “Strength and reach. Same reason Landorundun never ranked top.” He didn’t even bother looking at her.

“Those of us who are small learn to work harder,” Landi said. “We make up for it with skill.”

Naresh said nothing. Standing up for Landi would only piss her off.

Lembu Ampal chuckled. The largest and strongest of the potentials, he didn’t need to remind them he won almost every bout. Naresh had defeated him, but if he fought him here, if he won here, no one could doubt he deserved his place on the Arun Guard.

Wanebaka fell back under Lang’s assault, but the bigger man seemed to be slowing. Snatching an opening, Wanebaka went on the offensive. Lang seemed more confused by the small man’s footwork than his swordplay, but it was enough, and Wanebaka scored a nick on Lang’s arm.

Lang paused, and looked down at the trickle of blood. The crowd cheered, but Lang’s face said he intended to press the fight. Naresh took a step forward. It was finished. Lang met his gaze a moment, then stormed off down the stairs to the palace.

“Naresh,” Empu Baradah said. “Choose a tile.”

Naresh held his breath as he fished his hand inside the jar. When he saw it wasn’t Landi’s name he breathed a sigh of relief. She could be grating, but he didn’t want to have to beat her. She’d never forgive him. Surya knew things were complicated enough between them.

“Tohjaya,” Empu Baradah called.

Naresh smirked—but only a little—at the flash of uncertainty that crossed Tohjaya’s face. Naresh knew his own reputation with the sword as well as any of them did. Modesty aside, of the three dozen or so potentials, he was the best with the sword and everyone knew it.

He drew his keris and assumed a fighting stance. Tohjaya approached with caution and they circled each other. Twice, the man feinted at him, but Naresh just stepped away. Tohjaya attacked for real then, and Naresh parried each attack, making few of his own.

When Tohjaya overreached, Naresh stepped around and cuffed him on the back of the head. Naresh fell back as Tohjaya recovered. Enraged, the other man rushed him, trying to overwhelm him with ferocity where skill had failed him.

Naresh sidestepped the charge, caught Tohjaya’s wrist, and spun around behind him. He bent Tohjaya’s arm back so hard the man grunted in pain. Naresh tapped him on the shoulder with the keris edge, drawing a thin line of blood.

“It’s not necessary to show off, Naresh,” Empu Baradah said.

Tohjaya retreated as soon as Naresh released him, casting a hateful glance at him as he descended the stairs. Maybe the First was right. He probably shouldn’t have embarrassed Tohjaya. But damn—the man deserved it. And maybe Naresh couldn’t say anything about Tohjaya insulting Landi, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything.

Naresh shook himself. It was all over so quickly. He was really going. He was really going to be accepted. Almost dizzy with euphoria, Naresh slumped against a palm tree.

Landi and Lembu Ampal had already squared off.

“Sorry, Ibu Landorundun,” the big man said.

“You will be,” she answered, circling with keris in hand.

This wasn’t going to be good. Landi worked hard, but she wasn’t a match for Lembu Ampal. Very few potentials were. He was going to the Guard and Landi was going to lose everything. And somehow, she’d blame him for that too.

Landi had to duck and roll under Lembu Ampal’s powerful swings. Each time she came up swinging, but despite his size, the man spun to block every attack. Landi’s movements soon began to slow, her acrobatics tiring her more than Lembu Ampal. The garden rang with the sound of swords clashing. Naresh could see her arms trembling under the weight of the big man’s blows.

Landi fell back farther and farther, the crowd parting behind her as she neared the ledge. The fall to the sea below was only one story, but Empu Baradah would declare Lembu Ampal the winner if Landi slipped. Her ankle brushed the small ledge surrounding the garden.

Rather than be knocked off, Landi jumped backward, cutting the man’s shins as she fell. She caught the ledge with one hand. Lembu Ampal collapsed to the ground.

Empu Baradah rushed to check the fallen man, while Naresh ran to Landi.

“I don’t need your help,” she said.

Naresh backed away as she pulled herself over the ledge and rolled onto the ground. She lay there, panting.

“Not as deep as I first thought,” Empu Baradah said as he examined the big man’s leg. “Didn’t cut the bone. Naresh, take him to the infirmary.”

Naresh paused to watch Landi rising from the grass. He couldn’t read her expression when she looked at the man she had almost maimed.

Naresh slipped the big man’s arm around his shoulder and helped him down the stairs. Brothers and sisters in arms for a year. The potentials had lived and struggled together all this time. And he’d leave it all behind. It was really happening. All his life, he’d been destined for this.

Eleven men and women who would be given the power of Surya. The Sun Brand that made them like demigods of war. Had that been his destiny all along? Ever since his father had died at the Battle of Bangdvipa, Naresh had been on this path, had been so certain it would be for him. Most potentials would never become Arun Guard. Even in war, the Guard did not often fall. So for this to happen now … it was unreal. Dreamlike. Rather than become lost in it, he focused on helping Lembu Ampal toward the infirmary.

Soon, they would board a ship taking them toward their new destiny. Soon, they would be something more than soldiers. More than human.

The Astral Temple awaited.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The dockhands were still tying down the dhow, but already Empu Baradah had Sun Strode from the bow to the shore. One moment he stood beside Naresh, the next he appeared dozens of feet away. Naresh, Landorundun, and Wanebaka followed on foot. Soon Naresh would have that same gift. To travel like a sunbeam, reaching any distance in an instant. The ultimate blessing of the Sun God. Or the ultimate burden that could be asked of a Solar. The Sun Brand the Arun Guard received made them the last line of defense against the innumerable enemies they might face.

Naresh rushed to catch up with his mentor, leaving the other two behind. Empu Baradah had been too quiet on the voyage to this island. Since Naresh had joined the potentials, Empu Baradah had shown interest in him, often speaking for phases of old battles or lost glories. Even, sometimes, he spoke of the growing corruption he saw spreading through the Ministries that ran the day-to-day activities of the Empire, opening Naresh’s eyes to the greed and self-serving bureaucracy he had never imagined.

This voyage, though, the First spoke little, despite Naresh’s prodding about what the Sun Brand would really mean. Only when Naresh had wondered aloud if things would go back to how they were before the Fourth War—a time Naresh didn’t even remember—had Empu Baradah spoken.

“Kakudmi was a fool not to avenge his father. Ken Arok was murdered with his own keris, and Kakudmi made peace for it.”

The others hadn’t heard, thank Surya. Naresh had said nothing then when he should have. But such words bordered on treason. They could not pass, and now, as they trekked along the beach, he had to speak. “Pak Empu Baradah, it seems like you don’t respect the emperor,” he said, when he was sure the other two were out of earshot.

“I’d give my life for Pak Kakudmi. He’s a brilliant man, a philosopher the likes of which we have not seen in centuries. But a man of peace. And we are at war.”

“He ended the war. Twenty years of war, and he ended it by letting go of vengeance.” Naresh understood the way it galled so many, the emperor marrying a Lunar. Empu Baradah was usually right about things, Naresh had found. But Kakudmi had a way of changing your whole perspective. The Emperor had offered a speech the day before his wedding, had spoken of the future like it was a bright thing within reach. And when he spoke of peace, Naresh believed. The greater glory of the Solar Empire was not in what it could destroy, but in what it could save.

Empu Baradah waved at the temple that stood upon the cliff above them. The rock face was almost sheer, at least against the sea, but there was a steep path around the east side. They’d have a long climb. “You’re standing on Astral Shore. The Lunars spent twenty years trying to take the Temple. Finally, they threw away countless lives right here in a final, futile battle. They murdered Ken Arok right on that rock. And I failed—failed to protect him, failed to even avenge him.”

The First grew quiet, but what could Naresh say? Empu Baradah spoke the truth. Rumors claimed Ken Arok’s assassin had escaped back to Lunar lands. And rather than pursue the murderer, his son had declared an armistice.

Naresh followed toward the cliff.

“Do you really think they’ll agree to let us keep the Temple?” Empu Baradah said at last. “You think peace can last under these conditions? Pak Kakudmi has spent his life buried in philosophy. He thinks he can make the whole world better. And he thinks he can do it without loss of life. Sometimes he needs to be protected from his own idealism. How will it be if the subject kings think the emperor weak?”

Naresh fell behind on the hike up the mountain. The Lunars had launched the Fourth War because they had grown tired of alternating years holding the Astral Temple. The fools had held the Temple for all of a week before the Arun Guard descended on them with the wrath of Surya.

And this was where that war ended. Two months since the battle on the shore below. The bodies were cleared, but crimson still stained the sand. Naresh shook himself, uncertain what else to say to Empu Baradah. Was his mentor wrong?

Landi tried to brush past him, but he grabbed her shoulder. She had pushed things too far to get here.

“You could have crippled Pak Lembu Ampal with that move,” he said.

“Accidents happen,” she said, shrugging away from him. “Joining the Arun Guard is dangerous business. Even now, this last test could kill any of us. Maybe all of us.”

Wanebaka hesitated at that, until Naresh ushered him along. Damn Landi for saying that, even if they were all thinking it. This was supposed to be glorious.

“You don’t have any say in my life anymore, Naresh,” Landi said.

He watched her stalk away, trying to ignore the clenching in his heart. It wasn’t because of her. She was beautiful and wounded and all he’d ever wanted to do was make life better for her.

As if there had ever been a chance for them.

The Temple came into view as they crested the path. Soldiers patrolled the white crenelated wall surrounding the compound. When the Guardsman atop the wall spotted Empu Baradah, he ordered the wooden gate opened.

Naresh hesitated at the threshold. Few Solars would ever walk through these gates, though they’d heard of this place all their lives. Landorundun pushed him forward gently. She looked like she might speak, but said nothing.

Beyond the wall they passed a procession of spire temples, all arranged in a mandala—concentric circles representing the cosmos. At the heart of the Temple, eleven pillars arranged in a circle reached dozens of feet into the sky. Empu Baradah paused to allow them to marvel at the sight. Strange script covered the pillars. Not one, but eleven different languages.

In the center of the circle lay a pair of hemispherical depressions, made of some metal Naresh had never seen. Perhaps they had some use in astral observation.

Empu Baradah caressed one pillar. “This is Surya’s Pillar. Our god left us hidden wisdom here, and our priests have spent centuries trying to unlock it. From this script we derived the Sun Brand. This is what you’re fighting for. Proof that this place was meant for us.” He turned to lead them to one of the small interior temples.

“And what of the other pillars?” Naresh asked.

Empu Baradah glanced at them, over his shoulder. “Some say there is a god for each and that each deity left secrets for his or her disciples. All the more reason we cannot let this place fall into any other hands again. The Astral Temple is not just an observatory, though it is that,” he said, indicating the balconies atop some of the temples. “It is our greatest asset. Without this place, there is no Arun Guard.”

Their mentor Sun Strode to the temple steps, leaving the potentials to follow on foot. Naresh trudged up without slowing, but Wanebaka and Landorundun lagged behind.

They entered the temple to find Empu Baradah instructing several tattoo artists. The sunburst tattoo of the Arun Guard served as a physical medium to hold the power of Surya.

“Remove your shirts. It’s a long process, and we need to finish before midnight. With dawn you rise as Arun Guard. You must seek Kebatinan to master the gift.”

Midnight? It wasn’t yet noon. Naresh and Wanebaka dropped their bajus, but Landi hesitated. Naresh wanted to say something comforting. Nothing came to mind. Empu Baradah stood there, running a finger over his mustache, watching her. No one needed to tell her she had to get the tattoo to join the Arun Guard.

No one needed to say duty came before modesty, either. Landi turned her back as she removed her baju. Naresh went to lie face-down on one of the prepared slabs, his cheeks flushing despite his attempt to give her some privacy. He couldn’t tell whether anyone else watched Landi. By the time he tried to sneak a peek, she was lying on her stomach, looking at him. He nodded at her. They’d survive this.

Naresh had never found much use for Kebatinan. The meditation was supposed to bring inner peace, to connect one to the heavens. For him, it tended to be a bit too much time alone with his own thoughts.

The priests prayed during the many phases it took to prepare the elaborate tattoos. Naresh blocked the sensation of the needles from his mind long before the end. The sweet tonic the tattooists gave him helped. It left him dazed like he’d heard men got with too much poppy extract, and he shut his eyes, letting a fitful sleep take him.

He woke with a shock, realizing night had long since fallen. His back stung from the needles, but it was a small thing, distant.

When he rose, trembling, the tattoo covered his entire back and his upper arms. He had never heard of tattooists working so fast, even in a trio. The ground shifted under him, and he caught himself on the slab.

“You’ll spend the night in prayer,” Empu Baradah said. “I know you’re all weak. Try to focus.”

Naresh knelt, but he couldn’t focus on Surya. He wanted to blame the drugs, though he knew better. Despite his upbringing, he couldn’t feel the connection to his god that an Arun Guard should. Perhaps Surya would reject him. It would mean his death.

Dawn came at last, searing his eyes. He staggered as he rose, his sight bleary and his muscles like water. Landi stood beside him, though he couldn’t tell when she approached. Still shirtless as the rest of them, she’d given over any attempt at modesty, but even so, he couldn’t focus enough to appreciate that. His mind was locked on the sky ready to rupture before him. Like the sunrise would swallow him up and consume all he had ever been.

Wanebaka stood farther down the temple steps, with Empu Baradah. Whatever his mentor said, Naresh had not heard. Empu Baradah gave Wanebaka a goblet, and Wanebaka drank, then returned it.

Wanebaka shivered and turned to face the sun, staring right at it. His body convulsed once, twice. And then he began to float inches off the ground.

Naresh jolted into full alertness and circled to watch the man ascend to the Arun Guard. Wanebaka’s eyes glowed with white light. The light spread, coruscating across his body, pouring from his eyes and mouth in an eruption of radiance.

And then Wanebaka fell in a crumpled heap.

Empu Baradah watched a moment, as though expecting to see the man rise. But the potential’s eyes had turned to ash, and smoke wafted from his mouth.

Landi gasped, turning away. Empu Baradah knelt by the body. “Worry not, friend. We will perform the Selamatan and guide your soul back to the Wheel of Life. Your remains shall rest forever beneath the Temple of the Sun. Surya is my witness.”

The man’s eyes crunched like charcoal as Empu Baradah closed them. Naresh fought down a surge of bile that scorched his throat.

The priest returned with the goblet, filled again with a luminous white liquid. Empu Baradah took it, then offered it to Naresh or Landi. Landi hesitated, so Naresh put a hand on her shoulder.

“If it kills me, don’t go through with it,” he said.

Naresh took the goblet. He drank. It burned like liquid fire, but tasted like milk. The fire lanced through him, pounding through his veins with each beat of his heart. He felt his body jerk. Felt himself turn toward the sun.

All the brilliance of the sun filled him, rained down from heaven into him. White heat consumed his body and mind and soul until all he saw in every direction, in every thought, was light.

Though infinite radiance surrounded Naresh inside and out, a figure emitting yet more light approached him. Maybe it spoke, but not in any way Naresh could understand. It reached for him, placed its hands upon his head.

The white fire burning through his veins erupted like a thousand volcanoes. Searing, blinding, all-consuming light washed through him. He thought he screamed, but heard no sound.

And then the lights went out. With the pain gone, at first he felt hollow. His hearing returned before his sight, but he couldn’t make sense of the words Landi was saying. She gaped at him.

Naresh’s tattoo glittered with stored sunlight.

“Arise, Son of the Sun,” Empu Baradah said. “Arise, Arun Guard.”

PART TWO

1192 AP, The Dry Season

(One Year Later)

CHAPTER NINE

Chandi drew her Glamour Blessing to blend her skin and clothes with the darkened hall of the harbormaster’s offices. The weakest of her Blessings, she couldn’t maintain Glamour for long. But with so little light reaching the hall, the clerk passed right by her without a glance.

Down the hall and around the corner brought her to the master’s private office. After listening at the door to make sure no one waited within, she slipped inside. The Solars didn’t lock many doors, but a year of locked cabinets and chests had taught her the skills to break into the master’s footlocker.

She tucked the picks inside her sarong and knelt beside it. Logs and ledgers she could never memorize. Stealing them would create too much suspicion. Instead she scribbled copies of scrolls recording Solar trade routes, and then the ones detailing the strength and position of the navy. Damn Solars thought they could rule all the Isles with that navy.

Too much time wasted already. Chandi closed the chest, tucked the papers into her sarong, and listened at the door again. Quiet. She slipped back into the hallway. A Glamour to lighten her hair from black to dark brown. Make it seem to run halfway down her back, rather than end at her shoulders. Shift her clothes from blue to red. If anyone saw her, they’d notice a different woman.

Head high and back straight, Chandi traversed the harbor, clenching her hands at her side to keep them from trembling. She needed privacy. An alley.

Just around the corner, she slumped against the wall as the illusion fell away. Sweat ran down her face and stung her eyes. Instead of wiping them clean, she leaned her head against the wall and clenched them tighter. Stupid to try the disguise. Revealing her Blessings wouldn’t get her and Ratna home any faster.

Ratna. Chandra’s surging tides, she didn’t have time to waste. Interest in the baby had made it easier to break in. But Ratna’s handmaid would be missed at the birth. And who would that baby be? A child of the Solars. The heir of Kakudmi, the master of all those who had taken Anusapati from her. Except this child would also be Ratna’s child. Chandi’s own blood. However much she might hate Kakudmi and the Solars, she could hardly hold a baby to blame.

She ran. She’d gone running through the city most nights to relax herself, but not in the Harbor District. Ignis and Solars crowded the district, hawking wares, pawning fish, or toasting the imperial birth. Chandi dodged around them all. Her arm caught the edge of a banana stall and sent the contents skittering over a pier.

“Cinders and chamber pots,” the man cursed at her shouted apology.

Chandi didn’t slow. She’d have to remember the profanity for future use.

Since Ratna had announced her pregnancy Chandi hadn’t been able to decide how she felt about it. Her first, irrational instinct was to feel Ratna had betrayed her own people. As if she had done something wrong in doing exactly what her father had wanted. In leaving Mahesa for Kakudmi.

“Handmaid,” someone shouted at her.

Chandi stumbled as she spotted the man. The potential from a year ago who rode the Warak Ngendog. Hard to forget him. Naresh. He now wore the cerulean uniform of the Arun Guard, a sleeveless baju, through which she could see the glittering sunburst tattoo on his upper arms and shoulders. From all she had learned, that tattoo was the source of their power. If she could only learn how they got such power in the first place, maybe she could offer her uncle the means to finally break the Guard.

Travel sack slung over his shoulder, he approached her.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry, handmaid?”

Cinders and chamber pots.

“The empress is giving birth. I have to get back to the palace.”

“His Radiance will have a son? Glad to hear it. But what’s her handmaid doing away from the palace?”

Chandi scanned the Igni and Solar vendors that crowded the harbor. A fine-looking teahouse bearing the sign of Rangda Demon Queen. No, not likely. She needed a ship? Right. Sure. “I needed to find a gift.”

Naresh cocked his head. “Why not the Market District, then?”

“I needed … I mean, I was frazzled, not thinking clearly. My mistress is giving birth.”

Naresh watched her a moment, before shrugging. “All right, handmaid. We’ll both get gifts here. Best hurry.” He waved her to follow.

Chandi sighed under her breath, but fell in behind the Solar. At least the Guardsman didn’t window shop long. He selected a pair of embroidered silks from Mait. Maitian and Tianxian traders came to Puradvipa, and Solars brought the goods from all the Isles to Kasusthali.

“Charge it to the Arun Guard, by Naresh,” he said.

“Yes, Pak Naresh,” the Igni said.

Naresh handed her one of the silks. Soft and lush, with golden embroidery not so different from Lunar songket. A fine gift that would have cost her a heavy pearl. And why shouldn’t she spend the Arun Guard’s coffers?

Naresh had already started for the tube down into the city. She couldn’t afford to rouse more suspicion, so she followed. The Guardsman set a brisk pace. Only all those nights running through the city kept Chandi from growing winded.

“I haven’t seen you around since the wedding,” Chandi said, then regretted it.

He glanced over his shoulder without slowing. “I was training.”

And becoming Arun Guard. The greatest enemy of all Chandra’s children. The greatest threat to the Lunar Empire.

She followed him through the Civic District without speaking. Chandi had long since ceased to wonder at the underwater fountain before the palace. The gate guards paid them no mind as they entered the great hall. Kakudmi sat upon his throne, fretting. The Radiant Queen stood beside him, seeming to restrain him with her presence.

Naresh approached the pair and Chandi took the chance to break away. She ran up to the fourth floor where the Solars had given her and Ratna adjoining rooms, taking the stairs two at a time.

Ratna’s screams echoed down the hall. Still in labor. Chandi swung open the bamboo door and slipped inside the room. A young midwife already held the baby, was drying it. Ratna crawled across the floor, crying, trying to reach the midwife.

What in Rangda’s frozen underworld? Chandi turned. The midwife wasn’t drying the child. She was suffocating it. The woman saw her, and their gazes met for an instant. Then she flung the baby at the wall.

Chandi had drawn her Potency Blessing and launched herself on instinct. She caught the infant, wrapped it in her arms as she collided with the wall, and shifted her gravity to lessen the impact.

The midwife jumped from the window to the sea just below. Chandi rushed to Ratna and put the baby in her arms. She lifted her cousin to the bed before she called for help.

Before anyone arrived, Chandi had already run out the window. Gravity shifted to the wall, she ran down to the sea. The midwife had swum to a patio at sea level and slipped into a lounge. Chandi ran along the side of the building, drawing her Potency Blessing harder, making herself faster. She leapt from the building to the patio and dashed past startled servants.

The midwife’s wet trail descended stairs to the third floor. Chandi ran, leaping down the steps three, four, five at a time. Faster. She leapt to the wall at a corner and ran along it.

Fruit and sweet vendors clogged the third floor because of the celebration. The midwife darted around stalls in the open central lounge. Chandi dashed around several, almost colliding with a man selling gudeg.

She was losing her.

Chandi dove right through the next set of stalls. Goods and the owners scattered in all directions.

“Stop!” a palace guard called as she neared.

Chandi grabbed his hand when he reached for her. With a twist she stepped behind him and flipped him. She’d dashed around the corner before he hit the floor.

The door to a guest room swung back and forth. Chandi raced in to see the midwife running for a servant’s exit. With her speed, Chandi reached her before the woman had gone three steps. A sweep kick had the midwife on the ground.

“Who sent you?” Chandi demanded.

When the woman didn’t answer, Chandi punched her in the gut, careful to release her Blessing first.

“What kind of monster murders a newborn?” she said, punching the woman in the face. “You think Surya wants that?”

The woman sneered. “Surya?”

Not a Solar. “Igni?” Chandi asked. The woman’s hesitation answered her.

The door swung open before she could say more. Naresh, keris in hand. He took in the scene in an instant.

Chandi stepped off the midwife, and Naresh hauled the woman to her feet with one hand.

“Well done, handmaid,” he said.

“My name’s Chandi.”

Naresh shoved the woman forward toward the palace guards gathered by the door. “I’ll remember that.”

CHAPTER TEN

Though the Igni District featured a crystal dome like the rest of Kasusthali, there the similarity ended. Instead of glistening white-gold stone, the buildings were rattan shanties. Only the oldest areas were carved, and even there it was a lifeless gray stone.

The wooden structures looked like any ramshackle village in Swarnadvipa. Except that here, sunlight passing through the water above cast Chandi in a dancing pattern of light and shadow.

The Ignis stared at her. What would prompt these harmless people to murder a newborn? Chandi eyed each with care. She needed to find their leader before the Arun Guard arrived, blades in hand. She’d come here planning to kill anyone involved in the attack on Ratna and Revati. Ratna had told her the baby’s name in a fit, as if fearing something more might happen before she could name her daughter.

Entering this district was like walking into another world.

Ragged children rushed by her, playing with an ultop. The blowgun-like toy cracked like a whip, but caused no other harm. Chandi refused to let the children see her jump.

A year in the Solar city, but she’d never seen such poverty before. These people ate enough to stay fit, true, and if not cast next to the majesty of Kasusthali they might not seem out of place. Was that why the Solars secluded them? Or did the Ignis seclude themselves?

As near as she could tell, the fire priest Semar led them. Officially they had no government, but they looked to their priests in all things.

Finding the Shrine of Sacred Flame in the maze-like District proved no easy task. By the time she located the building—stone, like the rest of the old section—the priest waited outside, by the brazier.

“Semar?”

The man nodded. Tall, with hair just longer than hers, and bright blue eyes unlike any she’d seen. Foreign ancestor?

“Welcome, Chandi.”

Chandi bristled. She hadn’t given her name to any of those she’d asked for directions. These people had tried to murder Revati. And didn’t Ignis use the Solar titles of respect?

Empu Baradah had posted guards all around the woman and child. And Malin was there now. The Macan Gadungan would never let so much as a mosquito near them.

“I need words with you, priest.”

Semar nodded, but led her not back to the Shrine, but to the Circuit. The circular tube connected the Igni District and other secondary districts to the main tubes. Though fear had kept her in the palace the first month, after that, Chandi had often taken to running the Circuit at night. Long after most Solars slept, she ran through the darkened tubes, until she knew her way by the undersea landscape around her. Nine districts composed Kasusthali—eight beneath the domes, and the Harbor District, where Semar seemed to be leading her.

Chandi shook her head. “One of your people tried to murder the empress’s baby this morning.” Should she have been more subtle? Rangda take subtlety. These were murderers. She ought to drag the man into an alley and bludgeon him to death. She hadn’t come to Kasusthali to deal with these damn fire worshippers. She had enough problems trying to uncover the secrets of the Arun Guard.

“Some say such things. Most who say them, say them quietly.”

Chandi sped up to keep pace as he entered the sloping tube that lead up to the harbor. “Don’t expect courtesy. I’ve a mind to turn you over to the Arun Guard.” Or worse. “But I’m willing to hear your reasons first. Justify yourself, if you can. Where are we going? Would you look at me, dammit?”

Semar clasped his hands behind his back, but did glance over his shoulder at her. The Solars would come, of course. “You think it necessary for me to justify myself, even if I did not order the woman to kill the child?”

As they entered the Harbor District, she spotted the Serendibian captain who had brought her here a year ago. Bendurana. The man followed a flock of parakeets, parrots, doves, kingfishers, nightjars and other birds she couldn’t identify. A rainbow flock, soaring in impossible intersecting circles over one of the piers.

Despite her desire to speak with Semar, Chandi followed the birds to the pier, Semar trailing behind. They drew her, just as the birds themselves seemed drawn by forces beyond themselves. She stood beside the Serendibian captain, but he never saw her. Hundreds of people had gathered, cheering at the display. The birds seemed to follow the command of a woman, an Arun Guardswoman by the cerulean baju. Her long black hair blew with the breeze, glistening in the sunlight. Chandi had seen that woman before, the day she came to Kasusthali. The Solar stood, arms outstretched to the sky and eyes on the birds, and the flock responded to her every gesture.

“The Solars revel in the imperial birth,” Semar said. “Most will never know how close to tragedy they came today. How would this crowd react, were you to tell them?”

Then, in a heartbeat, it all stopped. The birds flew off in their own directions, as if waking from a dream. Whatever beautiful, unreal dream the Arun Guardswoman had worked on them. The people dispersed like the birds, flocking to vendors selling gudeg or other sweets for the celebration.

Chandi followed Semar into the Rangda Teahouse, pausing at the inauspicious name. The windows were thrown wide for the last days of the dry season, casting the room in streaks of light. Bamboo walls separated the rows of tables on each side of the teahouse, creating the illusion of privacy. Scents of tealeaves, spiced satay, and cloves filled the room.

Semar took a seat at a table. The Igni owner brought them tea without a word from the fire priest.

Chandi glared first at the teacup, then at the priest who offered it. “I want answers.”

“You haven’t decided on the proper questions yet. What do you think would happen if the War King’s grandchild died on the watch of the Arun Guard? How well would the empress take that? How well would the War King?”

The Fifth War. If the Solars allowed Revati to be murdered, Rahu would have to respond. He could never allow such travesty to visit his own family without response. Maybe part of her wanted that war. If she let go of her hatred, she was going to drown here, in the Solar city. But she could never allow harm to come to Ratna’s child.

“You want the Lunars to attack the Solars again?”

“Why would I want that? After four wars, who of us is better off? The Solars say it was your people who broke the Pact. But they cast out the Ignis as well. More than a thousand years have passed, and who has gained? Maybe the Solars, though they have lost much as well. Certainly not the Ignis. Once the three dynasties kept the Astral Temple in trust together. Now? Now the Ignis are servants to the Solars because they held to their traditions. Because they wouldn’t convert to Solar ways.”

All the more reason to hate the Solars, even if it didn’t maker her love the Ignis. She couldn’t afford to let these fire worshippers distract her from her true mission, but she had to be damn certain no one would come for Revati again.

Chandi blew out a breath through pursed lips, watching her teacup. Unlikely the owner had poisoned her tea. She sipped it, let the warmth fill her. Maybe Semar had nothing to do with what happened. Maybe the midwife had acted alone. The Solars would see her pay. And if Semar hadn’t ordered her, to murder him would make her as bad as that woman.

The Igni proprietor brought peanut satay, though still Semar had ordered nothing. Chandi looked from the dish to the priest. A Lunar dish. Without taking his eyes from her face, Semar pulled a piece of the satay off the stick, dipped it in the peanut sauce, and ate it.

Her chase through the palace had left her famished. Chandi pulled a piece of the satay off the stick. “You want the Temple, too.” The peanut sauce didn’t quite have the kick Swarnadvipan sauce did, but close enough for Solar lands.

“What use is warring with Solars and Lunars over a building that was left in the care of all three dynasties? You think because the Ignis live like this, scorned by the Lunars for their weakness, disdained by the Solars for supposed inferiority, that such a life means there is nothing more to lose? There is always more to lose, Chandi.”

Chandi rose, licking the peanut sauce from her lips. “Ignis might not want war with the Solars, but you all but admitted many would welcome war between Solars and Lunars. If I feel so much as a tingle of a threat to Revati or Ratna, we’ll find out what you have left to lose.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Arun Guard waiting in the hall did little to reassure Malin of Ratna’s safety. The girl hadn’t wanted him there for the birth. Just as well. Didn’t want to be there. Still, his absence had almost cost her daughter’s life. His failure, his weakness. Hadn’t wanted to see Ratna in pain.

Failure!

Malin paced the shadows of Chandi’s room. Ratna wanted to rest alone with her daughter. For the first phase she hadn’t let him leave her sight. But exhaustion, fear, they took their tolls. Malin hadn’t wanted to leave her side, but the girl insisted and Ratna was used to getting her way. Still treated him like a damn slave.

So instead he crouched in darkness, muscles itching for the sun to set. Itching for vengeance he couldn’t afford to take. While Chandi walked the streets alone, looking for murderers. The foolish child had run off searching for Ignis before Malin had even found out. With Chandi in danger outside the palace and Ratna in danger within, his insides were being ripped in half. Which way to go? Who needed him more?

He’d sworn not to fail them again. Malin cracked his neck, left then right. Rahu shouldn’t have sent them here. Shouldn’t have sent his own daughter into a nest of vipers. As soon as Chandi found what they needed, Malin would pull the girls out. Revati, too, now. Couldn’t forget his newest charge.

Footsteps, soft. Chandi’s scent preceded her into her room. The girl tossed a purse of pearls on her dresser, then dropped back onto her bed. Her hair fell about her face, splayed over the silk sheets he had bought her, imported from Au Lac. Chandi didn’t look up as he approached, but jolted as his shadow fell over her face, launching herself into a fighting stance on top of the bed.

“Malin. Not a good idea sneaking up on me today.” Chandi stepped off her bed and walked to her window.

“You shouldn’t have gone after that assassin. I could have followed her scent. Instead I had to track down witnesses, make sure no one saw you use your Blessings.”

“And did they?”

“No one who knew what they were seeing. It was still foolish.”

Chandi glared, then turned her back on him to walk to her dresser. Though short and slim, she had an athletic frame. Her soft face belied what a fierce opponent she could be. If Ratna had half Chandi’s skill, even weak as her Blessings were, she might not need Chandi as a protector. Of course, Malin wouldn’t want to be here without Chandi, either.

Chandi retrieved the sandalwood jewelry box. After removing the false bottom, she handed him crumpled scrolls. Malin glanced over them. Ship deployments. Trade routes.

Pirate cabals, given bits of this, might weaken the Solar trade empire. Malin often found himself forced to deal with their ilk. Sometimes Moon Scion Houses sanctioned the cabals. Sometimes rogue Scions, like Malin’s so-called friend Asamanja, went into business for themselves. Unscrupulous, savage, cheap. But useful. Of course, Malin would never share it all. Not only because he needed the edge over the damn pirate. The man would use it too fully, and the Solars would change their tactics. No, he’d feed Asamanja just enough information to weaken the Solars without raising their suspicions.

Malin stuffed the scrolls into a case and tossed it aside.

“The Ignis claim the woman acted alone,” Chandi said before he could ask. “Maybe the fire priest tells the truth.” The girl ran her fingers over the toyaks lying on her dresser. “They tried to kill Revati. Could have killed Ratna, too.”

The Macan Gadungan in him roared for vengeance. It tore through him even if no one else could hear it, sending tremors through his limbs. Protect and avenge.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

Chandi grimaced. “Why not turn them in? Let the Solars handle it? The woman will burn for treason, and if she had conspirators, maybe they deserve to join her. Let them slaughter the murderers. Even the fire priest said the Ignis wouldn’t mind seeing another war between the Solars and us.”

Malin paced the room. Every word she said was true. He twitched his jaw, willing the tiger spirit to quiet. “You should pursue alliance with the Ignis.”

Chandi scoffed. “Why? What could we gain from alliance? Why the interest in the Solar slaves?”

“Slaves want to be free.” His tone sent her stumbling away. Malin knew what it was to face servitude. He’d faced it too long. His brethren suffered under it. His children had been born to it. Cubs like Sunten, now grown and whelping their own offspring—also to be slaves.

“You want to start a rebellion?”

“The Ignis form the basis of the Solar workforce and much of the merchant class, your own reports said so. By relying on slaves, an empire can forget how to do its own work. Without them, the Solar Empire would fall in on itself. If we work with them, we can ensure we’re in position to strike when the time comes.”

“You want to work with the people who tried to kill someone you’re sworn to protect?” Chandi slumped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. “How can you trust them?”

“No one says you have to trust them. But until you find a way to break the Arun Guard, we have to explore all options.” And give up vengeance. Protect and avenge. To suggest otherwise made the tiger roil and claw at his soul. No! Malin was a man and the man ruled the tiger. “Just make sure they know Revati and Ratna are not to be harmed. Make sure they know the consequences if harm does come to either. Earn their trust.”

After watching the ceiling in silence, Chandi answered. “I do want to go home. You’re right. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Malin started to reach for her, though she still didn’t look at him. He was only supposed to protect her. He wasn’t supposed to feel … “You don’t have to find out.”

“You need to take those scrolls to Rahu,” she said before his fingers could touch her hair.

Yes, he did. Deployments and trade routes didn’t stay constant forever. If he wanted to win loyalty from the pirates, he needed to act soon. “I can’t leave you in danger.”

Let someone come for his charges. Let them find the tiger waiting. Malin would rip them to pieces.

“They won’t try anything so soon. I can protect Ratna and Revati. You must go, Malin.”

She didn’t look up at him as he left.

Malin forced himself not to linger. Better this way. Better to be gone and avoid the temptation. The roar of vengeance still vibrated through him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Igni midwife sat bound to the chair across from Naresh. The Minister of Law had allowed him a few moments alone with the prisoner, given he had brought her in. Or perhaps because she’d said nothing during her interrogation.

“Why?” Naresh asked again.

The woman glared at him.

“They’re going to burn you alive for treason. If you name collaborators, maybe they’d reduce it to exile.” No, the woman who would slaughter an infant deserved no mercy.

The murder of the child while under the care of the Arun Guard would have disgraced his order. Would have shattered the people’s faith in the emperor and his elite. Kakudmi needed that faith. The Solar emperor had brought a year of peace. Naresh wouldn’t fail him now.

“If I leave here with any doubts, I’m going to have to visit the Igni District and assuage them.” He leaned in very close to the girl, close enough to feel her trembling breath. She was probably younger than he was. “Do you understand me?”

“Are you going to torture me, Guardsman? Show me the glory of your Empire, then.”

Naresh rose, but his voice caught in his throat. “Our empire is glorious. It’s your empire, too. We’ve built something that’s endured for twelve centuries. Why destroy that?”

The midwife laughed, although it seemed half a sob. “You want to know why? Because if the Lunars and Solars destroy each other, my people can at last be free.”

“Is your priest Semar responsible for this?”

The girl clenched her jaw.

Naresh felt bile rise in his throat. Honor demanded he put an end to this. If Kakudmi could sacrifice for peace, he could too. And if he was going to make a point, he was only going to make it once.

“Then Semar will join you on that pyre. All the fire priests, if need be. But those responsible for this treason will be found. Today.”

The girl shook her head. “You wouldn’t.”

He leaned close again, forced himself not to look away. Forced himself not to feel the sickness in his stomach. “I will do what I must to make sure this does not happen again.”

Tears seeped from the midwife’s clenched eyes, and she turned her face away.

“Tell me!”

“His name is Partigatiga.” She choked on her sobs. “It was his idea.”

Naresh sighed and shut his eyes for a moment. Then he left.

The sun through the dome washed over his face. The Civic District was the best district for thinking. He sat on a bench and stared at the building before him. The Ministry of Law, a three-story whitewashed complex surrounded by flowing fountains and hanging plants that belied its purpose, was the largest of six ministry buildings encircling the palace.

He pulled his sketchbook from his satchel and drew an outline of the midwife. The woman he’d brought to tears. The woman who would soon burn for treason. Perhaps the lines of agony on her face were remorse. He hoped so. Perhaps she’d find redemption in her next life.

For a long time he sketched. He didn’t want to see the woman anymore. She only reminded him of what he had to do. He tried to draw the handmaid, Chandi, from memory. There was a girl with admirable devotion to her duty. Was that midwife just as devoted to hers?

He rose and bowed when Empu Baradah approached. Perhaps the First had thought to question the woman himself.

“You did well to capture her.”

Naresh bowed again, though not as deeply. “The empress’s handmaid had already beaten her bloody before I arrived.” Rumors said she had barreled after the woman, heedless of her own safety in the crowded market. Chandi had spirit. Spirit worth watching.

Empu Baradah ran a finger over his mustache. “So it seems even their servants train in Silat. Or at least are not afraid to fight if need be.”

Naresh shrugged. The dynasties had diverged so far since the Pact broke that they knew little of Lunar customs beyond the battlefield. Lunars seemed to like it that way.

“The assassins may try again. I request assignment as Ibu Ratna’s personal protector.” He’d earned the right to ask that much. Naresh had brought a traitor to the Ministry. It was a start, and his mother should be proud. He’d like to think his father would have been, too.

Empu Baradah shook his head and motioned for Naresh to follow. The First led him back toward the palace. “Landorundun will be her protector. It’s unlikely anyone will try that again soon.”

Landorundun. Competent, for certain. But Naresh had won more honor today than that. He clenched and unclenched his fists as they walked, but kept his face expressionless.

“I have something else in mind for you, Naresh.”

The First said nothing else until they sat in the Arun Guard mess hall, away from prying ears.

“You’ll return to the Astral Temple to take over as Guardian. Take Lembu Ampal with you. A year of training has made him ready to undergo the trial for the Sun Brand.”

Naresh rocked back on the bench. “I thought,” he began. “That is, I only just returned.” After a year of training. A year of mastering the Sun Brand. Maybe Landorundun could Sun Stride faster. She was better with the Kebatinan, was all. But he had proved himself there. And today. He’d earned the right to stay in the city, not be shuffled back to the isolated Temple.

“I know what you’re thinking. And I know what everyone says. That you’re the best with the sword we’ve seen in a long time. All the more reason for you to handle the training of our newest member. We grieved for Wanebaka. We will still perform the final Selamatan for him when the time comes. But his replacement needs to be ready.” Empu Baradah hesitated. “You have things to learn, Naresh. The time away will do you good.”

And Landorundun would solidify her position here. Naresh had not even seen his mother since he returned. Had seen nothing of Kasusthali. Hardly had time to even enjoy the food. The last Guardian had served for three years, with few if any visits home. But Naresh could never refuse such an honor.

Still, he had one more thing he had to do here. Kakudmi’s peace would last. Partigatiga would not threaten the imperial heir again.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When Landi had first returned from the Astral Temple, Ben had stood there, mouth agape, watching the veritable fleet of birds dive and swoop around the goddess on the pier. Parrots, kingfishers, nightjars, so many types of birds had swirled in circles above her that Ben almost wanted to fall to his knees and worship her.

As that would hardly be heroic, he settled for sauntering over once the display had ended, his most dashing smile lighting his face. “A little bird led me to you once again, my shimmering princess.”

“Birds led a lot of people here. And I’m no princess.”

“Ah, my dear, you just don’t know yourself as well as I do. And I know you quite well, because I’ve been waiting for you all my life. Gives one lots of time to imagine all kinds of interesting details.”

She shook her head. “You’re a strange man, Bendurana.”

“Ah, my dear, that just means I’m interesting. Don’t worry, you’ll see much more of me in the future.”

And so he’d sent her a basket of flowers. That hadn’t quite done the trick, so he’d arranged a meeting with her roommate—a charming girl who called herself Bany—and gotten her to help him decorate Landi’s whole apartment with jasmine and orchids.

Ben smiled to himself on his way up the stairs. Landorundun would be back by now, and no doubt speechless with awe at his floral prowess and fine taste. After all, it had nearly left him speechless. Now he bore a giant basket of golden mangoes.

Ben rapped on his lady’s bamboo door, knocking out a pleasant melody from Serendib. One speaking of lover’s conquests.

“Hi Ben!” her roommate said when she opened the door. “Glad you made it.” Bany looked him up and down, then grinned. “You know, you’re pretty fit. Do you play Sepak Takraw?”

“Ah, my dear,” Bendurana said, “I’ll play any game for a lady. Why this one time, I played seven different games at the same time. Not for seven different ladies, mind. Is that what it would take to impress you?” he asked Landorundun, then offered her the mangoes. “It worked the first time, so I figured, why not?”

“Why in Rangda’s underworld are you doing this, Pak Bendurana?”

“Ah, my dear, you must call me Ben.”

Landi’s roommate giggled. “I guess I should let you two have a bit of privacy.”

“Indeed,” Bendurana said. “Privacy with a lady is one of my favorite things. Not that I’d turn down privacy with a pair of beautiful ladies, should the need arise.”

Bany scampered away, giving Ben the chance to finally win Landi. “Would you like me to feed you a mango, my dear? They’re succulent.”

“What do you want from me, Pak Bendurana?”

“Ah, my dear, I want your undying love and affection, of course. For tonight, I’d settle for you letting me buy you dinner. Oh, and I brought you a new baju. White silk from Au Lac, very fine.” Ben pulled the garment from his satchel.

“I’m not looking for romance, Bendurana.”

He shrugged, jiggling his braids. “It’s not to be had for the looking … not true romance. It finds you when the time is right. And to let it pass you by is quite a shame, you know. Just because the Wheel of Life gives you more chances doesn’t mean you should throw away this one.”

“I didn’t throw anything away! It was taken!”

Her outburst left him stunned for an instant, then he shrugged again. “Take it back. Your life is in your own hands. You can choose to live in bitterness and regret or in hope and joy. One of these things is a lot more fun than the other, mind. But the choice remains yours.”

Landorundun folded her arms over her chest. “You don’t know anything about me, foreigner. Don’t pretend you can understand me.”

“I know you’ve had a broken heart,” he said. “Your friend told me that much.” He took a step closer and reached out for her shoulder. “But, my dear, nothing can be so broken that you can’t put the pieces back together again. You just need the right tools.” He shrugged. “And I’ve got some tools I could try out.”

“I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone! And I sure as Rangda’s spit don’t need your damn innuendos! Get out of my room, get out of my life!”

He fell back, his mouth open, then bowed. “The only people who have never known pain are the people who have never really lived. The only way to avoid more pain is to give up living. And that’d be a shame.”

He left the baju for her and went walking through the Circuit. Walking under the sea never ceased to amaze him. You could spot a wondrous array of fish, especially where the tube passed near the coral reef.

He made his way back to the Queen of the South Sea, then up the gangplank. The crew was already loading provisions for their voyage to the Spice Islands. Very few trips were so profitable. That was, however, mostly an added bonus.

An Igni—must be, given the way the poor man kept looking around like someone would arrest him—crept over toward Ben as he boarded.

“Captain?”

“Ah, my good man. Try to look like a member of the crew.”

“Er, I’m not much of a sailor.”

Ben smirked. He didn’t imagine many of the fire worshippers were. And if this man and his family were caught skipping out on their indentured servitude, being arrested was the least of their worries. As much as he’d made this his home, he couldn’t stand seeing these people so hopeless.

Ben had secretly been ferrying Ignis out of Kasusthali for over a year. The problem was, he might take a person or two, maybe a small family, on each trip, but he could hardly make a dent in the population of indentured servants in this city. If he was ever caught helping these people break their contracts, he risked the Ministry of Law crawling so far up his ass they’d probably be able to see what he had for lunch. It would end with his exile from the Solar Empire, most likely. Or worse, if they decided he was guilty of treason.

“Semar said …” the Igni mumbled.

Ben pulled the man’s head close to his own. “See, I’m going to drop you off on Suladvipa. You can win your fortune, win some hearts, whatever. I mean, you’re already married, I hear, so maybe you skip winning hearts. Whatever. But if you walk around looking like you don’t belong here, maybe someone will eventually notice it. So relax, grab some rope, and pretend you know what you’re doing with it. Works for the rest of the crew, right?”

At least the man knew well enough not to display his sacred flame on his clothing. Probably galled him, having to hide his religion and beliefs. Such was the price of freedom.

Moments later, Landorundun Sun Strode right aboard the deck. Ben’s heart leapt into his chest and he almost choked. The crew spun about in panic. The Guardswoman looked more bemused than angry, which might be a good sign. With a start, he realized she was wearing the white baju he’d given her. That was definitely a good sign. Ben plastered a grin on his face and strutted over to her.

“Why did you do all this?” Landi demanded. “Nobody ever gave me this much importance before.”

Ben grinned all the wider. “You know that day, after Ratna and Emperor Kakudmi married. At the feast. It was your smile. You people worship the sun. You ought not blame me for doing the same.”

Landi sputtered, opening her mouth like she wanted to speak but couldn’t quite form the words.

“Ah, my dear, worry not. Sometimes I have this effect on ladies. My charm and heroism can be overwhelming to mortal hearts. Or even divine ones, for that matter. Be that as it may, your eyes speak volumes.”

Landi shook her head, then looked around nervously at his crew, and at the trembling Igni, who now all watched the show. “Were you really going back to Serendib because of me?”

Ben laughed. “You don’t think I’d give up that easily. I was going to try to convince a mermaid to dig up a bunch of pearls for you. Besides, Serendib was conquered by the Witch-Queen. There’s no going back there.”

“A mermaid?”

Ben swept the most gallant bow he could manage. If that didn’t impress the Solar, he couldn’t imagine what would.

“Come out on the sea with me, my dear. We’ll watch the sunset. I’ve got to make a voyage to the Spice Islands in the morning, I can’t delay beyond that after packing up.”

“Yes.”

Her acquiescence caught him a bit off guard, but it wouldn’t do to let her know that.

“First mate,” Ben called. “Prepare us for a romantic voyage! Bring out the drummers!”

As long as Landi never suspected the Igni in her midst, this would be a night to remember. And if she did—well, Ben suspected he’d be remembering this night quite well in that case too.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ratna lay on her bed, clutching Revati to her breast, unwilling to let the girl out of her arms for even a moment. They had tried to take her child away. They had tried to murder a baby. And Chandi claimed it was a rogue faction among the Ignis. Well, Rangda take all Ignis if they couldn’t control their own people. She had half a mind to tell her father of this. If she demanded vengeance, he’d give it to her. Even if it started another damn war with the Solars, he’d give it to her. And why should she care if that happened?

Other than the fact it would mean all her efforts here had been wasted. Not that they weren’t wasted anyway. She’d tried to reach out to Kakudmi, again and again. How many times should a woman invite a man to her chambers only to hear he’s busy with work? And why in Rangda’s frozen underworld did the Solar insist on giving his wife separate chambers in the first place? Stupid Solar propriety.

A gentle knock rapped on her door. Ratna started, pulling Revati closer and reflexively drawing her Potency Blessing. Maybe she couldn’t match Chandi, but she’d still rip the next Igni to pieces with her bare hands if she had to. Before Ratna even spoke, Chandi slipped through the door adjoining their rooms, then over to the main door where whoever it was waited.

“Little Mahesa?” Chandi said as she opened the door.

Ratna’s heart leapt into her throat. No. Oh sweet Chandra he was the last person she needed to see. She was nursing another man’s baby, for the Moon’s sake. And he was the only person she wanted to see.

“I, uh … ” Chandi stammered. “I’ll leave you two alone a bit.” She slipped back into her own room.

“I ran into Malin in the harbor. He was leaving.”

Ratna nodded, still trying to form words. Chandi had sent Malin away with news of the attack. And while Ratna agreed her father needed to know, it meant her cousin must now stand guard over her directly. She didn’t like not having the weretiger close on hand.

“He told me about … Are you all right, Ratna?”

She nodded.

Mahesa sunk down on her bed and, hesitantly, reached a hand out to brush Revati’s head. “She’s beautiful.”

Kakudmi had said the same thing. It was about the only thing she seemed to agree with her husband on. “Thank you for coming.”

“What are friends for? Sorry I’m a little late.”

“Napping?” she asked.

“It’s called beauty rest, all right?”

Ratna laughed. It was so easy with him. Just like that, they fell to talking. Like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t been separated by a year of time and a thousand years of difference and distress. And before she could even help herself, she was telling him how often Kakudmi had rejected her. Always, he was so lost in his books, so obsessed with ancient history or philosophy or whatever else seemed more important to him than his own wife.

“A lot of work to do,” she said. “Kakudmi said that. It’s true, of course. He’s a very busy man. He’s the emperor.”

Mahesa put a hand on her shoulder. “Was he always like this?”

“A year ago, I just thought we hadn’t gotten to know each other yet. But maybe we never will. Or do you think he’s having an affair?”

He shrugged. “Who can say anything about Solar values? Maybe it’s common here.”

Ratna snuggled Revati closer and touched Mahesa’s hand with her free one. “Mahesa, I need to know. I need to know what he’s doing.”

“Isn’t that why Chandi’s here? To handle all this spying? Where’s she been lately, anyway?”

Ratna sighed. Her cousin was rarely around, at least when Malin was here. Mahesa was the first person she’d really had a chance to talk to in Chandra knew how long. “I need you to do it.”

“Ratna, he’s the Solar Emperor. I can’t just follow him around. People might notice.”

“Mahesa—”

He held up his hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Yes, it was a risk to send Mahesa spying on Kakudmi. But he had sworn a wedding vow to her and she needed to know if he was breaking it. Because if that was the case … then what? Did that absolve her of her own vows? Did part of her want him to be guilty so she would have an excuse to do the same? Butterflies roiled in her stomach as she looked at Mahesa and his wicked grin.

Maybe she did. But she had sworn a vow, and they had made this baby. She forced herself to look away. “I need to rest now, Mahesa.”

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Naresh stood in the Igni District, watching the servants build and repair homes, working their trades. And what was he to do about this Partigatiga? There could be only one response, really. One sickening, final, and definitive response. And still, no Ignis cooperated with him. Was he to terrorize every last one of them the way he had done with the midwife? The owner of this teahouse had claimed to know nothing, but Naresh doubted him. Maybe he should go straight to Semar and beat it out of him.

“Tell me about the midwife,” Landi demanded.

Her sudden approach caught him off-guard. “Landi?”

“Tell me everything.”

“Ibu Ratna’s Igni midwife tried to kill her and the baby. On the orders of someone named Partigatiga. I’ve been trying to find him.” Naresh grimaced, unable to keep the darkness from his thoughts. He was going to have to kill a man. Not in war, not in fair battle. He was going to go in and stop a threat to the peace. Permanently.

“What are you going to do?” Landi asked.

Naresh shook his head and clenched his fists. “Make sure Partigatiga doesn’t try to harm Revati ever again.”

“Fine. We’ll do it together.”

“Landi—”

“I’m serious, Naresh.” She walked back into the teahouse he’d just left, and singled out the owner. “I need to find Partigatiga,” she said.

The Igni shrugged. “I already told your friend, it’s not my business.”

Landi sighed, and leaned in closer. “When we leave here, one of two things will happen. Either you’ll find yourself with a bag of pearls for helping us, or you’ll find yourself with bureaucrats up to your eyebrows, investigating every dealing you’ve ever had for the slightest infraction.”

It took about three heartbeats for the man’s resolve to waver. Half a phase later, they stood outside a nondescript Igni house on the edge of the district.

“Notice all the other houses around here are abandoned?” Naresh said.

Landi nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”

Naresh looked at her a moment, then shrugged. She was right. Waiting, hesitating, it wasn’t going to change what needed to be done. He Sun Strode to the front door, and Landi appeared right behind him. Naresh kicked in the door and a shout went up. The Ignis didn’t favor as many windows as Solars, so the house was dark, save the beams from the doorway and candlelight.

As soon as the open door revealed the room, Naresh Sun Strode in, right next to a pair of Ignis rising from a table. He slammed both their heads against the wall. He didn’t watch Landi, trusting her to fend for herself. Instead, he Strode behind another Igni, grabbed him, Strode in the air, and used his momentum to shatter the man’s skull. An instant later he appeared before an Igni with a knife. They weren’t supposed to have weapons.

Naresh burned sunlight to increase his speed, landing body blows on the Igni so fast his arms would seem a blur to the man. Ribs cracked and the man collapsed, coughing up blood. Another Igni charged him. Naresh turned to the side, far too fast for the man to react, caught his arm, and twisted until the limb broke. He Strode them both to a side wall and flung the Igni through it.

Landi had already cut down several with her keris sword, then Strode in front of one trying to flee. She kicked him in the abdomen and he toppled to the ground. “Where’s Partigatiga?”

The man shook his head.

“Outside!” Naresh said. “Others are trying to flee out the back.”

He Strode out the door. Another half dozen Ignis ran. Naresh drew his keris, Strode between a pair of Ignis, and killed both before they knew he was there.

What few of the Ignis remained, they rounded up to deliver to the Ministry of Law for interrogation. There would be executions. None of the Ignis would walk away from this. Naresh’s stomach felt sour as he handed the last of the prisoners over to the Ministry.

He’d never killed anyone before today. Now he’d killed six men and delivered more than that to their deaths. It was justice, of course. Justice should not have left him so shaken.

He walked with Landi back to the palace, trying to find words. She had been given a new room in the palace itself to serve her duty in guarding Ratna. The honor that should have been his.

“Thank you, Landi,” Naresh said when they stopped at Landi’s room. “I had to finish this before I leave.” It had to be done.

“Leave?”

“Empu Baradah assigned me as the new Guardian of the Astral Temple. I have to leave soon. I could be there a while.”

Landi stood there, her mouth slightly agape, and without even thinking of it, Naresh embraced her. It had been so long since he had done so. It lasted only an instant before she shoved him away.

“What are you doing?”

Damn. He’d been a fool. “I just … I’m sorry. For everything, Landi.”

Landi slunk down on her bed, head in her hands. “He made you the new Guardian?”

“He said he gave you the assignment to—”

“Yes,” she said. “Fine. Good luck, Guardian.”

“Landi—”

“Guess I’ll see you when you get back.”

Still she was going to push him away. Still, even after all of this. Maybe some things, once broken, could never be repaired. Naresh nodded, then bowed. “Goodbye, Landorundun.”

“Goodbye.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“He told me I looked beautiful on our wedding day,” Ratna said. “I guess everyone says that to a bride.”

Mahesa grinned from where he sat on the edge of her bed. “Well, uh, you always look beautiful, so I’m sure it was true. I would have come for the wedding, I just …”

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. Maybe it would have been harder if he’d been there. Could she have married him if her father hadn’t sent her to Kakudmi? But then, no Revati. And Revati was everything. Kakudmi had given her that much, at least.

“She’ll be crawling soon, a few months.” Ratna had sewn a small pink suit for Revati. They told everyone Chandi had done it—after all, she was supposed to be the handmaid—but Chandi didn’t sew. At least, she didn’t sew very well.

“I can’t wait to see it. After that, I’ll bet she’s a runner, like her Auntie Chandi.”

Ratna had glared at him until he cowered.

“I mean, your handmaid, Chandi, of course …” He fiddled with his hands a bit. “I’ve been looking into your husband. I really don’t think he’s having an affair. Unless it’s with the First of the Arun Guard, whom he sees alone sometimes. But I don’t think Empu Baradah is his type. I think he’s just busy.”

So it wasn’t that his heart belonged to some Solar woman. Kakudmi just didn’t have time for Ratna. Well, Rangda take him, then.

She’d tussled Revati’s little tuft of hair, then lay back on the bed beside her daughter. Mahesa leaned over to make faces at the baby, which set the child to giggling.

Someone cleared his throat from the doorway. Both Mahesa and Ratna sat up on the bed. Kakudmi stood there, with Empu Baradah.

The Solar Emperor didn’t look angry, at least not much. His raised eyebrow spoke more than she wanted to hear, though. “Baradah, would you show our guest downstairs.”

Mahesa rose and walked to the First without a word. In the doorway, he cast a glance back at her. Ratna gave him the best smile she could, which wasn’t much.

Kakudmi stood over the bed looking down at her. The lord of the Solar Empire rubbed his chin, watching her in silence. When she couldn’t take it anymore and was about to speak, he opened his mouth. “It’s come to my attention that a young Lunar is spending a great deal of time alone in my wife’s chambers.”

Ratna rose and reached for her husband’s hands. He allowed her to clasp them, but didn’t return her squeeze. “Please don’t hurt him. Nothing happened between us. He’s just an old friend keeping me company.”

“Of course I’m not going to harm him.” He leaned in. “Especially if nothing happened. Are you certain you’re not pregnant? We can’t have any doubt about royal lineages.”

Her voice broke. “I didn’t betray you.”

“Good. Then he’ll be sent back to Bukit. We don’t want people getting the wrong idea. Doubt could cripple this alliance.”

She didn’t release his hands. “Do you care for me at all?”

“Ibu Ratna, this is a political alliance. You and I are here to end the Fourth War and avert the Fifth one. The services we provide are invaluable, and we’re the only ones who can manage them.”

Ibu? Would he address his own wife so formally? At last she dropped his hands. So be it. If she was here to perform services, then she would.

At that, he nodded, and left her alone.

Ratna clenched her jaw and glared at the door as it swung closed. Damn it. Damn him! The bastard didn’t even want her for himself. He just wouldn’t let her have anyone else either. Whatever infrequent attentions he offered her, it was probably more duty than desire. Well, he could go fuck a dugong for all she cared.

She rose and drifted over to Revati’s cradle. That, Kakudmi had spared no expense on, bringing in the finest Igni craftsmen all the way from Suladvipa. It was carved from sandalwood and bore an intricate engraving of sun and moon intertwined. It was, of course, a hopeless fantasy. Chandra and Surya might chase each other through the skies for all eternity, but they couldn’t meet. No more than their children could.

All she had was Revati. And that was all she needed. It would have to be enough.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

In the hours before dawn, Chandi ran through the Circuit as it wrapped its way around Kasusthali. It was a long run, and, if it wasn’t as relaxing as running on the beach had been, she’d gotten used to it. It kept her head clear, helped her focus. Besides, she had limited opportunities to practice her Silat in this city, so running seemed the best way to stay in top form.

Her breath came heavy as she exited the Circuit, making for the Civic District. With Malin away, she needed to be back before Ratna woke. Though—and she hated to admit it—it seemed her cousin was safe enough with the damn Arun Guard watching over her. The Solars had assigned Landorundun as Ratna’s new protector. Chandi had had about as much luck getting information out of that Solar as she would interrogating a boulder.

Chandi pulled up short in front of the palace. Naresh stood there, watching her approach. She hadn’t done anything today, so she doubted he had reason to be suspicious of her, at least at the moment. Still, she bit her lip as she approached. The damn Guardsmen were always in the way. Part of her wanted to lure the man into an alley and put an end to him. But, even if she could, she’d heard Naresh had hunted down the Ignis responsible for the attack on Revati. Was it possible they truly wanted the peace to work? These people were responsible for Anu’s death, so she shouldn’t give a frozen hair off Rangda’s ass what they wanted.

“Ibu Landorundun told me you often went out running.”

Chandi didn’t know whether to be more concerned that the Guardswoman was aware of her habits or that Naresh was looking for her in the first place. No one could have found out about her breaking into the harbormaster’s office, could they? Except that Naresh had seen her in the harbor the day it happened. What if he had heard reports of the break-in and put the pieces together? Her instincts screamed at her to turn and run the other way, but trying to outrun the Arun Guard was like trying to outrun the rising dawn. So instead, she forced surety into her steps and made sure her chest heaved with each step. If he thought her more exhausted than she was, it was an edge she might use to overcome him if she had to.

When she reached him, she bowed. It wasn’t meant to be respect—bastard didn’t deserve respect—she just had no idea what to say to the Solar.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said. “You were the one who caught the midwife in her crime. It seemed fair you should see the end of this. We caught others, interrogated them. In the end, we found ten men and women guilty, including Partigatiga. He was apparently the leader of this insurrection.”

The Ignis. Chandi allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. He’d probably figure she was just catching her breath anyway. This was about the Ignis who had tried to hurt Revati. She’d wanted to think her threats to Semar would have kept them in line, but she’d always feared the fire worshippers might try something else. It seemed the Arun Guard had the same suspicions and were willing to take things farther than she had been.

“What do you mean, the end of it?”

“They’re guilty of treason. Sentence will be carried out at dawn. In fact, I’ll be leaving Kasusthali soon after. Come.” He beckoned, and began to lead her out of the Civic District.

Chandi followed, uncertain what else to say. The man was taking her to see the Ignis executed. Grim satisfaction warred with disgust within her, and she wasn’t certain whether watching some gruesome display would leave her vindicated or nauseated. When they reached the Harbor District, she still had not decided.

Naresh led her beyond the harbor, onto the beach, where a small crowd had gathered. She saw a pair of Guardsmen flanking the Radiant Queen, who wore a brilliant gold and red baju and matching sarong.

Many of the crowd were Ignis, including Semar, who watched with cold eyes. She could not blame him. Ten men and women were bound to massive crystalline stakes in the beach. Kindling was piled around each stake. Some of the Ignis wept, others stared out with defiant eyes.

“You think fire will harm the children of Agni?” the central Igni spat at the Radiant Queen. “Fire is the great purifier!” The man—muscular, bearded, and proud—showed no hint of his fear.

An official from the Ministry of Law checked the bonds of each victim while soldiers kept the crowd at bay.

And then the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon and the crowd fell still.

“Behold the price of treason,” the Radiant Queen said, her voice booming. “Behold the fate of traitors!” She turned, and Chandi caught a glimpse of the woman’s eyes—glowing like white-hot fire.

“Please,” one of the Ignis said. “Please, I have a family!”

Aji Bidara, the Radiant Queen, turned back to her victims and raised her arms. Some of the Ignis began to moan. The crystals glowed with incandescent heat as the sun struck them, and those groans turned to shrieks. And then the kindling around each crystal stake burst into flames. It happened so quickly Chandi had to take a step back from the sudden conflagrations that sprung up across the beach.

Naresh’s hand on her back stopped her from retreating farther. “I want you to know it is truly over. Your mistress and the imperial heir will never be threatened again. We found every conspirator, and no one will ever forget this punishment.”

Shivering despite the blazing heat, Chandi could not dispute his claim. This was what the Solars did to those who betrayed them. This was what they were going to do to her one day, when they learned her true purpose in Kasusthali. Acrid smoke carried the sickeningly sweet smell of burnt flesh to her and she gagged.

The wails of some of the victims had lessened, but others in the crowd had begun to weep. Semar took a step toward the fires and raised a hand toward his people. For an instant so brief it might have been her imagination, Chandi thought he intended to do something. Then his hand fell to his side and he closed his crystal blue eyes.

Sweet Chandra, Malin had been right. These people were like slaves. They were victims of the Solars. Chandi could not grieve for those guilty of trying to murder a baby, but for the others, for the whole of Semar’s people … how could she not empathize?

At last, all the screams fell silent. Aji Bidara dropped her arms and the crystal stakes sunk down into the beach, leaving nothing but piles of smoldering ash where once had stood people—lives, hopes, dreams. Murderers. This was the execution of attempted murderers. She had to remember that. They had gotten what they deserved, what had to be.

Just like she would one day. The longer she stayed in Kasusthali, the closer that day would grow.

And Naresh was right. No one would ever forget this.

PART THREE

1194 AP, The Dry Season

(Two Years Later)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Chandi watched Revati splashing in the palace fountain while Ratna prepared herself for their outing. Ratna had promised to take her daughter to the Armistice Festival. Every year the Solars celebrated Ratna’s anniversary, not as the anniversary of her marriage, but of peace. With the dry season ending, the days of sunshine would soon pass, and though the city’s nature kept rain out of all but the Harbor District, dark skies subdued most activity.

The gathered Solars watched with bemused expressions as the imperial heir drenched the great hall. Like her mother and Rahu, Revati had fairer skin than typical for a Skyfall native. Milky next to Chandi’s golden tan. Seeing Revati at play, Chandi could almost forget the girl’s half-Solar lineage.

The reactions of the passersby to the scene in the fountain only drove the giggling child to jump and splash more. Chandi smiled despite herself. Despite today signaling three years living in this underwater madness. Three years of sneaking, lying, stealing. And what had she really learned? That there were eleven Arun Guard and that their power came from their tattoos, which they called the Sun Brand. Apparently, in addition to the Guard, the emperor and the Radiant Queen also received the Sun Brand as a last line of defense against attacks. While she supposed those were interesting tidbits, it didn’t exactly qualify as information that could save the Lunar Empire.

“The fountain is not for swimming, handmaid.”

Chandi jumped at the voice so close behind her. She turned to put the pompous courtier in his place, then paused. It had been two years since she last saw Naresh. Not since the executions—a day she had never been able to erase from her mind. It haunted her vision every time she snuck into an office, every time she swiped some document, or stalked around the palace.

Naresh still wore the cerulean baju uniform of the Arun Guard, and seemed as fit as ever, his hair still hanging unkempt about his face.

She folded her arms over her chest. “You want to tell the emperor’s daughter where she can and can’t play?”

“She’s two. Best not to leave her in charge of her own wellbeing.”

Chandi scowled. Rangda take the man. She reached toward the fountain. “Come here, Revati.” The girl frowned, but obeyed, dripping water over Chandi’s new kemban.

Chandi sighed. Ratna had given her the bodice wrap for the Festival. Once, among the Lunars, she might have had any clothes she wanted, not waited on her cousin’s charity. But a handmaid took what she was given, and acted grateful for it. Most probably were grateful. So she’d donned the wrap, tucked a jasmine flower by her ear for contrast against her black hair, and collected her cousin’s daughter like she were some house slave.

“She’s in my charge, Guardsman. And now she’ll need to change clothes before we head to the Academy.”

Naresh nodded. “I’ll be your escort. I’m replacing Ibu Landorundun as your guardian for the immediate future.”

Chandi glowered without looking back at the Guardsman, though she could hear him following. When had he gotten back? Already they had him assigned to them. He must be good at something—fording the currents of Solar bureaucracy if nothing else. And what happened to Landorundun? The Guardswoman had been Ratna’s personal bodyguard for the past two years, ever since that day. Of course, since Landorundun had probably said all of two words to Chandi in that time, Chandi wasn’t going to miss her.

“Revati.” The voice echoed through the great hall before Chandi could even carry Revati out.

She sighed. Of course the emperor would choose now to come down, when his daughter was soaked. At least he didn’t sound angry. Not that she’d ever seen Kakudmi angry.

“Father!” Revati wiggled in Chandi’s arms, until she had to set the girl down. Revati ran to her father, who swept her up.

“You’re all wet, sunshine,” Kakudmi said, swinging his daughter around. He wore a small golden crown, disdaining the more ornate costumes his forefathers had worn. His crimson baju, embroidered with Lunar songket, had been a gift from Ratna. She had probably meant it as a barb, but Kakudmi wore it often, though sleeved bajus had fallen out of favor in Solar fashion.

“I’m a swimmer!” Revati said.

The emperor cradled Revati in his arm. “You are? Well, aren’t you talented?”

Naresh drifted to the side of the room, drawing Chandi’s eye to Ratna. Her cousin paused in the archway, watching her husband and daughter, her face unreadable.

Hands on hips, she turned as Chandi approached. “Why is my daughter soaking wet?” she asked.

“She wanted to play in the fountain. I was just going to get her a change of clothes.”

Ratna shook her head, and drifted over to Kakudmi. “Pak Kakudmi, we leave for the Wayang show soon. Will you join us, husband?”

Chandi wouldn’t bother with the ridiculous Solar titles they afforded their equals or superiors, but Ratna always did.

The emperor grunted, held his daughter a moment longer, before setting her down. Even then, his eyes remained on Revati. “I cannot this morning. I have too many things to oversee.”

“Chandi,” Ratna said, her voice soft, “take Revati to change.”

As soon as Chandi and Revati returned Ratna headed out of the palace, Naresh in tow. They followed the northern crystal tube out of the Civic District. Women carrying baskets laden with fruit on their heads clogged the way. The footfalls of so many people created a constant din of echoes.

Revati pulled away from her mother and pressed her face against the crystal, gasping at a manta ray as it swam by. Ratna sighed and started for her daughter, but Chandi swept Revati up in her arms before Ratna could chide the girl. Who would have thought that a half-breed could be so beautiful?

“I attended the Academy,” Naresh said.

Chandi glanced at him. Why did he bother with these pleasantries? Landorundun rarely had.

“Drawing, literature, history, tactics, even painting. I didn’t focus, but my mother had never intended for me to become a scholar.”

Painting was a foolish Solar pursuit. She could see the point in a sculpture that might last for ages and remind one of history, but not painting. She followed as Ratna started off down the tube again.

Still, it would be a long day if she refused to speak to him. She’d had a great many long days with Landorundun, who had rebuffed all her questions. If Naresh was feeling talkative, maybe he was the chance to finally uncover more about the Rangda-damned Arun Guard. “How old were you?”

“Twenty-one, when I left. About a year before you came here. I spent much of that time training as a potential. My mother’s plan all along.”

A man destined to join the finest murderers in history. And the bastard was proud of it. She could use that, though. A man so proud of his accomplishments might be inclined to boast of them.

“Your mother planned your future?”

“Didn’t yours?”

“No.” Chandi bit off any further response. No. If Chandi’s mother had such plans, Chandi had never known them. Not since the Arun Guard had murdered her. The retort burned on her tongue, but if she lashed out at him she might lose the chance to pry information from him.

Drumbeats filtered down through the tube long before they reached the next district, and even Ratna’s step lightened. The light intensified as they stepped from the tube to the Academy District, the crystal dome casting the white-gold buildings in radiant splendor. Revati climbed from Chandi’s arms and scurried forward, but Naresh pulled ahead as though to interpose himself between them and danger. Chandi shook her head. She’d wanted to bring her toyaks, but couldn’t disguise them well against her kemban. But then, if half of what she’d heard about the Arun Guard was true, Naresh could probably hold off a small army by himself. Assuming he was on their side at all.

They passed through the city park, Revati rushing from one street musician to the next, once stopping to beat on a young woman’s leather drum. Musicians filled the district, plying their trade for donations or the sheer joy of it. Chandi tried not to gape at the throng, reminding herself every year was like this. Though the Market District probably stood in more chaos, vendors had set up shops throughout the park. In a way, the Academy District was like home—trees and openness melded right into the city. Of course, the dancing light above reminded her they still lived under the sea. There was airflow, but no breeze. They had created the illusion of nature, but it was a facade.

The smell of baked goods filled the air and Revati dashed off to a nagasari stall.

“Might be nice,” Chandi said when her cousin glanced at her. Ratna just shrugged, so Chandi handed the vendor two silver coins and picked out several of the banana cakes. Revati giggled and stuffed too much in her mouth at once. Ratna picked at hers. Naresh was smiling. Had she seen him smile before? When she offered him a piece, he took it, his mouth hanging open. “You’re halfway there. The nagasari goes in your mouth.”

The vendor thanked her, so she turned to answer, but broke off at his joyless expression. The man was an Igni. A fortunate one, to be running a business as respectable as this, here in this district. A Solar passed, his Igni porter struggling to keep pace with a loaded basket balanced on his head. How much time had she spent in this city that she should start to ignore the Ignis as much as the Solars did? She had often walked in the Igni District, seeking allies. But when she didn’t need them, she didn’t see them any more than the Solars did.

Naresh cast a wary eye at the Igni. “What’s wrong?”

Ratna glanced over, but Chandi just shook her head and took Revati by the hand, pulled her along toward the Academy.

Naresh trotted after her. “Chandi?” She glanced at him, only because he remembered her name after all. “Something you fear?” His hand had drifted to his keris, though he didn’t draw the sword as he pushed past them, scanning the crowd.

“There are a lot of slaves for this area of the city.” She waved her hand at other groups, many marked by the sacred flame sewn onto their clothing. They pushed carts, worked to repair damaged buildings, one swept the streets. All the labor beneath Solars themselves.

Naresh’s hand released his sword but closed into a fist. “Solars don’t keep slaves. Lunars do.”

Her arms ached from carrying Revati so much today, but she picked the girl up again, putting the child between herself and the Guardsman. “No. We just call it what it is.”

“Our so-called slaves are paid for their labor,” Naresh said. His gaze flitted between Chandi and Ratna, who had begun to outdistance them. “And they can leave any time they wish.”

“Assuming they haven’t signed a contract, and for pay far less than any of your kind would take.” She hurried to catch up to Ratna, her breath starting to come short. She should have put the child down. She drew her Potency Blessing, flooding strength into her limbs until Revati became no weight at all. She allowed herself to breathe, and lowered her voice before she spoke again. “And can they leave? You took their land, where would they go?”

Eyes cold, he brushed past her without further comment and resumed his position at Ratna’s side. Damn it. She was an idiot. And yet, after so much time spent with the Ignis she couldn’t help but see their plight. No one spoke the rest of the way to the Academy. A white stone fence ringed the Academy grounds, its gate open to the flow of Solars on their way to hear the coming concert. Music poured from open windows in a grouping of three towers connected by a series of aerial walkways, all arranged around a central lobby.

In front of the lobby, the students had constructed a stage where they prepared for the Wayang. Chandi had seen the Solar shadow puppetry last year. Impressive in its mastery of light, but still just a tedious Solar religious reenactment.

Chandi set Revati down and bade her go to her mother. The girl ran about, ogling the students. Naresh trotted off a short distance behind her.

“Ratna,” Chandi said to her cousin, “if you don’t need my services here, I beg leave to visit a friend in the city.”

Naresh turned, looking like he might object, but Ratna cut him off. “It’s fine, Chandi. I’ll see you back at the palace.”

Chandi bowed and slipped out of the Academy before the Guardsman could speak.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Solar Academy was famed for its extensive library, or rather, libraries, as each of the three towers had their own. Ratna had visited here often in her time in Kasusthali. This place was one of the few highlights of her imprisonment in this undersea city. Each tower held countless volumes of lore, though some were restricted.

Now, during the Armistice Festival, the grounds were thick with revelers, musicians, street performers, and—most likely—cutpurses. Not that any thief would dare approach Ratna while one of the Arun Guard watched over her. Naresh, of course, constantly shifted his gaze from one direction to another, as if anyone would be foolish enough to accost Ratna or Revati.

Ratna shook her head, then stared up at the Tower of Arms. Here, students studied military history, Silat, and tactics. And, if she was not mistaken, they would have records of every battle the Solars ever fought.

“Pak Naresh? You studied here.”

Naresh glanced at her, then the tower. “Hmmm? Yes, Ibu Ratna. But the towers are closed for the Festival.”

“I want to see it.”

Naresh hesitated a moment, almost as if he would deny her. Stand up to the wife of the Solar emperor? Ratna kept her face stern, regal, not even allowing the possibility that he should question her. After a moment, he offered a slight bow, then went to pound on the tower door. Shortly, a bored-looking young woman—a student here?—opened the door. Her eyes widened as she looked at Naresh, then on to Ratna and her daughter, and she bowed deeply.

“The empress wishes a tour of the tower,” Naresh said.

Ratna tried not to smirk at the pale look that flashed over the girl’s face. She knew she wasn’t supposed to admit anyone, and she knew moreover she dared not deny Ratna. It was, she supposed, one of the few advantages of being trapped in her loveless marriage. And it was Kakudmi’s own damn fault. She had tried, she truly, truly had.

After Revati was born, she thought things would change between them, but they hadn’t. And when Mahesa came to visit, to congratulate her on her daughter, seeing him had opened a pit in her stomach and left her dreaming of a life that would never be. He must have felt it too, but he sat and patiently listened to all her stories. And Kakudmi had sent him away too.

The girl watching the tower nodded and motioned for Ratna to follow. She feigned interest in the girl’s ramblings as she spoke of the history of the tower, the different rooms, the training basement, and so forth. While she had little reason to care about such things, Ratna supposed there was no such thing as useless information—simply information she hadn’t found a use for. Yet. The fourth floor held a library she’d visited before, one open to the public and containing a wealth of fascinating details. Still, when they reached the fifth floor and the girl showed off the restricted library, Ratna’s interest piqued. This was what she had been waiting for.

“This library is limited to officers of the Ministry and students with special dispensation,” the girl said.

The Ministry of Information, as the name implied, not only ran the Academy, but decided which truths to pass on to the general public. Of course, they couched the role by portraying it as distribution of all of news, but Ratna had no doubt the organization’s true function was to keep details that might inconvenience those in power from reaching the ears of the masses. And it had functioned so long in this capacity, most Solars never even thought to question it. Those who did, she had learned, often found themselves visited by the Ministry of Law. Like the rest of Solar society, it was an intricate web of self-sustaining bureaucracy that kept everyone in whatever social status they were born to. In a sick way, perhaps the Lunars could learn something from all this—after all, a Lunar House could easily be toppled when a powerful Moon Scion rose up in another.

“Wonderful,” Ratna said, before the girl could close the door on the restricted library. “I’ll have a look around.”

“Uh … my lady … my Empress, that’s not …”

Ratna’s raised eyebrow silenced her. “I cannot see any danger in an empty room. Naresh, watch the door just to be certain. My daughter and I will be fine.”

Naresh frowned, but bowed. The man seemed oddly distracted and that worked in her favor. Perhaps he still dwelt on the little spat he’d had with Chandi over the Ignis. It would surprise Ratna if a Guardsman could actually be left to wonder when his own hypocrisy was pointed out, but then, stranger things had happened.

“Mama, books are boring,” Revati complained.

Ratna hefted the girl up and sat her on a table. “Oh no, moonbeam. You just don’t know how to get them to speak to you yet. They have the most fascinating stories. Anything you could ever want you can find in a book, somewhere.”

“I want ketupat.”

Ratna smiled. Fine. Maybe one wasn’t likely to find rice dumplings in any of these books.

“The imperial heir wants ketupat,” she called over to Naresh or her student guide—whoever was listening.

Naresh cleared his throat. “I don’t think anyone would be serving Lunar dishes here.”

Ratna hid her wicked grin before turning back to the student. “My dear, they’ll have it in the Market District. Go and fetch some, would you. Pak Naresh, give her some pearls.”

The trick to command was not even allowing the possibility of disobedience. That, she’d learned from her father.

With the Solars occupied, Ratna thumbed through the books on the shelves until she found ones about the Fourth War. Her father had started that war, she knew. He’d sent Malin to take the Astral Temple from the Solars and they had retaliated with more terrifying brutality than any Lunar had ever expected. Someday, Ratna would love to peruse these tomes and learn the Solar perspective on those events. But right now, she was interested in something that happened ten years into the Fourth War.

The Solars had been winning the war already, Ratna had gathered that much. Slowly taking one island after another in an inexorable press toward the Lunar homeland. And then they had bypassed all the remaining islands and led a massive attack on the island of Bangdvipa. Why? The island was a training ground for the Lunar Jadian troops, but the Solars had to know they couldn’t hold an island so deep in Lunar territory. And, at the same time, they had even launched a small raid into Bukit.

That raid was what truly interested Ratna. A single Arun Guard had come in and killed her mother, along with a handful of other Lunars. Not her father, the War King. Her mother. Why?

She was still flipping through the book when the student returned bearing a bowlful of ketupat that set Revati to squealing so loudly Ratna could barely keep from chuckling.

“You want some, Mama?”

“Soon, moonbeam,” Ratna said, and flipped another page.

Her breath caught at what she read there.

The infiltration of Bukit was deemed crucial due to the suspected presence of the witch Calon. It was believed her sorcery was responsible for the pestilence that rotted the terraces across Yawadvipa and led to the great famine of 1181 AP.

A sudden, terrible numbness settled over Ratna and she shivered and shut her eyes. Her mother was a witch? Or the Solars thought she was. And if they thought it … it might well have been true. The Solars had accused her of witchcraft, of breaching the bounds of Kahyangan. Such people were outcasts in Lunar society, shunned by Moon Scions and common-folk alike. But among Solars, witchcraft was considered treason against the Sun God. They burned practitioners at the stake.

And they had sent an Arun Guardsman to Bukit specifically to kill her mother. Was the whole Battle of Bangdvipa, one of the bloodiest engagements prior to the Battle of Astral Shore … a mere cover? And Chandi’s mother had been killed at the same time. What would Chandi do if she found out? Would she blame Ratna’s mother for the death of her own?

Sweet Chandra, who could she even tell about this? Not for the first time, she wished Mahesa were still in Kasusthali.

But then, Ratna wished a lot of things were different.

She’d wanted to know why her mother was killed. Now, it seemed, the better question was who her mother really was.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Chandi knew every street of the Igni District. Some of the vendors recognized her and waved, showing warmth she doubted the Solars ever received, even at Igni shops in the Market District. The Ignis here did much the same menial work they did in the rest of the city, but here they did it for themselves, maintaining their own homes, cleaning their own streets. A trio of Igni children ran past her, giggling, tossing a small basket back and forth between them. One laughed and tossed it to her. The children giggled as she fumbled with the basket, so with a grin, she ran off with it, the children chasing after her. Chandi kept her pace slow enough for them to keep up, and stopped running after a block. She held the basket over her head as two boys jumped for it, then she tossed it to a third.

The wooden structures looked like any ramshackle village in Swarnadvipa. Except that here, sunlight passing through the water above cast Chandi in a dancing pattern of light and shadow.

She distributed a few pearls she had swiped in the palace to children outside the Shrine of Sacred Flame. Though well kept, the windowless shrine might have passed for any other building, but for the burning brazier out front.

Solars needed their ostentatious temples to commune with their god. Ignis hid in dark shrines where their fires took on ephemeral life. But Lunars worshipped in the open air, absorbing the world around them. A shrine to Chandra would stand on a mountainside, attracting rows of devotees during the full moon, though a few would come almost every night. She had no such shrine anymore, but during full moons she tried to find herself in the rooftop gardens of the palace.

Now, she needed to see Semar. Since their first meeting, she’d found the fire priest inexplicably engaging and a welcome relief from sneaking about the palace, trying to uncover the secrets of the Guard. Despite her threat to the priest, she’d come back again after the executions, drawn to speak with the Igni. And almost every week since. Was it sympathy for his plight, or did she just like his company? Sometimes they met here in the shrine, sometimes at the Rangda Teahouse. And, for reasons she still couldn’t quite explain, she’d told him everything, even about Anusapati. Talking about Anu’s death had helped, she supposed, and Semar was an excellent listener.

As she entered the landing she blinked in the sudden shadows after the bright streets outside. The only light came from the open doorway behind her and a central fire pit farther in. A strong scent of incense filled the air. A couple of priests tended the flames, tossing offerings to the fire god that never seemed to answer their prayers. Once the Ignis and Solars had been allies, perhaps, but when the fire-worshippers refused to convert to follow Surya the Sun God, they became mere servants in the Solar paradise.

“Do you think how they treat us is worse than what your people do?” the priest asked from the back of the temple.

How did Semar always know what she was thinking? He knelt on a pillow, hands pressed before him in prayer. The flickering firelight obscured his face. As always, the priest wore a simple sarong, and a white baju adorned only with the Ignis’ sacred flame.

Chandi edged around the fire pit and knelt beside the priest on the pillow he laid out for her. The man liked to huddle in the shadows, dispensing one bit of wisdom for every two mysteries he created. Though she’d never admit it to Semar, she liked that about him.

“At least you have some choice in your lives. What’s more important than choice?”

“Perhaps having your choices matter. That’s why you chose to become a spy, isn’t it? To feel like you matter, to prove your worth to your people?”

Had she chosen it? Rahu ordered and she obeyed. But she hadn’t hesitated. Ratna needed her. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Semar about her mission, but somehow he just drew the truth out of her. He had a way about him, like an old soul one could trust implicitly.

“You can join us. If there is another war, stand with us against the Solars. Your refusal to act in your defense brought you here, in a run-down district of a glorious empire.” It was an unfair accusation, she knew, but a people had to fight.

“Trade one master for another? Lay down our lives to overthrow the Solars, only to become outcasts in Lunar society instead. Very tempting. Are you so eager for another war, child? In the twelve hundred years since the breaking of the Pact you’ve fought four wars with the Solars. And what have you gained?”

What indeed? Lunar lands had shrunk with each Solar victory. Anusapati had died in a hopeless battle. Or, died because of one, if she was honest with herself. Thinking of him still caused her gut to clench, but not the way it had. She shouldn’t care who broke the old Pact, who controlled the Astral Temple, or who ruled the most islands. But she had to care about her family. “You have the chance to change your future.”

Semar rose. Did he smile, or was it just a trick of the shadows? She followed him to the fire pit where he tossed in an offering of rice. The fire crackled as the smell of burnt grain filled the temple. “Change the future?”

“Together we can build a new world. A chance to make the Isles a better place for both of our peoples. We can show the Solars we are united, force them to give us better terms. If the Fifth War comes and you don’t join us, you will be no better off.”

The priest put his hand on her shoulder. Standing, he towered over her. “And if war comes, you think we will be better off?”

Maybe not. They would no more measure up to Lunar society than they did to Solar. The Ignis meditated as though seeking the Solar Kebatinan. But unlike the Solars who quested for inner peace, the Ignis did not fight. Whatever else might be said of the Solars, they had mastered warfare. The Ignis had never been strong enough, and so the strong ruled them.

She sighed. “I see what’s become of your people. I’m trying to help you change that. But I need to know you will help us if it comes to it. You may not have sent that assassin, but your people did.”

Now Semar turned from her to the fire. “You remember the Serendibian captain?”

Chandi frowned. He’d deliberately changed the subject away from the assassin. Semar so often misdirected their conversations, though oddly she sometimes later found he had answered a query in a roundabout way. And how could she forget the foreigner? “Bendurana. A Solar servant. Hunts Lunar pirates.”

“The captain empathizes with the Ignis. I trust him more than many, less than some. He will go to some lengths to fight for what he believes in, even if he doesn’t know it yet. Men of strong passions make valuable allies and dangerous enemies.”

So the Serendibian paid loyalty to no one. In a way that made him worse than a Solar servant. And her? The deeper she delved into this, the fouler it tasted. Three years of peace. It no longer seemed so impossible to hold it together. No longer so monstrous to try. And yet … she had sworn to uncover the secrets of the Arun Guard, to use those secrets to avenge Anu. Did she betray his memory to even consider giving it up? Her people needed her. Maybe so long in this city was poisoning her mind. She needed to get back to the mountains, to roam the rainforest and dance beneath the moon.

“You want to help the Ignis?” Semar asked. “Ferry messages to the captain. For the Ignis to do so would draw attention. But a servant of the empress? You can go where you wish. Who would question if you were to visit a man dealing in exotic wares?”

Chandi shrugged. These people certainly needed help, and who was she to turn away? The way the Solars always turned their backs on their supposed allies.

Semar read the look on her face. “You would have the Ignis follow your people? If the Solars learn of it, we both risk the Fifth War. Or perhaps the Ignis do nothing, and lose the war if it does come?”

Chandi bit her lip. “I have to prepare.” She owed her family that much. She had to try to finish this mission. It was not her place to question it.

“Then Bendurana is the ally we both need. You take messages to him, and he can get those messages anywhere in the Skyfall Isles. Beyond, even. Of course, such things have some risk. Solars do not treat spies well.”

No. They burned them at the stake.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The monsoons would sweep over the Skyfall Isles very soon, and Ben, sadly, needed to make one last trip to the Spice Islands before the rains came. There was simply too much profit to pass up. The Spice Islands were the easternmost of the Skyfall Isles, well into Solar territory and generally safe from Lunar pirates, if not from exorbitant Solar taxes, the outrunning of which was much harder than fleeing pirates. Despite the levies, a run to the Spice Islands was always worthwhile, and, during the monsoons, the extra sugar, cardamom, and especially the saffron would command a premium here in Kasusthali.

He leaned against the rail on the poop deck, watching Landi, who sat on the same rail, her hair streaming in the breeze.

“I like the rains,” she said without opening her eyes. “Fresh and clean and romantic.”

Ben grinned. “Ah, my dear. Just like me. That must be why you love me.”

Landi opened her eyes and sighed. “Sure you have to go?”

“It pains me too, my dear.”

Now that Landorundun was finally done babysitting the empress he’d hoped they could see each other more often. But if he didn’t make these trips he’d never truly make his fortune. And though his romantic gestures had invariably won Landi’s heart, Ben suspected providing her with her weight in pearls might go further to winning over her parents on Suladvipa. And he had to win them over. Sure, Ben had had his fair share of romantic interludes, had even been in love a few times. But Landi was the one, he could feel it.

When he returned from the Spice Islands, she’d let him kiss her. And after that, she’d made it damn clear they wouldn’t be sleeping together until they were wed. So, of course, he’d immediately proposed.

And they’d spent the past two years in this dance, him trying to earn enough to impress her family, and her barely finding time to even see him thanks to her duties in the Guard.

“I do love you,” she said.

“Indeed, my dear, and don’t let that trouble you. Everyone loves Captain Ben.” He flexed his biceps and his crew, well-trained, let out a collective whoop. Ben winked at his first mate. They all knew Ben planned to stop at Kutai on the way back to offload goods, and that meant their captain would be buying Tianxian liquors for the entire crew. A captain had his duty, after all.

Landi just shook her head, clearly trying not to laugh.

Ben sobered and drew her close. “When I get back, I’ll have enough. This is the last run I need to make, I’m sure of it. Ask for leave and we’ll go to Suladvipa and see your parents. It’s really happening. We can finally get married.”

Landi nodded, but didn’t quite manage to hide the doubt from her eyes.

It didn’t matter. Ben was going to show her and her parents both. After two years, he would be wed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Chandi hummed as she strolled through the tube under the sea, back toward the Civic District where the palace lay. Maybe Semar was right, maybe war wouldn’t come again. If peace endured, all she’d done here meant nothing. Could she live her life here, as a handmaid? Maybe. Maybe she wouldn’t have to. If peace held, maybe she could go home at last.

She had lingered in the Igni shrine past the afternoon heat. Even beneath the water, the dome somehow captured the heat, so the sun baked the streets.

The palace guards welcomed her back with cordial nods. The surprising and unmistakable smell of rendang wafted through the palace. Solars never made it, as far as she knew. Roasted beef, coconut, turmeric. Fresh chilies. Chandi almost trembled. Images of growing up on Swarnadvipa filled her, until at last her smile faltered.

The last time she’d had it, Anusapati had made it for her. Just before Rahu sent him to Astral Shore. He’d never cook for her again.

Though wide windows cast light throughout the palace, the fourth floor halls that led to her room fell in shadow. Naresh stood before her door, arms folded and head cocked, the light from her room filtering through gaps in the bamboo door behind him. “Where have you been? We got back two phases ago.”

Chandi smirked and pushed past him to open her door, brushing close enough to feel the heat from his body. Naresh followed her into her chamber without so much as asking her leave, then cut her off before she could respond. “You left Ibu Ratna alone with her daughter, handmaid. She thought you’d be back here long before us.”

“Alone?” She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back towards the doorway. Of course the Arun Guard’s lifestyle would lead to hard muscles. “Weren’t you there?”

Naresh grabbed her wrists from his chest, but dropped them when she jerked her hands back. “You’re my responsibility, too.”

“I can take care of myself, Guardsman. And don’t enter a lady’s chamber without her permission.”

“I’m trying to assure your safety,” he said as he backed out of her doorway. “I cannot protect you if you wander off into the city alone. From what I gather, this wasn’t the first time.”

Damn. Was he watching her? That could make her work much more difficult … “Thank you for your concern. I need to help Ratna prepare for dinner.”

“Ibu Ratna is already downstairs. The servants’ meals will be served shortly.” He pulled the door closed before she could say anything else. His sandals echoed on the stone floor as he left. This wasn’t even the first time she’d nearly been caught by Naresh.

And now one of the men she was supposed to be investigating had almost caught her. Again. He’d walked right into her room.

Chandi fell back on her bed, hand to her head, and blew her breath out through pursed lips. Naresh was watching her. Did he know she was a spy? He must have heard about her from others, or noticed her activities before she even knew he was back. But if he knew her purpose, he’d have turned her in long ago. So what was his problem, anyway?

She jerked as the door swung open again. “That was interesting,” Malin said, as he slipped into her room.

Chandi bolted upright, one hand on her heart. “Malin. What in the name of the Moon are you doing here?” Malin had spent the last two years making regular trips to Bukit. He should have been gone another week, at least.

Malin stalked close and sniffed her face. “Nice to see you, too, Chandi. I was passing time in Ratna’s chamber, but yours has grown more interesting.”

Chandi glowered. “I’m kind of tired of large men letting themselves into my bedchamber.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head so he could look down at her even more. “I’d think you might grow to like it. You just don’t understand how comfortable a bedchamber can be.”

Chandi snorted and drew her Moon Blessing. She shoved Malin away. Wouldn’t do to admit how glad she was he’d returned. The Macan Gadungan didn’t even stumble, made falling back look like it was his idea. Surprising grace in so muscular a frame.

Malin paced a moment, before settling down beside her on the bed. He wore his baju open, exposing his sun-darkened chest. Male Macan Gadungan always wore their shirts unbuttoned to make them easier to discard when they shifted. Most of the females did too.

“You missed me,” he said. “I can smell it.”

“I hope you won’t get fleas in my bed.”

He chuckled. “Just be glad I don’t mark my territory.” His face soured and he rose, pacing around the room. Always so restless. “I saw Ketu. He forgets, sometimes, the Macan Gadungan are not pets.”

“How is my father?”

“What do you see, Chandi? Man or beast? You’re not the only ones Chandra blessed. We are more than human, just like you.” She opened her mouth but he continued. “We are. Just like you.”

Chandi studied his face. First and most revered of the Macan Gadungan, the greatest of the Lunars’ Jadian. She wanted to say she saw the man. But did she? Or did she marginalize Malin’s kind as Solars did the Ignis, and for less reason? After all, they were Lunars, too. Blessed to have Moon Spirits share their bodies. Blessed, or cursed, perhaps. Malin talked about it, sometimes, when they were alone. He spoke of the constant fight to hold onto his humanity when the spirit tried to drive him.

As she struggled for words, he stepped closer, his flash of anger gone. “You won’t be stuck here forever, Chandi. You’ll see your home again, one day.”

Chandi looked away. It was what she wanted. To go home.

Malin sighed. “Rahu is not pleased with your progress. In the last two years you’ve brought him nothing but Solar customs and the status of the Igni class. The War King wants something we can use to gain an edge. What’s next, a report on the Festival?”

Chandi shrugged. “Probably. You told me to pursue alliance with the Ignis. I’m doing that.” Malin’s look accused her of drawing that out, too, but he said nothing, so she continued. “Look, I’ve tried. I’ve snuck into the rooms of Guardsmen and read their logs. I’ve followed them around the palace and the city. No one ever had a book labeled How to defeat the Arun Guard, Malin. What on Chandra’s dark side do you want from me?”

Malin snorted. “Home is as far away as you make it.” He backed out of the room, never taking his eyes from hers, his smirk never lessening.

Well, damn him for looking at her like that. The man could come and go as he pleased, while she was trapped here. He couldn’t understand the pressure she faced. Damn it. And she was probably unfair to Malin. He was, after all, one of the only people she could even talk to about all this.

After the door swung shut, she took a deep breath. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since the nagasari this morning, and though Naresh had said the servants’ meal would be served soon, she couldn’t see joining their conversations tonight. They understood her even less than Malin did. The irritation of dealing with their petty gossip and snide comments outweighed the benefits of their intimate knowledge of their masters—though she had certainly tried there. And who did Naresh think he was, watching her anyway?

If he wanted to watch her, maybe she could return the favor. Who knew what she might find in his shadow? Maybe, finally, she’d be able to figure the Guard out. It was a risk. He already seemed suspicious of her. She’d need to win his trust completely. But what if he could lead her to what she’d been seeking the past three years? Could she really go home?

After fixing her hair, she took the stairs to the first floor. A small ruckus came from the guards’ mess hall. She paused in the open archway. Several hundred soldiers sat together. The men outnumbered the women, but they all seemed to cavort as one. She bit her lip a moment before entering. A few of the guards shouted invitations to her—some quite presumptuous—but otherwise seemed little interested in her. An open archway in the back of the room led to a more private table, though sound from the main room still leaked in.

Ten or so men and women in cerulean uniforms sat around this table, the most Arun Guard she could remember seeing together since the wedding. The conversation stopped when she entered, every pair of eyes turning to her.

Empu Baradah, head of the Arun Guard, watched her with what she hoped was disinterest. She had tried to learn about the Arun Guard from him and found him less than forthcoming, and far too astute about what she was doing. Since he hadn’t arrested her, he may have thought it simple curiosity. If so, best to keep him thinking that.

Naresh sat beside Empu Baradah, his glower shifting between Chandi and Landorundun, who sat on his other side. Chandi had wanted to know more about the day in the harbor, when she commanded the birds, but Landorundun had only said it was a show.

“This is the private hall of the Arun Guard, handmaid,” Naresh said.

“Oh good, I was afraid I was lost. The Guard hall did seem the best place to find you.”

A few of the Guardsmen laughed and resumed conversations. Maybe they weren’t all so bad. Landorundun stood and pulled out the chair. “Perhaps you’ll find his company more pleasant, Lunar.”

Her heart was beating too fast. She should have thought this through better. Why was she never able to come up with a plan? Why in Rangda’s underworld did Rahu send her for this, anyway? She was no spy. Chandi preferred to solve her problems with a pair of toyaks. But she took the offered seat, and the Guardswoman found another on the other side of the table.

Most of them were staring at her. Her face felt hot. Empu Baradah spoke to Landorundun in a low voice. Just like that, the Guardsmen followed his lead and all struck up private conversations with their neighbors. All but Naresh.

“I believe you found me, then.”

This had been easier in her head. He hadn’t had so many Guardsmen around him then. “You,” she began. He was smiling, like he had this morning. She had to get him on her side. “You were right. I should have been more careful. I know you’re looking out for us.”

Whatever response he’d had died on his lips. “Thank you, Chandi.”

Her stomach rumbled again.

Naresh motioned to a servant. “Another plate, please. And some tea.” He turned back to her as the servant ran off. A Solar servant, since they didn’t allow Ignis in their mess halls. Naresh pulled the dish of pineapple slices over and waved at it. For the first time she noticed the Festival feast arrayed before her. Fresh fruit, vegetables, nagasari, chicken satay, and best of all, rendang—the smell that had wafted through the palace earlier. The sweet and spicy aromas intoxicated her.

The infamous Arun Guard feasted and laughed while she plotted treachery. But they offered her hospitality, and she was starving. And if they thought her a servant, then she shouldn’t stand on ceremony. She grabbed a handful of pineapple, popping the pieces into her mouth one after another.

“It’s not so different than what we eat, you know,” she said between bites.

“Besides all the seafood.”

“Mmm, besides that.” It had taken her a month to even try the damn scallops. As much time as Solars spent on or in the water, it shouldn’t surprise her they wanted to eat out of it, too. Not that Lunars didn’t have fishing villages, but Solars loved the stuff.

The moment the servant put a plate before her she scooped up a spoonful of rendang. But she couldn’t bring herself to eat it. Her lip trembled, her mouth watering. She’d waited so long for this.

“Is something wrong? We had Bendurana bring the recipe for the empress. Pak Empu Baradah thought we should try it today, as well. Is it not made properly?”

Chandi forced herself to take a bite. The tender meat practically fell apart in her mouth. Not as good as true Lunar rendang, but almost. She savored each bite, trying not to think about Anu, trying to ignore Naresh watching her eat.

“It’s excellent. Are you going to be permanently in charge of our security now that you’re back?”

“For a while, unless Ibu Ratna requests someone else. Ibu Landorundun is receiving other training.”

Landorundun snickered at the mention of her name. Naresh ignored her, and instead ladled a bit of gudeg into a bowl for Chandi, and then for himself. The sweet stew was probably the single greatest invention of Solar cuisine, so Chandi didn’t need much prodding to taste it.

“Naresh has returned to many new responsibilities,” Empu Baradah said. She hadn’t realized he was listening. Stupid to let the man slip her attention, even for a moment. All the Arun Guard now watched their First. “I think his time at the Astral Temple has suited him well, has it not? We can all see he’s come a little closer to Kebatinan.”

Everyone else laughed while Naresh nodded, his face wary.

“But he has more to learn. I’m leaving him in charge in my absence.”

Landorundun coughed, sputtering her tea. Chandi watched Naresh, but he seemed as surprised as the Arun Guardswoman. The First was leaving? And moreover, he was setting Naresh up in his stead while he was away. Why? Sure, she’d heard Naresh’s reputation for swordsmanship, but the Guard were all master warriors. If Empu Baradah was grooming Naresh for command, that meant he’d be even more useful to her mission than she first suspected.

One of the Guard asked about where Empu Baradah was headed, but he refused to divulge that information—at least in front of Chandi—and so the conversation shifted back to other things. Chandi made an effort to join in, to blend in. She was going to have to ingratiate herself with Naresh before he’d give up any useful information. Besides, if he trusted her, he’d be less likely to watch her every move.

When Empu Baradah left, Chandi excused herself, claiming she needed to check on her mistress. Instead, she followed the First, keeping a discrete distance behind. If he was leaving Kasusthali, Chandi needed to know why and where he was going. The First had seldom left the city in the three years she had been here. If he was going to some secret meeting, maybe it would give her a clue as to the source of the Guard’s power. Anything he didn’t want others knowing was probably something she needed to know.

He soon retired to a wing on the third floor reserved for visiting officials, though whom he met there she didn’t know. For what seemed a whole phase she had stood in the shadows, not daring to draw too close to the doorway. From the sounds now coming from within, he had met a woman. Even if he might have let slip his destination, Chandi couldn’t bring herself to eavesdrop on their liaison.

As the door creaked open, Chandi backed around the corner. Footsteps echoing down the hall from the other direction caught her ear, sent her heart racing. A peek around the corner told her Empu Baradah was coming this way, the woman going the other, and some unknown Solar was coming toward her from around the other corner.

Focus. She drew her Gliding Blessing and shifted her center of gravity to the wall and ran up it, until she could press her back against the ceiling. Her shoulder-length hair hung free, but the rest of her pressed against the arch above, as though she laid on it. She could try the Glamour, but if they looked up, they’d notice her no matter what color her clothes were.

Empu Baradah passed right under her, leaving her wondering how he could fail to hear the pounding of her heart. She had recognized the woman, too, though she couldn’t believe it. Aji Bidara. The Radiant Queen who could take no mortal man into her arms, for she was the bride of Surya. Her holy office forbade her from such human indulgences.

Empu Baradah stopped in the doorway, awaiting whomever approached. Chandi craned her neck, praying the other Solar was too focused on Empu Baradah to look up at her. Naresh.

“She was here, wasn’t she?” The Guardsman asked, scowling.

Chandi held her breath—and thanked Chandra Solars liked high arched ceilings—as both men stopped to converse right under her.

“So you know.” The First lingered in the doorway. “We used to be more careful.”

“You betray your wife and your god, and that’s all you can say? You were my hero, and you commit this blasphemy!”

Empu Baradah sighed, shaking his head. “You’re over-dramatizing a bit.” He frowned, then shrugged. “At least the part about betraying Surya. A good husband would have seen to his wife’s needs.”

Naresh’s eyes widened. “If defiling the Sun God’s bride were not enough, why not mock him too?”

“You’re right about one thing. I do betray my wife. She returns the favor, I think.” Empu Baradah reached an arm towards Naresh, but the younger Guardsman shrugged it off. “Duty and honor are important, Naresh—”

“Important? They’re everything. Our actions reflect on those who have crafted us in their image. Yours reflect poorly on your family.”

Empu Baradah frowned, but nodded. “Perhaps they do. But Naresh, they’re not the only important things. So is happiness. If you waste your life, knowing your family would be proud will be small comfort in the end. We are trapped in a cycle where each generation lives for what their parents want, and no one ever lives for themselves. And we return to the Wheel of Life no better than we left it.”

Chandi clenched her eyes shut. The First’s words stung, even though he didn’t direct them at her. Duty had led her to sacrifice a normal life. Duty had led Anu to Astral Shore. It kept her here, spying on these people. And, in a way, Empu Baradah’s desire made him seem less monstrous. What did Chandi care about ridiculous Solar religious traditions? The man was following his heart, and she had to appreciate that.

“You can have happiness and honor, too,” Naresh said. “Living up to your duty ought to bring you happiness. Maybe then you would move up in the Wheel.” Naresh trembled like a volcano. “Think of what your father has done for you.”

“You can worry about what should be. Or you can accept what is. If you put honor before your heart, you may lose both in the end.”

Naresh’s sudden hook caught the First off guard, sending the older man to the floor. “I trusted you more than anyone. You disgraced my mother.”

“She’s been alone since your father died.” Empu Baradah used the wall to push himself up, Chandi afraid to breathe in case he should glance upwards. “Forced alone, since she became Radiant Queen.”

Naresh stormed off and Empu Baradah turned back around the corner, giving his young protégé room. Chandi breathed again. Aji Bidara was Naresh’s mother?

Chandi had no idea how to use that information, but at least she finally had something to give Malin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Malin had sat alone in the darkness of his room when Chandi had barged in, not bothering with a candle. His eyes didn’t need more than starlight to see, anyway. The changes Rahu and Calon had wrought in him were almost immeasurable. The biggest—besides the tiger constantly controlling his emotions—was probably the scents. Everything had a scent he’d never noticed as a mere man. It was hard to remember what being human even felt like anymore.

“Let’s spar,” Chandi blurted. She smelled tense, almost ready to break.

She clearly needed the release, so Malin rose and claimed his toyaks. “Come.”

He led her up to the rooftop garden above the palace. During the daytime Solars came up here—less so during the monsoons—but at night it was free. The garden was filled with palm trees and flowers, birds, even monkeys. It was as close as Malin could ever get to the natural world while he was in Kasusthali, so he came up here most nights. Tonight, it was almost a full moon. It called to the tiger. Made his muscles itch. Needed to shift.

Chandi launched into a series of attacks. Perfect form, but overly aggressive. Malin gave ground, fending off her attacks with the least effort necessary. Let her exhaust her rage. In moments she was panting as she circled him. He swung low with one stick, then twisted away from her counterstrike. Chandi’s attacks suddenly accelerated, her breath coming more evenly. Drawing her Blessings. She shouldn’t be doing that, not for training.

Left and right, back and forth they danced at a tempo most mortals couldn’t follow, much less match. The crack of rattan sticks hitting with so much force echoed like thunder. Malin had drilled toyak fighting into Chandi since she was ten. His nature made him stronger and faster, even in human form, and she seemed determined to match him. How many times did he have to warn the girl about that?

But she wasn’t a child anymore, had not been a child in a long time. Certainly not these past three years. Those first few nights, they had sat up here, telling stories of the mountains of Swarnadvipa, laughing. At least until she had burst into tears, finally letting her grief over Anusapati overcome her. At first, he’d feared she’d blame him for killing the boy. But Chandi had understood. Unlike Ratna, she had always understood him.

Malin fell back, struggling to keep up with her enhanced speed. She should not be doing that. Part of him hated having to chide her over and over for it. She was not a child anymore. She was a woman. But still his to protect. That was all.

Mate.

Malin grit his teeth against the tiger’s unwanted intrusion into his thoughts. It was just the damn tiger. Yes, Chandi had kissed him on the cheek that one night. It was her grief. Malin knew all about grief. He had lost his wife, had lost countless mates during the war. All the tiger wanted was to fuck her and leave her like he’d done with all the Macan Gandungan females. She deserved better.

“Why did you want this so much, Chandi? You’ve only wanted to spar three times since you came here.”

Chandi ran at him, and launched a series of tight swings, forcing him backwards. “Were you counting?”

“Did you spar like this with Anusapati?” Malin backed away in a low crouch.

Chandi fell into a crouch herself, not rising to his bait—and he hated himself for baiting her. But she had to learn to control her rage. Of course, Malin was still working on his own. “Anusapati used the keris.”

“I prefer teeth.” He swung high, and Chandi dove under it. Malin anticipated it, and caught her in the stomach with his knee.

The force of the blow threw her on her back, and she gasped, struggling to breathe. Malin’s stomach clenched at hurting the girl. Protect and avenge. Protect and avenge. It was his reason for being. Especially the girls, and yes, now Revati too. It had almost killed him when that Igni bitch had attacked Revati and Malin wasn’t there.

Malin moved to where Chandi had fallen, struggling to keep sympathy from his face. She had lost control. What if he had been a real opponent? An Arun Guard would have killed her a dozen times over if she fought like that. He need not say it, of course. She’d know she made a mistake—no need to rub salt in the wound.

“Why are we here in the middle of the night, Chandi?”

“The Solars don’t come here at night.” She rose, taking a few deep breaths, then began walking the garden.

Lorises had come out and cluttered the trees, watching the pair. How had the big-eyed monkeys even gotten out across the sea? Perhaps the Solars bred them for the garden. It was at least one thing the Solars did Malin could approve of.

Malin couldn’t tear his gaze off Chandi. Her slim form, her perfectly shaped hips.

Mate.

He snarled at the tiger, and Chandi turned, a questioning look in her.

“Empu Baradah almost caught me spying on him tonight.”

Empu Baradah. First of the Arun Guard. And murderer. Avenge. Avenge!

“He’s leaving soon. I learned it today. I followed him to see if I could learn why.”

“Where?” Malin’s voice had fallen, hardened. Avenge.

Chandi rose and walked to the edge of the garden. “I don’t know, Malin.”

Malin followed behind her. His mind reeled, struggling to keep the hunt against the murderer from its forefront. The war was over. Over, vengeance lost. He needed to change the subject. “You shouldn’t rely so much on the Moon Blessings.” He tried to put a hand on her shoulder.

She pushed him away from her. “Don’t tell me how to use my own gifts, Macan Gadungan.”

“Anusapati said something similar, before Astral Shore. Before he went lunatic.”

Chandi spun back on him, fist clenched. She sucked in air through her teeth and hissed in wordless rage. Malin recoiled. He wasn’t trying to provoke her. Was he? With a dismissive wave of her hand, she turned back to the sea and leapt in.

Malin shook his head and watched her as she swam about, around the palace.

Empu Baradah was leaving the safety of the palace. That meant something.

It meant Malin just might get an opportunity.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The monsoons would sweep over the Isles any day now, but Ratna still couldn’t bring herself to leave her chambers. The books she’d requisitioned from the library—over the curator’s objections—were simply too fascinating. Her mother had been a witch, and it would not surprise her if Simhika—Chandi’s mother—had been as well. At the very least, surely Simhika was complicit in her cousin’s activities.

All Solar books regarding witchcraft were forbidden, carefully guarded secrets by the Ministry of Information. They didn’t destroy the knowledge, that wasn’t their way. Rather, they restricted it, perhaps to keep the general population from being tempted toward such endeavors.

But Ratna had to know. She had to know her mother. Her parents had started the Fourth War, so she had to assume they thought victory was attainable, at least at first. And they must have used witchcraft to create the two Jadian bloodlines. As near as Ratna could tell, at least according to these Solar tomes, witchcraft and sorcery were two names for the same thing—the evocation of spirits, the denizens of Kahyangan. Some kind of barrier separated the Spirit Realm from the Physical Realm where people and animals lived, but spirits could be called across the barrier. They were non-corporeal, so they had no form in this realm, but that hardly made them powerless.

Ratna’s mother had apparently—and thus far, no tome had explained the means of it—compelled some spirits to affect the natural world, spreading disease among both the Solars and their crops. Had mere desperation moved her mother to such extreme measures? And why not? The Solars represented a superior force poised to destroy Lunar society. They probably still could do so, if they wanted to.

Except Kakudmi appeared to want peace, if not Ratna. Oh, the man cared for their daughter. Even now, Ratna’s little girl was spending the afternoon with her father as if a two-year-old could be interested in the workings of the Solar court. Nor did Kakudmi even bother to invite Ratna.

The door to her room creaked open, but Ratna didn’t look up from her book.

“Chandi? Would you fetch me some karedok? I missed the lingsir kulon meal.”

“You’ve taken a liking to our salad?” her husband asked.

Ratna spun, toppling the book over and nearly tripping herself as she struggled to rise. Kakudmi hardly ever came to her chambers. When she’d moved to Kasusthali, she’d assumed they would share a room, but apparently the empress warranted space of her own. More likely, Kakudmi wanted to keep his own privacy. Sometimes it felt like months between him calling on her to sate his lusts. It had, in the past, led her to believe the man was having an affair. Sending Mahesa to spy on him had been an error, unfortunately.

And the way he stood, looking at her now, seemed uncomfortably similar to how he had looked on her after catching Mahesa in her chamber. “It’s come to my attention you’ve been withdrawing a number of books from the Academy libraries.”

Ratna smoothed her sarong and offered a small bow, trying to keep her face as impassive—and innocent—as possible. “Yes, Pak Kakudmi. Reading is one of my favorite pursuits. Don’t you approve?” Kakudmi was, after all, probably the best-read man in the whole Solar court.

The emperor frowned, then stepped around her and stooped to grab the book from where it had fallen. He flipped through a few pages. “Of the pastime? Yes, I approve. It’s your choice of material that has me concerned. These works are restricted for a reason, Ibu Ratna. They’re dangerous and you are not to delve any further into such subjects. You should have known better.”

Indeed, it seemed she had underestimated just how far the Ministry of Information was willing to go to control the flow of knowledge, if they would turn to the emperor himself.

“You’ve left me no choice but to ban you from the libraries for the immediate future.”

“What? But I—”

“We can discuss this again in the next dry season. Until then, I’ll have a few plays delivered to your chambers to keep you diverted.” Her husband turned and left without another word, taking the book with him.

Ratna scowled at the bamboo door as it swung closed behind the Rangda-damned man. She was trapped. Little better than a bed slave. She was the empress of the most powerful nation in the known world and she was a fucking whore. No! No, a whore got paid. And Ratna was done being cowed by that man. If he didn’t love her, if he wouldn’t or couldn’t care about her, at least she would not be some passive strumpet to be used and cast aside as it suited him. He might have rights to her body she could not deny, but he had no claim on her mind. None.

And two could play at the Ministry’s game. They thought to control all knowledge in their empire. Well, Ratna was going to put an end to that. Maybe Lunar libraries wouldn’t hold the extensive collections the Solar had access to, but they’d be a place to start. And she was quite certain a few heavy pearls could bribe some enterprising captain to bring her any tome she might wish. And maybe—just maybe—she’d disseminate those works to the public, just to spite those Ministry bastards who thought they could control her.

So let the games begin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

On a clear day, Chandi could see the harbor from the window in Ratna’s chamber. Fishing boats had long since left for the morning. Other Solars scurried about the piers, though they looked like indistinct blurs.

“Where’s Revati?” she asked as she brushed Ratna’s hair. The brush, Ratna’s mother’s brush, was all her cousin had brought from home. Her cousin’s long silky hair stretched halfway down her back. Once Chandi had thought to grow hers like that. Well, maybe more than once. But hair that long was better for winning hearts than winning battles.

“Her father’s taking her to a Sepak Takraw game. The team from Suladvipa came to Yawadvipa for the Festival.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

Ratna shrugged, disrupting Chandi’s attempt to arrange her cousin’s hair. “Pak Kakudmi didn’t invite me.”

Chandi suppressed a sigh. So instead Ratna sat here alone. Even Chandi had to go—she’d talked Naresh into meeting her for breakfast. Couldn’t get information from him without staying close to him, after all. He was her way to finally make some progress against the Arun Guard.

“I’m sure the emperor didn’t think he needed to invite his wife.”

“Of course he didn’t. Why should his wife matter?”

Damn. “That’s not what I meant. I meant he assumed you would go.” Unlikely, knowing Kakudmi. The man had given Ratna a luxurious suite to herself. But since Revati was born, he rarely invited Ratna to his own suite on the opposite side of the fourth floor.

“If he thinks I’ll follow like a faithful Macan Gadungan, he’s mistaken.” Ratna rose from the windowsill and drifted around her chambers without apparent purpose.

What difference did it make what Kakudmi thought? The man had agreed to an arranged marriage and lived with it. Had Ratna expected more? Had she forgotten who the Solars were? “You need to get out of this room, Ratna. There’s more to life than books. More even than taking care of Revati.”

The creak of the door drew her gaze before she could think of anything more to say. Malin stood there, his usual smirk missing. “I shouldn’t have mentioned Anusapati last night.”

Ratna hissed. “Callous tiger. Never consider our feelings, do you?”

“You were quick enough to beg my presence when Revati was in danger.”

“I beg nothing, Macan Gadungan. I order and you serve.”

Malin glared at Ratna.

“I have to go,” Chandi said. If this continued, she’d lose her appetite. Why Ratna insisted on taking her frustrations out on Malin, she’d never know. Perhaps he was a convenient target since Ratna knew he’d take any amount of abuse.

Malin followed her down the hall. “You could have waited for me, back then. You didn’t have to face him yourself.”

“Yes I did.”

Around the next bend she almost ran into Empu Baradah. She nodded at the First as he passed, and started to resume her search for Naresh, when she realized Malin no longer followed. He and Empu Baradah stood feet apart, gazes locked, both twitching as their hands inched toward weapons.

“Welcome back to the palace, Pak Malin,” Empu Baradah said.

“An honor, First.” Malin spoke through clenched teeth, his feigned civility even less convincing than Empu Baradah’s. “I do look forward to getting to know it better.”

Empu Baradah didn’t flinch. “I have special accommodations for you, should you wish to extend your stay.”

“When I’ve come to stay, you’ll know.”

Empu Baradah edged past Malin, his eyes never leaving the tiger’s. “Sun warm your face.”

Malin turned with Empu Baradah, neither barring the way nor stepping aside. Chandi tugged on his arm, but he ignored her until Empu Baradah had turned the corner.

“What is wrong with you?” She snatched his wrist and yanked him down the hall. “We’re guests here.”

“Nothing,” he snapped.

“You’ll start the Fifth War over nothing, then?” Idiot tiger. She held firm under his gaze. “Well?”

Malin cracked his neck before answering. “Come.”

He led her through the Arun Guard lounge where Landorundun sat playing a flute. The Guardswoman watched them with more interest than usual, though she didn’t stop playing.

Chandi nodded at her, then followed the Macan Gadungan up the stairs into the garden. A handful of Solars already clustered around the pond, so she sat in a secluded spot beneath a palm tree.

“Well?” she repeated.

Malin’s gaze drifted from one rainbow-colored bird to the next, though he didn’t seem to take any joy in them. Then he watched her, fury and interest warring on his face.

“He was there. The glorious, venerated Empu Baradah, First of the Arun Guard. Butcher of Astral Shore. They say he killed more Macan Gadungan than any other. Moon Scions, too.”

Chandi had almost let herself like the First. He’d welcomed her at his table. He’d seemed more human because of Aji Bidara, whatever Naresh thought about the affair. But he was still a monster with the Sun Brand. Deep down, of course she’d known he was at the biggest battle of the whole Fourth War. Where else would he have been, considering Ken Arok had been there? It was unfair to condemn the Solar for fighting to defend his emperor.

Malin watched her from the corner of his eye, his jaw twitching. He was holding something back.

“What else?”

Malin shook his head.

“Tell me.”

Malin looked down at the grass a moment. “I failed to protect Calon and Simhika all those years ago. I won’t let anything happen to their daughters.”

Chandi recoiled at the sudden mention of her and Ratna’s mothers. They had died thirteen years ago in the war, while their husbands were away. Malin had come to tell them of it, and she and Ratna had wept for phases and phases, unable to accept the terrible truth. And Chandi, like a fool, had demanded to see her mother’s body before the funeral ceremony. She had reached out to touch her skin, but had not quite been able to, fearing the cold.

Malin cracked his neck. “Empu Baradah came for Calon. We think that’s why Ken Arok promoted him to First after the Battle of Bangdvipa, though he never fought in the battle.”

The First had come to kill Ratna’s mother. And Chandi’s mother had gotten in the way. And for thirteen years, the man had been praised for the murders.

Chandi had eaten at his table. Had pitied him for his loveless marriage. But scratch the surface of a Solar, and you found more than you expected. She wouldn’t forget that again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Naresh couldn’t forget that flute song. The rhapsody drifted through the fourth floor of the palace.

Chandi wasn’t in her room. Last night she said she wanted to meet with him this morning, but he hadn’t been able to find her. He closed his eyes, letting the song wash over him, indulging for a moment in memories he knew were best left buried. Naresh sighed and followed the song to the Arun Guard’s lounge.

A warm breeze blew through the window to the landing. Soon the palace staff would close it with crystal panes, but during the dry season the Arun Guard spent a lot of time here. Landorundun sat on the landing with her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, basking in the sun, playing the song she had been perfecting since her days at the Academy. A song that should have made her career. She would have made a finer musician than a soldier.

She glanced at him, then increased the tempo of her song. And then it ended. She laid the flute down beside her and watched him, as if waiting to hear how impressed he was.

“Well done.”

With a light snort she settled back on her arms. “Come to hear me play? I have others if Empu Baradah’s protégé isn’t too busy this morning.”

Naresh shrugged and stepped out of the window to stand by the sea. In the morning sunlight he could see the edge of the Civic District’s crystal dome beneath the water. It always seemed odd to see it from above. “He thinks just as much of you,” he said at last.

“I’m sure he does.”

“Why do you have to make it so hard?” he asked with a glance over his shoulder.

“I’m used to hard.” She rose and stood looking up at him. “I’ve worked for what I have. I wasn’t given it by my parents.”

Naresh pushed past her to step back inside. “Neither was I.”

“Are you certain?”

Damn her smug smile. His mother may have planned his future, but he had worked as hard as anyone. Harder. Since the day he was wedded to the keris he had fought to become the best. He was damn near the best already, and she knew it. “Have you seen Chandi?”

She laughed. “Oh, Naresh, it’s so sweet you have a new friend. And a handmaid! She must be so much better conversation than that macaque you used to keep.”

He had loved that monkey. Actually, he’d had some deep conversations with it, if one-sided ones. Back in his days at the Academy, he had talked for phases with Little Bany, not the least about his frustrations over Landi.

“You shouldn’t have allowed her to dine with us.”

Ignis were forbidden from dining with Solars, as if their religion would somehow contaminate the food. If there were any such prohibitions against Lunars, Naresh hadn’t heard them yet. Perhaps it was only a matter of time, now that Lunars had given over the ways of isolationism.

Naresh turned his back on her. “The prejudices of the Children of the Sun are beneath us. We cannot expect peace if we see the other dynasties as too inferior to warrant respect.”

“Ironic, coming from the son of the Radiant Queen. Or blasphemy. What would she say?”

Naresh didn’t want to know what his mother would say. But he could guarantee Landi wouldn’t go anywhere near enough to ask her. “I see you’re eager for some sparring. Perhaps another day.”

“I look forward to putting you in your place. You just missed your playmate. She went up into the garden with the empress’s Lunar bodyguard.”

Naresh grimaced at her tone. He didn’t want things to be like this with her. They’d studied together, trained together, had loved one another, once. Another lifetime.

He offered her a nod, and she returned to her flute. Fine. Maybe some things could never be fixed. He took the stairs to the garden two at a time. The palace let in enough sunlight for small plants, but only the roof had the room for palm trees and a full garden. Kakudmi himself had designed the gardens, before he took the throne. Before Ken Arok’s murder.

A flock of birds of paradise had alighted in the trees near the stairs. Many Solars kept them, but the Arun Guard had no time for pets, birds or monkeys. It had broken his heart to give away Little Bany, though Landi’s old roommate had certainly given the macaque a good home.

Chandi sat on the edge of the roof, under a palm tree, staring at the sea. Malin sat close to her, almost like he intended to put his arm around her, but hadn’t gotten there yet.

Naresh moved closer, trying to keep his footfalls quiet. The Lunar man jerked his head into the air, then turned to face Naresh. Chandi twisted to watch as Malin rose and stalked toward him. The man sniffed, pulled his lips back in a not-quite smile.

“I wasn’t informed you were visiting the palace, Pak Malin.”

“Maybe you weren’t important enough to inform, Guardsman.” The Lunar moved closer and stood over him. Though Malin was only a little taller, he was much heavier than Naresh.

“I guess we should be honored.” He didn’t back away from the large Lunar.

“I didn’t think you were smart enough to realize the honor.” Malin leaned in too close, his eyes gleaming like black wells.

Naresh jerked his keris free of its sheath. “Would you like to see my education?”

Malin moved fast, faster than Naresh could react without using the Sun Brand, and shoved him, sending him sprawling to the ground. In a heartbeat Chandi had leapt to her feet and stood between the two men.

The Lunar glared at Naresh over her head. “You want me, sun-worshipper?”

Naresh Sun Strode and appeared behind Malin. Before the man could turn, Naresh grabbed him and flung him over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground. While Malin gasped with the wind knocked out of him, Naresh Strode back to his fallen sword and sheathed it. Malin wasn’t worth it.

Malin had recovered in an instant, and regained his feet. The debate, the choice to press the issue or let it pass warred on his face, before he stalked away.

A loud sigh escaped Chandi, and she slid back down to the ground. She wouldn’t look at him.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said after a moment.

“True.”

Her eyes were colder than last night. He hadn’t intended to alienate the girl, though perhaps agreeing to meet at all was a mistake. The chance to learn about his new charges was too tempting, though. The more he understood, the better he could do his job.

“Won’t you sit?”

“Of course.” He slunk down beside her. Malin could find his own way out. “I thought you wanted to meet this morning.”

“Malin is dangerous,” she said, still watching the sea.

“If he starts something I must respond in kind.”

She turned to him with her lips pursed, but didn’t speak for a moment. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? My honor as a warrior. My family’s honor.” Her crooked, half smile seemed to ask for more. “I just have to. If someone provokes you and you do nothing, you invite more of the same on everyone around you. Action allows us to control a situation.”

She laughed. “You’re worse than the Macan Gadungan.”

Naresh had regained his feet in a heartbeat. “Malin is a weretiger?” He should never have let the creature roam the palace. The rest of the Guard needed to know about the monster.

Chandi grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down with surprising strength. “Malin won’t risk starting a war. Rahu would skin him for it.”

The Lunar War King did have a reputation for a temper. And for extreme measures. Naresh watched the girl, but she gave little away of her thoughts. “Don’t you believe in honor? In loyalty to your family?”

“Two different questions. You do whatever it takes to survive. And you put family first. They take care of you, so you take care of them.”

“Tell me about your family. You’ve said so little about yourself. You have someone waiting for you back in Bukit?”

She hesitated, mouth set in a hard line. “Ratna is all I have now. My mother died thirteen years ago.”

“That’s when my father died, too. The Battle of Bangdvipa?”

Chandi nodded.

“No family, but you seem to understand duty. But not honor?”

“Duty? I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Loyalty, anyway. People earn loyalty by providing it to you. Duty is too abstract. It’s like you’re saying you’d do whatever your family wanted, even if they didn’t earn it from you.”

“Of course I would.”

She laughed. “Of course you would. Chandra forbid you should think for yourself. Value your own freedom.”

He pushed himself off the grass. He should leave. Instead he found himself pacing. He shouldn’t care whether a Lunar understood, but somehow he needed to explain. But what if she was right? Had he made all his choices because of his mother’s plan?

“You’re on edge because Empu Baradah is leaving?”

Her sudden change of topic stopped him. “I guess I am.” The intense way she watched him left him warm, but slow of thought. “I’ve barely seen him for two years, and as soon as I return, he leaves.”

“He’s some kind of surrogate father for you?”

“You’ve changed the subject,” he said with a shake of his head. “Why can’t you understand that these things, honor, duty, they matter? They’re what make us who we are.”

“Well, that’s one way to define yourself.” She rose and began to walk the low stone ledge that surrounded garden, arms out for balance.

“It’s our traditions that tell us where we come from, Chandi. And where we come from is the only way by which we can measure where we’re going. Without honor and duty, without the knowledge of our own identities they give us, any other pursuit diminishes in value. We’d be no better than animals, moving through our lives without greater purpose.”

“Purpose,” Chandi said, “might be overrated.” She continued to pace the ledge, speaking without looking at him. “Landorundun’s bitter he left you in charge?”

Naresh ignored the change in subject. If the Lunars would accept that their actions reflected on their entire family, their entire people, maybe they’d have had peace long ago. Maybe that was why it had always been hard for Naresh to believe history lessons that claimed the three dynasties had once lived together.

“Well?”

“Landi thinks she should have been left in charge, yes. She was a potential almost a year longer than me.” Landi wasn’t the only member of the Arun Guard who resented him. Recruited younger than normal, given responsibility faster, favored of the First, son of the Radiant Queen. Small wonder he had few friends.

Chandi spun on her heels and began to walk the ledge back toward him, her balance perfect, her form lithe. “So where’s he going?”

“That’s not public information.”

She leapt down and drifted toward him. “Oh, a secret. Exciting. But I’m not the public, am I?”

At least her mood seemed to have improved.

Naresh sighed and sat on the ledge, his legs hanging over the side, toward the water a dozen feet below. During his Academy years he had often swam in the sea. Even at the Astral Temple he sometimes found time. Now, here, he rarely did.

“Malin thought I shouldn’t trust you.” She sat down beside him. “I remember when you were here before, always so formal. And now, I’m not sure who you are. I was surprised you remembered my name.”

“You make an impression.”

She laughed, her crooked half smile returning as she watched him. “Were you at the Astral Temple all this time?”

He couldn’t think of any reason not to tell her. “Most of it. I was in charge of security. Pak Empu Baradah went to oversee the investment of a new Guardian.” Landi thought—feared—that Empu Baradah had recalled him to begin training him as a Second. The First didn’t always choose a Second, hadn’t had one since Astral Shore.

“That’s what it’s all been about. All the wars over that damn building.” Her voice had gone so quiet. “Four wars, so many lives. I’ve never even seen it.”

Maybe they had wasted countless generations fighting over an old ruin. Honor demanded they reclaim the holy site. And the Arun Guard depended on the Temple to perform their function. But the wars were over. They had peace, if they could just keep it.

“It’s hard for either side to give up something sacred to them.”

“Why is it sacred to you?”

Naresh sighed. “The Children of the Sun, our faith, they say Surya always intended it for our people. That’s why he left the secret of the Sun Brand there for us. They say,” he paused and watched her a moment, “we couldn’t decipher it until after we had cast out the Lunars and Ignis.”

Confusion, or fear, filled her eyes and Naresh worried he had said too much. Her people might believe the temple was meant for them, as well. But Chandi just nodded.

“What’s it like?”

All his life he had heard the Lunars demonized, heard of their lack of honor, their crimes, their deceit. Sitting here with this simple handmaid, her face open, daring to trust him, he could not imagine truth in what he’d heard.

“Beautiful in its way.” After years living there, it had lost some of its splendor. No place retained its magic when it served mundane needs long enough. “A large complex with many temples within. Many temples. Many gods.” Many secrets.

“I wish I could see it.”

“Maybe things will go back to how they were before the Fourth War. Maybe both peoples will be allowed inside again.” Legend said, before the Pact was broken, all three dynasties kept the temple together in trust of the gods. Maybe that could happen again.

She didn’t say anything for a long time. Naresh considered and discarded a dozen things to say to keep the conversation going; all seemed foolish. A bird of paradise alighted on a nearby tree and Chandi grinned, pointing at it. She didn’t say anything, just seemed to want to share its beauty with a friend.

Her face fell again. He couldn’t bring himself to ask what cut so deep into her this morning. Instead, he reached his arm toward the bird, burning the sunlight stored in his Brand, touching the animal’s mind with his own. It fluttered out of the tree and landed on his wrist. Up close, its plumage seemed more brilliant.

Chandi’s laugh streamed like water. “How?”

“The Sun Brand. Animals can feel it.”

She reached toward the bird, then looked back at him. He nodded, so she brushed her fingers against the bird’s neck. It watched her without fear. She laughed again, and Naresh willed the bird to move onto her arm. Watching the bird as though mesmerized, she stroked it with the back of her hand.

Her simple wonder almost moved him to tears. He had lost something and didn’t know it was gone until now. In his Academy days, he had laughed and taken joy in the small things—dances and macaques and friendly jokes. And somehow, since then, he had become nothing but his sword. Was that Landi’s fault? Maybe it was his own. As he rose he extended his arms, burning the Sun Brand, touching animal minds all around them. Using this much energy, his eyes would glow like the sun. Other birds flocked to his outstretched arms even as fish leapt from the sea into midair dances, drops of water flying from them in all directions. He foolishly, brilliantly burned through the energy stored in his tattoo.

Chandi gasped, her hands going to her mouth, whispering something he couldn’t hear. Her laugh sputtered, as though she couldn’t quite find it, but she turned from the fish to approach him, only hesitating a moment at the sight of his eyes.

More.

At his mental command, dolphins leapt into the air, turning full flips. The monkeys in the trees jumped from branch to branch.

And then, as Chandi reached to touch the birds, his stored sunlight gave out. The birds took flight, and the fish returned to the sea.

Onlookers had gathered. Even if no Arun Guard were among them, they would hear about this, and he’d be chided for such reckless use of his power. But the look on her face was worth it.

“What else does it let you do?”

Many Lunar warriors probably knew the answer to that, but he still shouldn’t say. Looking into her wide eyes, it didn’t matter. “The Sun Stride, of course. And enhanced speed when needed.”

She didn’t ask more, and he didn’t offer. For a long time she said nothing. When she finally spoke, her voice was almost a whisper. “If your family asked you to do something you didn’t like, would you do it?”

“Of course I would.”

She nodded. “Of course you would.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Malin sat against the inside of the wall surrounding the Academy, turning his keris knife over in his fingers. He should have killed Empu Baradah a long time ago. Should do so now. He had sworn vengeance and failing in this—in half his purpose as Macan Gadungan—ate at him like a leech.

As always, music drifted through the Academy grounds. Malin didn’t hear it. Rahu had given much. He’d asked much, too. But Malin had promised to protect the man’s family. Maybe it would have made up for failing his own, for so many mistakes. And now, Chandi and Ratna were all he had left. Them and the Jadian, who looked to him like some kind of savior. More fool, them. Once, a lifetime ago, they had tried to call him their Hidden Knight, the one who would liberate them. But Malin was a ship foundering in a storm. He could save no one.

Calon had been a fool, of course. No one understood her foul sorcery. They all thought her a dark goddess. A servant of Rangda, perhaps. Calon thought she could turn her sorceries against the Solars without them learning. But they did.

Malin had failed to protect her. And innocent Simhika, sweet Chandi’s mother. Dead at his feet. Her killer gone. One day there would be blood for it. One day soon.

Chandi’s scent filled him. Not just memory. He looked up to see her biting her lip.

Malin leapt to his feet. “Chandi! Listen. You could almost dance to this one. Dance beneath the moon.” He grinned.

“I used to, Malin. It’s been a long time.” Malin had seen her dance so many times. Seen her as a baby in Simhika’s arms. Seen her grow from the ten-year-old child weeping over her dead mother into a beautiful, adventurous girl. Seen her fall for Anusapati. Seen her lose him.

With bared teeth, Malin tugged on his long black hair. “Then we’ll dance in the flames when we burn this place to the ground. Dance to the music of the murdering Solars’ screams.”

“Sweet Chandra, what’s wrong with you?” She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder.

He caressed her hand a moment before stepping forward to kiss her. Chandi stumbled backwards from his grasp. “Malin!”

Malin shook his head violently a moment. Chandra, what was he doing? She was good for him. And he could be there for her, better than Anusapati ever had. Instead, she was spending time with another Rangda-damned Guardsman. “He’s just like Empu Baradah! And they’ll both pay. Chandra will not let their crimes go unpunished. The Arun Guard are the real monsters. They call us monsters, but we’re not monsters, Chandi.”

“Malin, calm yourself.”

Malin paced before Chandi. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss her.

Mate.

He shook his head, trying to drown out the tiger. She needed him. He had to be there for her, protect her. “And if he assaults Bukit this time? We need to know where he goes. If he tries Bukit, my people await him. Guarding every Moon Scion House.”

A pair of Academy students, a girl and a boy, each perhaps sixteen, paused. Stared at him like a freak. Malin bared his teeth. Let them come closer. Let them see the real Macan Gadungan. The students scampered away.

“Malin, he’s not going to assault Bukit. We’re at peace. You’re letting your hatred make you irrational.”

Irrational? It happened sometimes, especially around the full moon. Malin stopped his pacing to lean in close to her face.  “We’ve had peace before. Your uncle broke the last one. Invaded the Astral Temple. Rather, we did it for him. Did everything he commanded.” A shudder ran through him. Twice, he had led an attack on the Astral Temple, once to start the war, and once to try to end it. “This time, the Solars will strike first.”

Chandi threw up her hands. “Empu Baradah’s not attacking anywhere. Just training a new Guardian.”

“You can’t know what he plans.” Malin paused. “Guardian? Guardian for the Astral Temple? He’s returned to the site of his crime.” Astral Shore. Where Empu Baradah had slaughtered countless Macan Gadungan in defense of that cursed ruin. And still, it paled before the crimes he had committed in Bukit.

Protect and avenge.

Malin ignored Chandi’s cries for him to return as he stomped through the Academy District. He had to slow in the tube. The tiger let him run faster, but it used up so much of his endurance to maintain the pace. He continued around the Circuit to the Harbor District. Had to circle half the damn city to reach it. Because of the Festival, the harbor would be crowded with Solar ships.

They would be avenged.

The Butcher was fleeing the safety of Kasusthali. The War King would act, would do something. Empu Baradah would pay.

Sunshine washed over him as he exited the crystal tube and entered the Harbor District. He paused and caught his breath, letting the fresh air soothe his nerves. Solars and Ignis watched him until he scattered them with a scowl. This cursed place would drive them all mad. Men should not live beneath the waves like fish.

He trotted off toward the piers, his shoulders itching to shift. Of course, even if the moon were up he couldn’t transform in front of these people. Though he’d enjoy seeing the look on their faces.

A Lunar ship would arrive in a week or so to take him back to Bukit, but he couldn’t wait that long. He stalked the harbor, searching for the right ship. Most captains would never consider traveling to Swarnadvipa, and for good reason. Lunar pirates grew bolder and more numerous near the Lunar homeland. The Lunars had an unhealthy taste for Solar palm sugar and spices.

A fisherman jostled Malin as he passed. Malin caught his arm and spun him around. He grabbed the man by both shoulders and lifted him off his feet. “Watch where you walk,” he said, leaning in close to the man’s face. Trembling, the fisherman only nodded. Malin dropped him. The fisherman collapsed on the pier, then scrambled away without collecting the full net of grouper he’d dropped.

So many people here. It confused him, made it hard to keep all the scents straight. Given the choice, he’d remain in the rainforest. He could take the Macan Gadungan there, away from the Moon Scion schemes, away from the Solar arrogance. But first he’d find justice for Astral Shore.

Malin grinned. The Queen of the South Sea. He rushed up the gangway and leapt onto the deck. Startled crewmen stumbled backward. One fool drew a keris knife. Malin lunged and caught the man’s wrist. A twist and the sailor yelped, the blade clattering onto the deck. No one else moved in, though several more drew knives. “Where is Bendurana?”

“Pak Malin,” the Serendibian captain said from behind him. Malin caught the familiar scent, then, and turned to face the captain. “You should not be here.”

“On that we agree. You’ll take me to Bukit. Now, Captain.”

“Ah, Malin,” Bendurana said as he spread his arms wide. “Now I see you have truly lost your mind. Perhaps you mistake me as so beloved in all lands I can pass without hindrance, but I assure you that is not the case.”

Malin snarled and grabbed Bendurana’s baju. The Serendibian had begun to dress like a Skyfall native, but it didn’t make him one. “I know how you came here,” Malin said into Bendurana’s ear, his voice low.

Bendurana glanced at his crew. “Ah, perhaps we should finish this conversation in private.” When Malin nodded, Bendurana led the way to his cabin beneath the poop deck, and shut the door. The captain leaned against the door and watched Malin with guarded eyes.

Malin paced, casting a glance at Bendurana every time he turned. “Would your new Solar friends like to know you as well as I do, old friend? Would they want to hear how you came to these Isles in disgrace?”

To his credit, Bendurana kept his face blank, but Malin could smell the scent of fear on the captain. “Blackmail, Malin? Isn’t that beneath you?”

It was beneath him, and Rangda take Bendurana for pointing it out. “You should have stayed with us. Why join the Solars after all I did for you? But your life was yours to choose. If you like the life you have … Is that a woman I smell on you? A Solar woman?” Bendurana didn’t answer, so Malin continued. “Perhaps love was not lost to you forever after all, Captain. I’d hate to see you separated from another lover.”

Bendurana hesitated, his normal bravado cracking for just a moment. “Malin, you know I would wish to help you, my friend. We both know I owe you for this ship, but these tactics dishonor you.”

Malin gritted his teeth. Perhaps Bendurana was right. He would have disdained Rahu or anyone else for using blackmail to get what he wanted, much less on someone he once called friend. But Bendurana was not the only one who had forever lost someone. “I may have a new buyer in Bukit for goods from the Spice Islands.”

Bendurana hesitated. “That will make this easier to sell the crew on. We did just get back …”

Malin turned away. He had Bendurana now. The captain was always keen to earn just a little more silver.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“You’ve finally gotten your big chance to prove yourself, Naresh,” Landi said. “And here you sit, planning a party.”

Naresh glanced up from the pile of scrolls on the table, gave Landorundun a cold look, then returned to his papers. “I’m also in charge of Ibu Ratna’s security, Landi.”

He sat in the Arun Guard mess hall, trying to ensure nothing would surprise him tonight, thinking he would have privacy here. Early in the afternoon, no one came here. Usually. “I could find something for you to do.”

“You’d like that. Giving me orders.” She sat across from him, then brushed her hair from her face. Hair down, silk cerulean baju, she’d turn more heads than usual. “Did you dream about pushing the rest of us around while you were at the Astral Temple?”

“Mostly I dreamed about coming home.”

“Pak Empu Baradah gave you a great honor, making you Guardian. And you don’t seem to appreciate it. Not that you appreciate anything, since everything’s always given to you. Like now.” She waved her arms back as if encompass all Kasusthali. “Just given to you.”

Given to him? Naresh glowered. He’d worked just as hard as any other potential to get where he was. And before being sent back to serve as Guardian, he’d done everything he could to protect Ratna and that baby. They wouldn’t have even had the information about Partigatiga without Naresh. He’d been the one to interrogate her, after the Ministry of Law had made so little progress with her.

Naresh looked up at Landi, where she stood still watching him with those haughty eyes. What did she want from him, anyway? He slammed his fist on the table and rose to his feet. “I, at least, have things to do today, Landi.”

As he stormed out of the mess hall he plowed right into a startled-looking Chandi. The Lunar girl fell to the ground, and scampered backward. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I … I was just coming to find you.” She stopped backing away, but didn’t rise.

Naresh relaxed and stepped closer, offering a hand. During the week since Empu Baradah had left, Naresh had spent a lot of time with Chandi, talking about everything from architecture to cuisine. “You’re not supposed to be in here, Chandi.” When she grabbed his hand he pulled her to her feet.

“Sorry. I just …” She glanced around the room, perhaps watching Landi behind him. “Since I hadn’t seen you all day, I thought you might be here.”

Naresh felt Landi’s eyes on his back. “Come on,” he said, not releasing her hand. “Ibu Ratna plans on taking Revati to the Academy tonight. They’re performing the Harvest Dance.” Naresh had spent the last few days planning security for it, a task that normally would have fallen to the First. Maybe that was what Landi was so pissed about, but it wasn’t his problem.

Chandi nodded as they walked out of the larger mess hall used by the palace guards. “It’s the first year I’ve been able to talk Ratna into attending. She thought … well, maybe we both thought, we shouldn’t get too involved in the Solar faith.”

“It’s not hosted by the Children of the Sun. The Ministry of Information manages the Academy, and the Academy hosts the Harvest Dance. It’s a celebration of music and life.”

“That’s something worth celebrating. I suppose it’s just a coincidence it falls so close to the Armistice Festival.”

“I think the Armistice date was chosen because this is a joyous time of year for my people. Perhaps Rahu thought we’d be most amenable at such a time. Maybe he was right.”

She released his hand when they reached the stairs to the fourth floor. “I’ll get Ratna and Revati.”

Naresh nodded then leaned against the wall to wait. One of the palace guards had seen him walk hand in hand with Chandi, but looked away when Naresh met his gaze. Naresh sighed. No rule said he couldn’t have Lunar friends.

Naresh began to tap his foot. Chandi had been gone rather long. As he glanced back at the stairs, he’d have sworn the palace guard was watching him again.

At last he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Chandi carried Revati in her arms, Ratna following behind. Chandi and Revati both smiled, while Ratna seemed to either fight for a smile, or fight against one. “Sun warm your face, Empress.”

Ratna nodded then motioned for him to lead on. Naresh guided the ladies through the city to the Academy District. The sun had begun to set, but today, a plethora of smokeless torch poles lit the Academy grounds. The sounds of wild drums and shouting filled the dome long before they passed through the Academy gates. Once this place had been home. Once. He’d thought his times with Landi were the best of his life.

Thousands of flower wreaths lined the Academy walls and the towers. The scents of fresh fruit, roasted meats, and sugary desserts drifted across the grounds. Between the three Academy towers, a cadre of students tossed flaming batons, spinning and whooping, undulating and shouting. A large number of drummers surrounded the fire-dancers, setting the rhythm.

Despite his planning, the place was barely controlled chaos. Revati cheered and ran off, Ratna chasing after her. Naresh scanned the grounds, spotting his Arun Guardsmen where he had assigned them. With a wave of his hand he motioned Lembu Ampal after Ratna and Revati. Regular soldiers slid into position where the Guardsman had been.

Chandi turned about, taking in the performance. “It’s like a marriage party.”

“What?” Naresh almost tripped. “This party?” Far too wild for something as solemn as a marriage.

“Lunar marriages are simple declarations of love. It’s the party after the ceremony that everyone remembers.”

Chandi strolled through the grounds, sampling the fruit drinks and pastries offered by vendors around the plaza. Naresh followed, but kept his eye on Ratna. He may have assigned people he trusted to her, but she was still his responsibility. Chandi paused to watch the throng of people who had begun to dance. The dancers whirled and leapt, losing themselves in the rhythm as much as the fire-dancers. Chandi swayed in time, as though mesmerized.

Revati started for the fire-dancers, and Naresh took three steps toward the girl before Lembu Ampal ushered her back to her mother. When Naresh turned back, Chandi had joined the other dancers. In moments, Chandi had lost herself in the dance, leaping and swaying with amazing agility. Her sarong and hair flew out to the sides as she spun and twirled. The torchlight created an ever-changing maze of light and shadow across her face, across the kemban tight over her chest, over legs partially bared by her flying sarong.

Naresh shook himself, forced his attention back to Ratna. The empress too watched her handmaid, though in this light Naresh couldn’t read her face. He followed Ratna’s gaze back to Chandi. The Lunars must have this kind of dance often for Chandi to have taken to it with such ease.

He had danced with Landi like this once, on the Harvest Dance. For students at the Academy, the Dance wasn’t just the highlight of the year, it was an event they spent months planning. Not a musician, he hadn’t been as involved in planning as Landi, but it had meant everything to her. They had held hands, whirling in firelight, perhaps creating their own maze of light and dark while outsiders looked on. Strange that his fingers still remembered the texture of her hand, after so long.

Chandi met his gaze, saw him watching her. He tried to look back at Revati, but Chandi rushed over to him. Before he could speak, she grabbed his hands and pulled him over to the dancers. Like a fool, he couldn’t keep himself from joining her. This was what the Harvest Dance was supposed to be. A celebration of music and life. He had forgotten to celebrate either for years.

Chandi’s skin felt flushed to his touch and her breath came heavy, but her eyes and face were radiant. Her hair often obscured his vision of her face as she twisted, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from her.

Over Chandi’s shoulder, he saw Landorundun watching them. The Guardswoman stood with her arms crossed, taking in the entire grounds, watching Ratna and Revati, watching him and Chandi, watching for danger. Doing everything he should have been doing. Naresh let Chandi drag him into another dance.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Patience was not one of Malin’s virtues, but a tiger knew how to stalk its prey. An open confrontation would turn this into a bloodbath. Instead, Malin crept through the rainforest on Puradvipa, waiting. Whatever Empu Baradah planned at the Astral Temple, Malin doubted the murderer meant to move in. So for two days he had waited, watching the temple far above, keeping an eye on the three Solar dhows in the harbor, especially the one he knew the First had arrived on.

He cracked his neck. His stomach rumbled in irritation. Too much waiting. Act. Take them. Malin’s own ship waited just out of sight. Rahu had agreed to his plan so readily, Malin could only assume the War King had more than political reasons for wanting to retake the Astral Temple. Either way, the Lunars were supposed to wait for his signal. According to all Chandi had learned, at any given time only one Arun Guard watched this temple. Empu Baradah made two. The one that mattered.

He kept sitting here, waiting for the First to pass by him. But what if the man decided to Sun Stride down from the cliff? He’d undoubtedly Stride to the dhow rather than wait for a boat to be sent for him. No matter what he did, though, he’d most likely head back to the same dhow he’d arrived on. Why else would it wait for him here?

Malin glanced up at the sun. At least another phase before it set. In tiger form his toes were webbed and he was a superb swimmer. But even trapped in human form, he could still easily make it out to the Solar dhow. The question was, how to do so without being spotted while the sun was up. He could probably pass quite a distance underwater. The sea was brilliantly clear, but the dhow was anchored far enough offshore he just might be able to make it. And taking the chance was better than waiting here for Chandra knew how long only to risk Empu Baradah bypassing him all together.

With a deep breath, he kicked off his sandals, then removed his baju. His sarong he kept, not for modesty, but merely because it gave him a place to stow his keris. He made a wide arc away from the dhow, hoping no one would see him slipping from the rainforest. The ship was far enough out, but still, by now the crew would be bored, waiting for the First’s return.

The cool waters of the South Sea instantly invigorated him as he waded into them, slunk low. He swam along the surface as far as he dared, silent as death. Several deep breaths, then he dove underwater and headed toward the dhow. His powerful limbs carried him far with each stroke, but his lungs began to burn well before he’d reached the ship. His muscles twitched and his chest shook. There was no way. He was going to have to chance surfacing. He just couldn’t make it all the way there. Cursing himself, Malin broke through the surface several dozen feet from the dhow, then struggled to keep his pants quiet.

Sailors on the ship milled about, but none were even looking at him. Some watched the horizon, but most seemed to be passing the time in idle gossip, boasting, or dice. Three years of peace had made them lax. Malin sunk back underwater and swam the rest of the way to the dhow, until he could grab the anchor line. He steadied himself there for a moment, then swam around to the aft. The hull was slick and it took him some time to find handholds enough to climb around to the aft window. It was shut, but unlocked. Malin cracked it open just enough to peer inside and make sure the cabin was unoccupied, then hefted himself up into it. Would the captain of his ship have given up his own cabin to the First? Probably. Solars cared ever so much for propriety.

A shout went up on the deck outside. Damn, Empu Baradah must have returned already. If Malin hadn’t wasted so much time waiting in the rainforest … He shook his head, then rushed to stand beside the cabin door. Only a little more patience. He slipped his keris free from his sarong.

Even through the door he heard the captain shouting orders about raising the anchor and setting course. The ship lurched into movement soon thereafter. Malin cursed. If they got too far away from his own dhow his people might not see a signal. But if he revealed himself prematurely, that coward Empu Baradah might escape him once again. Malin was not going to let that happen. Not this time. Protect and avenge. Avenge!

At long last, the door creaked open, and the First walked into the cabin, shutting it behind himself. Malin made not a single sound as he slunk up behind Empu Baradah. The man looked with curiosity at the open window, perhaps wondering if he had left it open.

Malin slammed his keris through Empu Baradah’s ribs and up into his lungs, at the same time wrapping an arm around the man’s throat, cutting off any sound his prey might make. “That is for Simhika,” he snarled into the man’s ear. He jerked his knife free, then sunk it into the murderer’s gut. “One for Calon, who, wicked though she was, was still a mother.”

Malin spun the man around to face him, then pushed him against the cabin wall, meeting his gaze, while being sure never to let go. Probably the man was in far too much agony to Stride, but Malin was taking no chances. He freed his knife once more, held it before the First’s eyes, then rammed it into the man’s throat. A spray of hot blood coated Malin’s face. “And that,” he said, leaning very close and licking the blood off his lips, “is for the dozens if not hundreds of Macan Gadungan dead by your hands. For my mates, my whelps, and my brothers and sisters. Rangda devour your soul, Butcher.”

The Solar’s wide eyes seemed to want to speak, but, even could the First have done so, Malin had no interest in anything he had to say. He held Empu Baradah until the man stilled, then let his body slump to the floor. Malin sunk down onto the captain’s berth, wiped the rest of the blood from his face, and let out a long breath.

Seizing this ship was an opportunity. Rahu would no doubt rejoice at the death of any Arun Guard, much less the one who had murdered his wife. But the War King wanted the Astral Temple. And finally, after more than twenty years, Malin was in a position to give it to him. The Solars would never suspect one of their own ships. Malin would wait for nightfall, slip out of the cabin and kill all the Solars on this ship, then signal his people to come and help him man it. The Solars would never be alert to danger from one of their own ships, much less the ship of the Arun Guard.

This was, perhaps, the true reason Rahu had created the Macan Gadungan all along. To take the Temple. Why didn’t really matter anymore. Malin would give the War King what he wanted, and Rahu would finally give Malin and his people the respect and freedom they deserved. Malin would demand it. More than twenty years he had served as a bodyguard to the man. The Jadian had served all the Moon Scion Houses, solidifying Rahu’s hold over the Empire.

It was time they were given their due.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Dozens of bodies still floated in the water, though the sharks had begun to swarm, turning the sea around Astral Shore crimson. The wreck of one dhow had washed up on the beach. Another had already sunk, though its mast still poked out of the shallow sea offshore. A third was aflame and, Ben knew, beyond all saving. Nowhere did he see signs of life and he had to assume the Astral Temple had been sacked as well. He dared not head up there to investigate.

Some of his crew wept openly, others tried to hide it. Ben’s jaw trembled. He had seen such savagery before, in his days in the Serendibian navy, but he had hoped never to bear witness to its like again. A cold numbness settled over him. He’d been on his way back from Kutai when a crewman had seen the flames.

This was supposed to make his fortune. He’d taken Malin to Bukit, gotten his payday, and reaped a killing in Kutai. Now it was supposed to be off to Suladvipa with Landi and … He shook his head. His crew was looking to him to buoy their spirits. They needed him, and for them, he was going to need to be strong.

“Search for survivors, but don’t approach the shore,” he ordered. The Lunars must surely be in control of the Temple and he couldn’t risk them coming after the Queen of the South Sea. Of course, he knew there was no way anyone could have made it through this massacre.

“Survivor off the port side,” someone shouted.

Ben offered a slight nod at the sea. Yes, the goddess did seem to love proving him wrong. Since he was almost never wrong, it seemed only fair to acknowledge her occasional victory. He trotted over to port where a man was threading through the disaster on a jukung, though he hardly seemed a master of the outrigger. As the man drew nearer, Ben realized with some shock that he was a foreigner. His skin was tanned by the sun but still much fairer than any native of the South Sea, and he had red-gold hair hanging down almost to his shoulders. He also had a powerful frame, obviously a warrior or heavy laborer. Given that he was alone, Ben had to assume the man wasn’t working for the Lunars.

“Bring him aboard,” Ben said. “Get the man some water.”

The crew did as he’d ordered, helping the stranger climb up the Queen, then offering him water and a coconut, both of which he took. The stranger sipped the water eagerly, then slammed the coconut down onto the gunwale, breaking it in two. Ben’s eyebrow raised. That was impressive.

“Who are you?”

The foreigner pulled at the coconut meat, then took a few bites while looking around, as if disoriented by the whole scene. Traumatized? Ben had seen that before, too. It happened in such circumstances.

“Do you know where you are?” Ben asked.

The man stared at him, blinked once, then shook his head.

“You’re off the coast of Puradvipa, near Astral Shore. You’ve just been through a battle, and one that looks like about as much fun as trying to get a Warak Ngendog to dance by the look of it. Can you tell me anything about what happened here? Who did this?”

The foreigner looked around the ship, watching the faces of the crew intently, then shut his eyes. Right, so maybe he had a concussion. Or maybe he’d tried opening coconuts with his head once or twice.

“All right,” Ben said. “Let’s find this man a place to sit down and rest, but don’t let him sleep yet.”

“Where is Rahu?” the foreigner asked, his voice low, his accent slightly off, a little too slow.

“The Lunar War King? Was he here? Did you see him do this?”

“Lunar. You’re Solars?”

“Ah, well. I, my friend, am out of Serendib, of course. But the crew is from the Solar Empire, indeed, and we are heading back there. Which means, you, in fact, are heading to the Solars as well.”

The foreigner’s eyes were green as emeralds, and when he looked at Ben now, any hint of confusion had passed from them. Indeed, they held such intensity, Ben had to take a step back. “I saw what happened here, yes. Weretigers stormed the temple in the night. Take me to your emperor and I will explain it all to him. And him alone.”

Ben frowned. The foreigner wasn’t nearly so addled as he’d first appeared and Ben was far from certain that introducing the man to Kakudmi was a good idea. But then, that would really be for the emperor to decide. If this stranger was a witness to the events, and quite possibly the only survivor, Kakudmi would undoubtedly want to know.

This was, after all, most likely the advent of the Fifth War.

PART FOUR

1194 AP, The Rainy Season

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Naresh circled around Landorundun, each trying to position the morning glare against the other, each holding their keris ready. Landi had left her baju unbuttoned low enough to expose a hint of cleavage. If she thought it would distract him, she was mistaken.

She twirled her sword, reflecting light around the garden. Let her show off. Naresh Sun Strode behind her and shoved her forward. She rolled with the shove, Striding behind him as she rose from the roll. Again and again he parried her furious swings.

A half dozen of the Arun Guard had gathered to watch them spar, and he planned to give them a good show. They knew the two of them had been spoiling for a fight in the two weeks since Empu Baradah had left. Landi chafed under Naresh’s authority, probably they all did. Maybe they all wanted her to win. But she wouldn’t.

Her eyes glowed with sunlight, the Sun Brand giving her superhuman speed. To keep pace with her he had to burn the energy of his Sun Brand, turning the match into a blinding dance. She overextended and he countered, slapping her arm with the flat of his blade. “All this time, so eager to prove yourself, Landi. Can’t you do better?”

“First’s not here to watch over you now, Naresh,” she said, backing away. “Better be careful you don’t get in over your head.”

“When I’m over my head you’ll be drowning.” He ran at her, then dove and rolled when she Sun Strode. She had begun to swing already, not anticipating his evasion. His counterattack should have caught her thigh, but she Strode again, coming behind him and tearing a shallow gash in his shoulder.

Their dance became a series of Sun Strides punctuated by the occasional ringing parry. And then he got a hand on her shoulder. He Strode straight up into the clouds, taking her with him. Fear and rage washed over Landi’s face as she kicked away from him, but it didn’t stop her from swinging her keris.

The wind ripped past him, stealing his taunts, as they continued to parry, falling faster and faster. The cold moisture of the clouds washed over him, left him shivering. Landi no longer had her sword, though he hadn’t seen her drop it. Whatever she shouted at him, he couldn’t hear, but he felt a kick to his ribs. End over end they plummeted, trading blows. He realized he was laughing. A glance down revealed the people in the garden coming into view.

Landi had managed to wrap her arm around his shoulder, then Sun Strode again, pulling him along, switching their orientation. She shifted their momentum enough that they hit the water at an angle, rather than the solid impact that would have shattered bone. They tumbled apart, inertia carrying Naresh well out into the sea.

The salty taste of the water filled his mouth and burned through his sinuses. He slammed into something hard and smooth beneath the surface, felt his shoulder go numb, felt himself sliding downwards. The dome. His feet couldn’t find purchase to kick off the slick crystal. His lungs would explode. One last desperate shove and he pushed off, flailing upwards. Half blind, he breached the surface, choking and coughing. For a few breaths he treaded water, barely able to use his right arm, then began to swim back to the garden. His father’s sword, the keris he was wedded to, now rested somewhere at the bottom of the sea. He couldn’t even say whether he’d lost it on impact or before that. He fought a fit of coughing. He had lost his honor over this, a foolish stunt.

As he drew nearer the palace, Lembu Ampal spotted him and Strode into the water beside him. An arm around Naresh, the Guardsman Strode back to the rooftop. Whatever his rescuer might have said, Landi sent him scurrying away.

“What in Surya’s name were you thinking?”

Naresh remained on his hands and knees in the garden, glaring up at her through the wet hair hanging over his eyes, willing himself to stop coughing. Landi’s hair had come free of her ponytail, hanging about her chest and back, leaving her looking as waterlogged as he felt.

“Why didn’t you Stride to safety sooner?” She glared at him, then grabbed him by the front of his baju and pulled him to his feet. For a moment their eyes locked, then she ripped open his shirt, pushing it back to examine his shoulder. Naresh didn’t stop her; he knew what she was looking for, and what she wouldn’t see. No luster remained in his sunburst tattoo. He had completely drained his sunlight. “You couldn’t have brought us back down. You might have killed us both. For all Pak Empu Baradah thought you’d grown, you’re still a reckless child!”

He slapped her hands off his shirt and walked away, though he didn’t get far before one of the other Guardsmen intercepted him. “Pak Naresh. Bendurana is here. He insists on seeing you.”

Naresh groaned. Just what he needed now. “Well then, send the good captain up.”

Landi moved up to Naresh’s side, and he had no right to order her away, even if he was in charge for the moment. That she had been right only made things worse.

The captain of the Queen of the South Sea sauntered over to them, bedecked in a bright red and gold baju and blue sarong. The Serendibian almost always dressed like a Solar, but he would never be one of them. His swagger might have been from too long at sea, but Naresh wouldn’t put it past him to affect it just to add to his mystique. The captain’s grimace became a crooked smile when he saw him and Landi.

“My Arun friends,” he called, spreading his arms as though for an embrace, despite them being soaked. “I had no idea I’d find such entertainment on my return to Kasusthali.”

“Sun warm your face, Captain,” Naresh said.

“Sun warm your face,” Landi repeated.

“And yours, Guardsman. And Guardswoman.” The captain bowed before Landi, then nodded at Naresh.

“Well, Captain?” Naresh said. “Caught more pirates and seeking the reward? Or are you having trouble with your own palm sugar shipments?” Naresh would be damned if he’d let the man take up his whole morning.

“I was indeed shipping some sugar, Guardsman, and doing a fine job of it, as always. But then,” he glanced about the garden, “only the Arun Guard present here? Good. On my way back from Kutai, I saw something … dire. Weretigers have overrun the Astral Temple. I found a witness, to be certain, then came straight here.”

Naresh didn’t realize he’d moved forward, but he had his hands on Bendurana’s shoulders. “Losses?”

“All, as near as I can tell. The military, the scholars, clergy. All. Unlikely the werebeasts took prisoners. I’ve heard sometimes they get carried away and even feast on their victims.”

“Empu Baradah?” Naresh’s voice shook.

“Everyone.”

He released the captain and stumbled over to the bushes, fell to his knees. Not possible. He vomited. Empu Baradah could have taken a dozen weretigers alone, and he had two other Arun Guard with him. And Surya knew how many soldiers to call upon. After so many wars, Temple security was always tight. The Lunars couldn’t have prepared for his presence.

He wiped his mouth. Someone brought him some water. He rinsed and spit before swallowing the next gulp. He stood. He turned. Lembu Ampal stood beside him, the big man trembling like a child, though he took the water goblet back.

Bendurana had his arm around Landi. She had tears in her eyes. Was leaning on the scoundrel. The captain managed a sad smile and looked to Landi, but every other eye seemed to be on Naresh.

He swallowed and shut his eyes. The sun beat down on his face. Red glare seeped in through his eyelids. “Captain. Go back to your ship and await orders.”

“I don’t take orders from you.”

In one Sun Stride he could have the captain begging for his life. Not that he could Stride now. He clenched his fists. “Then go back to plundering salvages.” He moved toward the stairs, then addressed the rest of the Guardsmen. “I will inform his Radiance.”

“I already took the witness to see the emperor and the Radiant Queen,” Ben called after him.

Naresh would have preferred to speak with this witness himself first, but it no longer mattered. He had to steady himself on the wall on his way downstairs. This should not have been allowed to happen. Empu Baradah had gone to reinforce defenses that shouldn’t have ever been needed again. Kakudmi had hoped Lunars might one day be allowed back in the temple.

“A foolish capitulation,” Empu Baradah had called it. And now because of it Empu Baradah had returned to the Wheel of Life. The thought wouldn’t quite settle on his mind.

Without a body, they couldn’t even perform a proper Selamatan for Empu Baradah. The man should be interred beneath the Temple of the Sun. Instead, he was lost. Perhaps his ghost would haunt them all for their failure.

The Lunars had betrayed the truce. And only one Lunar could have known where Empu Baradah was bound. For almost two weeks she’d followed Naresh everywhere.

“What was the Academy like? What was it like joining the Arun Guard? How many Guardsmen are there? How did your people build an underwater city? Why?”

Every day she had some new fascination. And how many of them had she shared with Malin?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Chandi had spent less and less time with Ratna in the two weeks since Empu Baradah and Malin had left, but if anyone noticed, they said nothing. Since Naresh had a prior engagement this morning, Chandi planned to make it up to her cousin. Not that Ratna seemed to mind—she was lost in her books once again.

Ratna lounged by her window, which had recently been fitted with a crystal pane for the coming rainy season. Her cousin flipped through a book without seeming to read it.

“I wish the Solars would create more plays,” Ratna complained, not for the first time. Kakudmi had ordered transcripts of plays from Bukit, though Chandi suspected he’d done so more to keep Ratna quiet than out of real care for her happiness.

Chandi glanced at the book in Ratna’s hands. It didn’t look like any play, but then, Chandi had no real interest in books. “Ratna,” she said, pulling her cousin to her feet, “please, let’s go out. We can visit the Academy, listen to the music. Or take Revati to the park.” Yesterday had seen the first showers. If they wanted to appreciate the last of the sunshine, they should go today.

Ratna turned her head away. “Revati is with her father. Again. And why should I care if he wants to see her? He’s a busy man but he makes time for his daughter, if no one else. Shame the child has to grow up in this place.”

“Ratna?” Chandi asked. Her cousin’s voice had started to break.

“Revati visited the park two days ago. She’s fine where she is. Pak Kakudmi will keep her more than entertained.”

“You didn’t tell me you went to the park. I could have come.” She should have gone with them, by the Moon. If she was with Naresh, who protected Ratna? They had both been lax in their duties, then. Or maybe he had assigned someone else to Ratna and not even told her.

“You? You’ve spent every day for weeks snooping. And what have you learned? Anything to make this all worthwhile?”

The door to Ratna’s room creaked open, and Naresh stepped inside. Ratna made no protest at his uninvited entrance, though seeing his dour expression, Chandi could understand why.

“Ibu Ratna, his Radiance wishes to see you in the private meeting hall. Ibu Landorundun is here to escort you.”

Ratna sniffed, but whether at the ice in his voice or at being summoned by Kakudmi, Chandi couldn’t guess. “Very well.”

When Ratna stepped out of the door, Chandi caught a brief glimpse of the Arun Guardswoman waiting in the shadows. She had never seen Landorundun so rigid. The Guardswoman glared a moment, before guiding Ratna away. Naresh must have wanted to see her alone. His eyes locked hers and she could have wept at the pain in them.

Naresh stood in the darkness of the doorway, watching Chandi as Ratna and Landorundun’s footfalls echoed down the corridor, his eyes as cold as his voice. His hair and clothes were damp, though she hadn’t seen rain. Strands of his hair plastered over his eyes, and she had to fight the urge to brush them aside for him.

If he needed a friend, she’d be that now. Whatever had happened, it had devastated him, and she couldn’t even remember the last time Kakudmi had summoned Ratna. Was that it, had war come again? If so, any hope of their friendship might be one of the first casualties.

“The Astral Temple has fallen.” Sweet Chandra. Naresh no longer met her eyes, instead seeming to look past her, over her head. “Should I have you arrested?”

Her mouth trembled, but nothing came out. He knew. And she’d known this could happen. Rahu never pretended this wasn’t dangerous. Sweet Chandra, she was a dead woman.

“I haven’t—” But she didn’t know what she wanted to say. “Please, Naresh, look at me.”

He did then, and it was worse. The cold had turned to fire. “You were the only Lunar who knew he would be there! The only one who might have allowed them to prepare for so many Arun Guard. So you told Malin? Was it him?” In two steps he reached her, then grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. She could draw her Moon Blessings. Could fight him off. But she wouldn’t. “Did Malin lead the attack? Did you help him plan it?”

“No!” Suddenly tears began to well in her eyes and she couldn’t hold them back. “I didn’t know they were going to attack. I didn’t know anything!”

He released her, pushed her. She staggered back and fell onto the bed, then buried her face in her hands.

“You came here to spy on me? To make me think you were my friend?”

“I came here to protect Ratna!” The spying was just the price she had to pay for that. “You think we’d leave her alone here, with you for protection? The Arun Guard have been slaughtering Lunars ever since you invented the damn Sun Brand! Now we’re supposed to believe you want to keep us safe?” She was supposed to undermine them. That was exactly what she had done.

His whole body trembled, his hand clenched and unclenched. She forced her sobs under control. Let him attack her. Give her a real reason to hurt him.

“To protect Ratna?” His voice shook almost as much as his body. “Who are you? Why’d they choose you?”

What did she have to lose at this point? They were already going to burn her alive. Maybe Ratna, too. No, she’d find a way to stop that. “I’m her cousin. Ketu’s daughter.”

An indecipherable grunt escaped him as he shook his head. The fire slipped from his eyes, though she couldn’t name what replaced it. He took three deep breaths before he spoke again. “You lied to me. Abused my trust. And now Empu Baradah is dead.” Naresh shook his head once, gritting his teeth. “I can’t bring myself to order your death. Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing. Maybe you didn’t know what they would do with the information you gave them. I will speak to the emperor on your behalf.” His voice had started to break. “You may have been a fool, but I have to believe you didn’t want murder.”

“Naresh, I’m sorry. I—”

“Whatever friendship we had, consider your life the last thing you’ve gotten out of it.”

He turned his back on her and slipped away.

Chandi buried her face in the bed and let the sobs take her. Hadn’t she always known it would come to this? That it wasn’t real? She had started their friendship because he was watching her. She started it because she could learn this very kind of thing from him. Hadn’t she? That was why she was here. To find out how to hurt the Arun Guard. To hurt Empu Baradah. To hurt Naresh.

She’d learned everything she could from him. And she’d passed it on, because that was her duty to her family. Wasn’t that like his honor? Well, Rangda take him and his honor and his whole damn people. She hadn’t wanted this. More blood on her hands. Naresh’s mentor dead, along with how many others?

She moaned and flooded strength into her limbs as she kicked the bedpost. The rosewood pillar snapped under the blow and clattered against the wall. The relief it brought faded in an instant.

Why did it hurt so much? The answer was right in front of her, she just didn’t want to face it. She had let herself fall in love. With a Solar.

She had been so stupid to let this happen. When she shut her eyes, she saw that night at the Harvest Dance again and again, felt his calloused hands holding her own, basked in his smile. Anusapati had been gone for more than three years, and the time had made her weak.

And now … now Naresh would never speak to her again. He should have turned her in. He should have had them burn her alive. She forced herself to sit up, to catch her breath, to stop the tears. Nothing could change what she’d done. She had ruined everything she touched. She’d killed Anu. She’d left Ratna alone to her fate. She’d betrayed the Solars by spying. She’d betrayed the Lunars with her heart. And she’d betrayed her heart by what she’d done to Naresh.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Damn Malin for this. All that Ratna had suffered, all she had sacrificed, was going to mean nothing now, because that weretiger couldn’t control his lust for violence. It had not taken much to piece together that Empu Baradah must have been the Guardsman who killed Ratna and Chandi’s mothers. So, without doubt, Ratna hoped the man rotted in Rangda’s frozen underworld a thousand lifetimes before he returned to the Wheel of Life. Malin’s timing, however, threatened to cast all the Skyfall Isles right back into war.

She glided through the hall toward Kakudmi’s private chamber, Revati held in one arm. Was it beneath her to manipulate her husband by reminding him of the daughter he adored? It should be, but she had to try to salvage what little she could of the shambles of this alliance, and, perhaps, of her marriage. An Arun Guardsman stood posted outside the emperor’s room, eying her warily as she approached.

“I need to see him.”

The Guardsman offered her a slight bow, then rapped on the door. “Empress Ibu Ratna is here to see you, your Radiance.”

With a sigh, Kakudmi called for her to enter.

Her husband sat at a low table across from the foreign man Ratna had heard about, the supposed witness to Malin’s crimes. They had been looking over a map of the Isles, but on her entrance, the foreigner studied her with such intensity she had to squirm. Ratna drew her Potency Blessing, both for the extra strength to keep holding Revati, and for the small comfort even her weak Blessings could offer.

“We must talk of our alliance, husband,” Ratna said. She’d run this over in her mind innumerable times, but, when she imagined this conversation, the foreigner was not in the same room.

“Alliance? Your people betrayed that alliance. Over a hundred Solars are dead, including a dear friend of mine. What alliance can we have left?”

More than anything she wanted to see Kakudmi alone, to get through to him before this all collapsed around her. But maybe, just maybe, she could make use of this witness. “My people? Did you see my father there, foreigner?”

The foreigner’s eyes darted briefly to Kakudmi, and the emperor nodded. “This is my wife, Ibu Ratna, daughter of the Lunar War King.”

“Rahu’s … daughter?” For an instant so brief she might have imagined it, this stranger seemed confused, or shocked, though Ratna couldn’t guess why. “I did not see him at the temple.”

“And who did you see?”

“Lunar pirates. Weretigers.”

Fine. That was good. She could use that. “So the temple was attacked by a rogue faction.”

Kakudmi shook his head. “You expect us to believe that?”

“Pirates are criminals and weretigers are savages, prone to violent outbursts.” Demonizing the Moon Scion’s own bodyguards was risky, but maybe she could save the peace by offering up a few of those animals as sacrifices. Malin would be furious, but in the long run, it would save Lunar lives. “Our War King was not there, his soldiers were not there, his brother was not there. You cannot allow the actions of a few traitors to jeopardize what we’ve achieved these last few years.”

She could almost make herself believe that her father was no involved. Almost. But Malin would not have dared such an attack without her father’s blessing, explicitly or at least tacitly given. Still, if her father was involved, it certainly sounded like he had managed to avoid any obvious connection to the attacks. If not for the damned foreigner claiming to be a witness, she’d have had a better chance at this.

“Traitors?” Kakudmi asked. “Yes, they were traitors. That does not mean your government was unaware of their actions.”

Ratna pointedly shifted her daughter in front of her. “Would you plan an attack on people who held Revati? Would you even imagine you could risk your daughter? No? Well, I’m Rahu’s daughter. Do you think he’d risk me over some temple, no more how religiously important it was?”

A sudden chill settled in her chest. That argument was almost too convincing, in fact. How could her father have allowed this? Didn’t he know Kakudmi might well turn on Ratna for it? If he declared her and Chandi traitors, they’d be burnt at the stake. As she looked up, she realized the foreigner was staring not at her, but at Revati. Did he consider her argument as deeply as she hoped Kakudmi did? Ratna prided herself on her ability to read people, and this was a man with an agenda, but for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to figure out what that might be. Why did he even care about the struggles between the Skyfall dynasties?

“You must allow a Lunar envoy to come and discuss this. Let me send for my father and we can sit down and talk. Is that not better than shattering the peace after only three years?”

Kakudmi looked to the foreigner, who offered a very slight nod. Why in Rangda’s frozen underworld was her husband trusting this man so much? What lies or secrets he must have shared to gain the ear of the emperor?

“Send for them, then, Ibu Ratna. But you will remain in your chambers from here on out. Tensions will be extremely high in the city and even with a Guardsman as a protector, I cannot risk harm to you.”

Kakudmi, unlike the foreigner, she could read. He meant that, as she had just pointed out, Rahu would not risk his own daughter. So, if he did plan an attack, his first order of business would be trying to rescue Ratna. Such a task was made infinitely more difficult while she remained locked on the upper floors of the imperial palace.

Ratna bowed her head and stepped out. It was the most she was ever likely to get out of the man, now. Any chance of them ever having love was gone.

No. There had never been a chance of that. Kakudmi had never cared about her as anything more than a political tool. That he bothered to even sleep with her once in a while was more a testament to his Solar values not letting him dishonor his marriage than out of any loyalty to her.

She sent Revati to Chandi’s chambers and returned to her own alone.

Damn that stranger and damn Malin. And most of all, damn Kakudmi. Peace was an illusion that her life and dreams had been sacrificed for. She had no future, and, most likely, this alliance had none either. It was all falling apart. And maybe she could understand Malin’s overwhelming desire to be avenged against the world that had wronged him, had made him feel so impotent.

“Let the Demon Queen take you, Kakudmi,” Ratna whispered. “Let Rangda devour your soul right along with Empu Baradah’s. Damn you!” She flung over her table and sent it crashing against the wall.

The next instant Chandi burst through the door that joined their rooms, toyaks in hand and a murderous look in her eyes. Ratna stilled her with a raised hand. There was nothing Chandi could do now. It was up to Ratna to find a way to save herself, her daughter, and her cousin.

And she would do so, whatever the cost.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

With his shirt off, his sunburst tattoo exposed, Naresh attracted more than one stare as he rushed through the city. It couldn’t be helped. He needed sunlight to recharge the Sun Brand. Already, clouds had thickened and a light rain fell over the Harbor District, making precious sunlight harder to come by. In the heart of the rainy season, it was next to impossible to find a phase of pure sunlight to charge the Brand.

Despite the rain, the district remained busy, packed with sailors coming and going, people cursing, trying to pawn wares. Several fishing boats had brought in the morning’s catch, filling the pier with the smell of raw fish.

The Queen of the South Sea was docked near the end of the long waterfront. Rain had made the boardwalk slick, forcing Naresh to slow. A long row of teahouses, fishing supply stores, unlabeled shanties, and warehouses lined the boardwalk. People standing under the eaves of those buildings ogled him as he passed. He kept his gaze focused forward.

Cursing himself for using all his sunlight sparring with Landi, Naresh rushed up the gangway to the Queen of the South Sea. The captain glowered at seeing Naresh again, or perhaps at Naresh boarding without permission. “Why, Guardsman, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you. What, a phase, already? And I was just thinking about you.”

Bendurana’s crew continued unloading cargo from the Outer Isles, mostly barrels of salt, which meant he’d been trading with Lunar merchants. The ship smelled of cardamom, nutmeg, and other goods from the Spice Islands. “How soon can you be ready to leave again?”

“Did I hear you right? I could have sworn you just told me I should remain in port, didn’t you? Now you want me to leave?” Bendurana waved his arms in half circles in the air, then bowed. “As the Guardsman commands, of course.”

“I’m going after Malin. He’s responsible for this. And I’m going to kill him.”

Bendurana’s wild drama subdued, his expression grim. For an odd moment, he said nothing. “Well now, that does sound fitting. For once, the Guardsmen have a plan I can back.” Bendurana paused to help a crewman down the plank with a crate. “I suppose I have to back it after what happened. But why the Queen of the South Sea, when you could commandeer a naval vessel?”

Naresh said nothing.

Bendurana understood anyway. “You don’t have sanction for this.” The captain nodded to himself. “I underestimated you, my friend. I knew you were reckless, but this is a whole new boat of trouble.”

“Fine.” Naresh started down the gangway.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” Bendurana called after him, stopping him on the pier.

As he tried to reboard the ship, Bendurana stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Much as I like a bold plan, you can’t do this alone, and my crew is trained to hunt pirates, not fight the Macan Gadungan.”

“I won’t let him get away.” Naresh tried to push around Bendurana, but the captain blocked his path to the ship with surprising agility. “You just said you’d do it.”

“Oh, I will, but we need help. Like say, Ibu Landorundun.”

Naresh turned, following Bendurana’s gaze to see the Guardswoman approach the ship. He glowered.

Her eyes glanced over both of them before she met his gaze. “Turns out it’s not difficult to follow a shirtless Guardsman through the city. People tend to notice.”

“Bet they’d notice a shirtless Guardswoman even more,” Bendurana said.

Naresh ignored the captain. “What do you want?”

“I hope you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, Naresh. I might expect wild heroics from Bendurana, but you should have some discipline.” She folded her arms. “Not that this morning demonstrated any.”

“Hear that, Guardsman?” Bendurana asked, then raised an eyebrow when Naresh glanced at him. “She thinks I’m heroic. Wildly heroic.”

Landi smirked at the buffoon’s comment.

“Landi,” Naresh said, reaching for her hand. When she refused, he put his hand on her elbow instead. “Come with us. We cannot let this go unpunished.”

“This from the man the First left in charge? Our place is guarding the emperor. It’s why you have the Sun Brand, or have you forgotten?”

“Pak Empu Baradah chose me for a reason, Landi. I am in charge.”

“Yes, he chose you because you’re good with the sword. Or maybe because he was sleeping with your mother. Doesn’t make you a leader.”

Naresh’s hand drifted to his sword before he remembered it rested beneath the sea. A fresh sense of loss washed over him. And how had she even known about his mother? It was a lie, anyway. Empu Baradah would never choose a leader that way. Never.

The silence-struck captain backed away behind him, but Landi held her ground, daring him to attack. Sun Brand aside, he was stronger and more skilled, but beating her would only prove her right. The rain fell harder, but none of them moved for shelter.

“Ibu Ratna has assured us there has been a misunderstanding. Someone acted alone, she says. His Radiance has agreed to accept a Lunar envoy if they send one immediately.”

“I didn’t misunderstand the bodies of initiates floating in the sea,” Bendurana said from the ship behind them. “And I believe the reports from the witness I picked up.”

Naresh found himself in agreement with Bendurana for once. After all of this, all they had done, still the emperor would allow them to come here. Still he would think they could have peace, and allow Empu Baradah to go unavenged.

But he could not defy the emperor. He pushed past Landi and left her standing with the Serendibian.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Chandi hadn’t seen Naresh for the week since her confrontation with him, had remained in her quarters though the emperor hadn’t declared her confined the way he had his wife. Instead, she kept her cousin company, subjected herself to Ratna’s mood swings as if to punish herself.

“Sometimes,” Ratna said, “I fear I’ll lose myself here among the Solars. Three years, and we become more like them. The things we loved as children are gone, even the prayers beneath the moon are rare. I haven’t worshipped as I should. Maybe that’s why Chandra abandoned me here. And Revati, she’s almost a Solar herself.”

“Half Solar.” Chandi paced about the small chamber, her jewelry box clutched in her hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said after a few moments. With the dark skies and the closed window, the room felt dreary, even in the early morning. “I’d rather just be a real handmaid.”

Ratna tried to put her arms around her, but Chandi shrugged them off. Her cousin had dressed in one of her nicest songket-worked sarongs and a fine baju, as though pretending she weren’t confined. “You have to. You serve our family, cousin. Something has gone wrong. A mistake. My father would never, never have done this.” Her voice shook, like she knew she was trying to convince herself and failing. “You need to continue in case the Solars turn this against us. We need a weapon against the remaining Arun Guard. The information you’ve been gathering—”

“Is enough. Too much.” Not that she didn’t like sneaking around, and she had grown good at it. She liked being privy to the secrets. Overhearing whispered conversations, prying free hidden information, it filled her with a rush like drawing her Blessings. But she hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. Or … maybe she had when this started. But she didn’t want that anymore. “I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of betraying.”

Ratna’s slap caught her off guard. “Betraying? Betraying the Solars? So you’d rather betray your own people? Whatever we’ve done here, they still killed our mothers. And still we came, tried to live among them. And look at me—I’m locked in my chambers like a prisoner.”

Chandi scoffed and rubbed her cheek. “Would you prefer an interrogation chamber in the Ministry of Law? Exile on the sea? Maybe they’ll burn us at sunset.”

“Yes, they might, cousin. And that is exactly why you need a way to stop them.”

Chandi sunk down on the bed with her back turned to Ratna. Weren’t the Lunars the ones breaking faith? Malin’s attack—it must have been Malin, after all—had betrayed the truce. “Revati could change it, you know.” The child changed everything about the imperial marriage. When Rahu had first proposed it, Chandi had never thought the Solar emperor would accept a Lunar bride. When had it stopped sounding like madness? When had the possibility of enduring peace started to seem real? Was it when Naresh returned?

Ratna sat beside Chandi and pulled her around by the shoulders to look at her. For a moment her cousin just stared into her eyes, her mouth cracked open. “Maybe. But what if she can’t? It’s time we went home, and we cannot do that unless we have a way to win this war.”

She tried to speak, but something caught in her throat. Isn’t that what she’d wanted all along? “Think about your husband. Your child.”

“If there’s war, Revati will be raised a proper Lunar. So she’ll lose the Solar throne—she’ll regain the Lunar throne that should have been her true birthright.”

Chandi couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice as she rose and backed away from her cousin. “You want to see war come again, don’t you? For all you played at diplomacy, for all you thought to bring peace, when it turns dark, you run for shelter. You took his bed, gave him a child, but it meant nothing.”

Ratna looked like she might slap her again. Ratna didn’t have strong Blessings, despite her father, and Chandi was in no mood to allow herself to be struck again. She ran her fingers over the jewelry box that had held her betrayals. The box that had cost her Naresh.

Ratna rose. “You will do your duty.”

“No!” Chandi hurled the box at the wall beside her cousin. Ratna screeched as the box shattered behind her head, splinters of wood flying about the shadowed room. “I’m done with it, Ratna. I was a fool to agree to this in the first place. But now I’m finished.” She’d fix this. Because peace was better for everyone. Because she owed it to Naresh. Because she had to find a way to keep him from hating her.

After catching her breath, Chandi saw the pearl rhino, scattered on the floor. She knelt beside it. When had she forgotten it in that box? Had she betrayed Anusapati?

“You will do your duty,” Ratna repeated, her voice trembling. “As I have done mine.”

Chandi scoffed as she rose. “On your back.” She rushed to the door and flung it open, not waiting for her cousin’s answer.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Naresh wound his way through the Igni District. All his life he’d lived in Kasusthali, wandered its streets, but he had seen this district only a handful of times. It smelled of garbage and unwashed bodies. Their wooden homes and apartments seemed a poor imitation of the masterful stonework throughout the rest of Kasusthali. And yet, the Ignis themselves had helped create that stonework.

Chandi had once said the Solars treated the Ignis like slaves. She was wrong, of course. But after the splendor of the city, the near destitution here was striking. His passing met with cold looks. They all seemed to know who, or at least what, he was. Of course, the hints of his sunburst tattoo would peek out from beneath his baju, and his uniform’s cerulean color made it obvious to anyone familiar with Solar society.

Rumors said the keeper of the fire shrine was quite the historian. Would what he learned here match his lessons from the Academy? Three times Naresh had stopped to ask the local Ignis for directions. Twice the Ignis had dispersed with nothing but shrugs, and he had begun to suspect the last had misled him.

Growing up, he had heard that Lunars were violent monsters, addicted to sugar, in love with bloodshed, and lacking any honor. And then he met Chandi. Perhaps her sense of honor needed work. Perhaps he should have turned her in. But she wasn’t violent, wasn’t a monster. He had heard the Ignis were docile workers who preferred their simple life to the burdens of politics and government. He wondered if those rumors were as accurate as the ones about the Lunars.

The Lunar envoy would arrive in the morning. Perhaps the empress convinced Kakudmi to allow it. Or perhaps the emperor’s new fair-skinned confidant had done so. Naresh couldn’t guess what faraway land a man with sun-colored hair and green eyes might come from. No one seemed to know who the foreigner was, even his name. The Guard had taken to calling him the Stranger.

Bendurana had brought him to the palace. A witness, he said. Next they knew, Kakudmi had taken the man on as an advisor. Except he gave no advice, at least not where any of the Guard saw it. Kakudmi made no retaliation against the Lunars. When his own father was murdered, Kakudmi made peace. And now Empu Baradah was dead, the Astral Temple fallen. Empu Baradah’s warnings about Kakudmi remained. “A man of peace,” he’d said.

The emperor and his advisor would decide their actions, but Naresh would find his own answers. He had to know how this really began. Only then could he guess its end.

A burning brazier outside a windowless stone building among a block of windowless stone buildings identified the Shrine of Sacred Flame, as the Ignis called it.

Ignis whispered to themselves as Naresh stepped through the entranceway. Unlike Solar architecture, the fire shrine featured no atrium. The place was cast in oppressive darkness. Naresh had to fight to keep walking forward and not hunch against the shadows. He could see men moving off to the sides on the edge of his vision, but couldn’t make them out. He kept his fists clenched at his sides to keep his hand from wandering to his newly wedded keris sword.

“Welcome, Guardsman,” the priest at the back of the shrine called. The man sat on a pillow some distance beyond the fire pit. Even while he sat, his surprising height was apparent. “Come and sit for a while.”

Naresh inclined his head and then sat across from the Igni priest. “You are Semar?”

“Yes, Pak Naresh, I am.”

The seat Semar had offered him positioned him between the fire pit and the priest, so it became even harder to read the man’s face. “How do you know my name?”

“I’ve followed your career, Guardsman. Son of the Radiant Queen. Asked to join the Arun Guard at a younger age than anyone in memory. Some say the finest swordsman in the Skyfall Isles, perhaps all of the South Sea.”

“You have a reputation yourself. They say you’ve studied the ancient histories. The four wars, even before, in the times of myth. Before the breaking of the Pact.”

“Why not ask your mother? She would surely have the answers you seek.”

Naresh hesitated, yet he could not ask for honest answers if he would not give them. “The Children of the Sun would tell me the history they recorded, the history they believe. The Ministry of Information would tell me what they want me to know. I wanted an unbiased account.”

“And you believe such a thing exists? An objective history, free from influence by the teller?”

Naresh spread his hands. If not, if no one could tell them the unbiased truth, there was nothing he could do. Maybe that was the point, maybe they should all have let the past lie in the past. “Who started the war?”

“The Pact broke when the Lunars murdered the Solar high priestess. In retaliation the Solars drove the Lunars and Ignis from the Astral Temple.”

Naresh nodded. That was how the Children of the Sun told it. Of course, the Ignis were their allies, so perhaps their histories would agree. The Lunars claimed the Solars driving them from the Temple was an unprovoked attack. Maybe they even believed it now.

“But don’t you think the Lunars must have had a reason for such a heinous act?” Semar asked. “After so many years, holding the Astral Temple in trust with the other two dynasties, why take action certain to ignite a war?”

“What do you mean?” Never once had the Solar histories questioned the Lunars’ reasons. They had taken it as a given that Lunars were just violent, dangerous. “Are you saying you know why they did it?”

Semar leaned closer, held him with an intense gaze that seemed to bore into him. “The Solar high priestess learned something, something the Lunars wanted to keep secret at any cost.”

“Tell me.” Whatever had started all this, he needed to know. It was the gulf that separated him and Chandi.

Semar watched him without wavering, but Naresh found himself glancing around to make sure no one would overhear. “Some say,” the fire priest said, “the high priestess learned the secret of the Moon Scions. According to those rumors, she may have uncovered the source of their bloodline, and thus their power.”

Naresh rocked back on his heels. And that secret, the secret to wielding the god-like power of the Moon Scions, would be worth killing for.

“And you, son of the Radiant Queen, what will you do with this knowledge? Try to find the beginning, reach back through the ages to find the place to lay the blame for all that has gone wrong?”

If the emperor had seen all this before him, perhaps Naresh had underestimated him. Easy for him to say they had to let go of the distant past.

“I know where the blame lies. Malin.” Chandi might not be a monster. But the Macan Gadungan were.

“And if Malin has done what you think? Why would he do so? Have you ever wondered how he got to where he is?”

No. Naresh had always assumed the Macan Gadungan were born monsters. Was Malin once a man? But Semar meant that the distant past had guided Malin’s path. Which meant to let go of ancient history, he’d have to let go of recent history.

Kakudmi never avenged Ken Arok. Naresh couldn’t avenge Empu Baradah.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The Lunar envoy had arrived, but it had brought Chandi little relief. Rahu’s presence here only made her situation with Naresh more complicated. The Solars had confined the Lunars to their chambers on the fourth floor. Naresh had informed Chandi that Malin was banned from the city, and gave the weretiger’s infrequently-used room to her father. Rahu they gave a more elaborate room around the corner.

The Solars had agreed to allow the Lunars to meet in a conference room nearby, under guard. And they might have, if Chandi hadn’t long ago learned the room’s secret. The careful acoustics of the room allowed sound to travel one-way, to the opposite wing. If they met in the conference room, Kakudmi could overhear every conversation.

Chandi huddled in the corner of Ratna’s room. Rahu and Ketu had used their Glamour Blessings to disguise themselves as servants, then snuck past the guards to her cousin’s room. They whispered nearby, while Malin watched the door. The weretiger had swum from Yawadvipa across the sea to the palace and climbed in the window. Marvelous in its audacity. Impossible for a human, so the Solars never guarded against it.

If they caught him, they’d burn him. And he’d deserve it for what he’d done. She tried to keep from glaring at him. But whatever he’d done, Malin had raised her. When she was seven, playing on the rocks with Ratna, she had slipped and fallen into the sea. It had been Malin to dive in and save her while her father was off serving as a priest. Funny, but it was one of her earliest memories. When her mother died, Malin taught her the stick fighting techniques he’d brought from Mait, as well as Silat.

And when Anusapati might have killed her? Malin saved her life. Since she’d come to Kasusthali, he’d been her closest friend and confidant, the one person she could count on and be honest about her mission with. She wanted to hate him for costing her Naresh. But could she hate him for avenging her mother or Calon?

From the look on her uncle’s face, his talks with Kakudmi and Aji Bidara had not gone well. Rahu wore a carefully trimmed goatee, darker in color than his sun-bleached brown hair. Elaborate songket embroidered his black baju, a symbol the Lunar Empire had come to associate with the greatest Moon Scion of their time.

Rahu poured himself a cup of tea before sitting in front of Chandi. Ketu sat beside him, sharing a plate of coconut slices. Ratna remained on her bed. “Assuming we can trust the tiger’s sense—”

“It’s never failed you before,” Malin said.

Rahu did not turn at the interruption, but his back stiffened, and his dark eyes grew wider, his mouth tighter. “Assuming he has not failed us,” he began again, “the Solars cannot spy on us now.”

Chandi shook her head. They didn’t build personal chambers with acoustic technology, only semi-public places. Dishonorable, they’d say. And Naresh would never accept dishonor.

“We must get my daughter before we escape the palace,” Ratna said.

“Silence, child,” Rahu said.

“We cannot abandon her here,” Ratna said, fire in her eyes. “She’s our family.”

Rahu tapped a finger to his lips. “Lower your voice.”

“Let them come,” Malin said from the door.

Chandi scowled. “Naresh knows you were responsible. If he learns you’re here—”

She could hear Malin stalk closer. “Does he?”

“I wouldn’t want to be you if Naresh finds you.” Malin must be growing even more furious that she didn’t turn to face him. She suppressed a snicker.

“I’ll rip out his heart and eat it before his eyes!” The weretiger smacked a bedpost, snapping it.

Ratna shrieked, and Rahu was on his feet in an instant. The War King held Malin aloft by the throat before Chandi had turned. “If your noise brings him here, I’ll let him have you, Macan Gadungan.” He glanced at Ratna cowering on the bed. “And if that had struck my daughter, I’d make you wish the Arun Guard found you.”

Rahu dropped Malin, who fell to his knees, gasping. The War King sat and resumed his tea, adding more milk from a small vial. He always insisted on bringing his own milk for his tea.

Chandi shivered at the image Malin had conjured. She couldn’t bring herself to pity the tiger for how Rahu had treated him. Malin rose and returned to the door, never taking his eyes from Rahu.

“Well, that was colorful, Malin,” Chandi’s father said. “You look pale, Chandi. Are you well?”

Chandi nodded. Her father’s short hair had a bit more grey than when she’d last seen him. Indeed, it almost looked like he was the elder brother, rather than Rahu. Still muscular, though. Probably practiced his Silat every day. He’d done so since her mother had died.

“We’re not leaving,” Ketu told Ratna.

“But—”

“Be silent, Ratna,” Rahu said, his voice low and emotionless. She wilted under his gaze, and he turned back to Chandi. “The Solars are willing to negotiate. Kakudmi fears us too much to make war now. He is not his father. So we will wait until the moment is right before we strike. If they fail to prepare, they deserve their fate.”

“Then war is inevitable?” Chandi asked. And everyone in Kasusthali would die?

“War is always inevitable,” Rahu said. “It is only a matter of time.”

So everything, sending his daughter to marry the Solars, it was all a ploy for time? Deep down, she’d always known that, known it was why he’d sent her to spy on the Arun Guard. But, after so much time, somehow she’d allowed herself to believe it didn’t have to end this way. And did Ratna know she had been traded as a breeding slave, or was it more convincing to keep her ignorant? From the look on her cousin’s face, she knew now.

Her cousin had believed she could be the mother of peace. Knowing her father had never meant her to succeed would not make her failure easier.

“I’m not convinced the Solars believe Malin was responsible,” Chandi’s father said. “And they won’t act without proof. If they wanted war, they wouldn’t have allowed us here. They are fools. They don’t understand that the Moon God will see his children rule the Skyfall Isles.”

Rahu grunted. “Whether the Moon God wills or no, I will see this city burn.” Her father sputtered at her uncle’s blasphemy, but Rahu continued without pause. “The entire archipelago shall belong to me. Belong to the Moon Scions.”

“You plan war, but you’ll leave Chandi and me here?” Ratna asked.

“They may know, or at least suspect I’m a spy,” Chandi said. She couldn’t look at them, just stared at the sandalwood bed. Some Solar must have paid a fortune for the crafting of it, and now Malin had ruined it. And it would burn, too.

She had betrayed Naresh. And yet, no one came for her, no one came to burn her at dawn like she deserved.

Naresh had trusted her. Even when her uncle hadn’t—Rahu didn’t seem to care she had exposed herself as a spy. He wouldn’t have lost a tear if she had been burned alive. And she would have been, if not for Naresh. Did his letting her live mean he felt something for her, too?

“Then you must deal with the consequences of your failure,” Rahu said. She ignored her father’s sharp intake of breath and kept her gaze on the broken bedpost, tracing each grain with her eyes. “And yes, Ratna, you stay here. Ketu and I will try to negotiate peace with the Solars, but one in which we keep the Astral Temple. Kakudmi is too weak to stand up to us. The coward will cave. Now that we have the Temple again, we can prepare a much stronger offense.”

Chandi did look at her uncle then. Why would a religious monument affect their tactics? She understood her father’s outrage that the Solars had held the Temple—it was an affront to his beliefs. But Rahu had never expressed enough faith for her father’s liking. Yet he allowed Malin to assault the Temple.

“What would you have us do?” Ratna asked.

“Fulfill your wifely duties as you have, of course.”

Ratna choked on her tea.

Rahu continued. “Chandi will continue as Ratna’s handmaid. If you can keep from getting caught, that would be preferable. The information you’ve provided has helped us get this far. And helped us see just how weak the Solars have become. They’ve lost their greatest fighter. More importantly, we’ve taken the Temple. Perhaps in another year or two, maybe less, we will be ready to take this city. When Kasusthali falls, the entire Solar Empire will soon follow.”

Chandi slumped on the bed and let her head fall onto her palms.

“Now, Chandi, I have a new task for you,” her uncle said. He paused until she met his gaze. “I want to know everything about the Radiant Queen. Follow her, learn her habits, her weaknesses, her secrets. Learn how she can be manipulated. If she is the strength of the Solar Empire, we will control that strength.”

Chandi started to refuse. But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. However much she loved Naresh, she couldn’t betray her father. She saw the concern in his eyes at the mission Rahu had set her. Concern and confidence. How could she betray that confidence? And if she did nothing, if war did come, she would have only herself to blame if anything happened to Ratna.

Swearing under her breath, she rose. And she bowed to Rahu’s wishes. As always.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Naresh was near, Malin could smell him. He slipped into the shadows of a side hall. Footsteps echoed, then two men in cerulean uniforms passed. So close Malin could have reached out and ended Naresh. A single twist of the keris knife and the Butcher’s protégé would share his fate.

Malin took a step after the Arun Guardsmen, then paused. He wanted them all dead, but even with surprise, he couldn’t fight two Guardsmen, and one was even bigger than he was. A single Sun Stride and one would escape, bring the wrath of the palace down on him.

He cursed under his breath. Chandi was right, of course. He couldn’t let Naresh see him. Yet. But he would not hide from the man for long. One day he would taste Naresh’s hot blood.

This time of evening the Arun Guard would be bound for their mess hall. With the Guard distracted, Malin could move about the palace with little concern. He continued down the hall. Chandi was the key to controlling what happened here. The girl was beautiful and talented, but she didn’t seem to understand the reality of their situation. And she was too fond of Naresh.

On instinct he slipped into another dark corner when his ears picked up more footfalls. But it wasn’t Solars who passed him by, it was a foreigner, a tall man with red-gold hair and fair skin. The foreigner didn’t look at him. But Malin had caught that scent before.

As the foreigner slipped around the corner, Malin followed, careful to keep his footfalls too silent for human hearing. The man headed into the hall leading to Kakudmi’s sitting room. An Arun Guard let the foreigner pass without challenge.

So Kakudmi accepted the foreigner into his private hall. Trusted him enough that the Guard didn’t even stop to announce him. Malin quickened his pace, almost to a run. His muscles itched to release his frustration, to sprint through these halls and out into the rain. The rain he’d not even feel because he remained in this mad city beneath the sea. He hated this city, but he had to win Chandi, had to keep an eye on events.

Now that the Astral Temple was back in Lunar hands, it fell to the Solars to decide what to do about it. Malin had already stationed many of the Macan Gadungan to protect the Temple. The Arun Guard would come for it again. He would see no repeat of Astral Shore. Ketu had ensured that Moon Scions would also be there to … Malin slowed his pace. The Astral Temple. That’s where he had smelled the foreigner before.

He turned to look back in the direction of the emperor’s hall. What in Chandra’s name had the man been doing at the Astral Temple? If he was a spy for Kakudmi, if he had been there all along, perhaps he was witness to the slaughter. Malin grit his teeth. Rahu had ordered him to leave no survivors, had not taken it well when reports of a witness surfaced.

Rahu would never aid the Macan Gadungan. He cared nothing for his creations. Malin slipped into Ketu’s chamber. The priest sat upon a straw mat, legs folded. The room smelled of strong incense that irritated Malin’s eyes and nose. He knelt beside Ketu, heedless of the man’s meditation. Let him commune with Chandra later. The moon hadn’t even risen yet. “I have done all you and Rahu asked,” Malin said. “Now aid me, priest.”

Ketu snorted but didn’t crack open his eyes.

“For two decades we served the Moon Scions. We say the strong earn the right to rule through their strength. If the Moon Scions are stronger, then so be it. But we have enough strength to deserve respect.” He’d need to know about the Stranger, but first, Malin wanted to make certain he had an ally.

Ketu snorted again. “You are animals. Now you whine at your masters to see if we’ll reward you with scraps. Be glad for what you are given, tiger.”

Malin rose and paced the room, struggling to keep from lashing out at the priest. So he had seized the Astral Temple, destroyed the Butcher, embarrassed the Solars all on Rahu’s command. Twenty years of loyal service hadn’t earned his people honor. Neither would this.

“When people are given less than their due, sooner or later they’ll take what’s owed, Ketu.”

“You forget yourself, tiger.” The priest still didn’t deign to open his eyes.

Malin stormed out of the chamber without further comment. Let them figure out about the foreigner on their own. The man was no concern of his. If Ketu and Rahu owed him no loyalty, he owed them no better. He had done everything for them. Had given decades of his life in service to them, feeling he owed Rahu for the power the man had given him, a power that had saved his life and given it purpose. But it was enough. Malin had delivered the Astral Temple back to the Lunars and still they treated him as nothing.

The moon would rise soon, Malin could feel it. He could leave the city through the harbor. Become the beast, run through the jungles of Yawadvipa outside Kasusthali. Run and never return. But he would not abandon his people or Chandi. He needed to find her.

It took him a few moments to catch her scent and follow it to the rooftop garden where they had once sat and talked. She sat in the same spot, legs dangling over the edge, chin on her hands. Standing motionless in shadow, he watched her, lost in her own thoughts. Since he returned to Kasusthali, she had seemed despondent.

When Chandi was born, back when Malin still thought Rahu and Ketu had all the answers, Malin had sworn to always watch over her, and Ratna as well. Since their childhood, Ratna’s exotic beauty had always drawn the comments and the eyes of admirers. But Malin was drawn to Chandi, her sense of adventure, her courage. And slowly, she became a woman, and he felt other things as well. His breath came heavy as he watched her in the moonlight.

He approached, not trying to sneak, but she still spun as though startled when he neared. “Chandi. Are you well?”

She turned back to the water and lowered her head to her hands. He knelt beside her, reached out to put his hand on her curved back, but stopped himself.

“You destroyed a nice bed earlier,” she said.

Malin cursed under his breath. She did have a habit of bringing out his temper. Was that the beast inside him, or had he always been that way? He couldn’t remember where one began and the other ended. For too long they had been one and the same. “I will help you find Aji Bidara in the morning. You’ll need me.”

Chandi sighed, but nodded.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

When Malin had offered to accompany Chandi on her efforts to spy on Aji Bidara, she didn’t know whether to be grateful or worried. His nose did make it easier to track the Radiant Queen, but Malin shouldn’t even be in the city. If Naresh found out, Chandi had little doubt what he would do.

She’d had to Glamour both herself and Malin to get them out of the palace. Everyone had taken the Macan Gadungan for an Igni porter and Chandi for a Solar servant.

The effort of the Glamour had driven her to a fainting spell by the exterior fountain. Did anyone else know this was possible—to Glamour another person? Chandi giggled when Malin woke her. A bout of euphoria held her, afterward, as they walked through the city.

The Temple District seemed the best place to start, so Chandi had sat through the morning service while Malin waited outside. Even if Aji Bidara could have picked her out among all the worshippers, the Radiant Queen had no reason to recognize Chandi. Since she didn’t know the Solar hymns, she mimed singing along until the service ended, then wended her way through the crowd.

She found Malin nearby, harassing a banana vendor. Chandi shook her head as she drifted over. With a firm tug she pulled him away from the vendor. “Find her, Malin.”

Malin put his arm around her shoulder. “We need to blend in.” He guided her around the back of the temple, where she shrugged free from his grasp.

“Your friendship with the Guardsman was quite useful,” Malin said as he stalked closer. “Maybe you shouldn’t cast it off too quickly.”

As if she had any choice in the matter. Because of Malin, because he’d murdered Empu Baradah, Chandi had lost any chance of ever winning Naresh over. The saddest part of all was this was the second of her loves the weretiger had taken from her. Chandi bit her lip and said nothing.

In the distance, the Radiant Queen, her outfit gleaming, disappeared into the Circuit to the High District. Chandi had had little reason to visit the High District before, though she knew it housed the wealthier citizens. Ratna had taken Revati on a tour once, the only time Chandi could remember seeing the place.

They lingered in the Temple District until Aji Bidara had slipped from view. Malin’s ability to track her scent meant they didn’t need to risk the Radiant Queen spotting them.

“You’re worried about Ratna,” he said as they stood waiting. Chandi acknowledged with a nod, but didn’t look at him. “Her father wouldn’t really abandon her here in war.”

“You don’t think so?” Hardly a comforting reassurance. Though she had always feared her uncle, she might once have looked up to him. Before Anusapati had returned to the Wheel of Life. Before Rahu had traded his daughter for his schemes. Now, she knew he’d sacrifice anything to accomplish his ends. Why he was so set on conquering the Isles or holding the damn Temple, she’d never know.

Malin shrugged and started down the tube. “I probably know him better than anyone but your own father. I have no love for the man, but he does care for Ratna. He was never the same after Calon died. Your father was like that, too, with Simhika.”

She didn’t answer until they had crossed into the High District. The houses here stood several stories tall—most could pass for small palaces. Crystal sculptures lined the walkways, perhaps scenes from Solar religion. “It seems like you’re not too grateful for what Rahu gave you.”

“Just because someone gives you a gift doesn’t mean they should own you forever.” He pulled ahead, and she followed, until he stopped before a large house. “She went inside.”

The front yard held a garden of crystal statues, people and animals of amazing detail. “If this is her house, Naresh must have grown up here.”

“What?”

“He’s her son.”

Malin didn’t speak for a moment. “You left that out of your report.” When he brushed her cheek with his hand she should have pulled away. Should have, but she didn’t. “He’s not good for you.” The weretiger stepped close behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, his chin by her ear, his long hair brushing her cheek. “I’m sorry for what happened with Anusapati, but even he would have been better than a Solar.”

Maybe. Everything seemed too complicated now. A few steps forward took her from his grasp. “I need to get inside. You should return to the palace.”

Malin shrugged and slipped away. After a glance around to make sure no one was watching, Chandi drew her Gliding Blessing and ran up the wall to the roof. The center of the Radiant Queen’s roof was carved from the same glass-like crystal as the domes, letting in lots of light, and, of course, the prying eyes of those who could run up walls. That central pane looked down on an atrium open all the way to the first floor. Dozens of birds of paradise perched around the interior, contained by an almost invisible crystal barrier.

From her vantage, she could see Aji Bidara change out of her ceremonial baju into the one she wore to court. Even through the crystal pane, Chandi could make out the sunburst tattoo. So the Radiant Queen bore the Sun Brand just like the Arun Guard. Except this tattoo seemed larger, as though it might cover almost her entire body.

The Solar lifted her face up, sending Chandi scurrying backwards. Had she seen her? After a few moments she peeked over the pane again and found the Radiant Queen studying a block of crystal, hands clasped behind her back. As the Solar woman reached her hands toward the block, it began to shape and flow like liquid. Chandi pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp. Even as she watched, the crystal solidified into a perfect replica of an anoa.

With a hand on the statue, Aji Bidara vanished from view, taking the crystal anoa with her. The Sun Stride. A glance over the edge of the roof revealed Aji Bidara positioning the statue in her back yard.

Was this how they had built Kasusthali? Sweet Chandra, if the Radiant Queen could grow a city, how could even Moon Scions stand up to her?

And then Chandi’s heart jumped into her throat as she realized this woman, this font of power, glared up at her. Even as Chandi rose, the crystal roof pane behind her turned fluid and crystal tendrils wrapped around her legs. In an instant the crystal turned solid, holding her fast.

CHAPTER FORTY

Crumpled missive in hand, Naresh hurried through the archway into the Ministry of Law. Spacious, open, painted warm colors. The holding cells were not as inviting.

“The Radiant Queen brought in a prisoner not long ago,” he told the desk clerk. “I need to see her.”

The clerk bowed deeply, and sent a servant to escort Naresh to the holding cells. The Empire didn’t incarcerate prisoners long term. Anything that couldn’t be covered with fines resulted in exile, or for the worst offenses, execution.

The guard unlocked the door to the cell, where Naresh found his mother glaring down at Chandi. The foolish girl sat in the corner by the cot, her hands bound before her, eyes vacant. His heart clenched at the look of pleading she gave him, fear and hope warring over her face. He’d hardly seen her since that day, and now to see her like this stole his words and his breath.

His mother turned to face him. The windowless cell was painted a depressing brown, highlighting her crimson baju. “We see you received report of the incident at our estate. We assure you, we are well. Leave us,” she said with a wave of her hand. “We must question this Lunar.”

“I never doubted I’d find you well, mother.” He had always found her use of the plural pretentious, even if tradition held she spoke for the Sun God as well as herself.

Naresh looked down at Chandi again, watched her lip tremble. He’d spared her once, Surya knew why, when he should have turned her in for spying. But she didn’t look like a hardened spy now. Much as he should turn and leave, he couldn’t shake from his mind the image of her screaming as they burned her alive. If he let it happen, he’d never shake it. “I’m here for her.”

His mother’s arched eyebrow was her only movement.

“Chandi is a palace servant. A friend.” Naresh was glad his mother watched him so she couldn’t see the tear run down Chandi’s cheek. “I’m sure she meant no harm. She’s a curious girl.”

“She was in our house, Naresh. Curiosity does not permit trespassing.”

“The missive said on your house, not in it,” he said, which elicited another hand wave.

Naresh glared at Chandi for forcing him to this. As if missing an appointment with the emperor were not enough. “I take responsibility for her actions. As the acting head of the Arun Guard I will take her into my custody.”

His mother scoffed. “Do not try our patience, child. Your authority is tenuous enough as it is. Do not risk it over this friend of yours.”

“I have already agreed to take the blame for her transgression. I cannot go back on my word.”

His mother glared at him. “So be it, Naresh.” She paused in the doorway. “There will be a price for this.”

Naresh sighed, then helped Chandi to her feet. With a hand on her wrist he pulled the Lunar along after him, and then signed them out at the desk. Only then did the guard unlock her manacles.

“Thank you, Naresh, thank you,” she said, sniffling.

Though her wrists were free he still pulled her by the arm. “What am I to do with you?”

“Please, Naresh. I need to tell you something. It’s just hard, I—”

“Shut up.” He ushered her through the palace archway and past the guards. Mercifully, she didn’t speak again until he had taken her to her chamber. “You’re not to leave the palace again without my permission. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me the Radiant Queen was your mother?”

With a hand on each of her shoulders, he shoved her into the room. “Stop it. No more. No more spying, no more prying information. And you’re damn lucky I was acting head of the Arun Guard, otherwise I’d never have heard in time to do anything for you.”

“I’m so sorry. Please, give me—” His raised hand forestalled her, and she looked down. “How long do you want me to remain here?”

“Until the moon falls from the sky.”

Chandi drew a sharp breath at his blasphemy, but said nothing. Good. “You have no idea what your foolishness just cost me. I’ve staked my reputation on a woman I know to be a liar and a spy. Your infraction will be on my record. I’ve risked my position, everything I have because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you burn. But Surya knows you deserve it.”

He shut the door behind him.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Malin needed to run through the rainforest, stalk prey, feel the thrill of chasing it, bringing it down. He needed to become the beast and escape the shackles of his humanity.

Instead he collapsed in an alley between two warehouses in the Harbor District. The rain had pounded down all day, but the warehouse eave provided some shelter. Malin kicked his foot in a puddle, splashing water at a macaque hiding under the opposite warehouse. The monkey scurried away.

He had been a fool to leave Chandi this morning. She had seemed so confident, but they had let arrogance get the better of them. He beat his fist against a rain barrel. If that bastard Naresh hadn’t stepped in, the Ministry of Law would have burned Chandi alive. Tried, anyway. Malin would have rescued her. Of course he would have.

But Rahu should never have sent her there in the first place. The War King was out of control. Malin had served his master for many years. Too many. Though prone to paranoia and violent outbursts, Rahu rarely acted so recklessly as he had in sending Chandi to spy on the Radiant Queen. Malin tugged on his long wet hair, wringing out some of the water. Perhaps he would have to split from his master. Perhaps the years of service had paid for the gift Rahu had given him. But Rahu would never see it that way.

With the rain he didn’t catch Bendurana’s scent until the man had already lumbered into the alley. Water ran down the Serendibian’s face and dripped from his twisted locks. Ben had removed his baju, and was probably the warmer for it. Malin’s own shirt was drenched and plastered to his skin.

“Ah, Malin,” Ben said, shaking his head. “You really did it, didn’t you? You begged me to take you back to Swarnadvipa, and you used my good will to launch an assault on the Astral Temple. Murdered Empu Baradah.” He stepped closer when Malin didn’t answer. “I see you deny nothing.”

“If I did do what you say, why take it so personally, foreigner?” Malin pushed himself off the ground, and took a step toward Ben. His build intimidated most men, though Bendurana was taller than himself.

Ben hesitated, but didn’t retreat. “When I came here, they knew I had run with Lunar pirates. They knew about the years as a smuggler after that. Still, Empu Baradah gave me another chance. He treated everyone—”

“He was the Butcher!” Malin lunged forward and grabbed Ben by the arms, then lifted him up against the warehouse wall. “Don’t try to tell me how kind and forgiving he was. And you, you came to me. I offered you a home, and you joined the Solars. We were at war, and you joined the enemy, my friend.”

“I seem to recall pulling you from the sea, Malin. Do you know how difficult it is for a ten-year-old to pull a full-grown man into a jukung in the middle of a storm? When I might have kept searching for my father, I saved you.”

Malin smelled no fear on the man, even as he held him aloft against the warehouse. “Oh, so now you’re the noble hero. You only needed a new home because you ruined the last one.” A Serendibian captain, Bendurana had failed in battle, fled when ordered to fight an engagement he couldn’t win. “Lost your commission, lost your betrothed, lost your honor. And I welcomed you, gave you a chance at a new life. And you spat it back in my face.”

Once, Malin had thought to hunt down Ben for the betrayal, but when the time came, he couldn’t bring himself to murder his old friend.

The captain didn’t waver, kept his voice level despite the position Malin held him in. “You can’t hold that over my head, anymore, Malin. Empu Baradah is dead, and I don’t care if Naresh learns of my past, he already thinks me a fool and a coward. And after the last time you blackmailed me, I told Landorundun the truth.” Ben jerked his arms out suddenly, catching Malin by surprise and breaking his grip. “And she accepted my mistakes, accepted me. Do you have anyone who would do that for you?”

Malin glared a moment, then, when Ben turned to move, swung at him. His fist smashed into Bendurana’s jaw and sent the captain staggering back against the building. Malin bared his teeth but didn’t move in further.

Ben reeled for a moment, then spat blood. He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ah, Malin, you really are an animal, aren’t you? I’m sorry you feel I betrayed our friendship by working for the Solars.”

“By hunting Lunars.”

“Yes. Hunting pirates. Now I know the sting of betrayal myself, don’t I? I can’t prove it was you, and I won’t say anything about this, but don’t ask me for any more favors, Malin. We’re through.”

Malin watched Ben leave. The captain had betrayed him long ago. He shouldn’t care if he lost his friendship now. He stood for a long time between the two warehouses, letting the rain wash over him.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

A hero’s turmoils never ended, but still, Ben was going to need to have a word with the goddess about all this. He mumbled under his breath as he made his way through the palace and up to the lounge the Arun Guard favored. Whenever Landi wasn’t working, she tended to sit there practicing her music. It was a shame she’d given up any aspirations of a professional career at it, because, as far as Ben was concerned, Landi played the flute well enough to impress even the goddess. And somehow, he just knew it was Naresh’s fault she’d changed careers.

His jaw still hurt where Malin had struck him. Despite Malin’s natural propensity for violence—or the tiger spirit’s propensity at least—Ben hadn’t seen that coming. After all they had been through together, he hated letting their friendship end like this, but Malin had left him no choice. His betrayal of the Solars, and worse, having used Ben to help carry it out by getting him to Bukit in time to launch the attack, was unforgivable.

The only thing he wanted in the world right now was Landi, was to hear her play and leave the maelstrom of lies and chaos behind for an afternoon. Today, though, she sat staring out the crystal pane over the lounge, not playing, not even holding her flute. That might have been a bad sign, if Ben believed in bad signs. But pessimism was about as helpful as trying to pry barnacles off your hull using nothing but your teeth and a winning smile—it never worked and it left a bad taste in your mouth.

“Ah, princess. I was rather hoping for an aria of sweet love that would titillate and amaze the senses. Failing that, I’d be satisfied with some flute music. Either way, we both know, satisfaction is most important.”

Landi snickered. “You love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“Should I not? I command both a rumbling baritone that would make a whale jealous and a rhythmic harmony suited for praising the beauty of an apsara—or a bidadari, as you call them here.”

The woman looked like she was trying not to smile, and Ben was absolutely determined not to let her win that fight. “Whales don’t speak, Ben.”

“Ah, my dear, but if they did speak, it would be in rumbling baritones.”

“It’s hard to argue with that.”

“It is, in fact, nearly impossible to argue with it.” Ben raised a finger imitating a tutor he’d had as a boy. “You could try to argue with it, but you’d wind up looking like a monkey, chittering away at the birds, as if they could understand a damn thing you were saying.”

With a snort Landi rose and drifted to his side. “There’s something I have to tell you …”

“Indeed. I am, as always, well aware of your undying love. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to hear you say it, and say it often. But, I’ve been thinking. I have the money now, all we ever talking about. I know things are complex—politically speaking, not between us, of course—but they always are. What better time, then, to finally marry and fulfill the desires of our hearts, loins, and bellies?”

“Bellies?”

“I imagine there will be a wedding feast, after all.”

Landi was shaking her head even as he spoke. “Ben, I … my parents found out about us and have forbidden us to marry.”

Ben’s mouth hung agape, his intended witticism forgotten. He was really, really going to have to speak to the sea goddess about throwing up so many obstacles in his path. He worked his jaw, struggling to find words. “You … ah … Well, that’s … That’s not even acceptable. They just haven’t met me. One look at this charming face and they’ll be more than happy for me to part their daughter’s knees. Why, I can barely keep from swooning at my own reflection.”

Landi pushed him away from her. “I’m sorry, Ben. It’s my mother’s decision, really, and if she won’t allow it … I guess I’d like to be alone.”

Before he could think of any response, she rushed out of the lounge.

Ben folded his arms and stared out the crystal pane, unable to form a thought.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The sun had almost set when Chandi’s father returned to his room. She had sat there on a straw mat, in near darkness, waiting for him, almost since Naresh had brought her back from the Ministry. Twice she had gotten up to leave, cursing her foolishness, but each time something forced her to sit back down.

He had been in talks with Rahu and Kakudmi all afternoon. Probably with Aji Bidara, too. What would the Radiant Queen say about the incident this morning?

Her father pulled the door shut, then kicked off his sandals. When he turned and saw her he started, but resumed his calm after only an instant. He lit a candle on the dresser, then sat down on the mat across from her. He would wait all night, she suspected, for her to speak—she was the one who came to him.

“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—a divine bird maiden. 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 FORTY-FOUR

“He’s made his decision,” Landi said. “He’s called the whole Arun Guard. Unless he’s planning to declare war on the Lunars …”

She and Naresh 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.”

“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 favortism.”

“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 instead. 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 who 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 and to the Lunar envoy. 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 and 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.”

Naresh glowered, but offered a slight bow. Following Landi’s orders was likely to be trying, even if she could do the job. And given her propsenity at taking offense at any slight, intended or not, he had his doubts about her managing this at all.

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, she 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 join our families. Congratulations, my son.”

Marry Landorundun? Naresh gaped. At 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 FORTY-FIVE

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 had 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 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.”

No. No, dammit. Not friends. He’d latched onto the wrong thing. “I’d like that,” she said.

“What will people say?”

Landorundun had already told her the answer. “Nothing they didn’t say before.” So she had to earn his trust again. Then maybe. “You know, I’m a Moon Scion.”

He nodded, more as though confirming it than surprised. Of course, he knew she was Ketu’s daughter.

“So you know my secrets.” Not the most important one, the one worth telling. But it was a start.

He stared at her without speaking.

“What did it feel like?” she asked. “Getting the Sun Brand?”

At first it seemed like he wouldn’t answer. Finally, he spoke. “Like getting any other tattoo, I guess. Painful. A curate chanted about the spirit of the Sun God.”

“And the things you can do? They just happen when you want?” she asked. He brushed his hair from his eyes, but didn’t respond. “Because, for me, I had to practice for a long time to gain control of my Moon Blessings. I just want to know if we’re the same. Because if we’re the same, then that’s something. And it means that maybe we can understand each other again. And now I’m babbling.”

He laughed and shook his head, but at least he was smiling again. “Yes, I had to practice. It doesn’t just happen, you have to control your emotions. We do a lot of meditation early on, to bring our minds and bodies into cohesion. A year of training. But once you get good, it becomes second nature.”

Her father probably didn’t know about the meditation. He’d be interested to hear this. But she wouldn’t tell him. She was done spying on the Arun Guard—she just needed to understand Naresh. Her shoulders still tingled from when he had held her, even if he only meant it as a peace offering.

“And what can you do, Moon Scion?”

“Strength, speed, shift my center of gravity.”

He grunted. “You mean like running on walls and so forth? Like how you could get on top of a house?”

“Yes,” she said, fighting the urge to squirm. “I can do that. Some can run on ceilings or even water, though that’s beyond my ability.”

“The first time I saw someone run along a wall—”

“At least we don’t just appear anywhere like you do with the Sun Brand.”

“True. We call it Sun Striding.”

Chandi had already known that, but she just smiled. “There’s one more thing.” She drew her Blessing and changed her hair color to brown. “We call it the Glamour. Our biggest secret.” She released it after a moment, though it felt good holding it.

Naresh watched her, mouth half open, before shaking his head. He stood. No. Stay a while more, just talk. “Chandi, it’s late. You should get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

So he would give her another chance. If she couldn’t tell him everything, at least she could still see him. Maybe he’d figure it out.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

The look on her uncle’s face told Chandi the day’s talks had not gone well. “Sit,” he ordered the moment she entered his room. His curt summons had come while she attempted to maneuver an accidental evening meeting with Naresh, but she dared not keep her uncle waiting.

The Solars had given him a fine chamber, though she doubted it would satisfy her uncle. A beach-scene mural decorated the longest wall in the room, with a fine sandalwood dresser against it. Rahu must have had them bring the small stove in the corner to heat his teas.

She sat on the proffered mat and looked up at Rahu, her face placid. What did he want from her now?

“We’ve negotiated free movement for you and Ratna again. They’ve even agreed to allow Malin to return as your bodyguard. Kakudmi seems ready to take any steps for peace. He’s almost laughably weak as a leader. I thought Aji Bidara would catch fire, the way she fumed.”

Maybe the talks went better than she thought.

Rahu poured two cups of expensive-smelling tea, handing her one. He poured milk from a vial into his, but offered her none. When she reached her cup toward him, he glared.

“Special blend. You can have fresh milk brought to your room later.”

Rahu took a few sips, then set the cup down and took a deep breath with his eyes closed. He tapped one finger on his lip, then opened his eyes to watch her intently. “The Radiant Queen hammers us again and again to return the Astral Temple. She might even shame that fool Kakudmi out of his cowardice, might launch a war over it. We cannot return it, of course.”

“Why?” Chandi asked before she thought better of it.

Rahu’s eyes narrowed. “Because, niece, the Temple is of strategic importance. Part of my long-term strategy. That’s all you need to understand. Yesterday Aji Bidara rushed to choose a new head of the Arun Guard. I’d rather poor Kakudmi had continued to stumble over the choice.”

“Who?” If Naresh became the First, his excitement might make him more receptive to her, though the position might keep him even busier.

Rahu waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter, some woman.”

Woman? Landi?

“The point is their disarray will soon end. The Radiant Queen is more difficult than the emperor. You learned where she lives. Eliminate her.”

Chandi sat there, her mouth open, uncertain whether she had heard her uncle. “Eliminate the Radiant Queen, the woman the Solars view as their direct link with their god? The woman with the power to create a city of crystal under the sea?” Naresh’s mother.

“Yes. It will throw the Solars into total chaos.”

With a struggle Chandi kept her seat, then folded her hands in her lap. “I suspect it would galvanize them against us. And I’m not an assassin.”

“Anusapati might disagree.” His brows drew together, his eyes growing wide. “Do not question me, child. I want this done immediately.” For a moment he glared at her, then leaned back and sipped his tea. “You’re dismissed.”

Chandi sat, unable to draw a breath. How could he, he who all but forced her to kill Anusapati, mention that name? And to call her an assassin. She rose and left the chamber without bowing.

So he’d arranged the return of her freedom just so she could assassinate the Radiant Queen. Even if she could, even if she would, did he think the Solars wouldn’t know Lunars were responsible? If Naresh’s mother died the day Chandi regained her freedom, the conclusion was obvious.

Chandi did not make good time through the city. The sun, what little peeked through the clouds, would not set for a phase, and she had no desire to reach Aji Bidara’s estate before full dark.

Even under the sea, the city smelled different during the rainy season. Perhaps the damp smell drifted in from the Harbor District, or maybe it was all in her mind.

By the time true twilight came the city was veiled in deep shadows and she could pass unnoticed through the High District.

For a time, she wandered its streets. A few children played in the yards between houses, laughing and kicking a Sepak Takraw ball. A patrol of Solar soldiers walked the street, so she slipped into an alley and watched them pass. The soldiers paused to watch the children play, shouting their encouragement. Here, in impenetrable Kasusthali, they likely never had to enforce peace. Would they even know what to do if they realized a murderer watched them from the shadows?

When they had gone, Chandi moved on, pausing outside Aji Bidara’s home. If the Radiant Queen caught her this time, nothing Naresh could say or do would save her.

She drew her Moon Blessing and ran up the wall to an open window. Crouched on the ledge she could see the upper balcony and down into the atrium. For a long time Chandi sat silent, watching the birds, until Aji Bidara entered the house. The Radiant Queen lit candles around the atrium, then sat on a mat.

Chandi watched the woman sip tea and read a scroll. She watched the Radiant Queen let down her hair and relax after a day of court and religious rites. If she looked past the crimson clothing, the regal presence, and the awe the woman inspired, Chandi could see the resemblance to Naresh. She was not just an asset of the Solar faith, but a real person, with a real family.

Whatever Rahu’s reasons, whatever his plan, Chandi could not kill the Radiant Queen. She was finished with all of it. She was done being a spy, done being a pawn for her people. She was in love and Naresh needed to know how she felt. Jaka Tarub had never given up on his bidadari, and neither would Chandi.

When she rose, her muscles ached from crouching so long. She dropped from the balcony and landed in the yard outside. Slipping from one shadow to the next, she made her way out of the High District.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Ratna sat on her windowsill, watching the ships in the harbor through the crystal pane, while twirling her hair around a finger. Maybe one of those ships could take her away from this. If she could just take Revati and flee, escape all this … But even though Kakudmi had finally released her from house arrest in her chambers, she couldn’t go anywhere without Naresh or one of the other Arun Guard on her heels. They might let her down to the harbor, but no ship could escape the Guard.

And what could she do for herself? Through all the books she’d imported from Swarnadvipa—and she had paid a king’s ransom to smuggle those in—she’d still found no way to actually mimic her mother’s sorcerous ability. From what she’d read, you could evoke a spirit if you knew its name and a unique sigil for it called a Glyph. Since she had no information on either, she was powerless.

She might not have been confined to her chambers in fact, but she may as well have been in practice. Perhaps the only hope for her truly lay in the Lunar envoy. She sat in on most of the peace talks, enough that it had been readily apparent that while Rahu denied having ordered Lunars to seize the Astral Temple, now that it was under Lunar control he had no intention of returning it to the Solars. Kakudmi was no fool, and yet, still he continued these talks.

Chandi slipped into the room, then paused to examine a jasmine bouquet Ratna had brought up from the Market District. Their heady scent reminded her of the gardens in Bukit, a place that now seemed just out of her reach. Chandi raised an eyebrow at Ratna and she realized she had tangled her own hair toying with it.

Ratna nodded at her mother’s brush on the dresser.

Chandi picked it up, then tossed it on the bed. “I’m not your maid, and things have gone too far.”

Ratna frowned and rose. What was that about? She stared at Chandi, hands on hips. “Too far for you? Were you married off to a Solar? Did you give him a child then watch him discard you?” What was Chandi thought she had truly lost?

“Your father sent me to kill the Radiant Queen last night. I didn’t. I watched, waited. But I didn’t. I won’t.”

The silence hung between them, before Ratna spoke at last. “You must have misunderstood his order.” That was utter madness. The last Radiant Queen had been assassinated by a fellow Solar, some petty criminal, but it had triggered a bloody purge against the underworld elements of Kasusthali. If a Lunar killed Aji Bidara, not only would peace fail, it was unlikely a single Lunar would make it out of this city alive. “The Solars would have killed us all if you’d done that,” Ratna said, shaking her head. “Father needs my counsel. If only mother was here. She could reach him.”

Chandi said nothing, but her face spoke volumes. Both of their fathers had changed after the death of their wives. After Empu Baradah had murdered Chandi and Ratna’s mother for her witchcraft. Yet another crime Solars had no tolerance for.

Ratna drew a deep breath. “If there’s going to be war, father will need my help. We have to plan carefully.” Clearly, her father had no intention of carrying forward the peace. If he planned to betray the Solars, then they needed to do so with utmost care to ensure they were able to escape Kasusthali. She needed to show him how dangerous his current course was.

“You plan to destroy your daughter’s future empire?”

Ratna glared. “Revati can rule the Lunars just as well. We need to leave this cursed city. There’s no place for me here. The courtiers still mock me behind my back, I know they do.”

“And your husband—”

“Barely notices me in the bedroom, and not at all elsewhere.” Ratna turned away, furious at herself for the sudden dampness in her eyes. She did not care about Kakudmi. Sweet Chandra, she could not, would not allow herself to care about that heartless wretch.

“Maybe if you gave him a chance to—”

“Neither of us chose the other. Duty bound us. I don’t doubt he loves Revati. But there will never be warmth between Solars and Lunars.”

When Chandi said nothing, Ratna glanced back at her. A look of grim determination had settled over her cousin’s face, like Chandi somehow thought she of all people could stand against the rapidly approaching tide of war. No, this was more than a tide, it was an Emong, a tidal wave, said to be cast forth from the fury of Nyai Loro Kidul, the Queen of the South Sea. Some said she threw such wrath upon mortals when Chandra spurned her. Ratna wasn’t certain whether to be vindicated or desolate that even a goddess found herself cast aside by the man who should have been hers.

Chandi turned to leave when Malin entered. “Ratna, your father wishes to see you before he meets with Kakudmi this morning.”

Ratna nodded. Finally. Maybe she could show him the danger that lay ahead. Whatever plan they made, it had to account for getting them all, especially Revati, away from the Solars in the chaos.

She slipped from her chambers to the room that now belonged to her father. He sat on the floor, as if in meditation, though his eyes were open, fixed on her from the moment she entered.

“Daughter. Come, sit.” He motioned to a spot before him.

Ratna settled down in it, running over in her mind how to broach the subject of Aji Bidara. The wrong approach could earn Chandi a great deal of her father’s ire. The man had a temper, for certain, and Ratna didn’t want to see him do anything rash—like leave Chandi behind when they fled to Bukit.

“Are you familiar with Chandi’s dealings with the Ignis?”

The question caught her off-guard and Ratna frowned. “Somewhat. I know she’s spent a great deal of time with their high priest, Semar, trying to win sympathy for our people. It seems to me, though, that the reverse has been happening. Chandi often speaks of her own empathy toward the Ignis.”

Rahu grunted. “Yes. Sadly, your cousin is more quick to think with her heart or fists than her brain. Regardless, she is now consumed with other affairs.” Like trying to murder Aji Bidara and ensure every Lunar in the city burned at the stake. “So I need you to continue what she started. You know what’s going to happen here, I trust.”

“The Fifth War.”

“We have never been able to launch an attack against this city. It’s unassailable. At least from the outside. But the Ignis are already here.”

At least this resembled a plan. “You want me to engender a rebellion? I’d have to use intermediaries. It would seem too suspicious for the empress to be meeting with Ignis directly, and I can’t go anywhere without Naresh or another of the Guard with me.”

Her father waved away her concerns. “I trust you to do whatever it takes.”

Ratna almost smiled. That was certainly refreshing, having someone actually believe in her. Fine. If her father wanted to incite the Ignis, she could do that. Chandi had, after all, been running secret messages from them through that Serendibian captain for quite some time. She could use the man to do the same and he need be none the wiser for it.

She rose and offered her father a slight bow, but paused, a new question forming in her mind. “Where did Mother get her powers?”

“She was a Moon Scion of House Arang, you know that.”

“I’m not a fool, Father. I know she was a witch. Where did she get the knowledge of such arts?”

Her father’s eyes grew wide a moment, then so very cold Ratna actually shivered under his gaze. “Her arts cost her more than you can imagine, child. I don’t want you pursuing such things. They reek of desperation.”

“I am very desperate.”

Rahu scowled. “The Solars stole her book when they killed her, most of her secrets were lost. There were other witches, too, but they are gone. I know only a few of Calon’s …” He suddenly looked away like he’d said too much.

Or said just enough. Her father must have learned some of her mother’s witchcraft himself. Of course. Malin said her father had created the Macan Gadungan, not her mother. They must have worked together. She knelt in front of her father, forcing every bit of steel into her gaze she could muster. “I am my mother’s daughter and I would know who she was. I came here because you commanded it. I let that Solar plant his seed in me, bore him a child. I have done everything you have ever asked of me, Father. I am no longer a child, and I want to know the things you know. Am I not your heir?”

Her father’s eyes searched her face, though whether because of his own pain or because he wanted to be certain of her resolve, Ratna could not say. At last, he reached a hand to her cheek. “You are my heir. And when we return to Bukit, I will tell you all I know. I swear it, Daughter.”

Finally, Ratna smiled.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Malin waited for Ratna to leave before turning to Chandi. He stalked closer to her, put his hand on her shoulder. Even after days in the city, he smelled of the rainforest, the scent of clean dirt and vitalized life.

“Rahu’s right about one thing. War is coming.”

Chandi shrugged free from his hand. She moved to the window, biting her lip as she watched the jukungs.

“We’ve been increasing the ranks of the Jadian, both bloodlines.”

“In a fight with a Warak Ngendog, I’d bet on the dragon beast,” Chandi said.

Malin bared his teeth in what she couldn’t quite call a grin. “But thanks to you, we know it’s the Sun Brand that lets Solars control them. Far less effective than those of us who have the actual spirit of an animal within. The Sun Brand eventually runs out of stored sunlight. If we can push a Guardsman to the extreme, he’ll lose control of the beast.”

She sat back on Ratna’s windowsill. “You’d still get stepped on like a spider. Whatever you have within would be plastered across the ground.”

Malin growled as he approached, shoulders hunched like he might attack her. “You should show more respect for those who protect you.” He pressed too close, forced her up on the windowsill.

“Back away. Now.”

He edged closer still, until she could feel his hot breath on her face, and put one leg up on the sill with her. “You Moon Scions think yourselves so high, but it’s my kind who holds the Lunar Empire together. We are more than human, and yet you treat us as slaves. As pets.”

“And we’re children of the Moon God. Back off.”

“So you say.” He put his hand on her jaw, rubbed it with his thumb. “But Chandra made us all, and Chandra gave us our gift.”

She slapped away his hand. “I thought Rahu did that.”

“Our world is changing. You cannot save anything here. But you can join me. Help my people. Together we can create a new, greater Lunar Empire.”

“I’m not interested in the Lunar Empire, not as it is or whatever you imagine you’ll create.” She rose from the windowsill and shoved him away. She needed to see Naresh. Now. She’d tell him about Rahu’s treachery. “I don’t have time for this, Malin.”

Malin grabbed her shoulders with a speed she hadn’t expected, held her near his face as he growled. Her heart raced loud enough he must hear it.

“Release me.” She kept her voice level. He might hear her heart, but he would see no outward sign.

The weretiger did let her go, backed away from her, his shoulders stiff. “I heard about your friend’s engagement. You must want to congratulate him.”

“What?”

“Imagine the two highest ranking members of the Arun Guard, married. I wonder if they can breed a little Sun Brander, too.”

“Naresh?”

“And Landorundun, of course. We couldn’t be happier for them. Really, the whole Lunar court will have to send its best wishes. Don’t you agree?”

“You lie.” Her voice cracked. She had to hold together.

“Not often, Chandi.”

Something had opened inside her, sucked out everything. She couldn’t feel her heartbeat anymore. Would Malin hear if it had stopped beating?

“Get out.” He’d hear even the whisper.

Something flashed over his face. Not victory. Sympathy? Never. “Chandi—”

“Get out!”

As the door swung shut behind him, Chandi slumped against the wall. She bit her lip until it bled.

It was a lie. It had to be a lie. Naresh wasn’t going to marry Landorundun. He didn’t even like the bitch. Chandi was not going to let this shit happen. Not this, Rangda damn it all. She slipped from her room and stalked the palace until she spotted Landorundun. Tempting as it might be to walk up and slap her, that would probably only land Chandi back in the Ministry of Law. Besides, despite it all, she almost, almost liked the Solar. At least, Landorundun had seemed to understand Chandi’s feelings for Naresh.

Of course she did. She was marrying him!

Chandi Glamoured herself to look like a Solar servant and stalked Landorundun through the palace until, just before the lingsir kulon meal, the Guardswoman left, following the Circuit all the way to the Harbor District. The Arun Guardswoman wasn’t wearing her cerulean uniform, just a plain white baju like an Academy musician might favor.

The pouring rain didn’t bother Chandi as she wound her way after the First. Her hair hung plastered to her face and her wet clothing hugged her body, but none of the workers in the district stopped their work, so neither would she.

Chandi couldn’t say what she intended, not really. But she certainly wasn’t going to let the woman marry Naresh.

The Guardswoman glanced around before entering the Rangda Teahouse, but didn’t see Chandi. After a moment, Chandi followed her inside. With the windows bolted against the rain, the light came only from paper-shaded oil lamps hanging from poles around the building. Chandi slipped in behind Landorundun and took a table beside her. Landorundun didn’t turn or notice her.

Trembling after holding the Glamour so long, Chandi let it drop, but immediately missed the overwhelming power that had filled her.

The proprietor brought her tea. “Usual, my lady?”

Chandi nodded. Since Semar brought her here years before, she’d come often for the peanut satay. Solars and Ignis made up most of the crowd, but a few might have been Lunars. One table seemed to be Maitians like Malin. The Mait archipelago did frequent trade with the Outer Islands and Puradvipa, but the foreigners didn’t come to Kasusthali often, generally stopping only at Kutai.

Just as the owner brought her satay, Chandi heard Landorundun rise. When she saw Bendurana enter through the front door, Chandi suppressed her shock and forced herself into the corner of her alcove, turned her head away. After she’d run so many messages to him for the Ignis, he’d know her at a glance. She needed to Glamour herself again, but now that the proprietor had recognized her, doing so was too risky. But Ben didn’t even look at her as he slipped into the alcove with Landorundun.

Chandi peeked around the corner to see the two of them in an embrace. Bendurana was her beau? Chandi leaned against the bamboo wall and turned her ear to it. The planks provided little barrier to sound, so she heard without difficulty when Landorundun spoke.

“I can’t meet with you anymore.” The Guardswoman’s voice almost broke. “My parents arranged a marriage for me.”

“What?” The captain, for once, seemed at a loss for words.

“To Naresh. I should have told you before, I just couldn’t. But I have to face this.”

Chandi’s face burned. Frustration surged through her. Landorundun didn’t even want to marry Naresh. What was wrong with these people? What kind of moron married someone they didn’t love?

“I thought everything was over between you two a long time ago? How can you consider him, after what he put you through? Where’s his precious honor now, forcing you into this?”

“Neither of us has a choice. He’s not forcing it. Our parents arranged it.”

They were quiet for a moment, but Chandi didn’t dare peek again. She’d have a damn hard time explaining it if either of them saw her.

“Break the arrangement,” Bendurana said. “You want to live your whole life by other peoples’ rules? The rules are guidelines for those who need them. And they’re not all good rules. Look at how the Ignis are treated—like slaves. Don’t Solars claim only Lunars keep slaves? And now you’ll enslave yourself to the rules that say do what you’re told. Break the rules, we’re worth it. Naresh can’t give you what I can, Landi.”

“It’s done, Ben.”

She heard one of them stand, then Landorundun drifted past, her face a mask. The Guardswoman didn’t look down at Chandi. Neither did Bendurana when he passed a moment later.

Chandi sat for a long time, not touching her satay. She ran her thumb over Anusapati’s pearl rhino.

Finally, she left the teahouse, leaving the rhino on the table. She had held onto that for too long. Anu was gone and she would never get him back. She would not, not lose Naresh.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Naresh swore under his breath, then looked back from the dhow to the Minister of Commerce. Though the rain had lessened to a drizzle, the two men were still soaking wet. “This one would be perfect, Minister,” Naresh said.

The Minister shook his head. “The Jin Laut brings in regular trade from Tianxia, Naresh. It’s just too valuable to be converted to military use. It would represent a significant loss of revenue, not to mention we’d lose the chance to procure a Tianxian Fire-Lance.”

Damn Landi for making him deal with this. The Minister was a squat man, grown fat from too many scallops and easy living. Kakudmi had appointed him while Naresh was stationed at the Astral Temple. Naresh had never bothered to learn his name.

“Minister,” Naresh said, trying to keep his temper, “you’ve said something similar about almost every seaworthy vessel in the harbor. Some of which were military vessels before we began cutting back our forces two years ago. Now they’re needed again. Do you understand we may be at war with the Lunars in days or weeks?”

“The talks do not go well?”

Naresh shrugged. “I couldn’t talk about that even if I were in on them. And I’m not. This,” he pointed at the dhow, “this I can talk about. I don’t want to have to involve the Minister of War.” Indeed, Naresh dreaded the thought. The rivalries between some of the Ministries made facilitating dealings between them tedious at best. Landi could have just handed the problem over to the Ministry of War, it was their job. But she thought Naresh could do it without as much hostility. He had his doubts.

The Minister hesitated. “Not the Jin Laut.”

“Fine. But we will find ships and captains for this, Minister.” Naresh stormed off toward the next pier. He almost bypassed it. The only dhow that might serve in battle here was the Queen of the South Sea, and he’d be damned if he’d let Bendurana into the military. Then he saw Malin, hanging around the dhow, pacing in short circles.

Naresh hesitated only a moment. The Minister called after him as he ran down the pier, but he didn’t slow. Malin turned toward him as he neared, looking surprised. Naresh crashed into the weretiger and they both sprawled onto the pier. Once, twice, and a third time Naresh pounded Malin’s face, then flared the Sun Brand, landing innumerable body blows before the Lunar caught a grip on his shoulders. With a roar, Malin heaved, hurling Naresh back through the air.

Naresh crashed into a crate, crushing it and sending splinters flying. A crowd had already gathered and begun cheering him on. He launched himself to his feet and drew his keris. “Murdering bastard.”

Malin drew his keris knife and bared his teeth. “Come to your death, Guardsman.”

Naresh Sun Strode beside Malin and swung. The weretiger was fast, but not fast enough to keep pace with Naresh as he flared sunlight to increase his speed, flaring so much his eyes would glow with it. Malin parried again and again, falling back, then Naresh sliced a gash into the Lunar’s arm. As Malin reeled, Naresh caught him across the jaw with a left cross.

Malin staggered backward, then kicked a piece of the splintered crate into his hand. He flung the wood at Naresh, but Naresh Sun Strode behind Malin and shoved him down. He raised his keris to finish the murderer, then felt a hand on his shoulder and the world spun.

He stood on the roof of a teahouse, some distance from the Queen of the South Sea. Glaring, he rounded on Landi.

She spoke before he could open his mouth. “What in Surya’s name were you thinking, Naresh? You can’t attack the War King’s bodyguard without sanction from the emperor. Do you want to sabotage any hope of peace?”

Naresh glanced back at the pier. He didn’t have enough sunlight to Sun Stride back there. Malin had murdered Empu Baradah, Naresh knew it. But Semar was right about the cycle. Kakudmi wanted to break it, and Naresh had to do so, as well.

“Naresh,” she said, her voice breaking. When he looked back, he noticed her eyes were red. “We all loved him, but we don’t know Malin did it, and we couldn’t prove it even if we did. This is beyond us.”

Though he couldn’t say why, Naresh put his arms around her for the first time in years and held her to his chest. “What are you even doing here? I thought you were too busy to come today.”

Landi sighed and pushed him away. “I just came for the lingsir kulon meal. The peanut satay is very good.” She glanced down at the teahouse.

“Is that why you brought me here? To tempt me with satay?”

“Naresh …”

A small crowd watched them on the roof, so he used the last of his sunlight for a short Stride to the back alley behind the teahouse. Landi followed. “I won’t sabotage anything.”

With no Selamatan, perhaps his mentor’s ghost watched him even now. Naresh didn’t pray to Surya often. But he prayed Empu Baradah would understand.

CHAPTER FIFTY

“Ah, Malin, what are you doing here?” Bendurana said.

Malin had shrugged off the hands of Solars who tried to help him to his feet, but he let the Serendibian captain help him up.

He wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “Permission to board the Queen of the South Sea?”

Bendurana’s eyes searched his face, his expression dark. “Very well, Malin, you may board. But I have little patience for any more threats.”

Malin followed the captain up the gangway. Ben looked more haggard than he had when they fought in the rain a few days earlier. The Serendibian’s steps fell heavy and his shoulders were taut. Even the crew seemed to pick up on it and turned their eyes. The crew that had moments ago cheered as Naresh beat Malin against the pier. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Bendurana’s back.

The captain stalked into his cabin. It still stank of curry, but otherwise looked little like Malin had remembered. Mess covered the cabin, from the open footlocker to the paper-strewn chart table. Bendurana knocked everything from his table and sat on top of it.

“Well, Malin, speak what you came to say.”

Malin had never seen Bendurana so dark, even after the captain had lost his home and his betrothed.

“I’m sorry for using you, Ben.” The words tasted foul. He was not the kind to apologize, especially when he believed in everything he had done. But the truth was, he hadn’t wanted to hurt the captain. Despite the man’s betrayal, he couldn’t hold on to hatred for him, not for long.

Bendurana shook his head. “Ah, Malin, it’s too late for that.” The desk creaked as Bendurana rose. The captain knelt by a chest against the bulkhead and took out a sketch of his former betrothed. Malin had never seen the woman, but Bendurana had shared the sketch with him on several occasions. It brought him nothing but pain. Malin couldn’t say why Bendurana kept it.

“You heard about Naresh and Landorundun?”

“I heard.” Malin cringed, remembering the way he had taunted Chandi with it. She needed to let Naresh go, to see Malin would be better for her. But mocking her feelings would get him nowhere.

A loud crack sounded as Ben slammed shut the chest. “It’s too late, Malin,” Bendurana said, rising. “An apology isn’t enough to excuse murder.” Malin started to speak, but Ben continued. “No, you should leave my ship now. You cannot make up for what you have done. You can only live with it.”

Malin took a step toward the door at Bendurana’s outburst, but stopped. “Your own people called you coward and traitor. They thought what you had done was unforgivable. But I took you in, offered you the chance to find redemption.”

“Ah, Malin, you still don’t understand. For my people, it was unforgivable. I had to abandon my whole life because of what I had done. Others could learn of my crimes and accept them, but not the people I had hurt with those crimes. We here are no longer your friends, but your victims. You are the architect of your own fate.” Ben stared at the sketch for a moment more, then opened the lantern on his chart table and set it aflame.

Malin stared, uncertain what to say. Why now, after so many years? Why could Ben finally let go? And why couldn’t Malin? He staggered from the cabin without further word. He almost fell as he trudged down the gangway. Naresh must have hit him harder than he’d thought. The crew whispered behind his back, yet he didn’t turn on them.

He tried to block the captain’s words, but they ran through his mind over and over. Malin had blamed his mother, blamed Rahu, blamed Empu Baradah for all the ways his life had gone wrong. But those things had happened because of his decisions.

As a boy, he’d gone to save that merchant dhow from pirates over his mother’s objections. When its captain took him on, he left his mother without a thought. And when he returned, wed to a Maitian princess, wealthy beyond his dreams, he’d rejected his mother, denied her. How could he let his wife see such a humble fisherman’s widow had raised him?

So he’d pretended not to hear as she called to him while he sailed away. Pretended not to hear as she cursed him. Maybe her curse hadn’t brought the storm that smashed his precious ship against the rocks of far Serendib. But his heart had always told him otherwise.

His entrancing wife and all the people he cared for were lost beneath the waves. A boy on a jukung, searching for his lost father, had saved Malin, and Malin had promised to return the favor if Bendurana ever needed it.

That was almost twenty-five years ago. His travels then brought him to the Skyfall Isles, to Puradvipa. To Rahu and Ketu. And when Rahu had offered him the chance for greatness, Malin didn’t bother to ask what that meant.

Bitter and broken, he’d made his choice and become the first of the Macan Gadungan.

And he’d thought he’d never love again. But these past three years with Chandi had been …

There was no reason to care what Ben thought. He’d offered his hand, and had it slapped away not once, but twice. After what seemed a phase of walking, he sat. He knew why he had stood there, waiting for the captain. It wasn’t because helping the captain was one of the few selfless things he had ever done. Bendurana had given him a chance. One of the few people who had ever trusted him, ever called him friend. And now, now there was only Chandi. She was Malin’s last chance at redemption.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

After leaving the teahouse, Chandi had wandered the city for a phase. She had gone there so often with Semar she’d come to think of it as their place, but perhaps he had shared it with Ben as well. And if Ben was friends with Semar, maybe the fire priest could offer her some insight on what to do about this whole tangled mess. Because, Chandra as her witness, Chandi was going to see herself with Naresh, even if she had to help Landorundun and Ben get over their own turmoil.

Chandi watched Ignis wash buildings as she strolled through their district. She took her time, wandering, lingering. She stopped to buy nagasari from a street vendor. The Ignis did the work their fathers and grandfathers had done. They were born to it, and they’d do it until the day they died. Probably even if they allied with the Lunars.

A foreigner exited the shrine and Chandi’s banana cake slipped from her hand as she turned back to the temple. A macaque snatched it up and ran off with it. With his sun-colored hair and green eyes, this man could only be the emperor’s new advisor, the one everyone called the Stranger. Her father had asked her to find information on the man, and she’d asked a few questions here and there. So far no one seemed to know anything. Even mentioning the topic to Naresh had set him off.

But if the foreigner was here, meeting with the Ignis, did that mean the Solars sought a new alliance? If they wanted to change the arrangement, they could have called Semar to the palace. Maybe they knew about the Lunar attempts to sway the Ignis. Letting the emperor learn of that wouldn’t help her efforts to hold the peace together.

For a while she stood there, torn between Semar and the Stranger. The fire priest was always here, but the foreigner posed an immediate problem.

She ran after the Stranger, caught him as he exited the Igni District. “Wait,” Chandi called after him. “Wait.”

He paused at the tube, but didn’t turn to face her at first. When he did turn, he wore a sad smile. His eyes searched her face, then met and held her gaze. The man’s intensity left her speechless for a moment. He must have stood six foot tall, at least as tall as Semar.

“You’re the Stranger,” she said when he turned and began walking into the tube. He might have nodded, but perhaps she imagined it. “Do you have a name?”

“Of course I have a name,” he said, his voice soft.

“But you won’t tell it to me?”

He glanced down at her, but didn’t answer until they’d entered the Circuit. “My name wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

“You could tell me anyway, then it’ll mean something. It’ll mean you trusted us enough to share at least that much about yourself.”

The Stranger said nothing, but his gait slowed, which Chandi took as an invitation. The hint of a wistful smile still threatened at the corners of his mouth, but his voice remained soft and distant when he spoke after a long pause. “You can call me Kala, then.”

“I’m Chandi, Kala.”

Perhaps it was her imagination, but it looked like the man closed his eyes for a moment. “I know who you are.”

That stopped her. Kala kept walking, and Chandi had to rush to catch up as he entered the Civic District. How could he know her?

“Why are you here, Kala?” she asked as they drew near the palace.

“Kakudmi gave me a guest room on the third floor.”

Difficult man. “And why are you in Kasusthali?”

He paused and gave her a long look before continuing on past the palace guards. “I’m here to see someone.”

“Semar? What do you want with the fire priest? Are you an ally of the Ignis? Or something else?”

“That,” he said, beginning to lose his fight with the smile creeping over his face, “is a lot of questions.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. Through his shirt she felt his hard muscles go taut. “And I want answers to those questions.”

The man peeled her fingers from his arm with his free hand. His fingers were rough like Naresh’s, which meant he must have done physical labor, or more likely been a warrior. “I wanted advice. And yes, I suppose I am something else.”

His hand lingered on hers longer than she might have liked. When he dropped it, he turned and headed up the stairs. As she caught him on the second floor landing, Rahu and Chandi’s father exited the room where Kakudmi held talks each day.

Both Rahu and the Stranger stopped cold, their gazes locked. She couldn’t see Kala’s face, but her uncle’s jaw trembled and his eyes widened. Rahu’s fingers curled and his hands started to rise. Kala’s shoulders set as he took a half step back, falling into a slight crouch. A fighting stance.

“Uncle?”

Her uncle didn’t look at her, but the Stranger did. For a moment, his intense eyes watched her, his jaw clenched every bit as tight as her uncle’s. After a glance back at Rahu, Kala pushed past Chandi and stalked off the way he’d come.

Rahu trembled and spun on his heel, shoving Ketu out of the way. Chandi and her father exchanged looks before he set off up the stairs after Rahu.

When she reached her own chamber, Chandi leaned against the wall. The Stranger had come from some distant, foreign land. Could Rahu have known a man from beyond the Skyfall Isles?

She had heard the rumors all her life. Rahu and Ketu, the last Scions of House Soma—except no one knew their parents. And though Rahu claimed to be the elder brother, Ketu far looked it. Not that they truly looked like brothers; Rahu’s skin was too fair. Not so fair as the Stranger’s, but too fair just the same.

They called Rahu the Voice of Chandra. Said he created the Macan Gadungan for the Moon Scions. Malin had watched her since the day she was born, and seemed not to have aged. Could the War King too be far older than he appeared?

And if Rahu had known Kala from some land beyond Tianxia, beyond far Serendib at the bounds of the known world, what secrets might he have found there?

For a long time after witnessing the encounter between Rahu and Kala, Chandi wandered the palace. After three years here, she had found her place, such as it was, and a kind of routine. But since Naresh returned a month ago, it had all twisted until she couldn’t be sure of anything.

From the fourth floor she could hear flute music. She followed the music into the garden and found Landorundun playing, still wearing the white baju from this afternoon.

“Naresh isn’t up here,” Landorundun said when Chandi sat beside her.

“I came to see you.”

Landorundun stared at her without answering.

“I was in the harbor today.” Chandi waited, but still the Guardswoman didn’t speak. “I visited a teahouse and had peanut satay.”

“Was it good?”

“I don’t remember tasting it.”

Landorundun sighed and folded her arms over her knees, then laid her head on them. Lorises had gathered in the trees, watching them, chattering.

“I heard you’re marrying Naresh.”

“I’m sorry,” the Guardswoman murmured without lifting her head.

Chandi put her hand on the other woman’s neck. Maybe she should hate this woman who was marrying the man she loved. By Chandra, it seemed sometimes Naresh hated her. But she understood what Landorundun must be going through, what it was like to love someone you can’t have. Landorundun’s ponytail had come half-undone, so Chandi pulled free the ribbon and began to re-draw the woman’s hair. It shimmered in the moonlight. Would Naresh notice her more if her hair was like Landorundun’s?

At first Landorundun stiffened under Chandi’s ministrations, then relaxed and allowed Chandi to work. “You do this for your mistress?”

“Yes. I’ve had lots of practice.” With Landorundun’s hair neat, Chandi tied the ribbon in a bow. “I saw you with Bendurana, today.”

Landorundun lifted her head from her knees and twisted around to face Chandi, then sat with her legs crossed. “I’m not in the habit of having servants do my hair, handmaid.”

Chandi glowered. She tried to be nice, and this was the thanks she got. She wasn’t a damned handmaid. She ached to leap to her feet and scream the truth about who she was to everyone in Kasusthali. To scream the truth about all the secrets and lies and betrayals. At least maybe then everyone would know she was not beneath Naresh. She was a child of the Moon God himself, born with divine blood. That made her good enough for anyone.

Landorundun picked up on her ire. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything. I’m just not that sort of woman.” After a moment she glanced at the moon. “Not anymore, anyway. I would rather be with Ben, yes. But we can’t have what we want. My parents made a bargain with the Radiant Queen, and neither my feelings, nor Bendurana’s, nor yours matter.”

Chandi started to object, but Landorundun cut her off.

“It wouldn’t matter for you, either way. Naresh is the Radiant Queen’s son, and she would never let her son marry a handmaid.” And there it was again. “Naresh and I wanted to marry, once. In our Academy days, we talked about it.”

What? But they hated each other, didn’t they? She had seen familiarity between them, true, but never affection. Had she missed it?

Landorundun smiled. “He almost got expelled, for fighting with the first boy I was with.” Her smile faltered. “The Radiant Queen would never hear of her son marrying a flutist. She shamed me. When I first joined the Arun Guard, I thought I wanted to prove myself to her, to Naresh. But later I realized that wasn’t it. If a successful flutist wasn’t good enough for her son, you have to know a palace servant will never be. Never.”

With her elbows on her knees, Chandi put her face in her hands. Had she come to the palace open about who she was, had Rahu not asked her to spy, maybe all this would have been different.

“The worst thing is the Radiant Queen probably thinks she’s helping us. Giving us what we want.”

“Is it what Naresh wants?”

“I doubt it. I can’t say what he cares about anymore. He used to love me. I’m sure he loved the damned macaque. A pet,” she said to Chandi’s quizzical look. “He had to get rid of it when he joined the Arun Guard. Maybe he had to give up a lot.”

Chandi fell onto her back and stared at Chandra’s face in the full moon. If she prayed harder, would it make a difference? Clouds passed in front of the moon, obscuring her vision. Perhaps Chandra couldn’t see her clearly, either.

“Things wouldn’t have worked out with me and Ben, anyway. The whole reason my parents approached the Radiant Queen about marriage again was that they found out about him. They’d have done anything to keep me away from him.”

Even force her to marry someone she didn’t love.

Was every Solar in this city utterly mad?

Chandi rose, shaking her head. “Do whatever you want, Landorundun. But you can’t have Naresh.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Ben glanced down at the sealed letters Ratna offered him. “More names?” he asked.

The Lunar girl nodded. They had met in the park. With Naresh watching, Ratna’s performance had been so perfect Ben had almost believed she was surprised to see him, despite her having sent word to him of exactly when to be here. It was harder to arrange meetings with Ratna than Chandi, but since both Lunar girls now seemed to want to involve themselves in his efforts to aid the Ignis, he wasn’t going to turn down allies.

Of course, he kept telling himself he had to stop. That, with Landi, he had too much to lose to keep getting involved in these criminal dealings. Except when he saw a poor carpenter or stonemason trapped in a contract he’d been forced to sign just to eat, and trapped for life, it was damn hard to see the man as a criminal.

Years ago, Semar had put him in touch with members of the Igni resistance movement. Naresh killing Partigatiga had been a blow to the resistance, but the imbecile had brought it on himself, trying to have Revati killed. However bad the Igni oppression was, nothing justified the murder of an innocent child. Besides, there were better ways to save the Ignis than starting a war. It had almost been enough to make Ben pull out of the resistance movement right then.

They had promised him that, after the incident, they were only interested in escaping Solar hold on them. Sending them off to the Spice Islands where they could make respectable livings farming, fishing, or plying their trades was the best he could do for them.

“Just see that the right people get these messages,” Ratna said. “You’ll be contacted with further instructions.”

“Yes, Ibu Ratna.” Ben hesitated. This girl was so much harder to read than her handmaid. Chandi was, despite sneaking around with the Igni resistance, so earnest Ben couldn’t help but like her. She very clearly believed the Ignis were being unjustly oppressed, and Ben agreed wholeheartedly.

After the Witch-Queen had conquered his homeland, she’d enslaved those who did not follow her rule. The whole nation—indeed, many nations, he supposed now—had fallen under her implacable sway. Nothing good came from witchcraft, of course, but seeing the vile lash fall upon the once proud rajkumars of his country had still been shocking. Sometimes, before he met Landi, he’d entertained the idea of going back, trying to help liberate the island. To his shame, he’d never had that much courage. He’d watched the Witch-Queen turn brother against brother and raise the dead in profound mockeries of life.

Here, in the Solar Empire, the Arun Guard probably kept them safe. There were far easier lands for the woman to conquer, after all. Lands where she need not contend with Sun Striders, Moon Scions, and Jadian.

“Why are you helping the Ignis?” he asked.

They couldn’t speak long before Naresh might wander over, suspicious of their meeting. But he had to know the answer to this.

“The way the Solars treat them is wrong.”

“Ah, my dear, it is indeed. But I get the feeling there’s something more going on with you.” He did not know her half so well as he did Chandi, but he’d never seen Ratna show the slightest sympathy to the slaves her own people kept. And maybe those slaves were captured in war, not born into it, but the distinction was beyond petty in Ben’s eyes.

“Captain. My reasons are my own.”

“Ah, and I would never pry a lady’s secrets from her.” He paused. “Well, that is, I would. I most definitely would, and at any opportunity. And since you are asking me to do something, I believe this is just such an opportunity, my lady. Therefore, I truly must pry.”

Ratna glanced over at Naresh, then leaned close to Ben. “The Solar economy is dominating the Isles. If we weaken it, we allow a better balance between the dynasties. Can you imagine why I’d want that, captain?”

Ben nodded. It was about money. Maybe Ratna cared about the Ignis, maybe she didn’t. But in the end, if the Solars lost their indentured servants, it weakened their hold on their Empire. Maybe gave the Lunars room to expand out of the isolationism that had reigned for the last several centuries.

Suddenly, he regretted having asked. It was so much easier to help the Ignis when he was only thinking about their wellbeing. Now, thanks to dear Ratna, he knew that helping them meant harming Landi’s people. Ben tucked the letters into his sarong, then sauntered away from Ratna, offering Naresh a nod the man returned.

In the end, of course, he had little choice. It was easy to say he wouldn’t get involved. But, sooner or later, some Igni craftsman with seventeen starving daughters would cross his path and beg for passage away from Kasusthali. And Ben would take them because, well, that was what he had to do.

He sighed. Being a hero was rough.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Naresh sat in the lounge rubbing his forehead. Why Landi had wanted him to deal with Bendurana he couldn’t guess. Damn captain whined about the Ministry of War not paying him for catching pirates. Most likely Bendurana’s former friends, at that.

At least the captain was gone now. Naresh had enough problems without letting Bendurana loan him more.

His head hurt.

He shouldn’t have attacked Malin. Maybe Landi was right about it all. He did need more self-control. In the end, maybe she’d be good for him, despite everything. But he didn’t love her anymore.

“Naresh?”

He jerked upright at the sound of her voice. “Sun warm your face, Chandi.” Her crooked smile had grown so weak. “Please sit down.” He waved at the bench beside him. “What brings you here today?”

“I,” she began, then hesitated. “I wanted to tell you that I…”

“You told me you wanted to be friends again. So you can tell me anything.” He took her trembling hand and she didn’t pull it away. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Just, congratulations.”

He sighed, then put his other hand on top of hers. “Thank you.”

She pulled her hand away and rose. “I should let you get back to work.”

He should work, but it was the last thing he wanted now. “Chandi, you don’t have to leave. I could use someone to talk to. My life is changing so fast.” He could always count on Empu Baradah to listen, to give advice. And now … “You’re the only one I can talk to.”

She bit her lip and looked away from him. “Don’t,” she mumbled.

“What?”

She drew a sharp breath before she spoke again. “Don’t marry her.” Her eyes locked on his. “I love you.” She reached for his hands again. He couldn’t imagine what she must have seen in his face. “You … you don’t believe me?”

Couldn’t let his voice break. “I believe you.” Had he fooled himself all along? He could talk to her, laugh with her, maybe even trust her again. She was beautiful and caring. Did he feel the same?

She was a Lunar. What he felt didn’t matter.

As soon as he spoke, she’d know that. So he stroked her hand in his and tried to smile. He needed Empu Baradah more than ever. No matter what he said, he would hurt her. “I …” He sighed. “I wish it were possible, Chandi. But it’s not. My mother would never allow it, even if she hadn’t already arranged a marriage for me.”

“But you don’t have to do what she says. If you don’t live your own life, you’re the one who’ll suffer for it, not her.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

If he stroked her face now, it would only make it harder. “You should understand family loyalty.”

“Better than you know. I could lose my family, too. But it’s worth it. Loyalty doesn’t make you a slave.” She withdrew her hands. “Do you love Landorundun?”

“I—”

“You don’t. And you know she loves Bendurana. You do know that’s why her parents forced this marriage?”

Bendurana? He couldn’t blame her parents for wanting to keep their daughter from the captain.

Chandi leaned in. He could let her kiss him. But … it wouldn’t change anything.

He pressed her shoulder backward. “I can’t. We can’t.” As he stood, she folded her hands in her lap and bit her lip. “I wish things were different.” He backed away but paused in the doorway. “My duty to my family is clear. I cannot place what I want above my family’s honor. I’m so sorry.”

He spun and shuffled down the hall. If she was crying, he didn’t want to see it. She should have known he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

“Your uncle demands your presence,” Malin told Chandi.

Rahu could swallow the Moon for all Chandi cared. The weretiger had found her in the gardens. Despite the rain, she’d sat there since her talk with Naresh. Not sulking. Chandi didn’t sulk. Only Ratna sulked.

How would Naresh react when she told him about Rahu’s orders for her to kill Aji Bidara?

“It’ll be worse if you deny him,” Malin said when she didn’t rise.

Then let it be done. She had run for fear of Rahu’s wrath before. No more. Chandi rose and followed Malin down the stairs. The Macan Gadungan led her to Ratna’s room, where her father and uncle sat on the floor, sipping tea.

Keeping their conspiracy from the Solars. Planning to destroy Naresh’s people, while he planned his wedding to Landorundun.

“We must strike, brother,” Ketu said. Chandi turned to look at her father. “It’s been more than a week, and Kakudmi has not yet conceded that we may keep the Astral Temple. You know we must have it.”

“Yes, we’ll have it. Let them share it for a time if we have to. Bide our time and strike when they least expect it. Crush them all.”

“All of us are in danger here,” Ratna said. Everyone ignored her.

“And you,” Rahu said, rounding on Chandi. “How dare you tarry so long in joining us? And you failed in killing the Radiant Queen. What use are you?”

Her father gasped.

“I didn’t fail. I refused.”

Her uncle reeled, eyes bulging at the blatant defiance. Ratna squeaked and covered her mouth.

“You ordered her to assassinate Aji Bidara?” Ketu said. “Are you mad?”

Rahu leapt to his feet and kicked over the teapot. Chandi’s father, too, jumped, as hot water splashed over him.

“You question my authority? I rule supreme. Supreme. No one can stop me. No one.”

Her father sputtered. “Chandra rules supreme! We serve him.”

Rahu’s eyes had gone wild. Chandi gaped at her uncle. This couldn’t be what it looked like. “Then come, show me you can serve him better. Or shall I send your cowardly tongue to him?”

Her father drew his keris knife. Rahu did the same.

“Father—” Ratna rose from the bed.

Chandi grabbed her cousin and pulled her across the room. “We can’t interfere.” This was it. Just the same as Anusapati.

Even as she spoke, their fathers started the dance. With speed that could only come from Moon Blessings, they slashed and turned about each other. An attack deflected with keris. A low kick.

Faster and faster, until she could no longer tell who was attacking, who was winning. She pulled Ratna closer to her chest. One of their fathers would submit, or one would die here.

Rahu flipped over her father and snared him around the shoulder. A twist of his arms flung Ketu toward the wall with enough force to shatter a man, but her father spun and shifted his gravity onto it, then kicked off and rolled at Rahu.

Her uncle was faster. Only Ketu showed his age. Rahu leapt over Ketu’s lunge and kicked him in the back, sending him sprawling. Her father rose, keris ready, but his breathing came heavy. Rahu was smiling, beaming. Chuckling.

Her uncle reached a hand toward the teapot. It exploded and shards of pottery flew at her father. Ketu tried to shield his face and the shards embedded in his arm.

Chandi stood open-mouthed. A new Moon Blessing? All Moon Scions had the same ones. Could Rahu really be the Voice of Chandra? The speaker for the Moon God himself among them, now a lunatic?

As her father recovered, Rahu extended the keris toward him. The blade flew from his hand and impaled her father with enough force to hurl him from his feet.

Chandi released Ratna and moved toward her father. The keris had lodged in his shoulder. Her father was mercifully unconscious.

“Behold the new Moon God,” Rahu said. He didn’t shout. Somehow, that made it worse. He smiled. Just smiled. And then he left.

Chandi drew her Potency Blessing so she could lift her father to the bed.

“Your father shouldn’t have challenged him,” Ratna said. Chandi heard her cousin pacing, but she didn’t look at her. More important things drew her attention. “He had to know. Father was always the most powerful. His Blessings are so strong.”

“I doubt my father intended to challenge him. Rahu didn’t give him much choice.”

“He should have known better.”

How many times had Rahu used his Blessings before he had gone lunatic? Every Moon Scion’s worst fear, now realized in their own leader. No one could stand against him. No one would challenge his power.

“Your father is a lunatic now. You saw that.”

“I saw nothing! Nothing!” Ratna’s voice broke. She hadn’t cried when she learned she had to marry Kakudmi. She hadn’t cried since they came here, not that Chandi could remember. But she could hear tears in her cousin’s voice now. “You keep your mouth shut, Chandi. Don’t make it any worse for your father.” Ratna stormed out.

“Malin, get someone from the Ministry of Health.”

Malin removed his baju, wadded it around the wound, then ran. For once, no hint of a smirk crossed his face.

Rahu had gone lunatic. Even her father, a master of Silat, had failed to stand up to that power. But Chandi would. Chandra forgive her for what she had to do. A direct confrontation was impossible. But Chandi would not allow the lunatic to destroy the peace. She would not allow him to harm her people. Or Naresh.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Ratna chased after her father. What on Chandra’s great beaming smile had she just seen? He’d nearly killed his own brother, and that was bad enough. The real question, though, was how? He’d somehow moved the keris without even touching it. Was that some witchcraft he’d learned from her mother? It didn’t look like what she knew of evoking spirits, but since she’d never actually seen that done, she couldn’t be certain.

“How did you do that?” she called after him as he reached his room.

Eyes wild, he spun on her, then blinked several times.

“Father? How did you do that with the teapot and the keris?”

He exploded into motion so quickly she shrieked, grabbed her by both sides of her jaw, and drew her into his room. “You want power? Power, my child? Power is everything. Everything. With power you can protect what’s yours.” He pulled her face close to his own, forcing her to stand on her toes. “Ours, our family’s destiny. We have to be able to stand against him. He’s coming for us. The bastard. I should have killed him so long ago.”

“He’s your brother.”

“Brother …” Rahu snorted. “Soon, daughter. Soon we’ll escape here, return to Bukit. You’ll have all the power you want. The Blessings can still be yours. That bastard Ketu denied them to you, my daughter, and he gave his your birthright. Oh, he’ll pay. Will he live?” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. If he lives, he bows. If not, he dies.”

Rangda’s burning spit. Chandi had been right. Her father must have overdrawn his Blessings, gone lunatic. This was not real. This was not happening. She had lost her mother to the Arun Guard. She could not lose him too. Nodding weakly, she backed out of the room. He had to believe she’d do whatever he wanted. A lunatic was a megalomaniac, and worse, prone to turn on anyone around them at the slightest provocation.

Outside his door, she covered her mouth, choking down a sob. Not this. This was not happening. She couldn’t lose another parent.

Sweet Chandra, what about Revati? Ratna gasped, trying to suck air into her lungs but unable to catch her breath. This was going to get very bad. She had to get her daughter and find a way out of this city.

Before she could even form a plan, Malin stalked out of Ratna’s room.

He paused, meeting her gaze, though his normally expressive face was hard to read. Was it pity? Fear?

“Help me,” she mouthed to him.

At once, Malin’s eyes widened and he reached a hand toward her. Ratna scampered toward him and he drew her away, out of earshot of her father’s room, the led her through the palace.

Malin. She could count on the weretiger. The Macan Gadungan had never let her down. That’s what he was there for, after all. And Malin had seen lunacy before, probably many times during the war.

“Is my father …?”

“He’s on the edge, if not already pushed over,” Malin said, his voice soft and filled with sympathy. He hadn’t spoken to her like that since … What, since she was first forced to marry Kakudmi.

“He’s paranoid that someone is coming for him.”

Malin nodded. “Rahu is so convinced Ketu will betray him that he leaves the priest no choice but to do so.”

“Is my uncle going to live?”

“Maybe. I have to get someone from the Ministry of Health to see to his wounds.”

She followed him out of the palace. “You have to get Revati and me out of this city, Malin.”

The weretiger paused a moment, then shook his head. “I can’t do that yet, but I will help you. I have to go.” At that, the man took off at a pace she couldn’t have matched even with her Potency Blessing drawn.

Hugging herself and cursing under her breath, Ratna walked back into the palace. Back into her prison.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Though the Minister of Health didn’t like it, he accepted Chandi’s claim that her father’s injuries were internal matters of the Lunar Empire. He wouldn’t pass the incident along to the Ministry of Law, though Chandi had no doubt Kakudmi would hear of it. Still, if Chandi never saw the inside of the Ministry again she’d praise Chandra for it.

The sun had long since set when medics left her father in his chamber. He’d grown pale from blood loss, but they had assured her he’d recover.

When he spoke, his voice a dry rasp, she jumped. They had given him tonics that should have made him sleep. “Malin. Arrange a ship for me, now. Any Lunar ship. I’m going to the Astral Temple in the morning.”

Malin had said little throughout the ordeal. Now he brooded in the corner, hiding in shadows. “You should not leave. You know what Rahu has become.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Macan Gadungan. Know your place and follow your orders.”

“Don’t go,” Chandi said.

“I have to, Chandi. Rahu has revealed his true self at last. A devastating blow. But an opportunity, as well. The chance to advance our side of the family.”

Malin growled, and stalked from the room.

“Why? Why do we have to do any of this? Let the Solars have the damn Temple. Isn’t it worth losing a monument to save so many lives? Isn’t it worth it to make this peace mean something?”

“We will not be forced to the Solar religion.”

She sat on the bed beside her father. “We’re not talking about forced conversion. We’re talking about peace, and making a real effort rather than this sham of Rahu’s.”

“They’re blasphemers. Chandra will not stand for their rule over these Isles.”

“Blasphemers because they worship Surya?” She took his hand in her own. He had to understand. “You once told me the story of how the Skyfall Isles got their name.” Her father sighed and nodded, so she continued. “Tell me if I get something wrong. All the gods of the sky, sun, moon, and stars together cast a rock from the heavens into the endless ocean of the Earth. Algae from the sea covered this rock and became the Skyfall archipelago.”

“Yes.”

“And the sun cast a wooden sword into the ground. And the moon cast a vine around this sword. And these things grew into a tree. And from the tree came man and woman.”

“Yes.” His voice had grown quieter, but harsher.

“So aren’t we all the children of both sun and moon?”

Her father didn’t answer her for so long she decided to check if he had fallen unconscious, but he brushed her away.

“Chandi, there are things you don’t understand yet. Maybe it’s time. You won’t remember, I’m sure, but when you were very young, you caught malaria. Almost died …”

“And?”

But her father just shook his head. “No, please, I need something from Rahu’s chamber first. He has plans, sketches we’ve been working on for the Astral Temple. Can you get them without being caught?”

“I don’t want to think about the Temple anymore. I’ve had enough of this.”

“Chandi, please. You saw what Rahu’s become. If we want to stand against him, we must take the Temple from him.”

Chandi rose and glared at him. “Why? What is it about that place that makes any difference?”

“Get the plans. I’ll tell you.”

For a moment more she lingered, then slipped from his room. Years of sneaking about the palace had taught her how to move without making a sound. And in the shadows, with the Glamour, she was almost invisible.

She listened at Rahu’s door. The reeds concealed little noise. Breathing. Rhythmic. With a glance down both directions of the hall, she cracked the door ajar to peek inside.

Very little light crept in through the crystal pane over the window. She waited for her eyes to adjust. Shame she didn’t have Malin’s night vision.

Chandi left her sandals beside the door and crept in on her toes, silent as a shadow. Beside her uncle’s sandalwood dresser sat a trunk carved with Lunar etchings. It took longer than she’d like to pick the lock. The creak it made when she opened it sent a shudder through her.

Her uncle stirred.

Chandi set the lid closed. She drew the Glamour to shadow herself, and rolled under the bed.

Tight. Too tight. Had he seen her? He’d need a moment to adjust his eyes. Wouldn’t he? She needed to quiet her breath. Calm. For once, she envied the Solars’ meditation techniques.

Rahu grunted. The bed creaked as he shifted his weight. Chandi tried to push back farther to the other side. Her back brushed against hard wood. She ran her fingers over it. A box.

A phase, it seemed, she waited there. Her uncle’s breathing had long since become regular again. But Chandi couldn’t bring herself to move. If she woke him, he’d kill her without a second thought. What in Chandra’s name was she doing here?

No. No, she’d sworn to stop him, to save the peace. If her father could use those plans to stop Rahu, then she would get them.

On her belly she slid from the bed and crawled back to the trunk. With agonizing slowness, she opened the lid. A book sat on top. She could just make out that it wasn’t written in the Skyfall tongue. Useless. Silks, exotic teas. Beneath them, a scroll case. Chandra let it be the right one.

She eased the trunk closed, but paused at the door. Why had he hidden a box under the bed? He’d kept valuable plans to control the Astral Temple itself in a chest, yet hidden something else under his bed. She knelt and drew it out. Heart pounding, she snuck from the room with box and scroll case in hand.

She grabbed her sandals, but didn’t bother to put them on. Chandi started for her father’s door, then stopped. What had she risked her life for? She slipped into her own room and lit a lamp.

She unfurled the scrolls on the floor. A complex diagram seemed to match Naresh’s description of the Astral Temple. But the diagrams went on, describing chambers hidden beneath it. The notes, some of them in her father’s hand, indicated not astral observation, but astral manipulation. The ability to actually affect celestial bodies. How and why would they dare to touch the dwelling of the gods? Wasn’t that the ultimate blasphemy? What would a lunatic do with the power to control the heavens?

Chandi couldn’t imagine the use for such plans, but if her father thought they would allow him to overthrow Rahu, she needed to get them to him. She shoved the scrolls into the case and turned to the box.

It had no lock, but wouldn’t open. Rangda’s frozen underworld.

She ran her hands over the edges, feeling the intricate carvings. One gave a little under her touch. She pressed it deeper and heard the lid unlatch. Three ceramic vials lay inside. The kind Rahu used to add milk to his expensive teas. Two vials were empty, but the third held a silvery liquid. It smelled like milk, but in the dim room it glittered, like moonlight on the sea.

What in Rangda’s underworld? Chandi corked the vial and slid the box under her own bed.

“Chandi.”

Hand to her chest, she spun at Malin’s voice. Damn tiger.

“Ketu’s ship leaves at dawn. He wishes to see you first.”

Scroll case in hand, she followed Malin to her father’s room. Despite his injuries, her father had dressed in his Silat uniform, a hideous black and yellow suit that he must have thought looked solemn.

Chandi tossed the scroll case onto her father’s bed. And waited.

“Malin, carry my luggage to the ship,” her father said. “We’ll follow in a moment.”

When the Macan Gadungan had left, her father turned to her. “I suppose I owe you answers.” Chandi said nothing. “Do you know where the Moon Scions come from?”

Chandi shrugged. “After the gods created mankind, Chandra came to human women and loved them. We are their descendants.”

Her father eased himself back to the bed with obvious effort. “That’s the story. But the Moon Scions come from the Astral Temple. We found the secret there, in the old script, on the pillars. The Amrita makes the Moon Scions.”

“Amrita?”

“Nectar of Chandra. He chose us as his human disciples, gave us the secret to brew the Amrita. We can only distill it at the Astral Temple. This is why I must go. Must begin production immediately.”

Chandi’s mind reeled. Everything she’d known about herself was a lie. “What does that have to do with malaria?”

Her father coughed for a moment. “I gave you the Amrita when you were very young. You’d have died without it. Gave you more than we had to spare, to save you. Rahu was furious. He’d given his own daughter so little. We had to ration it.”

Chandi tried to swallow. They had changed her, while denying her cousin strong Blessings. No divine blood. No grace of the gods. “We … lie to everyone. Tell them we’re the blood of Chandra so they follow us.”

“They follow us because we’re strong. The Moon Scions learn the truth when they have children of their own. But I could have died today, and then you’d never know. Not with Rahu like this. He probably never told Ratna, either. I sent the priests to brew more Amrita as soon as Malin took the Temple. Our supplies are exhausted. We’d lose everything without the Temple. You understand what’s at stake, now, Daughter? Our very way of life will collapse.”

Chandi slumped to the floor. She didn’t have the blood of a god in her. She was no better than anyone else. She’d been given a magic drug, and called divine for it.

Her father must have read her face. “We are the chosen of Chandra.” She shook her head but he continued without noticing. “We guarded our secrets too closely. We need more Moon Scions to match the Solars.”

“So now you’ll take more? Become stronger?”

Her father’s eyes went wide. “To take more is a short road to lunacy. No, it can only be given to someone new.”

The very nectar that gave them the power of a god brought them lunatics. Fitting. “What makes you think Chandra wanted any of this?”

His jaw tightened. “The script on the pillars. It’s older than us, than our people. Chandra wrote that script for his children to find.”

Chandi scoffed. The same pillars that gave the Solars the Sun Brand. “We should go if you want to make the ship at dawn.”

Chandi helped her father from the palace and down the harbor, ignoring the way he watched her. She’d find a way to keep the peace.

She would not lose Naresh.

Malin waited on the pier, by a ship bound for the Lunar trade ports on Puradvipa. A short trip from there to the Astral Temple.

Rain had come and gone during the night, but the dawn came clear. The cawing of seagulls filled the air as they searched the docks for spoils.

Chandi waved farewell to her father. She and Malin remained standing on the pier long after the ship had drifted from sight. Even as it had become crowded with Solars about their day’s work.

When she turned from the sea, Malin followed, as she knew he would. “I need your help, Malin.”

“Past time you saw that. We have much to offer one another.”

“You saw what I saw yesterday. Rahu has gone lunatic. He once sent me to kill Anusapati for that.”

“I hope you’re not asking me to kill the War King. Even if I could, it would mean chaos through the Lunar Empire. Only your father could attempt it, and, obviously, he is not up to the task. Rahu is the most powerful Moon Scion I’ve ever known.”

They wound their way past Igni porters and entered the tube to the Civic District. Chandi tried not to glare at Malin. He spoke the truth. “One day my father will have to challenge him. He’ll have to. And I want you to support him.”

Whatever mistakes her father made in judging the Solars, he was her best hope. He had to see peace was best for all.

Malin grunted. “If I did that, I’d want his support in freeing the Jadian.”

Chandi nodded. They’d speak of this more. But she needed to return to her room, now that she knew what was in that vial. She dared not let it out of her sight again.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

The harbormaster haggled with a Lunar captain about docking fees. Or perhaps the harbormaster set exorbitant fees, and the Lunar captain merely complained. Either way, he paid the fees.

Chandi had sought Naresh all morning. She’d hadn’t slept since she’d seen her father off at dawn. Somehow, she had to believe Naresh was the key to fixing all of this. If she told him of the Amrita it might earn his trust. It might also sabotage the hold the Moon Scions held over her people. Perhaps that was justice, after twelve centuries of lies.

But Naresh had gone to escort Ratna. On the first sunny day since the rainy season began, Chandi’s cousin had decided to bring Revati to the harbor, if only to escape the domes. The smell of sea salt and shellfish almost overwhelmed Chandi. Even if she had grown to tolerate fish as meals, the uncooked stench turned her stomach. Hundreds of small fishing jukungs came and went. With the sun shining overhead she could see all the way to the seafloor. Children swam under the docks, harassed by the watchmen to stay out of the boats’ ways.

During her first year in Kasusthali the arrival of any Lunar ship would have caused a stir, but such things had become far more common as the peace drew on. Despite her uncle and her father’s protests about the Solars holding the Astral Temple, the three years of peace had seen more stability and prosperity for both sides than the decades before. But had she, or the Solars, understood about the Amrita, they would have known no such peace could last.

Chandi left the Lunar dhow and continued down the boardwalk. And there, Revati sat, dangling her legs over the side of a pier, leaning against a line. Her mother stood nearby, talking to another Lunar captain. Perhaps Ratna thought he could spirit her away to freedom. But surely no captain would take that risk.

Ratna hadn’t invited Chandi along, but if her cousin brought Revati here, Naresh would be nearby. She saw him staring out over the sea, glancing down at Revati every few moments. Ratna, oddly enough, appeared to offer a brief exchange with Bendurana, before the Serendibian returned to his dhow. Chandi hadn’t thought Ratna even liked the man.

Not that she was here to see Ratna. Chandi blew her breath out through her teeth and waited for her heart to slow. When that didn’t happen, she walked down the pier to join them.

“Chandi!” Revati called, waving.

“Hello, Revati.”

The girl climbed up from the edge as Naresh turned around, his mouth open. Revati leapt into Chandi’s arms and she spun the child around once before setting her back down. Ratna looked over, then turned back to talk to the captain without so much as a nod. So be it.

Revati dragged her back to the lines and pointed down into the clear waters. A dugong swam about beneath the pier, exciting giggles from the girl every time it came into view. The sea cows didn’t often come near the busy harbor, though Chandi had seen them as a girl when her father had brought her down from their mountain home to the seaside. This lone dugong, apparently unafraid though surrounded by Solar ships and fishing boats, gave her pause.

“Where are the rest of its kind?” she asked Naresh.

“Away, farther offshore. They usually travel in herds. This one must be lost, or very brave.”

“Maybe both,” Chandi said as Naresh turned away. She watched the dugong for a time before she spoke again. “Please Naresh, I need to talk to you.”

“I have to watch them.” He glanced at her, his eyes unreadable, then turned back to the sea. The dugong had swum out of view, so Revati leaned forward, searching for it.

“There are a dozen watchmen in easy reach. And I’m not going to give up, no matter how much you try to hide.”

He hesitated, then turned to face her again and slipped his hand around her wrist. She followed as he pulled her away, down the pier, away from Ratna and Revati. They couldn’t have true privacy here, but the side of a net-maker’s stall gave the closest they could hope for.

Though she had rehearsed it a dozen times in her head, she didn’t know where to start. “Rahu,” she began, watching his reaction. “My uncle, you can’t trust him.”

Naresh folded his arms over his chest, then leaned back against the stall.

How could she tell him this? She loved him, she couldn’t let Rahu destroy him. “When the Moon Scions overuse their powers, they go lunatic. They become paranoid, power-mad, addicted to the Moon Blessings.”

Naresh pushed off the wall and put his hand on her shoulder. “Your uncle?”

She nodded. “He’ll never let the Astral Temple go. Never.”

Tell him. Tell him about the Amrita. Chandi reached for the vial tucked into her baju.

“I spoke to my mother,” Naresh said while Chandi debated. “She forbade my ever being with a Lunar, much less breaking off the engagement to Landorundun.”

Chandi’s face flushed. “Then you do want to be with me!”

His hair swayed as he shook his head. “What I want doesn’t matter. I have my duties. Landi might have agreed to end the engagement, but my mother won’t allow it. And I have to respect her wishes.”

“What in Chandra’s name are you talking about? She doesn’t respect your wishes, so why should you respect hers? What does duty mean if you’re miserable? I did my duty and it cost me everything. You think you can have happiness if duty always comes first?” She glared at his sudden smirk.

“Sorry. You sounded like someone else who once spoke on the subject.”

“I love you. And you feel the same, but you’re marrying someone else.” She put her hand on his cheek. “Please, Naresh. You won’t be happy with someone you don’t love. Don’t waste your life in a loveless marriage.”

For a moment he took her hand in his, then drew it down from his cheek and released it. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but then shook his head and walked by her.

Damn him for walking away from her. And damn her if she’d let him. “Naresh!” she called, chasing him back down the pier. “Wait.”

He stopped then, but he didn’t turn around. “You have to let it go, Chandi.”

“Maybe when the ridiculous Solar wedding is over.” Ratna was looking at her, but she didn’t care. “Maybe when it’s all over. Until then, I might surprise you.”

“You won’t surprise me.”

She drew her Potency Blessing and shoved him off the edge of the pier. For a moment he flailed his arms and cried out. Then from midair he vanished. The sudden shove on her own back was all the warning she had.

None of her Blessings would help her when she was already falling through the air. The impact smacked her like a fist. Saltwater rushed in her nose, burning her throat and sinuses. The water was only a dozen feet or so deep, so she kicked off the bottom and surfaced, coughing and sputtering the seawater from her throat. While treading water she looked up at him, watching her from the pier.

“Maybe you did surprise me,” he said, his eyes full of sympathy, “but you’re the one who fell because of it.”

After catching her breath, Chandi swam to the pier ladder. Ratna looked down at her, then just shook her head and dragged Revati along behind her, the child giggling all the way. Water streamed down Chandi’s face. How dare he?

Naresh had followed Ratna and Revati off the pier, away from the harbor. They left her standing there, dripping and alone.

So he would turn his back on her? The one person she thought she could trust. Now she knew she was alone. Only she could stop the madness of both Empires. With lunatics and fools guiding them, no wonder they had reached this point. But she would fix it all.

She climbed out of the sea, then wound her way through the city, back to the palace. Damn it. Damn it! Fools. She was a fool. No, he was a fool! Why on Rangda’s freezing ass would the prick not just listen to reason?

“Oh, pricks don’t talk reason,” she mumbled under her breath as she climbed the stairs. “Pricks only speak prick.” A servant in the hall offered her a towel, and Chandi snatched it away from her. “What? Never seen a woman pushed in the ocean by a prick before? Maybe you want him for yourself?” She drew up close to the trembling woman’s face, until she realized the girl was an Igni, and probably no more than fifteen years old. Not a threat.

Chandi shoved the towel back at the girl, then stalked through the palace until finally spotting her weretiger bodyguard in the palace’s rooftop garden.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Chandi said as she approached Malin. The tiger leaned against a palm tree. Chandi might once have thought of this as a place she shared with Naresh, though she had seen Malin here more often.

“I like the fresh air.” He waved at the ground before him, so she took the offered place, sitting with her legs crossed.

Well, then let Malin have the garden. Naresh didn’t deserve it. If he couldn’t see something good when he had it, he didn’t deserve any of it. But then Malin could never show her the wonders Naresh had here.

The sun would set soon, closing the first sunny day in weeks. By the look of the clouds, rain would come tonight. Soon.

“Tell me about my uncle.”

“I tried to offer you alliance before. You slapped my hand away. If I help your father oust the War King, will he treat my people any better? His ambition rivals even Rahu’s. Worse, he’s a religious zealot who thinks the Moon Scions deserve to rule all other beings.”

Chandi scowled, then turned to face the sea. “I know who my father is.”

She felt Malin rise behind her. Her shoulders trembled when he put his hands on them. “Do you?” he whispered. “Can you promise me a better place for my people in the new Lunar Empire?”

If she couldn’t, if she refused him, they might never unseat Rahu. Her mind’s eye revealed the Solar and Lunar Empires ablaze, destroying each other in war. No, she would save the Skyfall Isles. And Malin would help her do so.

Malin was right. More right than he knew. She had her Blessings because something was done to her. Malin was the same. At last she nodded and pulled Malin back to the grass beside her. “I will see your people liberated, Malin. Now tell me about my uncle.”

Malin took her hand. His touch was rough. “He’s not your uncle.” Chandi cocked her head, but didn’t interrupt. “Rahu came here before the Fourth War, at a time when Lunars held the Astral Temple. Same year as me. Your father saw Rahu’s power as the road to his own. With no House left but himself, he claimed Rahu as a brother.”

And Rahu had arranged everything, from his own marriage to Calon, to the marriage of Chandi’s parents, to the creation of the Macan Gadungan. Everything to get himself named War King. So he could shatter centuries of peace. Because alternating years holding the Astral Temple wasn’t enough for him?

“Wherever he came from, Rahu lost something there. It made him obsessed with conquering the Skyfall Isles. I don’t think he’ll stop there, though.”

And Kala … Had he come here from wherever Rahu had, looking to settle some old score?

Rahu had lied to the entire Empire. Ratna wasn’t her cousin. And Malin was just one more victim. The vial tucked into her baju felt like an anchor. All his life, they had lied to Malin, told him he was made, that they were born superior to him. With one move she could reveal the truth. He deserved to know the truth.

A bird of paradise alighted in the nearby tree. She told herself it couldn’t be the same one Naresh had called to her that day in the garden, but she couldn’t shake its chirping from her mind.

“He’s not going to marry you, you know.”

She jerked at Malin’s sudden statement. What did he know?

“It’s not their way,” he said. “Their rules and traditions define them.”

“Now you give me advice on love?” She kept her eyes focused on the sunset.

“I didn’t tell your father about your infatuation. You might show some gratitude.”

Chandi bit her lip, tried to keep him from seeing her face. “And you know so much of the heart?”

“I know mine.” He cupped her chin in his fingers, gentler than she had ever known him, and turned her face toward his. “I’d be good for you.”

Chandi trembled in his grasp. Here, in the garden, for one moment, she needed to connect. And Malin had always been there for her. When he leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t pull away.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

An Igni servant came to clean Ratna’s chambers and left a sealed letter on her desk before she departed. Ratna scowled. Inciting these Ignis to rebel had suddenly become much less of a plan now that her father was … was breaking. An Igni rebellion might still give her the cover she needed to escape with Revati, but she’d have to plan it very, very carefully from this point on.

Malin was, in fact, her only real hope. In the chaos, maybe he could get her to the harbor and find a ship that would take them away. But if they couldn’t slip away from Naresh, they would never even reach the harbor, much less escape it. Much as she hated entertaining the idea, her best chance might be to have Malin kill the Solar. The thought made her stomach sour. Naresh had been nothing but polite to her, and, in fact, Chandi seemed to actually like the man. Or she had before Naresh had pushed her off the pier. Not that the foolish girl hadn’t deserved it for trying to do the same to him.

What had prompted Chandi to attempt that, Ratna had not had the chance to ask. With the developing war between their fathers, it was hard to talk to Chandi at all. Besides, that would mean admitting her cousin had been right about Ratna’s father going lunatic. And even thinking such a thing ripped a hole in Ratna’s chest that made her want to curl up in a ball and hide from the world.

If not for Revati, maybe she would. Maybe it would be easier to just end her cursed life and return to the Wheel. But she would never, in a thousand lifetimes, abandon her child.

She grabbed the letter from the desk, popped the seal, and spread it out on her lap. More reports about the weapons she’d helped smuggle to the Ignis, about their plans to ambush Solar patrols. And about their intent, as soon as Lunar ships were spotted, to launch an attack. It was everything she and her father had talked about. The Solars would face the Lunar assault from without while the Ignis destroyed their capital from within. And in the end, Kakudmi would leave this place in chains.

The mental image did nothing to settle the acid rumbling in her stomach. It should have been what she wanted for that bastard, for the man who barely acknowledged her existence unless she was doing something to earn his ire. And still, even telling herself he had earned his fate did not fully abate her guilt at imagining it. He wasn’t a bad man—not exactly—even if he was a pretty damn poor husband.

She continued skimming through the Igni plans, the signals, the intent to destroy the city by cracking the domes. That gave her pause. The Ignis were engineers, craftsmen. Her father had had her inquire with them about the strength of the crystal barriers that held back the sea, but she hadn’t really thought they’d be able to break them.

If they did so, it wouldn’t be a question of who would die in the battle. It would be a question of who—if any—might survive.

Ratna shut her eyes. A quarter of a million people lived in this undersea city. Most of them were innocent.

But the destruction of Kasusthali would finally grant the Lunars the chance at victory. Most of the Arun Guard would be wiped out in one swoop. The Solar’s entire center of government. For every Solar who died, many Lunar lives would be saved. Because war was inevitable, had always been inevitable. She knew that now.

And, beyond all of that, the chaos would give Malin the chance he needed to get her out of Kasusthali. Maybe the only chance she would ever have.

Chandra forgive her for the countless deaths that would fall on her conscience. She scribbled a quick missive approving the plan, then sealed it. Poor Bendurana would have no idea what he was delivering. She’d have the servant girl send him the message, and he’d take it to the Igni District for her. If this paper left here, there would be no turning back.

Ratna stared at it for a long time.

So long that the Igni girl poked her head back in to see if Ratna had a reply. Her hand shook as she passed the letter to the teenaged servant.

There had never been any turning back.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Sleep had eluded Chandi most of the night, so she’d set out to run through the city earlier than usual. Despite the early phase, the Igni District seemed awash with activity, its people more wary. Tension showed in their brows, their shoulders, the way they watched her without the welcome she once felt.

It took her a moment to recognize the quiet. No children ran through the streets chasing balls or playing with ultops. As she made her way through the district, she found herself casting glances over her shoulder every block, expecting to find children. Those she did see didn’t play, only worked alongside their parents.

The district grew more crowded around the Shrine of Sacred Flame. Patrons and worshippers came in such a steady flow it took more than a phase before she could catch Semar alone. When her time came, she found herself unsure quite what to say. Semar was just one of many mistakes she’d made. She needed to fix it, before the trouble she’d stirred up led to war.

“Come, Chandi,” Semar called. He sat on the far side of the fire pit, eyes closed. “You lurk as though spying. Something troubles your mind, child,” he said when she did not speak. “You come and say nothing to me. Am I a stranger?”

So he knew she had seen the Stranger, then. “Sometimes I think you strange indeed, Semar. You talk of peace, but see benefit in war. You claim to want independence, but your people spend their days washing Solar homes. And you keep strange company.”

“So says the Lunar spy living in the palace of Solars.”

With his eyes closed at least he couldn’t see her cringe. “Speaking of the Solars, I wonder how you advise the man who advises the emperor.”

“I give all men the same advice.”

“And that is?”

“Only ask questions for which you truly want answers.” More of his games. She waited. “Sometimes the advisor has as much to learn as the advised.”

“The Stranger and Rahu know each other. Do they come from the same land? Rahu’s skin is not so fair as the Stranger’s. His hair isn’t the red-gold, either. And I know you know Kala, too.”

“Kala?”

“That’s his name, the Stranger. Now tell me. I want to understand the connections.”

Semar opened his odd blue eyes. The intensity of his gaze reminded her of the Stranger. “It’s not your place to understand every connection, Chandi. What do you think would drive a man to come so far? What would be enough to make you pursue an enemy across such a gulf?”

Chandi bit her lip. All this made her head hurt. Kakudmi had brought in a foreign warrior with the power to challenge Rahu, and a reason to hate the War King. Small wonder Rahu had acted so erratically upon seeing him.

“Perhaps you had better concern yourself with the situation you helped create with the Ignis. They will soon rebel.”

No. “I came here to stop that. I said I wanted their support if war came. Not that they should start a war.”

“Once you light the flame, it’s too late to worry about whether you dug the fire pit in the right place.”

Chandi rose, pointed a finger at the priest. “You can stop them.”

“I am not their master. If it’s not war you desire, perhaps you should decide what you do want. Tarry too long in finding what matters, you risk losing it all.”

And what did she want most? Peace? Naresh? Malin? The question only served to highlight the clouds in her mind.

“Where did you think the messages you and Bendurana relayed went? What did you think them about, Chandi? If the Lunars come, the Ignis will crack the domes.”

Chandi stared at the priest, uncertain what she had just heard. Even if the domes could be cracked, no one could control what would happen next. Tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, would drown in the chaos. She shook her head as she spoke. “That’s madness. We never wanted that.”

“Didn’t you? What did you think your talk of rebellion meant? Of alliance? The Ignis are workers, merchants, engineers, not warriors. When your people come, and we both know they will, Kasusthali will drown.”

CHAPTER SIXTY

Malin kept to the shadows as he trailed Chandi into the Igni District. Not that it mattered—the girl was far too preoccupied to notice him. She never should have been a spy. Yet more of Rahu’s arrogant madness, thinking he could shape everyone to suit his needs. As he had shaped Malin.

Any doubt of Rahu’s lunacy had left Malin this morning. The War King had summoned him to his chambers. “Where is it?” the man raved. “Did you take it, tiger?”

Rahu shoved him with one hand, as though Malin were a meddlesome child. The impact staggered him.

Rahu closed the distance, speaking right next to Malin’s face. “Where is the Amrita? Did you think to take it, to become like us? You think you could be a Moon Scion?” The man’s eyes were wide and wild and his breath smelled of spiced tea.

Under those smells, Malin caught the faint scent of milk, thick and sweet, just as he had smelled on Chandi last night. Rahu’s sudden backhand snapped Malin from his thoughts.

“Tell me, tiger. Do you have it?”

“No.” Malin spat blood on the floor, then turned his lips up in a snarl.

“Oh. No, not smart enough, the beast. But you can find the thief. Yes. Smell him out. Kakudmi? Is it him? Use that nose and return what was stolen, tiger. Now.”

Malin had wandered the palace, puzzling over Rahu’s words. They could not mean what they seemed to. It was impossible such lies could have been perpetrated for so many generations.

And then he had seen Chandi leaving, and followed her. She had taken this Amrita. Everything led back to her. It had always led to her. Perhaps his whole life had.

Without doubt she sought the Igni priest, Semar. Supposed wise man, caught up in his own sense of superiority and mysticism. Malin had heard many stories of this man. A meddler, but a slave, the leader of an oppressed people. Easy to feel a sense of kinship, perhaps, but Malin couldn’t forget the man was dangerous. After all, what wouldn’t Malin do to advance his people?

He waited some distance outside the shrine, and soon all the other patrons and worshippers were ushered out. Chandi must hold more sway over the Igni priest than he had thought, if he would grant her a private audience. Indeed, many of those driven out glared back at the shrine, or muttered curses that Malin’s superior hearing just caught.

Agitated, he bought nagasari from a vendor. A crate in an alley provided a secluded perch from which to watch the shrine.

Another scent came to him, approaching from the alley. He knew that scent, the Stranger. He had first caught it at the Astral Temple, and put a face to it in the palace. The green-eyed foreigner headed right toward him. If the man sought confrontation, Malin would not run. Oh, how he had grown tired of backing down from those who thought themselves superior. Rahu, Ketu, Naresh, all the same. No more.

Malin set down the plate and rose to his full height. The foreigner was taller, but not much. The man moved with purpose but neither threat nor haste, never taking his eyes from Malin’s.

“Malin,” he said, as he neared, his voice soft.

Malin looked the man up and down. Without doubt a warrior, with that physique, the way he carried himself. “How do you know me?”

For a moment he paused. “I know you. Semar told me you have more reason than most to hate Rahu. Something we have in common.”

Malin narrowed his eyes, but suppressed the urge to bare his teeth.

“He is a common problem for all of the Skyfall Isles,” the foreigner said. “The lunatic king who will destroy the future. A megalomaniac whose machinations have ruined empires, shattered lives, and enslaved your people. How far will it go before someone draws the line and ends his reign?”

Now Malin did show the man his teeth. “You think a few fancy words will make me trust you? Or the Igni priest? You spoke with Semar, and you spoke with Chandi. I can’t say whether you hold the priest’s confidence, but I doubt you have Chandi’s, and you certainly don’t have mine.”

“Chandi has a good heart, an innocence that prevents her from seeing the truth of what must be done. But you are a realist. There will come a time when you’ll know my words are true and that Rahu must fall.”

The Stranger slipped by him, stepped into the light of the open street.

“Even if I trusted you,” Malin called after him, “I could not face Rahu in combat.” It galled to admit it, but after this morning, he had few illusions about his strength compared to the lunatic’s.

“You won’t be alone,” the man said without looking back.

To end Rahu, to betray the man who had given him this power … it seemed an impossible choice. But then Rahu had betrayed him as well, betrayed him with years of lies and virtual slavery. And Malin had grown tired of both.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Naresh found Landi waiting for him in the mess hall, sitting in shadows cast by a single candle. When the Guardsmen took meals here dozens of candles cast the place in perfect illumination, but Landi seemed content to sit in near darkness. The guard hall before it stood empty, as it would until the lingsir kulon phase. He sat across from her without speaking.

“I heard about yesterday, in the harbor,” Landi said without changing her expression. So she knew already. Maybe everyone knew. After a moment his future bride spoke. “The talks will fail, I think. Pak Kakudmi may not be so willing to capitulate as he seems.”

“Maybe.”

“If he was going to cave it would have happened already.”

Naresh rose to look at the map of the Skyfall Isles she had unrolled on the table.

If Chandi was right, Rahu would never let the peace hold. He pointed at Puradvipa. “Maybe we could get a ship of Arun Guardsmen to the Astral Temple without their knowing it. Perhaps a civilian ship.”

Landi ran her tongue over her teeth. “You mean like the Queen of the South Sea.”

He watched her a moment before answering. “Yes, like Bendurana’s ship. But filled with Arun Guard. We could Stride ashore and overwhelm their defenses before they knew we were among them.”

Landi stared at the map without seeming to see it before answering. “No, we need to prepare for after the talks fail. We cannot count on the element of surprise. Do we know how many Macan Gadungan there are?”

“At least three or four times our number.”

“Moon Scions?” she asked.

“Harder to estimate. Probably over a hundred, though not all strong enough in Moon Blessings to pose a threat.”

Landi raised an eyebrow. “Moon Blessings?”

He had spent so much time talking to Chandi, her words, her culture had begun to seep into his way of thinking. She had become an inseparable part of his life. “What they call their powers.”

She watched him for a moment. In the candlelight, he couldn’t read her face. “My parents want to move up the wedding, in case peace talks fail. Want us married before we leave for war.”

He sighed. Not this. “We don’t have time. We can’t be expected to think of marriage now. And what if we did? Should I leave you a widow soon? Or it could just as easily be you who dies tomorrow, or the next day.”

“Or maybe we could all die.” She hunched into her chair and didn’t meet his gaze.

They both turned as Bendurana swaggered in and stopped at one end of the table. The glance he and Landi exchanged was brief, but her muscles unfurled and she sat up straight again. Chandi was right. Maybe she was right about everything. In truth, Naresh could no longer imagine life without her.

Bendurana turned to look at him and pulled papers from a satchel slung over his shoulder. “Pearl harvesting has fallen off in the Outer Isles.”

Naresh spread his palms on the table and tapped them up and down. “You brought me this before, about the pirate attacks. This is still a matter for the Ministry of Finance.” The ministry oversaw taking a cut of every pearl crop. If profits fell, they’d know.

“Ah, Guardsman, not if the Lunar Empire is involved.”

“Involved how?” Landi asked.

Bendurana’s customary smirk grew thin when he looked at her. “You’ve heard reports about werecrocodiles?”

“Myths to frighten fishermen and entertain children,” Landi said. Naresh watched the pair.

“Saltwater crocodiles have always gotten a few divers, my dear,” Bendurana admitted. “But too many divers are missing this year. We can hardly let this go without investigation. Disrupting the pearl dives will disrupt our economy. You built an empire with that economy.” He spread his hands as if to take in the whole palace. “Wouldn’t you hate to lose it the same way, Guardswoman? Ketu left the city without explanation two nights ago. One can hardly imagine what could be more important to the brother of the War King than talks over the Astral Temple.” Bendurana shrugged like an innocent child. “Commanding werebeasts, perhaps?”

And still they didn’t know why he’d left. Some reported Chandi’s father left with severe injuries. Bendurana seemed to know as much about it as Naresh himself did.

Landi snorted. “You think Ketu is commanding werecrocodiles to attack divers?”

The captain flashed a grin. “I’m saying someone should look into it. The answers have to be interesting.”

Naresh rose. “I agree. Let us know what you find out.” He began ushering Bendurana out of the room.

“Ah, not me, Guardsman. There’re lots of fine captains who—”

“Who better? You found the pattern. You have a civilian ship—a fast one, I hear. And you love sticking your nose where other people don’t want it.” Whether the captain’s expression was meant to be a glower or smirk, Naresh ignored it. “You’ll do nicely.”

“But what—”

“You’ll be compensated based on the quality of the information you bring back.”

Bendurana hesitated at the doorway, watching Landi. That was it then. He had just gotten back into port and didn’t want to set out so soon. Despite the impossible situation, she kept him here.

“Ben, give us a moment,” Landi told him.

The captain bowed with a flourish, then backed out of the archway between the Arun Guard’s mess and the regular mess hall. Naresh caught the smile Landi tried to hide.

He waited until he could hear the captain’s footfalls well down the hall. Bendurana would do his duty. No one lives for themselves, Empu Baradah had said.

He loved Chandi, and he’d marry Landorundun. Landi loved Bendurana and she’d marry Naresh. Bendurana loved her, and he’d stand by and say nothing. And then maybe Empu Baradah was right, maybe they’d all remain quiet about the affairs that would unfold in the dark. And they’d all return to the Wheel of Life no wiser and no better than they had left it.

“They don’t respect your wishes, so why should you respect theirs?” Chandi had asked him.

Landi watched him as he slumped back into his chair, but he hardly saw her.

She leaned forward but paused before she spoke. “Naresh?”

He met her gaze then. Concern filled her eyes. But nothing deeper. “Neither of us,” he began, then stopped. “Neither of us wants this marriage, I think.”

She ran her tongue over her teeth but said nothing.

“Chandi asked me how we could be happy if duty came before everything else.”

“Chandi’s a Lunar.”

She said that as though Lunars were monsters.

“Chandi is a Lunar. And maybe she’s right about some things. I don’t know. Your parents threw us together just to keep you from Bendurana.”

She clenched her jaw.

“And why? Because he’s a few steps above a pirate? If he’s an opportunist, he’s also provided a valuable service to the Empire. It doesn’t matter, anyway. If you love him, you can’t marry me.”

“And you love her?”

“Yes.” For the first time, he was sure of it.

She didn’t quite hide her smile. “Our parents will not be happy about this.”

“They had choices in their lives, even if they chose not to take advantage of them. I won’t make that mistake.”

Maybe they could find a way to make this work. Perhaps not in Kasusthali, but somewhere, somehow, they could try. He had to see Chandi.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Malin grabbed Chandi by the arm as she walked out of the Igni District and yanked her against the side of the dome. His hot breath smelled of sugar. Hadn’t Malin once disdained the Lunar sugar addiction? Chandi squirmed under Malin’s grasp, until her scowl made him release her.

“Living under these domes is unnatural, Chandi. Listen.” He glanced up at the dark morning sky above them.

“What, Malin?”

“It’s pouring rain and you can’t even hear it. I can’t even hear it.”

“Malin,” she said, backing away, “I hope you didn’t manhandle me to discuss the weather.” Little did Malin know the Ignis plotted to bring the dome he hated so much crashing down on their heads. The sea would reclaim its domain.

“No. We had a deal. I told you everything I knew about Rahu and your father. Reciprocate.”

She motioned for him to follow her into the tube leading out of the District. Best to have this sort of conversation on the move where casual eavesdroppers couldn’t catch much, and dedicated ones would prove easy to spot. “What are you talking about?” she asked when they had entered the tube.

“For more than two decades the Jadian have been subservient to the Moon Scions. It’s time to change that. We are just as blessed by Chandra as you are. And you damn well know it. You once told me what the Solars do to the Ignis is wrong. The Ignis are another people. The Macan Gadungan are part of your people. It’s time to start acting like it.”

She didn’t have time for this now. Rahu was bringing them into the Fifth War. His old nemesis Kala pursued him from some ruined homeland. The Ignis were going to destroy the city. And Naresh was marrying the wrong woman.

“Malin, this is not the time. Once Rahu is removed, once things are calmed with the Solars, then we can speak of social changes. I promise I will help you, then. First we have to weather the storm, then—”

“You think Ketu will agree to terms once he has the advantage? He needs us now, while we have a position of strength.”

“The transition between leadership will be tumultuous enough without this, Malin. Please don’t do this now.” She paused in the tube and reached out a hand for his shoulder.

Solars stared as they passed by. Malin glared at them until they scurried away, leaving her almost alone with him. He took her hand from his shoulder and held her by the arms. Her pulse raced as he leaned in. What if he was right? What if Naresh was forever lost to her? She should consider her other options.

A cry escaped her as Malin’s grip tightened. He lifted her off her feet and shoved her against the tube wall. “Give me the Amrita, Chandi.”

She trembled in the weretiger’s grasp, unable to swallow. Her breath faltered as he leaned closer, his eyes boring into hers. Calm. She drew her Moon Blessings, then shifted her gravity to the tube wall and shoved him backwards.

More Solar passersby stared at them. Had they seen her stand on the wall? Nothing she could do about it now. “How do you even know about that?”

Malin stalked closer but didn’t seem about to attack her again. “Rahu was raving about it this morning. I knew I smelled something different on you last night. Imagine my surprise when I put the pieces together.”

“Rahu revealed the biggest secret of the Moon Scions? To you?”

“Not on purpose. Your theft seems to have pushed away the last of his sanity. You should be careful. It took him decades to go lunatic, but you use your Blessings more than he ever did.”

Chandi nodded, backing away from him, toward the Igni District. “Do not ever touch me like that again, Malin. I have nothing to give you. Not ever.”

Malin didn’t follow. “You will regret this, Chandi. You’re breaking our agreement. I’d have made a fearsome ally and a loyal mate. And I’ll make a terrible foe if you cross me.”

Chandi backed down the tube, not turning even when the weretiger had disappeared into the shadows.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

Servants bustled about the palace, preparing for the lingsir kulon meal, but Malin saw few people of consequence. The important Lunars and Solars would be embroiled in the day’s pointless arguments. The few palace guards he saw paid him little attention, their minds also likely on food.

Now that Naresh knew he was here, Malin had given over discretion, and the Solars had given him servant’s quarters on the fourth floor. But he didn’t head there now. Chandi would return soon, and he needed to finish this before she did. Even she would not see his people’s need. If he was to change their fate, he would do it himself.

Few guards watched the east wing on the third floor where common guests stayed. Malin easily slipped by without their notice, sticking to the shadows, taking side passageways intended for servants. He peered through the reeds of three doors before he spotted the sun-haired foreigner.

The man sat meditating on a straw mat, legs folded beneath him. The Stranger turned to look in his direction even before Malin had swung the door open. Perhaps he had ears as good as a Macan Gadungan—no human should have heard him.

“Stranger,” Malin said, “it is time. For too long I’ve served the Moon Scions. Served without thanks, without recognition, without respect. Today I change the future of these Isles. If I can trust you.”

The foreigner rose. “You can trust I have as much reason to want Rahu dead as you do.”

Malin folded his arms. “Many have reason. I can get us into his chambers and back out of the palace. But as for the man himself, his Moon Blessings make him stronger, faster, and more resilient than any Moon Scion or Jadian.”

“Traits we share.”

Malin waited, but the man did not elaborate. If he could fight Rahu, then so be it. If they failed, Malin would lose everything. But risking nothing meant gaining nothing. He knew that now. Not even Chandi would help him. She had been part of the lie. Malin nodded, and motioned for the man to follow him from the room.

Though the foreigner carried himself with the grace of one trained in martial arts, he didn’t appear to have Malin’s stealth. It would make things more complicated. The guards didn’t stop them from leaving the third floor, but an Arun Guardsman watched the fourth floor wing that housed the Lunar delegation.

“I’m going to distract the Guardsman,” he told the Stranger. “I want you to approach from the servant’s hallway, there, and pass by as quietly as you can manage.”

The Stranger glanced down the narrow servant’s hall, then his eyes glazed for a moment. When they came back into focus, he trod down the hall without a word. Malin cursed under his breath. If the man were some kind of drug addict this could go very wrong.

Forcing the grimace from his face, he stopped to chat with the Arun Guardsman. He recognized the man—it was the third time this week he’d had this duty—though Malin didn’t know the Solar’s name.

“Has the War King returned from the meeting?” he asked, watching the foreigner slip by. The Guardsman told Malin the meeting had just recessed, and Rahu was in his room. He seemed bored—Malin didn’t blame him. The man had probably been assigned this duty as punishment for some ridiculous infraction of equally ridiculous Solar law.

As soon as the Stranger passed around the corner, Malin left the Guardsman and followed. “Wait outside,” he told the Stranger. “I’ll speak to him first to get him off his guard, then you come in and we’ll take him together.”

“Don’t get in the way.”

Malin snorted and continued down the hall, then pushed open Rahu’s door. The War King spun on him, still seeming lunatic. How did he maintain the façade of sanity before Kakudmi? Perhaps Malin only saw it because he knew to look for it. Or perhaps Kakudmi pretended not to see it in the hopes of peace.

“Why have you come, tiger? Do you have what I sent you after?”

“No,” Malin said, stalking closer. “But I know who does.” Perhaps it was his imagination, but Rahu had even started to smell insane.

“Tell me, then. I’ll enjoy showing them the error of their ways.” Rahu’s fingers grasped Malin’s shoulders in an iron grip. “Tell me,” he repeated.

Malin wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out. “Speaking of the error of one’s ways,” he said, “there’s someone who wants to show you something, too.”

Rahu’s mouth opened as the Stranger pushed through the door. The War King turned his wild gaze back on Malin, understanding of the betrayal in his eyes. With a grunt, Rahu tossed him aside, sending him crashing into the dresser. His momentum knocked it over and he lay dazed among the splinters.

By the time he pushed himself to his hands and knees, Rahu had already rushed the foreigner. The Stranger snapped his arm up to block a series of lightning-fast blows. He stepped forward even as he blocked the last, his open palm catching Rahu in the chest. The War King hurtled across the room and through a sandalwood bedpost before slamming into the back wall.

Malin blinked as the Stranger walked toward Rahu. The man’s strength was uncanny, frightening. With a cough that sputtered blood across the floor, Rahu staggered to his feet. “Your vengeance against me already ruined one civilization. And still you pursue me. How many worlds will burn beneath you?”

Rahu launched another blindingly fast attack. The Stranger twisted out of the way and caught Rahu’s arm, bending it backwards as though Rahu had the strength of a mere mortal man. “To annihilate your insane tyranny? As many as it takes.”

Rahu reached his other hand out and two pieces of splintered bedpost levitated from the floor. Malin had started to rise and draw his keris, but he balked. The debris hurtled through the air at the foreigner. The man turned and batted one piece aside, but the other caught him on the shoulder. He spun through the air from the impact.

With his foe distracted, Rahu leapt onto the wall and ran up it. Malin gaped as Rahu shifted his gravity to the ceiling and keep running. He hurled the keris into the War King’s path, causing him to stumble.

While Malin debated how to attack a foe on the ceiling, the Stranger dashed over and kicked off a wall. It gave him enough height to grab Rahu by the shoulders. He swung Rahu over his head and slammed him down onto the bed with enough force to shatter its legs.

Rahu tried to kick him, but the Stranger knocked the attack aside and hurled him against another wall.

“Now you think to murder me,” Rahu said, the words hard to make out as he choked on blood and broken teeth. He still managed to launch another series of punches as the Stranger neared.

The Stranger blocked each and landed a body blow that must have shattered ribs. “I already have. Your ribs have punctured your lungs. But I think someone else deserves vindication this day.” The foreigner tossed Rahu’s broken body at Malin’s feet.

Malin bent to retrieve his keris knife. After twenty years, it seemed odd it would end like this. Twenty years of service. Once he had worshipped the man.

Malin knelt beside his former master. “You held power in the palms of your hands. And you squeezed those loyal to you so tightly they slipped through your fingers, until there was no one left.”

“I will have revenge, beast,” the War King sputtered.

“No.” He hacked deeply into the man’s throat, blood spraying over his face. More. Malin carved until the lunatic’s head came free. Holding it by the hair, he stared into its vacant eyes. They accused him of betrayal, just as his mother’s eyes had.

Disgusted, he tossed the head aside.

“I have one more thing to do in the palace,” the Stranger said.

Malin rose. “Meet me in the Harbor District. I will have a loyal ship ready. If guards pursue you, we leave without you.” Malin spared Rahu one last glance, and then he turned his back on the man who had remade him.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Naresh tried to keep the hurry from his step. Chandi wasn’t in her chambers, but that wasn’t so unusual. Kakudmi had declared a recess on the talks until after the lingsir kulon meal, so perhaps she had gone to see her uncle. Hard to believe Rahu could be her uncle. The War King’s lust for power seemed out of place in the same family with Chandi’s sincerity.

He could imagine her face when he told her she’d been right about everything. The way she’d beam at him. “I know,” she’d say. He smiled to himself.

Rahu’s door opened as Naresh entered the hall. The Stranger.

The foreigner stepped into the hall some distance from Naresh. Surprise flashed over his green eyes, but only for a moment before they became resigned.

“What are you doing here?” Naresh said.

“You do not wish to be here. Turn and leave now.” The man’s voice was soft, almost emotionless. Had he heard the Stranger speak before this? He spoke the tongue of the Isles with a slight accent.

Naresh advanced, hand on his keris. “Not likely. I asked you what you’re doing here.”

The Stranger held up a hand as Naresh approached. The air seemed to tremble. A bout of dizziness washed over Naresh. The Stranger fell back a step and the feeling began to fade.

“Everything I am doing, your emperor understands.”

“Betraying him?” Naresh pulled himself to his feet. The air rippled again as he advanced on the Stranger. He gritted his teeth and took another step forward. If this was some Moon Blessing, it only proved the man a traitor. “The emperor won’t like his advisor taking secret meetings with his enemy.”

“Rahu the madman, Rahu the deceiver. A man to whom no agreement was sacred, to whom betrayal is a matter of course. You saw the reflection he cast, but could never perceive the depths of his depravity in it.”

Naresh clenched his fist around his sword, then paused. For the first time, he noticed blood spatters on the man’s shirt, then on his knuckles.

“Consider your people. You must let me go. Things must happen. You cannot change the course of events set in motion.”

The Stranger did not retreat as Naresh’s sword slid from its sheath. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’ve come. But if you murdered one of the emperor’s guests, someone under my protection, you won’t leave here either, assassin.”

Neither the man’s gaze nor his voice faltered. “I have done as the emperor wished. Would you fault me for that?”

“You’ve started a war. Am I to believe Pak Kakudmi wanted that?”

The foreigner began to edge around Naresh, his back to the wall. As he drew nearer, the dizziness returned. The Stranger shook his head. “You must know war would have come regardless. This tenuous situation could not have held. Now it comes without the lunatic War King.”

He should strike the man down. Kakudmi would never have hired an assassin. Never have violated all honor by murdering a guest. Or maybe he could claim that he had not ordered the Stranger to do anything. Chandi had warned him Rahu would bring them to war, that he had gone lunatic. Now he’d bring them to war through his death.

Yet the man’s claim made too much sense. Kakudmi would never order a murder. But perhaps their emperor was shrewder than Empu Baradah gave him credit for. If he knew the talks would fail, if he knew war was inevitable, why would he stop another man from solving a problem that threatened his Empire? The Stranger was right about that—if there was war, better that Rahu not lead it. The relentless, pitiless madman would have led them all to annihilation.

The foreigner slipped by him, his green eyes not leaving Naresh’s face until he passed around a corner. Naresh fell to his knees, though the dizziness had begun to fade. Only a few breaths, then he pulled himself to his feet.

Inside Rahu’s room the Lunar king lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. A pool of blood collected around him. His head lay some distance from his pulverized body.

Naresh glanced around the room. The legs of the bed had collapsed and the dresser was overturned. Surya alone knew what kind of fight this had been. Word would spread soon. The Fifth War would begin over this. And Chandi’s father would become the new War King.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

“Mama, I want to see the dugongs.”

Ratna looked up from her desk to where Revati sat on the windowsill, watching the sea. With the pouring rain, it was unlikely the child could have seen the sea cows even had they gone out to the harbor.

“Soon, moonbeam,” Ratna mumbled. Soon, when they were safely back in Bukit, she would take Revati to see whatever the girl wanted.

After the murder of everyone in Kasusthali. Ratna shook her head, trying not to think of it. She had to focus on the practical details and pray Chandra would forgive her for the repercussions later.

Her outer door creaked open and her heart leapt into her chest. Was it time?

She spun, but it wasn’t Malin standing there. The Stranger, the man who had taken any chance to reach Kakudmi from her.

“What do you want?”

He stood very still, eyes taking in the whole room, and, if anything, looking sad. An almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, then he walked straight toward the windowsill, gaze now locked on Revati.

Ratna leapt up and interposed herself between the foreigner and her daughter. “What in Rangda’s underworld are you doing? Guardsmen!” She shoved his chest with both hands, and when he didn’t budge, swung a fist at his jaw.

The Stranger caught her wrist, grabbed her shoulder with his other hand, and flung her against the wall. The impact jarred her and left the room spinning. Ratna moaned, trying to push herself up, but her muscles felt like water. Blessings. She struggled to claim her Potency Blessing, but it was so weak, so hard to catch it.

“I’m sorry,” the foreigner said. “Your Guards are unconscious and this is the only way. I made a promise.”

“Mama!” Revati called.

The Stranger advanced, not on her daughter, but on Ratna. “You are his daughter, but you still have a choice. You don’t have to follow his path.”

Ratna finally grasped her Potency Blessing and, muting the pain, managed to sit up. She tried to kick the man, but he batted her leg aside then wrapped her in an embrace that pinned her arms with one hand. His other clamped down over her mouth and nose. Ratna drew her Blessings as hard as she could, but the man’s grip was forged iron. His arms didn’t even begin to budge under her struggles.

“Mama?” Revati asked.

“She’s going to take a short nap.”

It was the last thing Ratna heard. Blackness clouded the edges of her vision, and her mind drifted until she saw nothing.

When she woke, she lay on the floor, head throbbing. For a moment, it seemed unreal. Then she jerked upward.

“Revati!”

Her daughter was gone and there was no sign of the foreign man.

Ratna’s legs threatened to give out beneath her as she climbed to her feet, desperately rushing toward the hallway. “Malin!”

No answer was forthcoming. Ratna slipped, banged her knee on the ground, then crawled out the door. “Malin!”

An Arun Guardsman lay on the ground, moaning, half-conscious.

“Malin!” Ratna shrieked. Over and over she called for her bodyguard, until her voice was hoarse.

He never came.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Ben lingered in the mess hall of the palace, figuring if he was here anyway, he might as well enjoy some grub on the Solars. Not literally, of course, as the only Solar he’d ever consider eating off was Landorundun. She had, thus far, not been interested to try any such thing, but maybe he just needed to find the right mango.

Somehow, even the mental image of decorating her navel with mango slices was not quite enough for him to shake the foul weather that had swept over his mood. Naresh planned to send him to investigate the damn werecrocodiles, which, Ben suspected, was probably just an excuse to keep him away from the man’s future wife. Not that Ben could truly blame him for that—what man in his right mind would want a handsome fiend like Ben hanging around his betrothed?

Speaking of which, the woman herself came strolling into the mess hall, walking right for him. Ben rose to greet her and, before he could even speak, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.

The handful of Solar soldiers in the mess hall let out a series of whoops and calls of encouragement, some shouting for him to take the First right there.

Landi pulled away from him and leveled a scowl across the room that silenced the soldiers, who very quickly appeared to find their bowls a great deal more interesting than the First of the Arun Guard. Ben, on the other hand, was ready for a little more of the woman.

“Ah, my dear, that was lovely. I just … I thought … Forgive me. I am so rarely at a loss for words. Indeed, I thrive on words.”

“You were supposed to wait out in the hall.”

Ben shrugged, making certain to sway his locks as provocatively as possible. Moping about, waiting for Naresh to send him off to investigate the damn pearls, was not exactly his style. Nor did he fancy dawdling just outside while Landi and Naresh talked about their future lives together. “A man must be where he’s needed more than where he is expected, except when he is expected to be where needed, in which case, that’s exactly the right spot for said man.”

“What?” Landi shook her head. “Where do you even think these things up?” She held up a hand, then drew him into the Arun Guard’s private mess hall. “No. No, forget I asked. He called off the wedding, Ben. Naresh broke our engagement. He said we should follow our hearts. Can you believe that?”

For a moment, Ben stood there, stupid grin on his face, not quite certain what to say. Could he believe it? “Damn right I believe it. Hero always gets the girl, after all. We should celebrate by making love here on this table.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Very well, we can use the floor.”

“My parents still have not agreed to our wedding.”

Ben waved a hand to dismiss such a minor obstacle. “They just haven’t met me yet. One look at my handsome face and—”

“Ibu Landorundun,” a large Guardsman called from the doorway.

“Surya’s blazing cankers, man,” Ben cursed. “You cannot interrupt us now. We were about to make love.”

“No, we weren’t,” Landi said. “What is it, Lem?”

“Ah, my dear,” Ben said, “I am an expert in the ways of love. Trust me when I tell you these things.”

“Ben!”

Ben smiled. “Excellent. Practice saying my name just like that. I can assure you, very soon you will be—”

“Rahu has been murdered,” the large Guardsman interrupted.

Ben’s jaw clamped shut. He had to have misheard that.

Landi grew still as a statue and shut her eyes for an almost imperceptible moment. “Who is responsible?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Seal the palace gates,” Landi ordered. “No one gets in or out. Find Naresh, find every member of the Guard currently in the palace and bring them here.”

The big Guardsman nodded and ducked out through the doorway.

Ben blew out a long, slow breath. The peace had been a dream, too good to last. And with its loss, so too went his hopes of a wedding. Now, all he could do was remain nearby in case Landi needed something.

And their conversation had started out so very well.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Halfway between the harbor and the palace Chandi had to pause to tread water and catch her breath. The guards hadn’t said why they’d closed off the entrance to the palace, but she’d figured she could swim, climb up to the roof garden, and get in that way. The guards wouldn’t expect anyone to try it. Because it was too damn far. Malin had done so, but he was Macan Gadungan.

In the pouring rain she could only just make out her destination. Swimming in the sea during a thunderstorm might not have been her best idea. She’d never make it there, or back, without an edge. Perhaps that’s how Rahu became the way he did, every little need adding up to a powerful addiction. No, Malin was wrong, she was fine. Rahu must have taken Amrita again.

Chandi was in control. She drew her Moon Blessing, relishing in the strength flooding through her limbs as she resumed her swim. She could have gone for phases like this. Why had she been worried about a little lightning, anyway?

She had to see Naresh. He’d know what to do. She had to do something with the Amrita. What had possessed her to steal it? Stealing the mad king’s weapon will make him less insane? Maybe Naresh could use it, become a Moon Scion Sun Brander. She giggled, choking down a bit of water. It was his fault for spurning her before. And for sealing the palace. She’d make him pay for that.

The patio off the Arun Guard’s lounge looked different from the outside. With the crystal pane over the window she couldn’t get in that way, but she climbed onto the landing anyway. While she caught her breath she wrung out her kemban. Reclothed, she shifted her center of gravity to the wall and ran up it to the garden.

Her arms and legs aching, Chandi collapsed into the muddied grass. After a moment she rose and let the rain wash her clean. Then she continued through the garden to the stairs that led down to the fourth floor. Though some gawked at her for dripping water through the halls, and a few maids giggled at her stupidity for playing in the rain, no one stopped her progress.

She had to wend her way through several palace halls to reach the suite she shared with Ratna. Pieces of a shattered glass pitcher littered the hall outside. When Chandi pushed open the door Ratna jerked and snatched a glass cup. Though she hefted it to throw, her arm fell when she recognized Chandi. Her cousin’s eyes were red.

“What happened?”

“She’s gone!” Ratna sobbed and ran to Chandi, almost collapsing in her arms. “He’s dead. They’re both gone.”

Naresh? No, Ratna wouldn’t care so much. “Who is?”

“Revati! He took Revati. He murdered my father!” Ratna pounded on Chandi. “Where is my daughter? Where?”

Chandi murmured something not even she understood. “Who?” She almost choked on the word.

“The Stranger.” Ratna was weeping into Chandi’s shoulder, her words hard to make out. “But it’s the damn Arun Guard. They let him. They were supposed to protect us. They let him. They took my daughter. They took everything.”

Why would Kala do any of that? Why take Revati? Didn’t this hurt both sides? So they were all in it together, then. Everyone against her and Ratna. Malin, Semar, the Stranger, all working to destroy the cousins. And Rahu, her madman uncle, murdered.

Ratna beat on Chandi’s back with balled fists, and Chandi held her cousin tighter. Where was Naresh? He was supposed to protect Revati. He said he’d protect them all. Kala couldn’t have taken that little girl. That poor, beautiful girl.

“Chandi.” Revati’s voice echoed in her mind so loudly she looked around to see where the girl stood. But would she ever see Revati again?

How had Naresh let this happen? Or had he made it happen? Perhaps he had punished her betrayal with his own. Not enough that he should scorn her and marry another. He had to destroy their family, as well. He’d do his duty no matter what. His duty against Lunars. They were all in on it. All traitors. They’d see what it meant to challenge the chosen of Chandra.

Her arms fell away from Ratna. “I have to go.”

“Punish them,” Ratna said as she fell to her knees. “Destroy them all, Chandi.”

Oh, she would. She would make them all pay for challenging her!

She rushed back through the palace, back to the lounge. When Chandi returned she found Landorundun staring through the crystal pane at the sea.

“Where is Naresh?”

The Guardswoman spun at her voice.

“It’s been a long morning for everyone. He needed to think. We all do.”

Chandi had no patience to sort through the strange emotions in the other woman’s voice. “Take me to him.”

Landorundun rubbed her temples for a moment. “All right, Chandi. I have things I have to do, but maybe it would do him good to see you.”

Do him good? Chandi followed her down the hall and around the corner. She stiffened when the Guardswoman patted her on the shoulder. Landorundun met her gaze, then left her standing there outside his door.

Chandi pushed the door open. Naresh sat on a wide four-post bed, head in his hands. Other than the plush bed and drawings scattered on the dresser, he kept his chambers plain. His keris sat on the same dresser, pinning down a sketch of his mother and a man, perhaps his father.

He looked up from a drawing in his hand as she strode over. “Chandi.”

She looked down at his broken face. The sketch was of her. She slapped him.

She had to take a step back as he rose, hand on his cheek. “That was uncalled for.”

“You bastard.”

His face grew dark. The Solars took parentage so seriously.

“You were supposed to protect them. Protect us!”

“Yes. I was. Protect the Solars. Protect the Lunars. Protect everyone, even from themselves. From the results of their own madness.”

She drew her Potency Blessing and slapped him again. The force of the blow lifted him off his feet and spun him around to land on the bed.

He shook his head in a daze for a moment, then spat blood on the floor. “Oh, he was a madman, wasn’t he?”

“And Revati!” Chandi leapt onto the bed and pulled him to his feet by his baju. “Was she mad?”

Naresh looked away. “I didn’t know he would take her.”

“Didn’t know? But you knew he would murder Rahu? Knew he would destroy our chance for peace? Destroy my family?” She pushed him off the bed and onto the floor.

A grunt escaped him as he landed. He rose to his feet before answering. “Don’t trust Rahu. Isn’t that what you told me? You knew he was a lunatic and still followed him. So really, whose fault is it?”

“How dare you! How dare you imply we are to blame for this?” She jumped off the bed and flipped over behind him. Her fist caught him in the jaw as he turned toward her, sending him crashing to his knees. “I loved you! You betrayed us!”

She swung again as he rose, but he ducked her blow and caught her in the ribs with one of his own. He might not have her supernatural strength, but he was damn strong. “Stop it,” he said, his eyes glowing with the Sun Brand. “You act like a spoiled child.”

Chandi panted, backing away to catch her breath. Ignoring the pain in her ribs, she drew her Blessings even harder. She pulled her toyaks from the back of her kemban and held them before her in a fighting stance. “Am I a child, now, Naresh? But I’ve finally learned the lessons you tried to teach me about duty.”

She advanced on him. He stepped to the side as she leapt into the air. She shifted her gravity onto the nearest bedpost. Standing on the post, she lunged with one toyak. Naresh vanished, appearing the same instant across the room, near his keris.

Chandi craned her arm around the bedpost and spun around it, then placed both feet on the post and ran up it. With a backflip she landed beside Naresh, even as he vanished again.

Again and again he Strode as she attacked and forced her to dodge and evade, bending backwards and launching herself onto walls. Then she twisted, snapping her fist backward as he vanished. It connected with his face as he reappeared behind her. She whirled to face him again as he staggered back to the wall.

He wiped blood from his lip. “So be it, Chandi.”

“How long does that Sun Brand last?” She swung again, and struck the wall.

She couldn’t turn fast enough to keep his blade from tearing a shallow gash in her back. Another betrayal from a man she so wanted to trust.

“Long enough.”

She launched a flurry of attacks, but he was as fast as she was, maybe faster. He Sun Strode from side to side and behind.

He appeared behind her and got a hand on her shoulder. And then her world spun as she appeared near the ceiling of the room. They were falling, but she kicked at him, shifting her gravity toward him the moment she connected. She landed in a roll and dodged his incoming attack as he appeared beside her.

He leapt over her counterstrike and pinned her toyak against the floor with his sword. With one hand on the floor she kicked low, sweeping Naresh’s feet from under him. Using the momentum, she bounded to her feet. Naresh was falling when he vanished, appearing near the ceiling. After a mid-air twist he fell fist-first toward her.

With a handspring Chandi leapt out of his range. She jumped to another bedpost. Her toyak caught him in the shoulder as he tried to appear behind her again. The sword slipped from his grasp and skittered along the floor.

Chandi feinted toward him then flipped in midair toward the sword. As expected, he appeared on top of it and her stick struck him between the shoulder blades. Her kick caught him in the ribs as he dropped, hurtling him against the wall. Naresh landed hard.

Nothing could stop her. Not even the Arun Guard.

Naresh lay motionless, helpless. She advanced, toyak raised. Then she stopped.

Was this what it felt like to become a lunatic? Had she used too much of the Blessings? Is this how Rahu had felt, looking down at her father?

Violent shudders ran through her body. She released her Blessings. Her soul cried out in agony, demanding she redraw them all. Her stomach felt full of acid and her heart beat out of control.

With a whimper she fell to her knees beside him. What had she done? Worse than Rahu. Had she killed the man she loved? His chest rose and fell. Slowly. She had to do the best thing she could for him. She ran.

PART FIVE

1194 AP, The Rainy Season

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

The pillars came into view as Malin crested the top of the path leading up to the Astral Temple. Below the path were the sprawling beaches known as Astral Shore. Three years would have washed away the blood, but Malin did not look at them.

Instead, he continued up the path to the Temple. Not long ago he had helped tear down the wooden gate the Solars had built into the white granite wall. Now a pair of Macan Gadungan worked to repair it. Ketu wouldn’t trust ordinary slaves near the Astral Temple, not even for menial work.

The Stranger—Kala, he called himself—followed some distance behind him, Revati in his arms. Malin had asked why he took the girl.

“Cataclysm approaches these Isles, and Kakudmi would have his daughter far from it,” Kala answered. The child didn’t seem afraid of Kala. The two had spent most of the trip below decks in the hold.

Ratna would be livid over the loss of her daughter, and Malin doubted Chandi would take it well either. But he had picked his allies, and it was too late to seek new ones now.

“Wait here,” Malin said to Kala, as he approached the weretigers. Many of the Macan Gadungan remained camped on the mountainside outside the crenelated Temple wall. Making camp on the beach would have been easier, but Malin could not bear to rest on Astral Shore. None of the Macan Gadungan who had seen that battle would want to return there.

Many of the weretigers waved at him, some even rushed over to greet him. He embraced one he had seen grow from a babe into a young man. Malin could smell tension on the boy, so he met the boy’s eyes and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. “We will be ready.” Most of them were nervous, of course, though the older ones hid it better. He gave the Macan Gadungan the same instructions as the crew—never to reveal that the Stranger or Revati had come here.

Malin left the camp and headed toward the Temple, waving Kala on behind him. The guards at the gates bowed as he approached. Even after all they had done to reclaim the Temple, Ketu still demanded the Macan Gadungan remain outside. Only his precious Moon Scions dwelt within the temple, but they would not try to stop Malin himself from entering. They would not dare.

The Moon Scions inside watched him with wary eyes, however. And well they should. Malin bared his teeth at one who drew too near, in what he would have claimed, had he been asked, was a smile. The man scurried away and Malin headed on toward the eleven pillars at the heart of the temple.

Malin took little interest in ancient history or theology, but he had been curious to learn that the script covering the pillars was not a single language, but rather that each represented the words of a different deity. Moon Scions gathered around one in particular, on the north side, jotting notes and conversing. Chandra’s pillar, then.

Kala had told him to travel beneath the surface of the temple. “It’s where Rahu came from. And where I followed from. You see this place as a relic of the gods, but it is also a gateway. I will take Revati through, and you will not see either of us again soon.”

Ketu would be down there, too, of course.

Amidst the pillars the makers of this place had carved two hemispherical bowls into the ground, each lined with an unknown metal and carved with astral coordinates. Malin slipped into one and slid down to its center, nearly ten feet below. Kala already crouched at the bottom of the bowl, Revati in his arms. Malin hadn’t been sure if his distraction with the priests would give Kala enough time, but it appeared to have worked, and someone would have to stand on the edge of the bowl to see the foreigner now.

The bowls were constructed of many sheets of metal aligned to appear almost seamless, but Ketu had discovered a secret years ago. Malin turned in place, searching for the correct sheet, then knelt and pressed down hard until the sheet gave way, pushing it down a handbreadth. He twisted the sheet under the adjacent one to the right, creating an opening in the bowl and revealing a hidden ladder carved into the rock wall.

As far as he knew, Malin was the only non-Moon Scion to know of this place. Kala claimed he wasn’t a Moon Scion, that his abilities came from another land, another source. Perhaps that explained Rahu as well.

From the top of the ladder Malin gazed into a fathomless pit. Even his eyes, well suited to dim light, could not see the bottom. With a sigh he mounted the ladder and began the long climb down. “Keep going down after I dismount,” he whispered to Kala. Odd to think he’d never see the man again. No—best the foreigner be gone. And Rangda take him if anything happened to Revati.

As he climbed lower Malin could see torchlight on the level below. He stepped off the ladder and found Ketu studying the underground pillars. They were the same pillars that rose above ground, but here the scripts changed. They extended even to the lowest level, and there the scripts changed again. Thirty-three different languages, and despite the claims of the priests, no one knew where they came from.

Ketu sat, legs folded, studying what would have been Chandra’s pillar above, making notes in a book. At a glance, it didn’t look like he had made much progress. He paid little attention as Malin neared.

“Ketu, I bring news from Kasusthali.”

Ketu did not look away from the pillar. “I told you to remain there and watch Rahu.”

Malin knelt beside Ketu. “Rahu is dead. Murdered by the Stranger.”

Ketu set the book down, then turned to look at Malin. “You are certain?” When Malin nodded, Ketu rose and ran his hands over the pillar, as though he might translate it by touch. “So they have betrayed us as we knew they would.”

“Rahu was a lunatic. The Stranger did us a favor.”

Ketu shot him a glance over his shoulder, then beckoned Malin to follow him toward the ladder. Malin saw no sign of Kala. Chandra help them both if Ketu spotted the man. The priest stopped and handed Malin a torch, then began to climb down to the lowest level, his pace awkward with one hand. Even Malin found climbing with a torch in one hand difficult.

“My brother …” Ketu paused, as if uncertain whether to continue the ruse. But his claim to the War King’s throne would be stronger if everyone believed he were Rahu’s brother. “Rahu was a lunatic, yes. But the Solars are still responsible for his death. Their favor must be repaid in kind. And we will have work ahead. I must prove to the Lunars my worthiness.” Ketu stepped off the ladder onto another stone level.

Malin had never seen the lowest level, though he had heard of it. As expected, the pillars continued here as well. The rest was less expected. Metal doors led into side chambers, strange circular knobs and levers lined the walls, and blue crystals stood out in the center of the room. Never had anyone but Rahu and Ketu and their most trusted Moon Scions been allowed down here. If Kala told him the truth, he and Rahu had come from one of those rooms. Rangda alone knew how an empty room could send one anywhere.

“Do you know where we are, Malin?”

Malin shook his head, and turned about, taking in the strange room.

“The gods built this place,” Ketu said. “Above, we can study the heavens. Below, we can control them. They entrusted us with the Pact, a pact of guardianship. But the Solars broke the Pact, and now this place is ours.”

Malin paced the room. Light came from under one of the doors. Light and a faint scent, the same milky scent he had smelled on Chandi. The Amrita, precious secret of the Moon Scions. The lie that had separated them from other Lunars for centuries. It took all he had to force himself to keep walking. If he gave away what he knew, if Ketu saw it, he would not leave here alive, and his knowledge would never benefit his people.

Ketu continued unabated. “This place holds the power of the gods, Malin. And now we will turn that power against the Solars.”

Malin started to growl, but caught himself. “How will a ruined observatory help us in war?”

Ketu turned from the strange devices and approached Malin. “You have not been listening, tiger. Take the Macan Gadungan, those that are here, and prepare to assault the Solar villages around this island. You’ll know when the moment is right. The power of Chandra will be on your side.”

Malin nodded. When this was over, one day he would lead his people down here for the Amrita. Then the power of Chandra would indeed be on their side.

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

A Warak Ngendog reared up on its hind legs. The ground trembled as it landed, crushing helpless Lunar soldiers beneath it. Its tail smashed through a trio of warriors even as it bit another in half. From the rail of his ship Naresh could see the Deputy Minister of War had the beach engagement well in hand. Still the screams of battle and the clang of steel reached him.

The Lunars had begun to surround the Warak Ngendog, concerting their efforts. A Sun Stride brought him into their midst. The Lunars might have expected an easy victory at this Solar river village. He intended to disabuse them of the notion they could attack villages without consequence. Two Lunars had died before they realized Naresh was among them.

He waded among the remaining Lunar soldiers, dispatching them without mercy. If he had stopped the Stranger, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe he could have prevented war. Maybe he could have found a place with Chandi.

Another Lunar fell beneath Naresh’s blade. A dozen paces away a Lunar bludgeoned a Solar to death. Naresh Sun Strode behind the Lunar and cut him down.

Soon, the fighting dwindled. Between the Warak Ngendog and the Arun Guard, the Lunars could not win. The Deputy Minister of War picked his way around the carnage toward Naresh. “The beach is ours, Guardsman.”

“The village?”

“They killed many of the people before we got here, razed many buildings. It’ll take the villagers months to repair all the damage. The Lunars didn’t want the village, they wanted to cut off our food supplies. They’re attacking other villages as we speak. We captured a few prisoners, but I doubt we’ll get much out of them.”

“We’ll deal with the other villages when we’re finished here,” Naresh said, rubbing his face. “I want the survivors evacuated to Kasusthali. Prisoners too.”

The Deputy Minister nodded. The man commanded the troops, but he would defer to Naresh in most other matters. Not just because of the Sun Brand. Everyone on the battlefield looked to the Arun Guard as leaders, protectors, champions. Naresh wasn’t sure he wanted or deserved the role anymore.

He walked back to the edge of the water and knelt in the sand. The incoming tide washed over his knees. Though blood stained the beach and river red, the seawater remained crystal blue. Naresh glanced back at the carnage behind him, unable to reconcile what he had just done with the pure sea before him. He cupped his hands and splashed water over his face. His muscles ached and the bruises Chandi had given him hadn’t even begun to fade.

He forced himself back to his feet and picked his way through the soldiers, both living and dead, trying not to gag at the stench of death. Those who lived would need to see him strong now, however he felt. A groan escaped a body on the ground. Naresh knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look at me,” he said. “Look at me.” The man’s eyes fluttered open. “Medic!”

The man lifted his hand and Naresh grasped it. Terror blanketed the fallen soldier’s face.

“It’s all right, you’ll be all right.”

The man tried to speak, but it came out as a groan. His eyes grew wider and he lifted his other trembling hand to point at something beyond Naresh. When he turned, Naresh saw the medic running toward them. Other men stood as if in awe. Staring at the sky. At the sun. The edge of a shadow had fallen across the sun, a growing sliver of darkness. A chill ran through Naresh and his breath caught in his throat. Not possible.

An eclipse.

Solar astrologers predicted such events years in advance. They would have known.

A roar erupted from the rainforest beyond the village. And another, and another. A chorus of nightmares.

They didn’t have time to retreat to the ships. The Deputy Minister had seen it, moved to call the troops back into their battalions. One of those he had sent to the rainforest to hunt for stragglers.

Naresh ran from the beach to the top of the nearest hill. From there he could see that scouting battalion, falling back in confusion, in fear. They had no Arun Guardsmen with them, no one to protect them from the horrors descending upon them.

The edge of the rainforest was a wall of green.

At first a single tiger emerged. Tigers followed on either side. The animals waited, watched as the Solar unit tried to order itself back into fighting companies.

And then the tigers charged. The Macan Gadungan poured from the rainforest, an army of beasts. The Guard couldn’t have prepared for this. Weretigers shouldn’t have been able to assume animal forms. The moon passing before the sun would give the weretigers a few moments as tigers. Naresh could see they would break through the Solar battalion and reach the beach in those few moments.

The last rays of sunlight winked out behind the shadow of the moon. They hadn’t known, hadn’t prepared. It was madness to think the Lunars could create an eclipse.

Naresh pulled back his baju to check the sunburst tattoo. Already it had lost much of its luster, faded to a lifeless gold. He should have saved the energy. Shouldn’t have been so free in using it to slaughter Lunar soldiers when the battle was already won. Few of the Arun Guard would have full stores of energy now. They could recharge with a phase in sunlight, but with the sun hidden behind the moon they were lost. As Naresh slid the keris from its sheath once again, he prayed the eclipse would not last long.

He Sun Strode from the hilltop to the beleaguered battalion. Even as he appeared he chopped down a weretiger. He couldn’t savor the victory. He burned more sunlight to increase his speed—the only way he could stand against so many. Another he cut down, and another.

He Strode to a tiger attacking a Solar and cut it across the face. He Strode again to kill another before the first tiger had fallen. Another tiger batted his sword from his hand and leapt on top of him. He couldn’t wrestle the animal, so he grabbed it and Strode into the sky. In the weretiger’s surprise, Naresh managed to separate himself from it and Strode back down to the ground. The tiger struck hard a moment later. Solar warriors finished it in an instant.

Naresh bent to retrieve his sword. He didn’t need to check the tattoo. He had spent it all in that maneuver. Without that power, he stood among the Macan Gadungan, a mere mortal.

CHAPTER SEVENTY

From the rainforest Malin could hear the sounds of battle, could feel the ground vibrate as the Warak Ngendog trampled Lunar soldiers underfoot. Ketu said he’d know when the time was right.

And then he felt it, felt the moon’s pull. Even through the thick rainforest canopy he saw the sky growing dark. A murmur swept through the Macan Gadungan. An eclipse would soon blanket out the sun, though no one had predicted such an event.

Beneath the moon, he was freed, freed from his inability to assume beast form. Malin tore his baju from his shoulders, the rest of the Macan Gadungan following his example. A hundred men and women stripped down behind him. Heat welled up in his heart, began coursing through his veins. The spirit within surged. His muscles twitched, bones shifted. Malin arched his back and fell to all fours, felt the fur sprouting. The sweet agony of the change overcame him and a roar ripped out of his lungs. The roars of the rest of the Macan Gadungan echoed him.

Pulse pounding in his ears, Malin ran from the jungle, not slowing even as the Solar battalion tried to flee. In the space of three heartbeats he had closed the gap. A Solar tried to turn to face him, but Malin tore out his throat. Other weretigers crashed by him.

And then an Arun Guard was among them, cutting them down as they had at Astral Shore. A weretiger tried to overpower the man—Naresh, damn him—but the Guardsmen Sun Strode them both into the sky.

Naresh reappeared on the ground, hesitated. So, he had used the extent of his power. Malin charged, leapt onto the Guardsman and bore him down. He snapped at Naresh’s throat, considered ending it. But this was too fine a prize to squander. His fellows understood his snarls and surrounded the Guardsman, nipping and bashing, but not slaying.

Malin charged another Arun Guardsmen, the rest of the Macan Gadungan a step behind. The Guardsman Sun Strode into their midst and in moments had cut down four weretigers. The rest of the Macan Gadungan ripped out the man’s throat when the glow of sunlight faded from his eyes.

At first the other Solar soldiers tried to restore order, tried to form into ranks under the command of an officer. But without the Arun Guard’s power, the Warak Ngendog began to veer off course. First the beast bellowed, then it rocked, shaking off its rider. The ground shook as the creature crashed through the Solar lines, running from the battle. The fallen rider turned to paste beneath one of the dragon beast’s legs.

Malin and his people backed away from the rampaging beast, turning instead to hunt fleeing Solar soldiers. When the sun began to peek out from behind the moon once again, few Solars remained alive and free. As sunlight increased, the beast spirit drew back inside, forced him back to human form. He wobbled as he rose, unsteady as always when returning to two legs. Most of the Macan Gadungan had begun to steal sarongs from corpses to wrap around their waists. Malin did so as well.

Bleeding and bruised, Naresh remained defiant, although two of the Macan Gadungan had to hold him upright. Malin looked his prey in the eyes. Some of the Guardsman’s bruises looked old, some fresh. Naresh did not cower before him, though Malin would have been disappointed if breaking the Guardsman had been that easy. He threw all his weight behind a punch that sent Naresh sprawling. “Take him to Bukit,” he told his people. “We will make an example of him.”

Malin paused then, to look over the devastation. Most of the ordinary Lunar soldiers had fallen, but so too had most of the Solars. Ketu had done it. And in doing so he had committed a blasphemy beyond measure. Man should not control the celestial sphere, and Ketu most of all should not hold such power.

Malin had thought he needed to claim the Astral Temple to prevent anyone else from following where Rahu and Kala had come from. Perhaps he also needed to hold it to stop men like Ketu from exploiting it. The man’s actions could bring the wrath of the Moon God down on all of them.

The Moon Scions had ruled the Lunars for too long.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

Almost a week without sleep had taken its toll on Chandi. After what had happened with Naresh, perhaps she would never sleep again. She trudged through the Igni District. In the bangun phase, just before sunrise, few of the Ignis had risen yet.

The call of the Blessings surged through her, sent her trembling. She needed them. Fire scorched her veins.

She slumped against the side of a building to avoid a small crowd of Ignis rushing past. What had she done? She wanted to blame it all on the lunacy, though the thought she was becoming like Rahu offered small comfort. Would she meet the same fate? Moon Scions said killing a lunatic was mercy. Perhaps someone would show her that mercy. Soon.

She pushed off the wall and rubbed the sleep of a restless nap from her eyes, then had to step backward as another group of Ignis hurried past. After a moment’s hesitation, she crept after the Igni party. If something was happening, she needed to know. Semar might have helped her, but she couldn’t face him after what she’d done.

As long as she stayed away from the lantern posts the Ignis had little chance to see her following. They led her to a wooden apartment building where two went inside; the other three mulled about, shifted their weight, wrung their hands. They didn’t talk. Chandi crouched in the shadows, watching the men. She needed the Glamour. Just for this. Chandi bit her lip, trying to fight the urge.

The first two men returned, arms laden with weapons they soon distributed to their companions.

It was happening. The Ignis intended to flood the city. Which meant her people were attacking. They might already have ships in the harbor, or Jadian approaching by land.

And where was Naresh? He must have gone to war, and now he’d return to find his home destroyed. She had betrayed him yet again, this time in madness and rage. She rose and started to run toward the tube to the Circuit. It didn’t matter if Naresh would never forgive her. She couldn’t let this happen, couldn’t let these people die.

The pressure she’d placed on Semar may have brought them to this. Another group of Ignis spotted her running and moved to intercept her. If she used her Blessings she could run up the wall or outpace them. She had to, had to. If they caught her, she’d help no one. A good reason, it was a good reason. Chandi bit her tongue until she tasted blood. Fight the temptation. Her body tingled with the anticipation of the Blessing. Fight it. There would always be a good reason to draw it.

Fight it.

Even exhausted, even without her Blessings, she was in excellent condition. She dodged around the Ignis, then darted down an ally. Around a few more bends, and she must have lost them. She didn’t slow.

She’d made so many mistakes. So many. Too exhausted to laugh or cry, she ran on, through the Circuit. Ignis assaulted unsuspecting watchmen there, but she didn’t have time to help them.

On through the Temple District she ran, hoping Aji Bidara had already come to prepare for the morning service. Dawn was half a phase away.

She burst through the doors to the Temple of the Sun and found the Radiant Queen kneeling in prayer at the center of the dome. Candles lined the walls, illuminating the temple before sunrise. Aji Bidara rose and turned at Chandi’s entrance, her face calm, but her eyes darkened.

“Child,” the Radiant Queen said, “you must be mad to come here. Naresh protected you once.” Chandi winced at the reminder. The Queen drifted toward her at a steady pace. “But to come into our presence without him, much less to barge into our temple—at least now we will have a chance to finish the discussion our son interrupted.”

“I need to tell you something, Your Radiance—”

“You will tell us everything, child.”

Aji Bidara vanished and appeared beside Chandi. Before Chandi could react, the Queen had a hand on her and they both reappeared on the upper balcony that rimmed the temple. By the time Chandi reoriented herself, Aji Bidara had pressed her against the dome, and the crystal melded to engulf Chandi’s arms. The cold, jagged crystals dug into her flesh. All her twisting and pulling only sent lances of pain through her shoulders.

Could she break out with the Potency Blessing?

“I came here to help you!”

“You will help us.” Aji Bidara stepped closer and lifted Chandi’s chin in her hand, forced her to meet the taller woman’s gaze. “How did your people create the eclipse?”

Eclipse? She’d walked in a daze, hadn’t talked to anyone. Was it possible her father had created an eclipse at the Astral Temple?

“The Ignis are rebelling. They’re planning to crack the domes. My people are attacking, soon. You have to—”

“Was it the Astral Temple? Did your people find a way to use it to alter the course of the moon? What blasphemy have you worked there?”

The plans she had seen in the scroll case, in Rahu’s room. That must have been what they meant. The power to change the course of the heavens. If the Solars did not reclaim the Temple, they could never stop the Macan Gadungan. Her father could unleash the Jadian any time he wanted, while preventing the Arun Guard from charging their Sun Brands.

“I don’t know,” Chandi said. “Maybe the Temple. But you aren’t listening. It’s the Ignis. They’ve been hiding weapons, I saw them. They’re attacking watchmen in the Circuit, they must be moving on the other districts as well. If they overtake the Harbor District, you’ll be defenseless against the incoming Lunar army.”

“Why come to us, child?”

“I’ve seen your power, maybe you can stop them.”

Aji Bidara nodded to herself and turned away. The crystal dome released Chandi and she fell forward, but caught her balance.

“Please,” she called after Aji Bidara, who already walked toward the stairs. “Where is Naresh? I have to find him.”

The Queen watched her a moment, nodding her head. “We thought so. You are the Lunar girl he wanted to marry, aren’t you? A Lunar servant, in love with our son. My, how you forget yourself, child.”

Chandi rushed toward her. She would not let this arrogant tyrant stop her. “Where is he?”

“Gone.” The Queen’s voice had grown quiet. “Our son is gone. Captured during the eclipse, taken by your people. We imagine already on his way to Bukit. Beyond all help.”

In Bukit they would kill him. Her father would make a spectacle of it, drag it out, then destroy him. Perhaps she still had time. She pushed past the Radiant Queen. “Not all help.”

“Child,” Aji Bidara called to her as she fled the temple. “Do you really think you can save my son?”

Chandi turned to face the woman. The most powerful woman in the world. But for once the mask of certainty had fallen.

“I am not a child, nor a servant. I am a Moon Scion and I will save Naresh, at any cost.”

The Radiant Queen’s eyes widened, but she nodded. “Then go with the speed of dawn.”

She would. She ran all the way back to the palace, her chest heaving, lungs burning, then dashed inside. In her rush, Chandi plowed into Bendurana, sending them both toppling to the ground.

“Help me,” she cried as she untangled her legs from him and rose, wobbling. Her head throbbed from where they collided.

“My lady, I assure you, you don’t need to call for help. I’m not trying to accost you, much as I might enjoy the pleasure of having you sprawled atop me.”

Chandi grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. “Bendurana, it’s me. I need your help.”

“Ah, Chandi. Things are tense now. Can this wait?”

Chandi dragged him toward the Arun Guard mess hall. “Is Landorundun in there? What we’ve done—”

“Yes. The Ignis will bring death here in their quest for freedom. I wanted to get some people out of the city before that happens.”

Chandi pulled him behind her. “It’s happening now. The Radiant Queen knows. And I need to get to Bukit. Now.”

Bendurana laughed. “In the middle of a war? I do like a challenge, and there might even be profit in it. But first we must deal with the situation here, my lady.”

Chandi grabbed him by the shoulders. “You know what it means to love someone the rules say you can’t have.” Bendurana coughed at her assertion, but she continued without pause. “You know how it feels, the weight of tradition keeping you from what you want. And I say damn tradition. I love Naresh, and now he’s been captured, taken to Bukit. They’ll kill him, unless you take me there and we save him.”

Bendurana rocked back on his heels and whistled. “Well then. Well, well then. A daring rescue. Braving great danger in the name of love. And breaking all the rules in the process. Finally something worth my not inconsiderable talents.” He grinned. “I do love a challenge.” Then he glanced back at the harbor. “But your taste in men leaves something to be desired, if you’ll forgive me, my lady. And I can hardly leave …”

“My taste?” Chandi released his shoulders. “You warned me about Naresh all those years ago when you brought us here. But you were wrong. He’s a good man. Can you let him die alone in a Lunar dungeon?”

Bendurana’s grin returned and he put a hand on her shoulder. “No. No, I can’t.”

With a nod Chandi turned to rush for the Arun Guard mess hall. Instead she found Landorundun standing behind her. The Guardswoman’s fist caught Chandi by surprise and sent her sprawling to the floor. “You’re a fool to come here after what you’ve done.”

“Landi,” Bendurana said, but she waved him back.

Hand to her lip to wipe away the blood, Chandi snickered as she rose. “You’re the second woman to say that to me this phase.”

The Guardswoman’s hand drifted to her keris. “I don’t know where you’ve been hiding these past days. Naresh didn’t want you killed, but he’s not here and he’s not in charge. Surya knows you deserve it.” The blade began to inch free of its sheath.

“I deserve it.”

“And it’s time you had it.” The blade lurched free. “You’ve lied to us for years. He told me who you really are. You pretended to be a servant to spy on us. You pretended to care about him so I’d trust you. You pretended to be human when you’re a Moon Scion.” Landorundun’s voice rose with each accusation.

Chandi backed away. “I am human, and a Moon Scion, yes. But I never pretended to care about Naresh—I love him. If you believe nothing else I’ve ever said, please, please believe that. I swear on the moon, I swear on the sun, I’ll swear on the Igni’s sacred flame, I love him.” A tremor ran through her. “Grief overcame me, lunacy from my Blessings. That’s no excuse, and I know you can’t really understand the latter problem, but I swear, I swear—”

Landorundun pointed the blade at her. Rather than move to defend herself, Chandi raised her chin to expose her throat. Without the Guardswoman’s help she could never save Naresh. If Landorundun wanted to kill her, let her. But her resolve didn’t stop her from trembling.

Bendurana cried out, but the Guardswoman didn’t look at him. And then her arm fell to her side, the fire gone from her eyes. Once proud, now she seemed only haggard.

“Please help me ,” Chandi said. “I know you don’t love him, but if you care about him—you must, you’re marrying him—you must help me save him.”

“I can’t do anything for him. By now he’s halfway to Bukit. I couldn’t help him even if I could leave Kasusthali, and I can’t. An attack may come at any time.”

Chandi held her tongue. She should tell Landorundun about the Igni rebellion, about what it meant, but if she did the Guardswoman might not help her.

“And I’m not marrying him,” Landorundun added.

“What …” Chandi fought to control her voice. “What do you mean you’re not marrying him?”

“He broke it off because of you. And because of Ben and me.”

No, he had said they could never … Laughter bubbled out though she wanted to cry. Perhaps she’d gone more lunatic than she thought.

“He’s beyond our power to help, now, Chandi. I’m sorry. He was a good man, but we need our forces to protect Kasusthali. A siege on Swarnadvipa would be doomed.” Landorundun pulled her into an embrace with her free hand. “Doomed and a waste of life, even for a good man.”

Chandi slipped free from the Solar woman. “We don’t have to lay siege to it. Give me a ship. One ship won’t make a difference here.”

“I can’t send away our military forces in time of war, Chandi. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Ben said. “I’ll take her.”

“Absolutely not.”

Bendurana had already started from the room, and Chandi chased after him. “Sorry, my dear,” he called over his shoulder. “But you cannot order me not to go. I won’t leave Chandi without recourse.”

“You know I damn well won’t let you go alone, Ben.”

Chandi ran on, unable to find the words of gratitude she owed them. The intersection where the Circuit should have joined the south tube was gone. Smooth crystal sealed off the west wall, cutting off access to the Igni District. Had Aji Bidara sealed the Ignis inside?

Bodies lined the tube, both Igni and Solar soldiers. But the carnage inside didn’t prepare her for the sight as they entered the harbor.

Dozens, maybe hundreds of Lunar ships clogged the harbor. The Radiant Queen stood upon a pier, glowing like the sun. As she stretched out her hand, the waters trembled. Waves rushed away in all directions and crystal spires hundreds of feet tall launched themselves from the bottom of the sea.

The spires ripped Lunar ships to pieces. Chandi slipped in blood and fell to the pier, unable to take her eyes from the sight. Smaller spears grew from the sides of the giant ones. Those spears flew from the spires like arrows from gandewas, splintering even more ships.

As the awe passed, scores of Ignis rushed the Radiant Queen. The goddess would annihilate them with a thought. But Chandi saw fear flash over Aji Bidara’s eyes. She vanished, appearing a short distance away. Not far enough.

“Your Radiance,” Landorundun shouted, Striding to her side, sword in hand. The Ignis swarmed over the women. Landorundun cut down one, and another. She was gone. She was everywhere. With each Stride Ignis died.

Chandi forced herself to her feet and ran for them. Landorundun could never keep it up. An Igni clubbed Aji Bidara over the head. The Radiant Queen fell limp. Landorundun screamed. No longer Striding, she chased the murderers down on foot, hacking down one after another.

Lunar sailors had begun to climb from their wrecked ships onto the piers. Chandi knelt beside Aji Bidara’s body. Dead.

Chandi spun at the hand on her shoulder, grabbed the assailant by the throat. Kakudmi.

Chandi released the Solar emperor, who rubbed his throat. She raised her hands in surrender. How does one apologize for trying to throttle an emperor? And then her eyes narrowed. She owed this man no apologies.

“Why? Why did you trust the Stranger?” Chandi blurted. “Why bring such a man here?”

Kakudmi knelt beside Aji Bidara’s body and closed her eyes. “He knew this would happen, and he was right. It’s why I asked him to take Revati to safety.”

Chandi wanted to hate him for that. For sending Revati away. But he’d saved the girl’s life. And she found no words.

Landorundun returned and fell to her knees at the body. “I’ve failed her. I’ve failed in my duty as First of the Arun Guard.”

Bendurana had already boarded the Queen of the South Sea.

“We’ve all failed ourselves,” Kakudmi said, “and now we pay for our sins.”

“What on Chandra’s dark side could possess you to trust Kala?”

Landorundun grabbed her arm and squeezed. “Speak with respect.”

Kakudmi rose, holding up a hand. “No, it’s all right, Landorundun. I made many mistakes, but this was not one of them. Even you can see Rahu had to die. War was inevitable from the time the Macan Gadungan sacked the Astral Temple. Maybe it was always inevitable and my own desire to restore the Pact blinded me.”

Restore the Pact? Joint custody of the Temple for all three dynasties?

“You sound like Rahu,” Chandi said. “Nothing is inevitable. We create the world we live in. Right now, Naresh is on his way to Bukit, if he’s not there already. And I for one won’t give way to inevitability. I may not be able to help Revati, but I know where Naresh is.”

“Then you must find him,” Kakudmi said.

Landorundun waved her hand at the devastation. “Your Radiance, we cannot spare anyone for a rescue mission.”

“Naresh is the son of the Radiant Queen. With her fallen, it makes him a powerful symbol for our people.” Kakudmi paused, then looked Landorundun in the face. “He’s the son of Aji Bidara. And of Empu Baradah.” Landorundun started to sputter something, but he waved her to silence. “Naresh doesn’t know. I don’t think his legal father knew either. But I promised Empu Baradah I’d look after him. I ask you to keep that promise and help me uphold what honor I have left.”

Landorundun bowed, then left. Chandi remained a moment, meeting the emperor’s gaze. “I know who you are,” he said. “Before judging me, look to your own part in all of this.”

Once it would have surprised her that Kakudmi knew her. Now she too bowed and left. Landorundun cast a last look at Aji Bidara’s body.

“I won’t let her son share her fate,” Chandi said.

Landorundun boarded the Queen of the South Sea without a word. Chandi rushed up the gangway as the crew untied the last lines from the dock.

“And now, ladies, you’ll see just how swift the Queen of the South Sea is,” Bendurana said from the poop deck.

His crew must have seen what happened, by the solemn look on their faces, but they handled the ship without faltering. Bendurana threaded the dhow through the Solar naval vessels moving to defend the harbor. Lunar ships approached.

“They won’t take time to consider we’re not military,” Bendurana said as Chandi and Landorundun joined him.

Sure enough, a Lunar dhow broke off to pursue them. Ben’s crew redoubled their efforts at his shouts. Men rushed about, while Chandi and Landorundun watched the approaching Lunar vessel from the rail.

“Ben, they’re gaining on us.” Landorundun started to draw her sword.

Chandi grabbed the woman’s arm. “No! If they know we have Arun Guard aboard they’ll be more likely to pursue.”

“Gandewas,” Bendurana called. A half dozen of his men rushed onto the poop deck and readied the Solar bows. “Let the moon fall from the sky.” Then he noticed Chandi. “Sorry about that, my lady.”

The crew loosed two volleys at the pursuing ship. Chandi watched, wishing she could help. Even if they closed the distance, she didn’t want to risk drawing her Blessings. After a third volley the Lunar ship began to fall behind.

As the Queen of the South Sea turned with the wind she sped away from the slower ships. The crew let the support yards out perpendicular with the wind. Chandi had never felt such a sense of speed.

“They’ll want glory today in battle, not days chasing merchants,” Bendurana said as if she had asked. “Our bigger threat will come in the journey ahead.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

The sea burst through the Circuit in a torrent that swept away men and women and children and drowned their screams in the rush of water. It poured into the Civic District from all around. Ratna shrieked, pulling up short. She’d been running for that very passage. Where was Malin? He was supposed to get her out of here before this happened. Sweet Chandra, she was really going to die, wasn’t she?

She drew her Potency Blessing as hard as she could and made a mad dash for the next entrance to the Circuit. There had to be some way out of this city. There had to be. She was not going to die. She couldn’t die. Revati needed her.

Water pouring in through the Circuit was rapidly filling the Civic District. The rush of it carried her off her feet and flung her against a building. Staggered from the collision, Ratna was pulled under by the currents. A mouthful of seawater seared her lungs and she burst back to the surface, coughing, hacking the water back up only an instant before she was pulled under again.

Once more she was thrown against a building, smacking her head so hard she almost lost her Blessing. If that happened, she might lose consciousness and it would be all over. Whatever happened, she had to hold onto that Blessing.

A woman reached for her—or toward her, for the woman was too far away to touch Ratna. Shaking herself, Ratna rose, struggling to regain her feet in the now waist-deep waters. What she saw almost knocked the Blessings out of her grasp.

“M-Mother?”

The current shoved her forward again, and Ratna blinked. The apparition—if that’s what it was—now stood some distance away, down another alley. Ratna rushed after her mother, diving into the current rather than trying to struggle against it, suddenly grateful for all those swimming lessons with Malin.

Blessings still grasped, she kicked off a building, launching herself forward as far as she could. Water continued to rise, forcing her upward just to catch a breath.

“Mother!”

Ratna turned about, treading water, trying to spot the ghost or whatever she had seen. A flicker, a shadow passed out down one of the tubes. She had hit her head. She was chasing a hallucination into a watery grave. But what else was she going to do? This part of the Circuit had not fully filled with water, but it was rapidly doing so. She’d never swim this.

Damn, this was going to kill her even if the waters didn’t. Ratna drew her Gliding Blessing as well, centering her gravity on the tube wall and running sideways along it, above the water level. She passed what should have been an intersection but was now sealed off by crystal. That was why this tube hadn’t flooded yet. Somehow, the Solars had sealed it off, creating an escape, if a rapidly dwindling one.

Heart pounding so hard it felt ready to burst, Ratna ran on. The Circuit would carry her around to the Harbor District. She ran past Solars and Ignis struggling to keep up with the current, but she wasn’t going to be able to stay ahead of the rising water level. She just wasn’t fast enough.

Here, though, the water was coming in from the districts, meaning its own current was forcing her in the direction she needed to go. Ratna released her Gliding and sucked down as much air as her lungs could hold, then dove into the water. She didn’t fight it, instead, using the current to speed her swimming as she surged toward the final intersection that would lead up to the Harbor District.

To freedom.

The current had grown so strong it was likely to sweep her right past the intersection. Close to the wall, Potency still drawn, she caught the edge with her fingers. Momentum yanked her shoulders so hard she couldn’t hold back the grunt, losing her air when she did so. And still, she pulled herself into the intersection.

Her head broke above water and she gasped for air, then crawled up the tunnel on her hands and knees. She’d lost her Blessings and couldn’t reach them. A persistent tremble built in her chest and all she wanted to do was collapse and weep.

She pulled herself upward and out into the harbor, pausing on the pier, ready to collapse.

A group of Solars stood there wailing, and Ratna couldn’t shake the sick feeling that ran through her. Still on her knees, she crawled forward until she saw there were two groups of Solars. They had gathered around the bodies of Aji Bidara, their Radiant Queen, and of Kakudmi. Other bodies lay around them, Ignis who had been torn to pieces.

Ratna sat, staring at her dead husband. Blood still seeped from numerous fresh wounds, but it had slowed to a trickle. Ratna retched, coughing up more seawater and everything else in her stomach. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

Let the Demon Queen take you, Kakudmi.

No. That wasn’t what she’d meant. It wasn’t what she’d wanted.

Her mother had been a witch, had had power over spirits. Was it possible Ratna had brought this on her husband, had killed him with a curse placed in anger? Or maybe that was far too easy a solution, one she could almost absolve herself of, claiming she hadn’t known. But she had known what the Ignis planned and she had done nothing to stop them. Indeed, she had aided their mission.

Ratna, the Empress Traitor.

And what had it bought her?

Revati was gone. Her father was gone. And now, even her uncaring husband was gone.

Finally, she let exhaustion claim her and sunk to the pier. Nothing mattered any more.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

At night, Bukit was beautiful. Malin didn’t like cities, of course, but Bukit was far preferable to Kasusthali. Instead of crystal domes and the stifling sea, above him, the moon and a million stars. Without such a reminder of their place in the universe, the Solars’ decadence came as little surprise.

Two dozen of the Macan Gadungan followed behind him, spread out in a fan, combing the streets. The wooden buildings and dirt roads were more natural, too, far more than the grand architecture of Kasusthali.

Maybe when Chandi returned they could fix things. Despite everything, he couldn’t deny he still desired her. Despite her lies and betrayal. But how could she not lie and betray, given the Moon Scion who had raised her, who had sent her to Kasusthali to become spy and betrayer?

He signaled several of his people around the back of the Hill Palace. Its courtyard had long served as a meeting place for Moon Scion councils. The palace was rectangular, with slanted eaves overhanging both the courtyard and the outside of the building.

Six of the Macan Gadungan followed Malin through the front door, Sunten among them. One look at the weretigers, and the door guards made no move to stop them. Rahu’s dog growled at him. It always did. Malin’s stare drove it back into a corner, tail between its legs. Dog without a master. Perhaps it was luckier than it knew.

Naresh would be dead soon, and Chandi would have to reevaluate everything. Just as Malin had done. Just as they were all forced to do because of Rahu’s mad war. Everyone was better off before he’d come.

The sliding doors to the inner courtyard already stood open, allowing servants to bring in food. Those who saw the weretigers scattered, clearing the way. The inner courtyard was lined with bamboo trees and decorated with a fishpond. Ketu and a handful of other Moon Scions sat cross-legged on straw mats, drinking tea.

Ketu nodded at Malin. The others started, and several rose. Hand on the hilt of his keris, Malin walked up to Ketu.

“Enough debate,” Ketu said. “I shall claim my brother’s throne as War King. None of you has the strength to challenge me, and I won’t be undermined behind my back. I wish I could trust any oaths you swore, but we all know oaths sworn under duress are subject to waning.”

One of the Moon Scions broke into a run, leaping onto the wall. Before he had taken three steps toward the roof, Malin reached him. A single swipe of his keris knife hamstrung the poor bastard. The man collapsed back into the courtyard. Malin motioned to his men, and they surrounded the others.

With one hand he grabbed the fallen man by the hair and dragged him to the fishpond. At first, the man flailed as Malin held him under. But his limbs soon lost their strength, and his spasms became less frequent, until the bubbles stopped and he lay still. No one spoke.

Malin sent the Macan Gadungan escorting the others out with a tilt of his head.

“Make sure no one finds the bodies,” Ketu said.

Malin met his gaze, not bowing. “You will remember what I’ve done for you.”

After a moment, he followed his people out into the rainforest. A family of nocturnal monkeys watched them escort the condemned. To their credit, the men didn’t try to flee. If they had, he’d have killed them right here. He would not risk his people to keep Ketu’s betrayal a secret. Perhaps two dozen Macan Gadungan were more than even six Moon Scions wanted to face.

The rainforest smelled vibrant at night, energized. The Macan Gadungan sensed a shift in the air. Everything they had known was about to change. It began with Rahu’s murder. Or before that even, when he discovered the secret of the Amrita, though he had told no one.

“Sunten will escort you across the island,” he told the Moon Scions. “You will not return until I send for you.”

“You’re letting us live?” Sangkuriang asked. “Why?”

“Because things are changing. One day I will call upon you. You will remember this moment.”

Malin stalked through Bukit, unnoticed by most of the night guards. He would help Ketu rise to power, as he’d promised Chandi. But the priest’s reign would be brief.

Malin twitched, part of him wishing he’d shifted, killed Ketu now. But doing so would have meant civil war. Not while the Solars remained a threat.

No one stopped Malin from entering the guard house, or descending through the tunnels beneath Bukit. Rats scurried away from him as he drew near Naresh’s cell. The cells stank of mold and human waste. At least Solars didn’t cage their criminals—Malin had to give them that.

Though the only light came from a lantern down the hall, Malin could see clearly. Naresh seemed to have adjusted to the gloom, too, for he rose as Malin approached. The man had been seated in Kebatinan meditation, as though communing with his god might help him now.

Malin had made damn sure they kept Naresh out of sunlight, moved him only at night. He’d never recharge that damn Brand.

Malin strummed his fingers over the cell bars. “Mighty Arun Guard, hiding in a hole. I’ve waited for this moment.”

“And now you have it at last.”

“You’re just a man, after all.” An arrogant man, alone in the dark without his vile powers. “What does she see in you?” Malin pressed his face against the bars.

“Chandi?” Naresh didn’t step closer.

Malin snarled. “You’re not worthy to speak her name, Solar.”

Naresh smirked, took a step closer. “Maybe she sees the sunlight in me.”

“You’ll never see the sun again. You’ll die alone on this island. No friends, no powers, no god, and no Sun Brand.”

“And she still won’t love you.”

“Her eyes will open with your death.”

Naresh stood and raised his fists before him. “Then come to me, animal.”

Malin licked his lips. He’d taste the man’s blood. Restraint. “Soon enough you will have all the combat you desire. While Kasusthali burns. You’ll die before the Lunars, Naresh. And the death of a Solar champion will unite our people behind Ketu.”

Naresh closed the distance between them, glared at him through the bars. “Even if you kill me, you think you can assault an underwater city?”

“The Ignis have betrayed you. Your city is under siege, Guardsman, if it hasn’t fallen already. Your dynasty is falling as we speak.”

“Speak? All I hear is an animal baying.”

Malin grabbed Naresh’s baju, yanked him into the bars. A satisfying grunt escaped the Guardsman as he fell. Malin left the Solar groaning on the ground.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

Ocean spray broke over the Queen of the South Sea’s prow, splashing Chandi. Her hair streamed behind her in the wind. The ship was as fast as Bendurana claimed. They would reach Bukit soon—but two days had already been lost. Still, she could fix this. She could still save him.

“Even if we get there, what will we do?” Landorundun asked. The other woman basked in the afternoon sunlight and sea air, the hint of a smile on her face warring with the concern in her voice. Landorundun claimed Surya had smiled on them to give them a sunny afternoon.

“I’ll go and get him. Then you’ll help us escape.”

Landorundun put a hand on her shoulder. “Time may be short, but you can’t go in there alone.”

“I have to.” Chandi kept her eyes on the horizon. Soon she would see the peaked roofs of Bukit. Home. “Our best chance is for me to sneak in. Any of you might compromise that.”

Landorundun sighed and dropped her hand, but moved to stand beside Chandi. “We want to help him, too. That’s why we came.”

Chandi glanced back at Ben at the helm. The man waved at them. She wouldn’t be surprised if he loved the adventure even more than the chance to place Naresh in his debt. “And you will help. We’ll have to escape in a hurry. We’ll need a fast ship ready to flee with Lunars chasing behind.”

“The Solar navy far outclasses the Lunar ships,” Landorundun said. “If we can get back to Solar waters, they won’t chase us.”

Perhaps. From what she had seen at Kasusthali, the Lunars intended to give the Solars a fight. Would they still be Solar waters on their return?

“Landorundun!” Both women spun at Ben’s shout. He hurriedly waved them over while shouting orders at his men. “Pirates!”

Chandi and Landorundun exchanged glances. Then they both ran toward the stern, dodging around the scurrying crew.

“What do they want?” Chandi called as she crested the poop deck.

“Palm sugar, spices, pearls, the usual.”

“Well, famous pirate hunter,” Landorundun said, “time to show us how it’s done.”

The captain grimaced. “We’re outnumbered and don’t have the element of surprise. And we can’t afford to lose time, right?” Their faces answered his question. “So we run.”

“Can we outrun them?” Chandi asked.

“Maybe,” Ben said as he moved back to his helmsman.

From the stern rail Chandi could see two ships trailing them, approaching fast as the moments stretched on. “They’re gaining on us.”

Ben gave frantic orders to the crew, but Chandi could see he knew they’d never make it. Ben shrugged. “Worry not, my dears, I have a plan. I always have a plan.”

“So what do we do?” Landorundun asked.

Ben flashed his famous grin. “Heroic victory in the last moment. What else?”

Chandi pulled her toyaks from her kemban.

The captain took the wheel and spun the ship hard. The Queen of the South Sea fell off from the wind and turned toward her pursuers. Chandi braced herself. Deep breaths.

The crew scrambled to trim the centerlines closer to the ship at their captain’s erratic move. Other sailors prepared their gandewas once again. The captain didn’t need to issue instructions. They waited as he brought the ship alongside the Lunar vessels.

The men loosed as one, a hail of arrows falling on the nearest pirate ship. The Lunars returned fire a moment later. Chandi’s Moon Scion reflexes allowed her to dodge arrows, but she was helpless to aid those who fell on the deck below.

“Get closer!” she shouted at Bendurana.

“What are you talking about? We don’t want them boarding us.”

“I want to board them!”

“I’m not getting any closer.”

Chandi grabbed Landorundun’s arm. “Take me there.”

The Arun Guardswoman stared at her as though she had gone mad.

“Take me to the ship, Landorundun.”

In an instant the women stood on the Lunar ship. The Lunars shouted and gaped at them for a moment. And then Landorundun met the nearest charge with her keris. She cut down the attacking man and then she was gone. A man fell a dozen paces away, and then another behind her. Landorundun remained in one spot only long enough to kill a man and then was gone.

Chandi used the confusion to run up the mast, drawing her Gliding Blessing. She grabbed the lookout from the top of the mast and flung him to the sea below. She drew strength into her legs and leapt from the mast onto the rigging. The line ran at an angle down to the poop deck. With her toyaks hooked over the line, she slid down it.

One stick smashed the helmsman’s face as she landed in a roll. The captain and first mate tried to take her as she came up, but they weren’t nearly fast enough. Her left toyak smashed the first mate’s knee while she drove the captain back with her right.

The captain pulled a toyak of his own. He was fast. Moon Scion. But still not fast enough. He fell back under her assault. She wouldn’t relent. Not now. The captain screamed as her stick shattered his arm. The second stick silenced him.

She had just killed her own people. Her stomach heaved, but she fought on. The first mate was crawling away, calling for aid. Chandi slammed her fist into the back of his head and he fell senseless.

Chandi spotted the Arun Guardswoman on the deck below. “Landorundun!”

The Solar woman stood beside her in an instant, her eyes glowing with sunlight. A dozen Lunars were dead, maybe more. Until this moment, Chandi had never really understood the terror the Arun Guard invoked in Lunars. Even when she fought Naresh, she hadn’t understood.

And then they were back beside Bendurana. “The other ship is coming in! Can you two do that again?”

A yearning replaced the bile that filled her gut. The chance to do it again. None of these mere mortals could stand before her. She was the chosen of Chandra. His divine power ran through her veins. And she could do it again, destroy all that stood before her.

The Lunar ship roared like thunder.

Something ripped through the planks of the Queen of the South Sea like a spear from Chandra’s chariot. A piece of the splintered wood flew at her, tore open her cheek as she dove to the deck. Debris and water rained over the ship, splattering her.

When she pushed herself up the first thing she saw was a sailor with a piece of plank in his neck. Bile rose in her throat as she met his lifeless eyes. Blood and salt water ran down her face, filling her mouth and stinging against the gash on her cheek.

Landorundun had fallen nearby, a gouge in her thigh. “What on Surya’s backside was that?” she asked as Chandi helped her stand.

Bendurana staggered over. “They have a Tianxian Fire-Lance.” His voice shook, uncertain for the first time Chandi remembered hearing.

No matter what they had, she would rip them apart. She started to climb the rail to swim over to the Lunar ship.

And then Landorundun was there on the other ship’s poop deck. The captain and first mate were dead before they knew she was among them. Landorundun had returned even as the Lunars collapsed.

But more Lunars remained. Chandi reached for Landorundun’s hand. “We have to kill the rest of them.”

“I don’t have enough sunlight left to Stride.”

“Bloody moon, take me there!”

Ben pushed her aside. “Gandewas!”

The archers launched a volley at the pirates. But already the other vessel was turning, retreating. They had seen what had befallen the first vessel and their own captain. They couldn’t know Landorundun was drained.

Chandi forced her pulse to slow. Her grip on the rail splintered the wood. She was still drawing her Moon Blessings. She was Chandra’s heir.

“Captain, we’re having trouble sealing the hold,” one of the sailors called.

“Most of the cargo’s lost,” another said.

Everything happened as though she watched it through one of the crystal panes the Solars used to cover windows. If she had gone to that other ship, she would never have come back. Her body might have returned, but her mind would have been gone. Just like her uncle.

She shook her head to clear it. Then looked to Bendurana. She grabbed him by one of his locks and pulled his head down. He yelped in her grasp. “Forget the damn cargo! Take me to Bukit now!”

Landorundun shoved her away from Bendurana, then looked at the captain. “How far?”

Ben shrugged and rubbed his scalp. “A phase or two, if we could patch the holes. Without that palm sugar we’ll be hard pressed to give them a reason to let us dock.”

Chandi forced herself to breathe, forced her fists to unclench. “Get us close enough so Landorundun can Sun Stride me over. Stay offshore and repair the ship.”

“I’ll have to recharge the Sun Brand,” Landorundun said.

“Do it.”

Landorundun sighed and glanced around. Then she knelt on the deck, pulled off her shirt, and lay on her stomach. Everyone stared for a moment before going back to bailing out the ship.

Chandi’s eyes traced the intricate sunburst tattoo radiating out from Landorundun’s back. Naresh would have a tattoo just like that between his shoulder blades, running down to his elbows and waist. She knew the sun recharged it, but she hadn’t realized they had to sunbathe to do so.

“Can we make it to Bukit?”

Ben was still staring at Landorundun’s back.

“Captain?”

“We’ll make it.”

She couldn’t hope to save Naresh without using her Blessings. She couldn’t use them again without risking lunacy. But it didn’t matter. She knew, then, she would do whatever it took. She had created this situation for him. And she would fix it no matter the cost.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

When Naresh opened his eyes, Malin had returned. Perhaps it had been a day, perhaps more. Without Surya’s light he couldn’t measure time well. How long the weretiger had stood there he couldn’t guess either, but Malin had a strange gleam in his eyes. Or perhaps that was only torchlight.

Malin unlocked the cell and stepped inside. “Rise, Guardsman. Tonight is your big performance.”

Naresh didn’t get up. “I’m busy. Make an appointment.”

The weretiger flashed his teeth. “Your fans are waiting,” he said as he stalked toward him.

Naresh leapt to his feet, fists up to defend himself. “Fans? Performance? Have you mistaken me for a musician? I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong Guardsman. You’ll have to let me go.”

“It’s not time for you and I to fight. Not yet. Your first opponents will be those who tried to challenge Ketu’s authority. The few who lived, anyway. If you can beat them, you get to live a little longer, too.”

“You want me to fight Moon Scions?”

The weretiger grabbed him by the arm, but he didn’t resist. “Moon Scions were too dangerous for Ketu to allow to live. These are just their followers.”

His captor dragged him down the stone hallway, the opposite direction from the way they had brought him in. The hall wound around several bends before opening into a small waiting chamber. The chamber stank of sweat and blood and urine. Malin paused at the grate door, waiting. Naresh forced himself not to look at the stains along the walls. Then the drums started.

The weretiger pushed open the door and stepped aside. Naresh stared him in the eyes before walking past.

The Lunar coliseum had a high domed ceiling. Moonlight falling through the skylights cast a strange pattern of light and dark on the sand floor. A high wall separated him from the catcalling spectators, perhaps twenty feet above him. Above their heads echoed the sound of a crank, then fire shot around in a ring above the seating.

The door closed behind him. This place—he had heard stories. The bloody arena of Bukit. Where the Lunars sent their prisoners to die in combat. The stories didn’t do it justice. This massive arena beneath the city seemed a twisted mockery of the great dome of the imperial palace in Kasusthali. He shuddered as the drum tempo increased. Another grate door opened and someone shoved a trio of Lunars out. Each bore a Lunar keris knife.

They edged closer to him, forming a ring. Naresh looked up into the stands. One section stood elevated. The flames behind the spectators made them hard to see, but it must be Ketu. “Am I to fight three armed men with my bare hands?”

The figure at the center of the dais stood. “The prisoner asks our mercy. He shall have it.” Ketu tossed a Solar keris sword down into the arena. It landed some distance behind the nearest advancing Lunar.

Naresh turned, keeping each Lunar in sight as best he could. They’d know he would go for the sword. One of the others started to move in. Naresh ran at that man. The Lunar fell back, his eyes wide. Naresh dove into a roll on the sand, grabbing a handful of it as he rose on the other side of the slave, then took off in a dash for the sword.

The man guarding it stepped to block his path. Naresh flung the sand in the Lunar’s eyes, then sidestepped the blinded man’s wild swings. He kicked the sword up into his hand and cut down the screaming Lunar.

The crowd roared, but in praise or condemnation Naresh couldn’t say. The other two men hesitated. He might as well get this over with. They had sealed their fates when they decided to challenge Ketu, and Naresh had no choice now.

One swung at him when he got close. Naresh dodged to the side, putting the man between himself and the second Lunar. He parried another swing and caught the man on the temple with his fist. The Lunar dropped to the sand. When the second Lunar hesitated, Naresh ran his sword through the downed man. He couldn’t allow him to continue the fight.

The final Lunar still hesitated, so Naresh feinted right, then swung left. The Lunar fell, a gouge in his chest.

Naresh turned and stared up at Ketu. Sword in hand, he raised his arms in mock salute. Ketu would continue to throw his enemies at Naresh until one killed him. Or until the crowd grew tired of the diversion. And then Ketu would have him killed.

A murmur ran through the crowd. Ketu nodded at Naresh, then whispered something to a Lunar beside him. After a moment, Naresh heard the grate door reopen. This time Malin tromped through it, pulling a pair of toyaks from the back of his sarong as he walked.

Dual toyaks. Again. Surya’s blazing backside.

“So, Solar, now you must fight your own battle. No Sun Brand. No Sun Striding. Just you and me. What you wanted, isn’t it?”

They both walked toward the center of the coliseum.

“You killed Empu Baradah.”

“Yes, I did.” Malin circled him, snarling. “And Empu Baradah killed dozens of my people. Some were my mates.”

“And now I’m going to kill you, beast.” He feinted to the right and swung low.

Malin ignored the feint and parried the attack with one toyak. His fist caught Naresh across the jaw and sent him sprawling. Naresh’s mouth felt heavy and his neck strained. After spitting blood, he forced himself to his feet. Malin had the strength and speed of the tiger, even in human form.

“I’ll enjoy ripping your throat out,” Malin said.

“And you think Chandi will love you after?”

As Malin swung, Naresh dove into a roll and came up behind the weretiger. But Malin spun, parried Naresh’s counterattack. “You’ll never know the answer to that.”

Naresh launched several probing strikes. “I already know.” Malin gave ground before the assault, his face impassive.

The weretiger twisted his next parry and shoved Naresh back. In an instant Malin was on him, his fist pummeling Naresh’s right shoulder. Naresh screamed and the sword fell from his hand as he stumbled backward. The agony told him Malin had dislocated his shoulder.

But Malin didn’t move in to finish him. The weretiger was enjoying this too much. Instead he dropped the toyaks and then tore open his baju. He fell to all fours as his muscles rippled and fur began to sprout all over his body.

Naresh scrambled over to the keris and retrieved it with his left hand. He stepped away from Malin. Now only a tiger stood before him. But the eyes, they remained the same.

Malin kicked off his sarong with his hind legs, then began to circle Naresh. If he hadn’t been able to kill Malin in human form, what chance did he have now? Naresh turned, keeping the tiger in front, keeping the sword between them.

Malin faked a lunge toward him. Naresh slashed, but the tiger easily twisted to the side. Malin lunged back in. His teeth sank into Naresh’s left leg. Naresh fell screaming to the blood-soaked sand. Malin released his leg. For a moment their eyes locked. Malin was acknowledging him as a worthy adversary. A final salute before the kill.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

“I’m afraid the entertainment has already begun,” the usher told Chandi. He stood outside the coliseum doors, arms folded over his chest, unaware of the unconscious weretigers she had left in her wake.

Chandi didn’t relish using her Moon Blessings again, much less on this pompous fool. Oh, she wanted to, so much it scared her. But she could feel herself slipping. Had any lunatic ever recovered? “I’m going in to see my father. You know who my father is?”

“No. But I’ve orders not to open the coliseum until after the show. Orders from War King Ketu.”

“Ketu is my father.”

The usher looked over her torn and bloodstained clothes. “I’m sure he is. And he’ll be happy to see you once the show is over.”

“Wrong on both counts.” Chandi punched him in the gut. “He’ll not be happy to see me.” She shoved the doubled-over man out of her way. “And it won’t be after the show.”

She opened the doors a crack and slipped through. The crowd roared at the spectacle below. No one paid her any mind as she descended the steps to the rail around the lowest tier of seats.

Her merciful father had thrown Naresh against Malin. The weretiger had disrobed and shifted before she reached the rail.

One of Ketu’s guards saw her and moved to intercept her. “Chandi,” the guard called. “Your father asks you to join him on the dais.”

She pulled her toyaks and continued down the stairs.

“Stop.” The man reached for his keris.

Her left stick took him in the shoulder, her right followed, smashing his jaw. Now people stood, gaping at her. She ignored them.

Naresh screamed.

Chandi ran to the rail and leapt over the side.

Malin and Naresh glared at each other, eyes locked. Then they both looked in her direction as she rose from her crouch. Malin bared his teeth. The look on Naresh’s face would have been worth the trip alone—his mouth hung open, but his eyes pleaded with her.

“Chandi!” her father shouted. “Do not interfere.”

“Father.” She glanced at him as she strode toward Malin. “I challenge Malin.” The crowd murmured. Some laughed. “The impudent Macan Gadungan forgot himself and thought to make me his mate.”

Malin snarled. He had made his choices, and she had made hers. She had never beaten him. But she would now.

She ran at him and leapt in the air, flipped over him as he swiped a claw at her. He spun so fast she had to break off her attack. She vaulted into a handspring to escape, then rolled to the left and launched a wide swing with her right stick.

Malin leapt out of the way, then immediately pounced back toward her. Chandi ducked and rolled under his attack. He was holding back, wasn’t he? The tiger could have raked her with his claws, but he didn’t. His indecision would cost him.

Chandi feinted left, then jumped over his counter. She drew her Potency Blessing as hard as she could, wiping her toyaks in wide, rapidly changing arcs. And then the tiger was on the defensive, snapping when he could, but always falling back from her lightning-fast strikes. She did an aerial cartwheel over his next attack and jabbed him in the ribs. A yelp escaped him and he tried to back away. She advanced on the fleeing tiger. As Malin snapped at her again, her stick smashed across his maw.

The tiger fell with a gurgle. Chandi hesitated, then walked away, walked back to Naresh. She stowed her toyaks and pulled the man to his feet. She braced him against her hip and jerked his dislocated shoulder back into place. Naresh groaned and she had to support his full weight as his legs buckled.

“You have taken all that belonged to Malin, daughter,” her father called from above. “Including his prey.”

“Yes.” She looked at Naresh, who swayed as he tried to support his weight on his one good leg. He watched her, as though unaware of everything else around. She came all this way for him, risked lunacy, and here he was.

“Finish it,” her father said.

Yes. She would finish it, one way or another. She’d made so many mistakes, mistakes that had brought them to this place. And now she’d made her choice, consequences be damned. “I love you, Naresh.”

Her father leapt to his feet and leaned on the rail. “Daughter! Stop!”

“Say it,” she whispered to Naresh. Doubt, fear, and perhaps relief warred on his face. Men were opening the gates on either side. “Say it.”

“I love you, Chandi.” His voice almost broke.

She pulled him close and kissed him hard.

He held onto her hand, even when she released the embrace. “What?” he started to ask.

She squeezed his hand but looked to her father. “Father, as these Lunars have witnessed, we are now married.”

“What?” Naresh asked again, his grip tightening on her hand. She squeezed back, but kept her gaze on her father. Everything fell to him now. He was bound by the customs he venerated. Unless she had pushed him too far, even for that.

Ketu gripped the rail, his face trembling. “Chandi.” With a shake of his head he motioned the approaching guards away. “What have you done, my child?” Then he stared at Chandi for a long, long time. He could not have Naresh killed—not as his son-in-law. Unless he would disavow her and kill them both. Could he do so? Had she miscalculated?

Naresh opened his mouth, but she squeezed his hand. Nothing either of them could say mattered now.

When Ketu spoke, his voice had gone raspy. “I will not see you die, my child. But neither can I welcome this blasphemous union. You disappoint me. But perhaps there has been enough slaughter. You are both banished from the Lunar Empire.” He leaned over the rail, his voice dropping. His eyes, cold a moment ago, now lit. “My protection of you expires with the next moonrise.”

Chandi slipped Naresh’s arm around her shoulders to support his bad leg. “Come, husband.”

The guards in the hall stepped aside to let them pass.

“Will they come after us?” he asked once they stepped into the moonlight.

“No. Not right away. They won’t break my father’s decree. Landorundun told me you called off your wedding.”

He stumbled and leaned against a building. Dawn was moments away. Landorundun would see the signal best at night. “It seems I got a wedding after all.”

“Much nicer.”

“I miss the singing. I wanted the singing.”

With his arm over her shoulder again, she forced him to continue. “You can sing to me later.”

They didn’t speak as they walked the long trail down from the city to the harbor. Could she tell him about Empu Baradah? He had felt enough pain because of his mentor’s death without knowing the man was his father. And he had once blamed her for that death. Better if he never knew.

When they arrived, she helped Naresh to sit, leaning against a fisherman’s shack. Then she grabbed some kindling and lit a signal fire.

When she returned, she sat by Naresh. “She’s with Bendurana, now, you know.”

“So all three of us have failed our parents.”

A moment later, Landorundun stood beside them, favoring her wounded leg. She gawked at the mauled mess of Naresh’s leg. “In Surya’s name …” She turned her gaze to Chandi. “The ship’s too far. I can’t take you both, and I don’t have enough sunlight for two trips.”

“Take him,” Chandi said.

Naresh snatched her hand. “Not leaving my wife.”

Landorundun chuckled. “Excuse me?”

“Take him. I’ll steal a jukung.” She didn’t have much experience with the outriggers, but she could sail it far enough to reach the Queen of the South Sea at least. She hoped.

Landorundun nodded. “Let go, Naresh,” she said, pulling his hand away from Chandi. Landorundun turned toward the sea and stared. Perhaps she had to pick out the Queen of the South Sea. She couldn’t afford to Stride onto the wrong ship. And then they were gone.

Chandi knocked out a man on his boat. She had nothing but Solar pearls to offer, but she left him the bag when she dumped him on the dock.

As she rose, someone shambled down the pier toward her. In the moonlight, she couldn’t make him out until he had drawn close. Malin. He stumbled closer, clutching his ribs, until he stood right before her. His face bore the marks of her toyak, but his injuries had already begun to heal. The fortitude his nature provided amazed her.

“I wish you hadn’t done this, Chandi.”

She stepped back into the jukung and began to untie it. “You made your choices, I made mine. Don’t make me regret sparing your life, Malin.”

Malin leaned against a post. “We could have been fine mates.”

“I don’t think so.”

“At least give me the Amrita, Chandi. What use is it to you? You have what you wanted, you saved him. Let me help my people.”

Chandi jerked her head up to stare at Malin. “You just tried to kill the man I love—my husband. Why should I help you with anything?”

“Because I kept my promise. I helped your father consolidate his power. I have continued to serve him, to save him. Now keep your promise and help my people—help them the only way you can.”

Chandi had betrayed everyone she had ever cared about so many times over. Why should she pause over one more betrayal, one broken promise? If Malin’s eyes had held malice or rage, she might have turned away then, might have left him in his place. But they held only conviction, and his people did deserve better. So she drew the vial from her kemban. She had once thought to give it to Naresh.

She tossed the vial to the weretiger, then pushed the boat away from the pier. For three years she’d dreamed of her homecoming. It had not lived up to her expectations. Kasusthali had become her home, but it too might be gone.

“Goodbye,” she said, as much to Bukit as to Malin.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

The Queen of the South Sea threaded through the wreckage of the once mighty Solar navy. In the distance, a crocodile pulled a dying sailor under. Chandi shuddered.

The ships smoldered, but it was nothing compared to the blaze in Kasusthali’s Harbor District. If the city burned beneath the domes, the smoke would suffocate everyone.

“We have to get to the palace,” Naresh said. “I have to find the emperor.”

Chandi looked over the crew. Landorundun huddled against Bendurana’s chest and refused to meet her gaze. The captain offered no words of encouragement. Only Naresh seemed ready to act. The sun would set soon, and they needed to be gone from this place as soon as possible.

“I’ll go,” Chandi said.

“You’ll need my help,” he said. Red still seeped through the bandages on his leg. He would always have a limp, but he would live.

“No, stay here, my love. I’ll search for him.” And Ratna.

Naresh might have argued, but she kissed him and forced him by the shoulders to sit on a barrel. The glance she shared with Landorundun told her the Guardswoman would make sure Naresh didn’t try to leave.

Refugees milled about the burning harbor. But the tube to the city proper had flooded. If any part of the city still had air, it wouldn’t last. Lunars and Ignis looted the harbor, but many stood stunned at the destruction.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” someone asked from the shadows behind her. She knew Semar’s voice.

“It’s not what I wanted.”

Semar spread his hands in acknowledgement. A silent admonition. What had she expected?

She had no time for the priest to point out her foolishness. “Where is Kakudmi?”

“Your people wrought vengeance on the one man who truly wanted to make peace with them.”

Chandi shivered, despite the fires nearby. “Peace? Didn’t he send Kala to murder Rahu?”

“Kala followed his own path. Kakudmi saw the man as a valuable advisor, and he may have understood what was going to happen, but he would not order such a thing.”

“And you?” she asked. “Did you arrange all this, Semar? You seem to have all the answers, so tell me now. Did you bring Kala here?”

Semar nodded, once. “I am responsible for his being here.”

“From where? What lost civilization?”

“Ever wonder who built the Astral Temple? The Pact that bound the three dynasties claimed the gods wrote on the pillars, claimed it was their temple. But do gods build temples, or do people build temples for them?”

If Rahu’s civilization had built the Astral Temple, he would know its secrets. But Semar had brought Kala here. The fire priest had ignited the Fifth War. “You betrayed all our peoples.” She stepped close, stared up into the tall man’s eyes. “Should I kill you? You planned all of this, didn’t you? But no, I’ve seen too many deaths. I won’t kill you. Answer me this, though. How does it feel to be responsible for the destruction of a world?”

“You tell me.”

Chandi stumbled backwards, her jaw trembling. Yes, she had betrayed as much as he had, as often as he had, as thoroughly as he had. Had she never come here, perhaps all of this might have been avoided. When she could speak again her voice shook. “What will happen now?”

Semar spread his hands. “What must happen. Each dynasty will try to hold what it can.”

The great Solar Empire that had once barred the way had fallen. The rise of the Lunar Empire had only begun. And if her father or Malin came after her and Naresh, they’d have nowhere left to turn. “The Solar Empire was large,” Semar said, as though he had read her thoughts. “The Lunars will need time before they can claim it all. The Solars will try to mount a defense.”

Chandi shook her head and watched the strange priest. If all that had happened had shaken him, he didn’t show it. He didn’t even seem surprised. “You never answered my question about how you knew the Stranger. Maybe it was you I should have asked about.”

“Maybe it was.” He held her with that same intensity of gaze Kala had.

“You’ve been to that foreign land.”

“I have.”

She stepped closer and leaned near him. “Some of what happened is my fault. I never should have pursued the Igni rebellion. But if you had told me, told anyone, what you knew of Rahu and Kala, lives would have been saved, all of this avoided. Your damned secrets helped destroy a civilization.”

At last, after so many years, his calm seemed to falter. His eyes looked down. “Perhaps more than one.”

Chandi nodded. Like a fool she had trusted the priest, trusted the charm and confidence he exuded, bought into the mystery and hope he offered. But he was just a man, and whatever journey he had taken, he’d made as many mistakes as her.

Semar waved to a crowd that had gathered on the beach. Solars knelt around the body of their emperor, preparing him for the first Selamatan. Ratna knelt there, beside them, watching. The Lunars and Ignis let them be.

Chandi turned and sat down before her cousin, watching her empty eyes. “We have to go, Ratna.”

“They killed him. He was my husband. I think I … What if I missed everything that mattered?”

Chandi slipped her arm under her cousin’s and pulled her to her feet. She seemed to be supporting everyone these days. She couldn’t afford to use her Blessings again, no time soon at least. Maybe never. “You mean you didn’t realize what you had until now?”

Ratna snorted.

Ignis watched them leave in silence.

“I’m not going back to the Lunars, Ratna,” she said when they reached the harbor. “Not ever.”

“We weren’t wrong.”

“We weren’t right, either. I married Naresh. My father exiled us.”

Ratna laughed without mirth. She slipped free from Chandi’s arms and backed away. “I can find someone to take me back to Swarnadvipa. I’ll find Revati.” She pointed a finger at Chandi as if in accusation. “I won’t give up on her.”

“You can come with us.” The last trace of her family. At least one other of her people at her side.

“To hide among Solars? I’m sorry, cousin. I’ve lost everything. I’ll do whatever it takes to get my daughter back.”

Naresh was calling to her from the ship. Chandi hugged her cousin and reached a hand out toward Naresh. He was beside her, holding her, and then they were back on the Queen of the South Sea.

“Where do we go?” Bendurana asked Naresh. Had the confident, defiant captain gone forever?

Naresh looked at her before answering. “East. To the Outer Isles. Kakudmi?”

“Returned to the Wheel of Life.” She took his hand. “Ratna would not come with us.”

“Kakudmi wanted the Stranger to take Revati to someplace safe—somewhere far from this war,” Naresh said.

Kala had come after mad Rahu and ruined all their lives. Or perhaps Rahu had ruined everything long before that. Once she’d blamed herself for all of this. Now, no matter how far back she tried to trace the tragedy, there was always something before. Perhaps Kala was just one more victim of that tragedy.

The Queen of the South Sea sailed in silence away from the fires of the Solar city. Chandi leaned against her husband. “My father told me the Astral Temple was where the Moon Scions got their power. It must be how he controlled the moon.”

“Tides got all skewed,” Bendurana said.

“Can he do it again?” Naresh asked.

“I suspect so. He’ll create more Moon Scions, too.” Everyone stared. Let them all know the Lunars’ secret. “Father will rule the Skyfall Isles in a few years’ time, I think. Better than Rahu, at least.”

“Yes,” Naresh said. “Better.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t fight,” Chandi said. “Maybe we should accept his authority. If the Solars surrender, he might not force them to abandon their religion.” But that was unlikely. “We can’t save the world, you know.”

Naresh held her tighter. “We have to think of our future now.”

Everyone was silent again. Then Naresh started to sing a Solar hymn. Landorundun joined him, then the whole crew. Chandi stood motionless in her husband’s arms, letting the song wash over her.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

The chaos and destruction that had swept over Kasusthali were worse than even Malin had imagined. And he promised himself this would surely be the last time he would visit here. Twenty years of war with the Solars, and, in the end, it was the Ignis who’d ended it. And that in one single night.

Still, he had to find Ratna. Chandi was lost to him and all he could do for her now was pray. He’d been a fool to ever let himself fall for a person he was supposed to be protecting. And maybe she deserved Naresh. Malin couldn’t say anything anymore, except that the Solar Empire was surely finished now.

Thousands upon thousands of refugees were littered around the Harbor District or the surrounding beaches. Lunar war bands raped and pillaged as they undoubtedly had done for days, but slowly, they were dispersing, heading back to their homeland.

Malin grabbed one Lunar. “Where is Ratna?”

The man pointed to a camp down the beach.

Malin dropped him, then hurried toward the camp. Ratna sat there, surrounded by a group of Solars and Ignis alike, although apparently watched over by Lunar guards. Malin sunk down by her side, but when she didn’t look at him, he followed her gaze further down the beach to where Lunars were apparently trying to seize a vessel from some Ignis.

Without warning, a blast of flame erupted into the night. The explosion engulfed a pair of Lunar brigands, reducing them to ash while carrying enough force to fling all nearby Lunars to the ground. Even from forty feet away, Malin felt the heat of the blast.

“What in Rangda’s frozen underworld was that?” he asked.

Ratna chuckled without apparent humor. “We have Moon Scions. The Solars have the Sun Brand. Funny how no one ever wondered that the third dynasty had no such supernatural gift, isn’t it, Malin? I can only assume they’ve guarded this secret, maybe for centuries.”

“They can control fire?”

“How do you think they cracked the domes?” Ratna rose, eyes cloudy but seeming to see something beyond Malin. The look on her face unsettled his stomach and made him want to flee this island all the quicker. Even the tiger within shifted uncomfortably. “Tell me, tiger. What do you imagine this means, them revealing such a secret now, after hiding it for hundreds of years?”

As if the Arun Guard were not bad enough, now he had to contend with men and women who could harness fire itself, could unleash it in such devastating explosions that neither Moon Scion nor Macan Gadungan could survive.

Oh, he knew what it meant.

It meant the Ignis were done being slaves. It meant they were coming into their own and claiming what they felt was their due.

It meant a new power had arisen in the Skyfall Isles.

PART ONE

1195 After Pact, The Rainy Season

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

Ironic that the fall of the Solar Empire had left the Lunar Empire in such turmoil. Malin had helped Ketu claim his brother’s throne as War King. It might have averted civil war among the Lunars, but it had brought even more chaos to the Skyfall Isles.

“What need have we of a War King with no war?” Sangkuriang said. The exiled lord of House Hasta sat across the fire from Malin, in the hills north of Bukit. No one would see their fire, not with so many in the city tonight. “You’ve been gone a long time. It’s time for this to be over, Malin. We want to come home.”

A long time indeed. A year since the fall of Kasusthali. The death of the Solar Emperor, the Radiant Queen, and with them, their Empire. And Malin had spent so little of that year at home.

Once, the Lunars had Swarnadvipa, the Solars had Yawadvipa, and the Ignis lived alongside the Solars. Simple. Overthrowing the Solars made life too complicated. Now, the Solars had fled across the Isles, the Ignis were loyal to Chandra-knew-who, and Ketu thought he could conquer the whole South Sea in the Moon God’s name.

Malin had no answers for Sangkuriang. But then, he could afford to debate. Anything to delay his reunion with Ketu. Malin pulled a piece of duck rendang off the bone. Hot, greasy, it stung his fingers and soothed his throat. The man had used too much turmeric. Probably still learning to cook for himself, with no slaves to do it. Still, a hot meal to welcome him home was more than Malin had expected.

He licked the grease from his fingers, then met the Moon Scion’s gaze. “You can’t return yet. Ketu won’t let go of his power, and I won’t risk civil war.”

He’d promised Chandi he’d support her father. Malin may have lost her, but he’d keep his promises. Besides, most of the Moon Scion Houses supported Ketu. Malin had spared a few lords, Sangkuriang among them, and he could count on the Macan Gadungan. Just enough forces to ensure if he fought Ketu, both sides would suffer devastation as complete as the Solars had.

“He has to let go. The other Houses made him War King. It’s not a permanent position. Talk to him. In the meantime, I’m very good at Glamour. I can disguise myself.”

Malin snorted. The Moon Blessings took their toll on Moon Scions. He could let Sangkuriang use the Blessing, but sending the man in without a plan would only speed his descent into lunacy. How many days would he maintain the Glamour, looking for a way to convince Ketu to step down? The new War King listened to no one. “Go back to the villages, Sang. I’ll send for you when the time comes.” He rose and tossed the duck bone into the fire, then leaned over the Moon Scion. “I spared your life when Ketu would have had you slain. Don’t make me regret it.”

Sang’s lip curled, but he rose and headed away from Bukit. Malin waited, watched the man leave. Almost liked him. For a Moon Scion.

Even from the hills, Malin could hear the celebration in the city below. Drumbeats, the hints of flutes, shouting. And so many bonfires clouding the night sky with smoke.

A full moon above, and not a drizzle of rain tonight, deep in the rainy season. Almost like Chandra smiled on this revelry. Or Ketu would see it that way.

Malin trudged toward the city. The tiger spirit within shifted, called to the moon. Urged him to shift, become the beast and run, especially tonight, especially on the full moon. So easy to do it. Leave this behind. But the Macan Gadungan—the weretigers—remained in virtual bondage. Both bloodlines of Jadian did. The Moon Scions called them werebeasts, but they were not beasts. They were Lunars, born on Swarnadvipa, trained in Bangdvipa, and giving their lives for the families they served.

Time had long since come for recognition of that service.

The saddle roofs of the city welcomed him home, breaking above the tree line. On the outskirts of the city men and women danced, spun. A child ran up to him as he approached. Macan Gadungan girl, five or six. She thrust both hands forward, offering him a nagasari. Malin knelt beside the girl as he took the banana cake. The child beamed, then turned and ran off.

Malin sighed. Not the time for sweets. He handed the cake to another child as he passed him. Best get this over with.

Rahu’s palace—Ketu’s palace now—sat on a hill above Bukit. The sight of it left a sour taste in Malin’s mouth, like a kill left too long in the sun. Glorious, for certain. The roof peaks rose almost forty feet into the air. Two stories tall, with a third story above the center. Built in the fine old style. They called it the Hill Palace, not because it was the only palace in the hills, but because it sat on the highest hill, overlooking the city.

At the heart of the Hill Palace lay the central courtyard. Ketu brought the House Lords here to remind them he had taken all that was Rahu’s. A perfectly groomed garden, complete with fishpond. But this place had become a prison. Malin had long since built his own house nearby, just to escape it.

He passed through the wide archway into the main hall and almost ran into Ratna.

The girl looked up at him a moment before turning away.

“Not out celebrating the anniversary of our victory?” Malin asked.

Ratna spun on him. “Forgive me if I abstain from celebrating the deaths of a quarter million people.”

Malin smiled. Just a little. Maybe Ratna wasn’t as lost as he’d feared. At first, he’d worried Ketu would kill the child, but her uncle had embraced her as his own. Perhaps to make up for losing Chandi.

Ratna hesitated. “Did you find Revati?”

Malin looked away. Nothing he could say to the girl. Maybe he’d damned Revati by letting Kala take her, or maybe he’d saved her. All done now.

“And Chandi?”

Unfortunately. Malin nodded.

Ratna sighed, scurried off without another word. Malin had failed Chandi. But he had also promised to always watch over Ratna. He’d not fail that. Not while he drew breath.

The light chirps of nightjars in the courtyard created the illusion of peace. Ketu sat alone, meditating by the fishpond, hands on his knees. He’d taken to wearing Rahu’s embroidered black bajus. People saw them as a symbol of the War King.

The priest opened his eyes at Malin’s approach. “Well, tiger?”

Malin cracked his neck. “The war is over, Ketu. Maybe it’s time to let all this go. Back to the way things were.”

Twenty-four years since the Lunars had named Rahu War King. And twenty-five Malin had served him. Harimau Jadian, they had first called him. Weretiger. But Rahu had made the Harimau Jadian bodyguards to the Moon Scion Houses, and granted them the title of honor, Macan Gadungan. Protectors and avengers.

“How things were?” Ketu rose, stretched. “No. We move forward. Towards a united Lunar Empire. But first we must see the last of the Arun Guard eradicated.”

“The Guard is broken. As far as we know, only two remain, and they’ve taken no interest in our affairs. Your daughter—”

Ketu lunged at him, grabbed him by the back of the neck. Malin didn’t stop him. “Chandi made her choices. She’s not our concern anymore. Where is he?”

Malin sighed. “Cenrana. A fishing village on the western coast of Suladvipa.” A year spent looking for Naresh. And he’d found him. His sources said the Arun Guardsman made a living hunting fish, diving for pearls. No effort to resurrect the Solar Empire. And Ketu wanted to hunt him down anyway.

“Good. Soon we’ll make plans to eliminate him.”

Suladvipa. Home island of the Ignis, ruled by a Solar king. But the Solars had fallen. Once, crushing their last vestige sounded savory. Somehow, a quarter million dead tasted fouler than he’d imagined.

Malin paced around the courtyard. “People say the Lunars no longer need a War King.”

Lines formed along Ketu’s brow. “Yes. Now they need a Lunar Emperor. We’re about to usher in a new age, tiger. Leave me.”

Malin slunk from the courtyard. Emperor. Like the damn Solars. Not in the whole history of the Lunars had anyone had that much arrogance. Not even Rahu.

Twenty-seven Lunar Houses. Once, almost as many kingdoms populated Swarnadvipa. The threat of the Solars had held them together, in loose alliance under a War King. Ketu was a fool if he thought that would last once the Solars were gone. When the Lunars weren’t fighting the Solars, they fought each other. Houses skirmished for land or gold mines or spices or the simple glory of battle.

Idiots that reveled in violence not for its uses, but for its own sake. Malin stalked through the palace, resisting the urge to punch through a wall. Barely.

Something in the air inside. A scent, even over the smells of smoke and spiced satay and revelry. Oily, acrid. Malin knew that scent.

Black magic.

The tiger growled. The spirit in him may have come from Kahyangan, but it had no more love for the other beings of the Spirit World than Malin did. Rangda take all witches.

Malin stalked through the Hill Palace, following the scent. Not again. This would not happen again. But there it was, sure enough. In Calon’s old chamber.

Voices escaped through the cracks in the bamboo door. Ratna’s, others. Malin stepped inside.

Five women sat on mats on the floor. Ratna, three he didn’t know, and Tanjung. Once, the long-haired woman might have been attractive. The creases around her eyes and mouth might even have made her handsome now, if Malin didn’t know of the sickening stains on her soul. He’d found Calon here, like this, with Tanjung, so many years ago. Making the same mistakes.

Ratna scowled at him, the others snorted. She waved him off.

Not this time. Malin leapt into their midst, landed in a crouch in the center of their circle. One woman screamed.

With a hand under her chin, Malin pulled Tanjung to her feet. “I thought I told you not to return to Bukit, witch.”

“Malin!” Ratna shouted. “These women are my guests.”

“You have no idea what this creature is capable of.”

Tanjung shoved his hand away. “I am a Moon Scion, Macan Gadungan. You forget your place.”

“Shall I bow before I kill you, then?” Malin edged closer, until the woman backed into the wall. Beautiful, the look on her face when she realized he might just do it. Once, he never could have even said it. Chandi had changed everything. “Out. All of you. I will have words with Ratna.”

The witches did as he bid, ignoring Ratna’s sputters of protest.

“Child—” Malin began.

“I’m not a child, tiger. You are here to serve me.”

“I am serving you. You want to be treated as an adult? Earn it. This woman you’ve blithely invited into your home—you have no idea the things she’s done.” Tanjung had corrupted Ratna’s mother, Malin knew it.

Ratna waved for him to sit, so he did. “I do have an idea, Malin. She was my mother’s friend. And she can help me find Revati. I’ve looked everywhere.” Her voice shook, came out almost as a whisper. “I sent people to Mait, Au Lac, even Tianxia. No one knows where Kala took her.”

Malin leaned closer, put his hand on her shoulder. “We lose things, Ratna. We lose people. Chandra knows you can’t get them back. You have to keep going. Look to the future.”

Ratna said nothing for a long time. “That’s it? I lost my father and my daughter on the same day. My cousin and husband, too. And you tell me to just move on? Is that how your kind do things, tiger?”

Malin grabbed her other shoulder. He squeezed until she yelped, then yanked her to her feet as he stood. “My kind? The Macan Gadungan deal with loss the same as everyone else—poorly. But we do face it. Revati is gone. You will never find her again.”

Perhaps he should have stopped Kala from leaving with the child. Or tried. Either way, Ratna would never know where to follow the man. And Malin could never tell her.

Ratna’s slap spun Malin’s head half around. He rubbed his jaw. Must have taken every drop of her Potency Blessing to move that fast or hit that hard.

“I will find my daughter, tiger.” Her voice rumbled like a volcano. “Chandra have mercy on anyone that stands in my way. My father would have understood. If he were here, he’d have made damn certain you found Revati.”

Malin grabbed her arms. “Rahu’s gone, too, may Rangda feast on his soul.”

Ratna struggled in his grasp. “He was my father, tiger.”

It took no effort to force her arms to stillness. Her Blessings were too weak to compete with weretiger strength. “Rahu was a lunatic. You need to face that, too.”

“You grow too bold.”

Or not bold enough. Maybe he should have killed Ketu, despite Chandi. Maybe they’d all be better off with the zealot gone.

“Despite your father, you have Ketu’s good graces. Count your blessings. Send away the witches, Ratna.”

He allowed her to struggle free from his grasp.

“How dare you presume to command me, Macan Gadungan?”

Malin snarled. “There may come a time you regret using that name as a curse. Between now and then, you’ll either grow up, or we’ll reevaluate which of us gives the orders.”

Ratna stormed over to her door, then held it open with a trembling hand. “Out! Or we’ll see how much of the War King’s graces I have, tiger.”

Malin glared at the girl as he passed her.

CHAPTER EIGHTY

Embers of the festival lingered well after sunrise. Sleep had eluded Malin, so he’d sat on his porch watching the Lunars dance away the night. Once, he might have thought to celebrate the fall of Kasusthali. But Chandi was right. It was too much, and too high a cost. So much destruction, and his people were no better off.

His house sat high enough in the hills it didn’t need stilts to keep it above flood level. Made it easier to build. The most honest work Malin had ever done.

When the sunrise stung his eyes, he walked. Beyond the market, in the lowlands, he passed by the Loghouses. Communal homes, high on stilts, because of the marshes. Poor families lived here, though few crowded the narrow, dusty streets this early. Moon Scions only came into these parts when absolutely necessary. Liked to pretend they were above the wretched city filth.

Outside Bukit, he tromped down into the marshlands the werecrocodiles had claimed as their own. The Buaya Jadian had limited dealings with the Macan Gadungan, at least after their training was complete. They saw him now, he suspected. The spies liked to watch from hiding, holding so still you’d never know they were there.

Humans feared the mosquitoes in the lowlands for the diseases they carried. Malaria had taken many lives. Had almost taken Chandi when she was five. But the mosquitoes didn’t like the taste of the spirit in Malin, and even if they did, their diseases held little fear for him.

Malin could send the Buaya Jadian after Tanjung. They wouldn’t normally assassinate a Moon Scion, but Malin could be persuasive. If he waited here long enough they would come.

So tempting. Tanjung had done enough to deserve it. Malin had tasted her foul work on Calon. Ratna’s mother may have been a witch before she met Tanjung, but the woman twisted her.

No. The problem was Ratna. She needed protection from herself. From losing herself in her mother’s shadow.

But she wouldn’t listen. Hadn’t listened to Malin since she was a child. She might have listened to Chandi. They had always been together as girls. Them and Mahesa.

Malin grunted. The one other person she might listen to.

He slogged through the marshland, pushing ferns and brush aside on his way to the beach. Malin never knew why House Indu insisted on keeping their palace on the shore, beyond the docks, instead of in the city proper. The palace needed oversized stilts to keep it above flood level.

A drizzle of rain fell as he walked on the sand. Refreshing, after the muck. Clean.

The rain muffled scents. Malin didn’t catch this one until he stood beneath the tree. Up, nestled between the crook of two branches, the boy sat. Short hair still wily as ever. Not a boy anymore, Malin supposed. Mahesa would probably be twenty-two now. He’d fought at Astral Shore. No one who survived that was a child anymore. Still dozing away in tree branches, though.

“Mahesa.”

The Moon Scion jerked, slipped from the branches. He caught one as he fell, swung down like a monkey.

“Malin!” He grinned like a sun bear with a fish.

“Little Mahesa. Still napping in trees to avoid work.”

Mahesa smiled wider and punched Malin in the arm. “Nobody calls me ‘Little Mahesa’ anymore, Malin.”

Malin scowled, looked down at his arm where Mahesa had punched him, then looked back at the boy. Mahesa’s eyes widened. “Malin, I didn’t mean …”

Malin couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at Mahesa’s expression, then more at his sigh of relief. But now wasn’t the time for mirth. “Walk with me.”

Mahesa yawned and stretched as Malin led him down to the seashore. “You realize I was up late last night? There was a festival, if you didn’t notice. Drums, dancing, girls, dancing girls.”

“I noticed. Speaking of girls, have you seen Ratna?”

Mahesa blew out a long breath. “I thought maybe I should wait for her to come and see me.”

Malin rolled his eyes. That would have nothing to do with Mahesa’s shyness, or the crush he’d had on the girl since they were children. “And did she?”

“Not yet.”

“She’s been back a year.”

“Yeah.”

Malin pointed at the sea. “You used to like stories of when I was a sailor. Dashing off from one adventure to the next, you’d said.”

“We all liked your stories. Chandi was big on adventure, too.”

Malin nodded. “Yes. But not Ratna. Still, she had her fair share of adventure. She’s not well, Mahesa. Do you remember Tanjung?”

Mahesa shrugged, then sat on the sand. “Not really. She’s the woman who moved away right after … Didn’t she get married, a few years back? I thought I heard that.”

Married? Malin snorted, then knelt beside Mahesa. Poor bastard that married that witch. “I sent her away after the Battle of Bangdvipa, yes. Do you know why?” The Moon Scion shook his head without looking at Malin. “She encouraged Calon’s witchcraft. Summoned a leyak.”

Mahesa’s chuckle sounded forced. “Demons? More of your stories, Malin? I’m not a child anymore.”

He grabbed Mahesa’s shoulder. “It’s not a story. Empu Baradah murdered Calon and Simhika because of that witchcraft.” Malin had avenged them after all these years. And look what chaos that had wrought. “You have no idea of the horrors of Kahyangan. The Spirit World is not for mortals. And Tanjung is dragging Ratna along Calon’s path. If Ratna opens this door, she won’t be able to shut it.”

Mahesa turned to him, smiled wide, shaking his head. “Not going to put any pressure on me, huh, Malin?”

Malin’s grip tightened. He leaned in. “I swore I would protect those girls. Chandi’s lost to me, now. I failed her, despite all my efforts. She’s with a Solar. I’m not going to see her cousin dragged down into Rangda’s frozen underworld by her arrogance or ignorance.”

He’d held Ratna’s mother as she died. Felt her breath leave her. Promised her to protect those girls.

Protect and avenge. The purpose of the Macan Gadungan. A purpose Rahu had driven into his soul the moment he bound the tiger spirit to Malin.

Something popped in Mahesa’s shoulder and the boy yelped. Malin grunted. Hadn’t meant to hurt him.

After a moment, he pointed up towards the cliffs. Towards Bukit. “The girl you knew is still in there, somewhere. Losing herself. You always wanted to hear about heroes, fantasize about being one? Go play hero. Save the girl.”

Mahesa grinned again. “Hard to resist a chance like that, isn’t it?”

Yes. Hard to resist trying.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

From the cliff outside Bukit, Ratna could see the harbor. Beyond, in the distance, she could even make out House Indu, Mahesa’s family estate. One day she’d walk that path and see him. She’d hold Revati in her arms, then, and they could all be together—a real family.

And why shouldn’t she go see him? She was widowed now, after all. And she didn’t miss Kakudmi. She wouldn’t let herself miss her late husband. He wouldn’t have missed her if their places were reversed.

She used to come here with Chandi and watch the moon. Now she came alone and watched nothing and everything, while she brushed her hair. She could have had slaves do that, of course, but her mother’s brush was the one thing she’d saved from Kasusthali. Calon had died so long ago Ratna couldn’t quite picture her, but when she brushed her hair, she could feel her mother’s hands.

She saw the sea, but she didn’t watch it. She had seen more than enough of that from her window in Kasusthali. That room had become her prison, trapped her in isolation while surrounded by Solars, until all she could think of was escape.

And after a year back in Bukit, she’d somehow let it become another prison. But the tiger was right about one thing he’d said last night. If she wanted a different future, she had to see to it herself.

Malin, her family servant, should have been the first to hunt for Revati. Maybe he had, but now he said her daughter was beyond her reach. Well, her reach was longer than Malin gave her credit for. She was her mother’s daughter, and Calon had the power of Kahyangan behind her.

This morning, she’d met with another of the sailors she’d sent out. No word.

The man, an Igni privateer—hard to believe so much had changed that the Ignis had their own ships now—claimed to have gone to every city on Suladvipa asking after Kala, that auburn-haired foreigner who had taken her daughter.

“Please,” Ratna had said, “I’ll pay anything.” Swarnadvipa was rich in gold and lumber, and the War King’s heir could easily gather a fortune to set this man up for life.

But the Igni shook his head. “Nothing to find. He never went there.”

The men she’d sent to Irian said the same. The Spice Islands. Malayadvipa. She’d even sent men to bribe the Solars left in villages on Yawadvipa. None knew where the man had gone. Of the four great islands of the Skyfall Isles—Swarnadvipa, Yawadvipa, Suladvipa, and Puradvipa—only Puradvipa had offered any leads. But those had dried up long ago.

Ratna rose, then brushed the brambles from her crimson sarong. Pain shot through her chest and her breath came in ragged gasps. She clutched her hands over her heart. It wasn’t a heart attack, this time she knew for sure. She had to relax, had to breathe. She was the War King’s daughter. Now she was even heir to the next War King. Her future was in her own hands.

Breathe. She’d find Revati, no matter what. A few deep breaths, and the pain faded.

Head high, she made her way through Bukit, off to the northern outskirts. The city itself sat south of the hills, north of the marshlands.

Once, as a child, she’d loved the Anuradha Theater in these highlands. The theater sat nestled in a valley between two hills. As children, she and Chandi and Mahesa would climb the hills and watch the dancers practice the Radnai.

It was beauty and music and hope. It was Silat and dance and acting. Before she understood what being the War King’s daughter meant, Ratna had dreamed of dancing the Radnai. Maybe studying the dance had made Chandi better at Silat. For the rest of them, it was an art. For Chandi, it had become a part of her.

Though the theater had no walls, its high-sloping roof kept all but the worst of the rainy season’s weather off the players. For a moment, Ratna stood and watched them there. “They were better when we were children,” she told Chandi. Not that Chandi would ever hear her. And now, her cousin would never see this new generation of dancers, either, would she? Ratna sighed. Had Chandi done it all for Naresh? A Solar.

Beyond Anuradha Theater lay the battered palace of House Nishadipathi. Ratna had once heard a rumor that before Tanjung’s father died, before Rahu and Ketu had come to Bukit, House Nishadipathi had thrown fine dances to celebrate the end of the rainy season. No one came here now, except for Ratna. The servants called Tanjung a witch and said her land was cursed with the spirits of the restless dead. Ratna snorted.

Much like House Soma had the Hill Palace, House Nishadipathi had a small palace in the hills. What was left of House Nishadipathi, at least, which was now just Tanjung.

This rundown home must have once been glorious. Now the peaks had broken off the roof and the shutters had fallen from the windows.

Despite the slight rain, Tanjung knelt in the garden behind the house, pulling weeds. The witch didn’t turn as Ratna approached, but her shoulders tensed. “Come to chase me out of town again?”

Ratna slipped her hands under the woman’s arms and eased her to her feet, then turned her around. Her mother had befriended this woman, this witch. And if she had the power to find Revati, Ratna needed to gain that power. “I want to know about my mother. I want to know the things she knew.”

Tanjung smirked, then waved Ratna inside. “Perhaps some tea?”

Ratna followed the woman, then waited while she made tea. Tanjung used just enough palm sugar. So many Lunars overdid the sugar in their tea. Ratna nodded her approval.

Tanjung reclined on a mat beside her, sipping her tea without taking her eyes from Ratna. Her strange intensity could captivate and unnerve. Perhaps it was a trick Ratna would have to remember.

“My mother understood Kahyangan. Could she really question the spirits?”

Tanjung set her empty teacup on the low table. “Another cup? No?” She leaned back again. “Spirits lack physical form in this reality. But they know things. And you can ask them, if you know their names. We tried, last night.”

“And did they tell you anything before Malin interrupted us?”

“No. What we began, it was only a first step. Spirit names are not just names. They’re represented by Glyphs.”

Ratna watched the witch. Fascinating as this was, it didn’t bring her any closer to Revati. “Why would a being with no body care about writing?”

Tanjung shrugged. “The mysteries of Kahyangan don’t unfold easily, child. Your mother had a book with many names and Glyphs. Many answers and many secrets. It was taken from us by the Solars. Find it, and I can teach you so much more about your mother than mere words.”

But a question lingered, caught in Ratna’s throat. The whispers about Tanjung, sometimes even about Calon, they spoke of darker things. “Do you …” Ratna set down her teacup. “Do you really worship the Demon Queen?”

Tanjung leaned close. “Your mother did. Does it frighten you, child?”

Not as much as it should, probably. Ratna shook her head. “I want my daughter back.” She rose. “Nothing else matters.”

Tanjung’s smile stretched her face. It stuck in Ratna’s mind even as she left the witch’s house and made her way back to the Hill Palace.

And there he was, sitting beneath a tree, stupid grin on his face like nothing had changed. Little Mahesa. Well, maybe he’d put on a bit of muscle since she’d last seen him, but at least the boyish grin remained. And he still wore that gold earring, too.

Ratna put her hands on her hips, tried to hide her smile.

“Did you miss me?” he said as he rolled to his feet and swept a bow. “I bet you did.”

Oh yes, she had, but it wouldn’t do to let him know how much. “I suppose we could take a walk.”

Mahesa tromped over and slipped his hand in hers, like he had as a child. “Lovely idea.” Though two years younger than Ratna and Chandi, Mahesa had liked to tag along with them. He led her back to the cliff.

The rain had stopped and the sun peeked from behind the clouds. The edge of the rainforest crept onto the cliff. Mahesa dashed over and plucked a sprig of jasmine, then handed it to her.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her by the hand. He edged his way down the narrow path to the beach.

Ratna had to clutch Mahesa’s hand tighter and steady herself against him as she almost lost her balance. Rangda damn him and his surefooted gait.

Mahesa took off as they hit the beach, almost running, yanking her along behind him. Before she knew it, they were running. Ratna ran after him. It was that or be pulled to the ground. She laughed. When was the last time she’d laughed?

“Stop. Stop, please,” she said, panting.

He did, and she collapsed to her knees on the sand. Rested on the beach they had walked so many times as children.

“Why now, Mahesa?” she said after she’d caught her breath. “I’ve been back a year.”

“Why didn’t you come to see me?”

She sighed. “I lost my daughter, Mahesa. I lost Revati. Someone took her from me. I have to get her back. I have to.”

“I heard about it.” He plopped down on the sand beside her. “I’m so sorry.” He ran a hand through his wily hair, seeming unmindful of the mess of grit he left in it.

Ratna reached up to brush it away, but hesitated. They weren’t children anymore, were they? Well, with that silly grin, maybe he was. She smoothed the sand from his hair.

“Good thing you’re here to take care of me,” he said, then leaned onto his back. “Naughty boys need someone to keep them in line, huh? My father lets me have my run of the place.”

Ratna snickered. Naughty boys? Sounded like him, though he’d never admitted it before. “And how is Gantangan?”

“You know my father. Big dreams, but rarely the will to act on them. He never … I mean, he and Ketu don’t …”

No. Gantangan supported Ketu, officially. They all did officially, after her uncle had ordered Malin to execute those that opposed him. Was it all necessary? Ketu said he needed to ensure unity within the Lunar Empire.

“I’m really glad you’re back, Ratna. Bukit wasn’t the same without you and Chandi.” He looked away. Should she take his hand, again? It would be easy. “I heard Tanjung is back, too.”

Ratna scowled. Well, she could guess where he’d heard that. “How much do you know about my mother?”

“I know Rahu and Calon were both powerful Moon Scions. Everyone figured you’d be a force to be reckoned with.” He hesitated then. “Oh, Ratna, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Never mind.” Ratna had long ago stopped caring her Moon Blessings were weaker than many others. Chandi’s Blessings were the strongest of their generation, by far. “What else?”

When he didn’t answer, she leaned closer. “Tell me.”

He took her hand. “She was a witch, Ratna. She called spirits of the underworld to plague Solars. Released a leyak.”

A leyak? If Rangda was real, then Ratna supposed her demon servants must be. If her mother had used one, perhaps she’d had a reason, or perhaps she’d just sought too much power. “She was a witch. The Solars killed her for it. They feared the spirits she communed with.”

Mahesa shrugged. “Can you blame them? I know she was your mother, Ratna, but the forces of Kahyangan are best left alone.”

Ratna snatched her hand free. “Really? No matter what they can give us? I have to find my daughter. Don’t you understand? She was taken from me. And if I have to call on aid from the Spirit World to find her, then I will find a way to contact Kahyangan. My mother could do it. She had a book.”

Mahesa tossed a seashell into the ocean. “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

“I need that book, Mahesa. I need the power my mother had.”

“The power that got her killed? You want me to search for a book of secrets? Spells to contact Kahyangan? What if this book was in Kasusthali?”

The drowned city. Ratna had been one of the lucky few to survive the Igni revolt. What had Chandi been thinking when she allowed them to crack the domes?

“I doubt they’d have kept it in their capital city,” she said. “Pious, bigoted curates would call it blasphemous.”

“Then they probably destroyed it. Give it up, Ratna. We’ll find Revati the old-fashioned way. We don’t need spirits and witchcraft.”

Could he? She’d tried everyone else, from Macan Gadungan to pirates, even the damn Solars. “You think you can find her?”

Mahesa grinned again. “You’re looking at the winner of the Barisan Race. Fastest climber on Swarnadvipa. Maybe the fastest swimmer too, if you don’t count the werecrocodiles. Which I don’t.”

And he could fight. That would help. Ratna had never been very good at Silat.

But then, where would he look? Without the knowledge from the spirits, how could she find where Kala had taken Revati? No, she had no choice, and if Mahesa was the only one that could help her, then so be it.

Ratna pressed her hands to his chest. “Please, Mahesa. I know you mean the best, but we need that book. I’ve spent a year trying to find her. The trail is cold, and without Kahyangan, without the spirits, we don’t even know where to start. I need that book. I need you. You’re the only one I can count on.”

Mahesa blew out a breath, then took her hands in his own. He opened his mouth to say something, but just nodded. His hands shook a little.

“Of course.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

Rumor said Ketu was leaving, and Malin could guess where.

He stormed through the palace, grabbed a slave by the baju. “Where’s Ketu?”

The slave babbled, shaking his head. Malin dropped the man. He flung open the door to the priest’s chamber—once Rahu’s chamber—but no one lurked within.

Once, silk wall hangings from Tianxia had adorned Rahu’s chambers. Ketu had torn them down, replacing them with simple wooden carvings.

The priest had kept Rahu’s tea table as a desk, though. Papers covered it. Malin knelt beside the low table and grabbed a handful. Reports of faltering Solar resistance in the Outer Isles. Ships going to Puradvipa. And new discoveries made at the Astral Temple.

Malin clenched the paper. He’d seen more than enough discoveries there. Ketu had used the Temple to create an eclipse. Threw all the seas into chaos, risked the wrath of the Moon God, to destroy the Solars. Everything always came back to that damn temple.

Footsteps behind him. Malin stuffed the papers back under the pile and rose as Ketu entered.

“What do you want, tiger? You have no business in my personal chambers.”

Malin advanced on the priest. “You’re going after them, aren’t you? You’re going to risk your daughter’s life to get at Naresh?” If Ketu planned to leave so soon, Malin could be damn sure it was because of the Guardsman.

Ketu grabbed Malin and dragged him from the room, then out into the courtyard. The priest glared at the slaves until they scampered out of earshot. “I’m going to see this thing finished. We can’t have the Solars haunting us from the shadows. We need to be certain the Solar Empire is gone forever. And the best way to do that is to destroy the Arun Guard.”

Malin stepped close to Ketu’s ear. “I handed you this throne because your daughter loves you. Because she made me promise to.” Even knowing he would regret it. “Now you turn on her.”

“You serve me, tiger,” Ketu said, grabbing Malin by the hair, “because I am a descendant of Chandra. I am the War King. I am a Moon Scion.” He flung Malin to the ground. “Bow before me.”

Malin remained kneeling. Pride be damned. Other things mattered more. “Chandi promised me that the Macan Gadungan would—”

“Chandi betrayed me!” Ketu clenched his fists beside his face. For a moment, Malin though the priest might attack him. “Do not speak her name, tiger. Her promises mean nothing.”

Damn him. Malin rose. “Then make your own promises. The Macan Gadungan have served the Lunar Empire loyally. All the Jadian have served. You want to be Lunar Emperor? Free us. Make us the equals of Moon Scions, instead of servants.”

“The werebeasts are animals, tiger. Your place is to serve. I could no more make you our equals than I could grow wings and fly. Chandra’s blood makes us superior by nature.”

Malin had to bite his tongue to keep from throwing the lie back in Ketu’s face. Chandra’s blood didn’t make Moon Scions. Amrita made Moon Scions. Drugs given to the young so they could call themselves gods. They told the next generation the truth only when they had children of their own. One dose, given to a child—and only one, for the addiction it created was more powerful than even Rahu could withstand. Blood of the Moon God. Just a fantasy to keep the population in line.

“Protect Ratna while I’m away, and obey her, Macan Gadungan. She’s my heir now.” Ketu’s face trembled and he looked away. “I’ll hear of no other.”

Malin spat as soon as Ketu walked away. Rangda take the man. Maybe Chandi wouldn’t even care if he killed Ketu.

No. He was her father. He could see her face, were he to kill the man. Not a pleasant image.

The tiger in him snarled. Or maybe Malin snarled. He couldn’t say. Malin stormed out of the Hill Palace, scowling at any servant that got in his way.

Ketu leaving to destroy Naresh. But he couldn’t get to him without going through Chandi. And the man didn’t care. His own daughter.

So he’d leave Ratna in charge. But the blind, selfish girl saw nothing but her missing daughter. She’d somehow convinced Mahesa to disappear after a day. Probably sent the boy to search for a child he’d never find.

Rangda take them all, then. Malin had given all he could. More. He stalked past the palace and back to his own house. Quiet little place. Clean of the stench of Moon Scion lies.

The Macan Gadungan had given Ketu his throne. Still he made them slaves. Still. But Malin had promised Chandi to support the man.

Malin shut the door. Then he stomped on the tea table. Smashed it to bits. Kicked the bits against the wall.

The tiger spirit clawed at his mind, roared in defiance of Ketu and Ratna and Chandi. None of them appreciated the things he’d done for them. Years and years of service to House Soma. His muscles twitched involuntarily. The spirit demanded release, but could not find it with the sun up.

How could Chandi have married Naresh? No answer came, no matter how often he asked that question. The Solar shared none of her values. Their future was doomed. But she’d made her choice. It wasn’t his problem.

Malin fell to his knees. Not his problem. Chandi had made her choices. Ratna wouldn’t listen. The Macan Gadungan needed him. No, all the Jadian needed him.

He yanked up the loose floorboards. Underneath, now covered in dust, rested the vial—the Amrita he’d demanded, begged Chandi to give him. Chill to the touch, though perhaps it was only in his mind.

This had made Rahu a lunatic. It wasn’t a gift—it was a lie the Moon Scions used to place themselves above others. That’s why he hadn’t taken it yet. He didn’t want to be like them. That’s all.

But Chandi was gone. And Ketu would never see reason. Ratna was going down the same path as her cursed mother. And Malin couldn’t save any of them.

But he could still save the Jadian.

He uncorked the vial. The liquid within glittered like moonlight, but smelled like milk, with a hint of jasmine.

Perhaps he’d held out hope Ratna would be a bridge between him and Ketu. That hope was gone.

And without it, his people would never be freed. Forever enslaved.

Malin drained the vial in one swig. It even tasted like sweet milk. He tossed the empty flask back in the hole.

As he tried to rise, warmth began to spread from his stomach. His limbs wobbled and he collapsed. Spasms wracked his body. Even the tiger’s voice grew distant.

His head might have smacked the floor. He couldn’t feel it.

Fire surged through his veins. Every beat of his heart sent the heat through him. He clenched his eyes against the beautiful pain.

Eyes closed, still he saw something. Fire filled the sky. Erupted from within. Icy mist crept over him, swept down from frozen mountains. The mist of the dead. Rangda’s underworld.

There were things moving in front of his eyes. Things crawling under his skin. They saw him. Reached for him. Tried to enter him. He’d felt that before. Felt it when Rahu put the tiger spirit inside him.

Malin roared. Flailed at anything, everything, nothing.

His heart beat again. There were stars, millions of stars. And the moon. Glorious, terrible. Watching him, unblinking.

Chandra? Did the Moon God see all he had done? Let him. Let him judge Malin. The Moon Scions had no right to judge any longer.

It called to him. The moon pulled his mind and soul, and even the tiger within. Claimed him. Or maybe, it was all in his head.

Slowly, the things watching him receded. But something remained awakened within. Some awareness of the universe.

Malin rose. His throat was raw. His muscles trembled. But he had never been more alive.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

Ratna stood in the doorway of Ketu’s chamber, watching her uncle meditate. Eyes closed, hands on his knees, he was still as a corpse. He wore the same baju her father had once worn, black, embroidered with gold songket. Ratna didn’t remember so much of her mother, but she thought Calon had given her father the first baju like that. Afterwards, after she died, her father had always worn that style.

And why did Ketu have to wear it? Easy to say he wanted to honor her lost father, but then, it was easy to think he wanted to replace him, too.

“You summoned me?”

Ketu breathed deeply before opening his eyes. “Ratna, what do you think of the other Houses?”

Ratna shrugged. Once, she might have cared about the petty Moon Scion rivalries. That time had passed. “They follow our House. A few others are strong enough to challenge us, but they wouldn’t dare.”

Ketu grunted. “Are you so certain? I must go to Suladvipa. It’s time our Igni allies proved themselves. And what will the other lords do while I’m away?”

“So send Malin instead.” The damn tiger had done little enough to help her find Revati. Let him deal with the Ignis. The former Solar slaves would be bad enough, if they hadn’t decided to drown all of Kasusthali. Murder on that scale surpassed even the worst the Solars had ever done. Under the guise of aiding Lunars, they had wrought terrible vengeance and destroyed an entire people. Perhaps the Solars had been Ratna’s enemies, though so much time among them obscured it, like mountain mist. Because her father had started a war over a building, because that war had sent her to the Solars.

And in the end, wouldn’t she have been happier had they kept the Temple, shared it? Her parents would live, she’d have married Mahesa, and Revati would be his daughter. Still with her now.

Ratna rubbed her face. Breathe. She could feel the pain in her chest creeping over her again. Breathe.

Ketu rose and walked over to look down into her eyes. “Are you certain we can still fully trust the Macan Gadungan?”

Ratna started. Why wouldn’t they?

Ketu shook his head. “Well, they’ve been there for your entire life, I suppose. Still, I cannot send Malin. Some things I should attend to myself. And I may need to go to Puradvipa after, anyway.”

“Why go back to the Astral Temple? You have plenty of other priests to care for it.”

Her uncle patted her cheek. “So many years we fought for sole control of that place. It’s time I paid my proper respects there. I’m leaving you in charge in my absence. Watch over the other Houses, keep them in line. Then when I get back, maybe we can see about a new marriage for you. You are heir to the Empire, after all.”

Ratna embraced her uncle, then he left. So he thought her clever enough to manage his affairs, but still enough a fool she wouldn’t know he was holding back. Pay his respects at the Temple? Please. He’d been there, before. Well, Kakudmi had thought her a fool, too. But she was here, and he was … gone.

Whatever secrets the Astral Temple held could wait.

She wound her way through the highlands, past the theater, and up to House Nishadipathi’s decrepit palace. The old door creaked like it would fall from its hinges as Ratna pushed it open. Why didn’t Tanjung get the damn thing replaced? Had her House really fallen on such hard times?

The woman herself sat on a mat on the floor, chewing some black herb. The thing smelled of brine and moss and Ratna didn’t want to know what else, and Tanjung had been spitting the foul juices into a bowl. She looked up at Ratna with glazed-over eyes, but didn’t seem to see her.

“It’s time,” Ratna said. “Ketu’s finally gone.”

It was time the full resources of the Lunar Empire turned to finding Revati. And, in truth, she had a responsibility to her father’s people. To uphold his legacy. Ketu had done a poor job of that, from what she could see. The priest cared only for destroying the Solars, not even pausing to consider the fate of the Lunars.

Tanjung spit out the last of the herb. Black juices sloshed in the bowl and dribbled down her chin. “The spirits say the child’s soul never passed the bridge of Kahyangan.”

Ratna knelt beside the witch. “You thought Revati was dead?”

“I wanted to be able to assure you she wasn’t.”

She had to press her hands into her knees to keep them from trembling. “I didn’t need assurances. I’m her mother. I know she’s alive. My little bidadari …”

“Your mother called you that.”

Something caught in her throat, and she had to rise and turn away. Now was not the time. “I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it.”

Tanjung smiled, then rose, and guided Ratna back out into the rain with a gentle push. The witch stared off into the distance before she spoke. “Your mother and her cousin Simhika were once the pride of House Arang, in the far northern highlands. At least until it became known Calon was a witch. Then, the Lord of Arang couldn’t have her married off to Rahu fast enough.”

Ratna’s sandals caught mud and rocks as she led Tanjung back to Bukit. She hated coming up here in the rainy season. “The same reason you were chased away. Why do people fear what you do so much?”

It took a moment for Ratna to realize Tanjung no longer followed her. She turned to look at the witch, who stood watching her with her head cocked. “Do not make the mistake of thinking Kahyangan is not dangerous, child. People are right to fear such things, because they could never understand the world underneath our own. And most should never want to.”

But Ratna’s mother had understood it. Maybe Calon was crazed with power, maybe a lunatic, even. But Ratna wasn’t about to start worshipping Rangda Demon Queen. She just needed her mother’s secrets to find her daughter. Then this would be over.

Ratna led Tanjung almost out of the highlands, toward Palace Hasta. In the year since its lord had fallen, the once well-trimmed vines had overgrown the gates. The few Moon Scions that remained tended their affairs and tried to stay out of others’. Which made it a shame Ratna had to do this. But Palace Hasta was perhaps even more beautiful than the Hill Palace, and she needed to make a statement.

Her witches were not going to be outcast. These people were going to help her find Revati, and that meant the entire Lunar Empire would answer to them, if need be.

“Get the others, then wait for me here.” Tanjung drifted off to do as she was bid.

Well, then, time to set things in motion. She found Malin on the porch of his own house, looking dazed. The tiger appeared to have drained three jugs of water and now slumped against the wall, staring at nothing.

“Come, Macan Gadungan, I have a task for you.”

Malin rose, clenching his muscles like he was in pain. Perhaps he’d been in a brawl, but he always healed quickly. The tiger stalked over to her, sniffed her, an odd look in his eye. He cracked his neck, but said nothing, thank Chandra.

“My uncle executed many of the House lords in Bukit, didn’t he?”

Malin jerked. “How do you …?”

“That doesn’t matter. The lord of House Hasta is dead, yes?”

Malin glared at her.

“Good. Then evict the rest of his House. I have need of his palace.”

With a laugh, the tiger sat back down. “You’ve lost your mind, child.” He rubbed his eyes.

“The War King could do it, yes? And I speak for him. So now I’m ordering you to tell those people we want them out of Bukit. If my uncle had the lord killed, he must have been a traitor. His shame stains his family. Send them away. Or do I need to send other Moon Scions?”

Malin sighed, then shook his head. “So be it.”

But the tiger paused when he reached the house. Gathered in front, Tanjung and her three witch friends waited. Ratna nodded at them.

“Is this a joke?” Malin asked.

Ratna smiled. “No, Macan Gadungan, this is my new Moon Council. They’ll be taking over this house. And helping me run the Lunar Empire while Ketu is away. Someone told me to see to the future. Well, it’s time to change a few things.”

Perhaps a lot of things, but first she had to find Revati. And to do that, she needed Tanjung’s unwavering loyalty.

Malin gaped a moment. “Yes, it is.” The Macan Gadungan turned back to House Hasta and pounded on the gate.

Ratna couldn’t make herself watch as its people were cast out.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

Malin had to shake himself awake. Volcanoes and rifts, bubbling magma, and a swirling vortex devouring creation. Every time he shut his eyes. Maybe Moon Scion children saw these things. They must fade in time.

They must. Sweat streamed down his back. The tiger inside stretched its claws through his mind. He felt himself arching his back along with it.

Focus. He returned to the papers in front of him.

He’d hoped the Hill Palace would grow more comfortable with Ketu gone. But Ratna, now she even smelled different. A predator, preparing for the hunt. Since her uncle—the man she still thought was her uncle—had left three days ago, the girl had grown bold. Too bold. Sangkuriang would not be pleased to learn his family had been cast out of Bukit.

Still, Ratna spent as much time in Palace Hasta as here, and with Ketu gone, Malin could tolerate the Hill Palace as much as any building. And Ratna had ordered him to sort through these reports. Damn girl loved her reports.

Only starlight from the window lit the sitting room, but Malin’s eyes had no trouble reading.

He cracked his neck and brushed another paper aside. He’d been sitting cross-legged so long his feet were falling asleep. Of eleven Arun Guard, at least seven were believed dead. Given the chaos as Kasusthali fell, it was hard to be sure. It could even be more than that.

For certain, they’d hunted down and destroyed two since the city fell. The Arun Guard remained the greatest threat the Lunar Empire had ever faced. Whether Malin followed Ketu or not, he had no love for the murderous Guard.

But to go after Naresh and Landorundun, Ketu was sending those Igni Firewalkers after Chandi, too. Treacherous bastards. They had hidden their ability to control flames for Chandra-alone-knew how long.

Better to leave the Guardsman in peace, maybe. But Malin had given Naresh reason to hate him. And vengeance would play out sooner or later. All Macan Gadungan knew that in the depths of their souls.

Probably the man would kill whatever Ignis Ketu sent. Assuming the Ignis were really with them. And assuming their Firewalkers could do as they said. They’d betrayed Kakudmi and helped destroy Kasusthali, but they hadn’t exactly gone to war with the remaining Solars on their home island. Malin’s overtures of alliance had been met with redirection and delay, though never refusal.

Fools. Or maybe wiser than anyone.

He started to toss aside the next report, then paused. Malin never paid much attention to the prisoner manifests. Wouldn’t normally even look at them if Ketu was here. But Ratna had handed the duty off to him. Too small a thing to defy her over.

But this one. A werecrocodile held for sedition. On Rahu’s order. Which meant there probably wasn’t anyone around that still cared whether she’d ever be released.

Malin needed to stretch his legs anyway.

It was late enough that Bukit’s night market had begun to dwindle down. Few people still walked the streets. The soldiers at the guardhouse off the market stood straighter at his approach, but he just nodded to them.

A Macan Gadungan stood guard over the stairs into the tunnels beneath Bukit. The Bowels of Bukit, everyone called the complex of dungeons, sewers, and the coliseum. The weretiger met Malin’s gaze before making a half-bow.

“I was not here,” Malin told the Macan Gadungan. “Make sure the others know.”

The weretiger nodded.

Malin dismissed another weretiger guarding the dungeon itself. Some cells were near the coliseum, but they wouldn’t have kept this prisoner there. He had to go deeper into the Bowels.

The stench wasn’t just the smell of human waste and rats. Stale air filled the halls. Stagnant water. Mold. The foul mixture stung his eyes. Bowels. An apt name.

A tremor ran through his muscles. Not now. Three days practicing the Blessings wasn’t enough. Sometimes they just came on him. His stomach tried to jump into his throat. But it was oh-so-sweet, when he had the Blessings.

He slumped against the wall a moment, then forced himself to drop the Blessings, before continuing. Soon, Malin had to take a torch to proceed. Even he needed some light. The torchlight glittered off the water slicking the walls of the lower dungeon.

His sandal brushed against something squishy. Malin grimaced. One thing he had to give the Solars. They’d never build a place like this. They’d burn people alive for treason. But they wouldn’t have built this pit for their worst enemies.

The water on the floor ran downhill. Malin followed it. After an intolerable trek through this place, he paused at a grate on the floor. The water poured through it in a foul cascade. Could be the place.

The grate was a circle, almost as wide as he was tall. A slimy crust had formed where the guards had tossed fish and slop down to the prisoner. Malin crouched atop the grate, peered down into the darkness.

If something hadn’t moved in there, he might not have seen it, even with his eyes. But something was shifting down there. A woman. He held the torch closer to the grate.

The woman pressed herself farther back into the shadows. Naked, shivering. Faint sound of water splashing as she slipped into it.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The woman didn’t answer at first. “Pohaci,” she said, at last.

That was the name on the report. “You know who I am?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here?”

“I was brave enough to stand up to the War King when he wanted us to sneak into Kasusthali with his delegation.”

Brave enough. Interesting. “Rahu’s no longer the War King. He’s been dead over a year.”

Malin should have brought the key. Assuming anyone knew where the key to this cell was. Disgusting slime squished under his fingers as he grasped the bars.

Pohaci laughed. “Not even a weretiger could pry that loose.”

With a deep breath, he tried to draw his Potency Blessing. He’d watched Chandi trying to master her Blessings as a child. Heard the advice Ketu had given her. Time to see if all the practice paid off.

Combined with his weretiger strength, when he managed the strength Blessing, the effects were … impressive. Iron shrieked as he pulled. The echoes of its protests filled the cell. And then the grate snapped free in a shower of stone.

“Sweet Chandra,” Pohaci said.

Malin tossed the grate aside.

The drop was at least a dozen feet, probably more. No ladder. No one left this kind of cell.

With a grimace, Malin dropped down. He landed in muck up to his ankles.

The woman took a step back from him. But only a step. “You really are the first of the Macan Gadungan, aren’t you?”

Malin joined her on dry land, then shook the filth off his feet. He’d burn these sandals. He noticed a pile of discarded clothes in the corner, ragged and covered in mold. No wonder she’d preferred to strip naked.

“Climb onto my shoulders, and I’ll hoist you up.”

She did, and he lifted her until she could reach the ledge. She pulled herself up.

Malin drew his Blessing harder and jumped. The strength of his legs was enough to let him catch the ledge. He heaved himself over the lip. A shudder ran through him at the thought of spending a day here. Much less a year.

“Come,” he said.

Pohaci fell in step behind him, heedless of her state of undress. She practically clung to him. “I’ll never forget this,” she said.

Malin glanced back at the cell. “Neither will I.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

Palace Hasta, once the most beautiful palace in Bukit, had been overrun with witches. Not even the rains covered the scent of the decaying Lunar Empire. And today, the rains had stopped and the sun was shining.

Malin left his baju open, drinking in the sunlight, as he crouched near the palace gate. The gardens here, almost a rainforest within the compound, called to him. Sangkuriang’s daughter had sobbed when he ushered her from this home. Malin clenched the dirt in his fists, crushed it. Felt it crumble. “Why?” the child had asked.

Because Tanjung had poisoned Ratna’s mind. Because the daughter was becoming the mother. Malin had held Calon as she died. Nothing but death came from black magic.

Four days since he’d rescued that poor girl Pohaci from the Bowels. Enough time to master the easiest Blessings, strength and speed. To feel the addiction the Moon Scions felt. Technically, Malin was one of them now.

No. He wasn’t like them.

Word came this morning that the Hasta girl had taken ill in the rainforest. Her mother had begged on the edge of town for medicine. Glorious to see the Moon Scions grovel. Except when innocent lives hung in the balance.

And the witches had refused the family.

Even Ratna, when Malin had begged her to rescind the exile, had refused. Malin had offered her the chance to join him, and she’d spurned him.

Malin rose and flung open the gates. Ratna had stationed guards on the place. One look at Malin and they backed away. Best for them.

Stark emptiness greeted him in the palace entry hall. Once, wall hangings had displayed peacocks and tigers and star-filled skies. Gone. Gone also were the golden candlesticks. All sold, trying to scrape by after Malin had cast out Sangkuriang a year ago.

A slave imposed himself between Malin and the inner hallways. He held a hand up, as if to ask Malin what he planned. Malin shoved the man aside. The slave collided with the wall, then rubbed his shoulder, mumbling obscenities human hearing would have missed.

The spirit within clawed at his mind. Vengeance. No, not the time. Still, he caught himself taking the stairs two at a time.

She was there, in the largest chamber. Tanjung. Actually smiled when he barged in. Intricate rosewood furniture still decorated this room. The remainders of House Hasta’s wealth, stolen by this Rangda-worshipping woman.

“More than a week, Macan Gadungan. I didn’t expect it to take you so long.” The witch sat on the windowsill, had probably seen him enter the compound through that window. From here, he could see clear to the market.

Malin approached Tanjung at an angle, kept his gaze locked on her eyes. “There was a girl I knew. A child that took refuge in my arms. A child that sobbed for the loss of her mother. I swore to protect her.” Malin edged closer to the windowsill, until his nose almost touched Tanjung’s. “What have you done with that child, witch?”

Tanjung smiled, but stank of fear underneath. “Did you or did you not ignite the Fifth War by murdering Empu Baradah? I think that left one child in the arms of the Solars, and the other, well, not a child anymore.”

Chandi. No. Malin hadn’t driven her into Naresh’s arms. No.

He grabbed Tanjung by the throat and shoved her back, shattering the glass in the window. He left her dangling out of it, clutching his arm. “Do you think I’m toying with you, witch? Leave Ratna alone. If you send her down this path, I’ll kill you.”

Tanjung shoved him, the surge of strength catching Malin unaware. “I am a Moon Scion, Macan Gadungan! Your threats frightened me away once. But we have both grown since then. I’m going nowhere, but you are leaving. Now. Or perhaps you’d like a closer look at the dungeons in the Bowels? What is it like beneath the streets of Bukit? They say you can hear the moans of the dead that never received their sending. If I tell Ratna you attacked a Moon Scion, I imagine she’d let you find out.”

Malin bared his teeth. Edged closer. Should have killed her all those years ago. Oh, maybe Ratna would have him jailed for it. Or she’d try, and start the war. The Jadian would never let it stand, if she tried to lock him in the Bowels.

“For the child’s sake, you live.”

“Then get out of my house, beast.”

Malin paused at the doorway. He smashed the dresser with one blow. Tanjung’s shriek felt even better than crushing her expensive furniture had. “It’s not your house, witch.” Malin’s smile didn’t even last until he’d exited the palace.

He was losing Ratna as surely as he’d lost Calon. And Chandi. But any overt attack on Tanjung would only hasten that loss.

Another way, then. Malin passed through the market, ignoring the vendors pawning coriander and other goods from the Spice Islands. And beyond. The fall of the Solar Empire had opened freer trade with Au Lac and Tianxia. Men and women tried to sell him bundles of silk, foreign blades, jade necklaces.

Perhaps it should bother him he no longer saw himself as human. He was Macan Gadungan. He was a Moon Scion.

But not like the others.

“Be gone, tiger,” Ratna had said this morning. Dismissed him like one of the Solars’ pets, when he tried to offer her alliance.

He couldn’t blame her, the foolish child. All her life a Macan Gadungan had been her bodyguard and servant. As they were for all Moon Scion Houses. But if words couldn’t awaken her, and he couldn’t drive Tanjung away, he’d need something more.

Dirty children ran past him, chasing each other around the narrow alleys of the Loghouses. With no rain today, the stink of refuse stung his eyes. The filth would wash into the Bowels when the rains came, but now the slimy muck piled on the sides of the alleys.

Careful of where he stepped, Malin passed on from the Loghouses into the marshlands. Sad even the swamp felt cleaner than the common areas of Bukit.

Malin passed through the wetlands without fear. They teemed with life, but no animal could or would harm him. His Blessings, when he could summon them, made him almost unstoppable.

The thought of the Blessings left him trembling. His skin began to change color, matching the greenery around him. Sweat beaded his brow, and Malin had to hold himself up on his knees from the sudden pressure just below his abdomen. Fire coiled inside him, threatened to rise up and scorch his brain.

Malin fell to his hands and knees in the water, gasping for air. Clear his mind. He took a deep breath and held it. When he blew it out, his skin had returned to normal and the pressure had faded.

Chandi had said her Glamour was the hardest to control. But he would control it.

The dreams meant nothing, just hallucinations of Kahyangan. They haunted his sleep. But they would fade.

He resumed his trek through the wetlands. The Buaya Jadian had their own communal loghouse—not on stilts—near the beach, beyond the wetlands. The other Lunars wouldn’t suffer the werecrocodiles to live among them. The Buaya Jadian probably wouldn’t want to, either.

They weren’t in the hut, though. They all lay about on the beach, soaking in the sun.

Pohaci reclined on her stomach, amidst the others of her kind, her baju discarded. She opened one eye at his approach, then languidly pushed herself up on her arms.

“Malin.” Her voice was rich, no longer raspy. She’d cut her hair off at the shoulders, even shorter in the front. Cleaned up, she almost looked like Chandi. A sweet face to mask the beast inside.

He forced his gaze from her bare breasts to her face. “Get dressed.” He’d seen plenty of Jadian unclad. Didn’t need these thoughts now.

Pohaci took a moment to stretch before doing as he ordered. None of the other Buaya Jadian moved, though now he saw several had opened their eyes. Watched him.

“Walk with me.”

The woman fell in step beside him. She was short, lithe. Just like Chandi.

Malin spared a glance at her. “Do you like this situation? With your people?”

Pohaci stopped and turned toward the beach with exquisite slowness. “It’s a good beach.”

Malin grunted and grabbed her by the hand. Pulled her through the wetlands, back toward the Loghouses. The Lunars there shied away from them.

One old woman made a sign of warding, as though Rangda herself walked the streets of Bukit. Others ducked behind stalls as Pohaci passed.

Spies. Saboteurs. Assassins. The werecrocodiles were feared even by other Lunars. But Pohaci made no attempt to hide her unnatural stillness, no attempt to deny her nature. Nor should she.

“The Macan Gadungan at least get some measure of respect,” he said. “You like this?” He waved at the cowering humans, then ushered her along through the city.

“What do you think, Malin? Am I a monster? The people I served treated me like one. And if I questioned them? I was beaten and locked away in a dank cell. Fed rotten fish and the occasional entrails. You didn’t have to bring me here to see that these people are cowards.”

Some of the Lunars bristled at her words, but said nothing. Malin had no doubt she’d intended them to hear. He smiled despite himself. She thought he’d protect her from these people no matter what she did.

And he would, he realized. What they had done to her was unforgivable. And Macan Gadungan understood vengeance.

All things in time.

He led her to his house by the Hill Palace. Probably, she hadn’t wanted to walk through the city, but she needed to feel those stares.

And here, on his porch, they were out of earshot. Away from both the common people and Tanjung’s spies.

Malin sat, and Pohaci lounged beside him, her hands tucked under her head.

“What if it didn’t have to be this way?” he said.

Pohaci shifted to watch him.

“I’m going to change things for both of our peoples. Soon. Rahu created us. He did not own us. And Ketu and the other Moon Scions surely don’t either. We need to teach them this.”

Pohaci stretched. “Civil war?”

Malin searched her eyes. Not a hint of judgment there. Only the question. Everything he’d done for the past year had been to avoid civil war. If he brought the Jadian against Ketu and his allied Houses, they might win. But he’d probably end up destroying Ratna, too.

“I don’t know. Not yet. Right now, I want to try to save things here, if we can. Win over Ratna while Ketu’s away. We have to get her away from Tanjung.”

Pohaci nodded with her eyes, if that was possible.

“I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

Good. “Find out everything you can about Tanjung. Watch her. Where she goes, what she does. Everything. I want to know her plans before she does.”

“Who is she?”

Malin sighed. “A witch. Fourteen years ago, she convinced Ratna’s mother to turn the spirits on the Solars. Attacked them with plague and flood, and when they responded, a leyak.”

Pohaci hissed. “Stories for children.”

“The Buaya Jadian inside you knows better.”

“So let’s kill her.”

Malin smiled. “Not yet.”

Pohaci rose. Stretched. She stepped off the porch and spun a full circle on one foot, then swept a dramatic bow. “I will never fail you, Malin.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

Ratna didn’t mind that Malin had released the crocodile. It was insulting that he thought she wouldn’t find out, of course. And her father probably had a reason for locking the creature up, but she could have excused all that.

But this, she couldn’t excuse.

“She’s still out there?” Ratna stood, staring through the broken glass window in the Garden Palace’s—best everyone forget it was Palace Hasta—master chamber, looking out at the first sight of Chandra’s face tonight.

Purbararang nodded. The woman, Anusapati’s cousin, lacked Tanjung’s experience or power, but she made up for it with ambition. Ratna could use that. “Still hiding in the grasses, following Tanjung.”

Well. Even if the spirits hadn’t confirmed it, a real crocodile would never stalk a person like that. At least two days. This had gone on long enough.

“Tell Tanjung to move in on her. The werecrocodile will try to retreat into the woods in the hills. Meet me there with the guards. Upwind, or she’ll smell us.”

The woman, barely older than Ratna herself, headed for the door.

“Purbi,” Ratna called. “For Chandra’s sake, don’t let Malin catch on to any of this.”

Purbararang’s face creased. The young witch hardly knew how to hide her craft. Hiding from Macan Gadungan might test her. But untested, she’d never be of any use. Ratna waved her off.

Maybe she should have sent the Buaya Jadian to find Revati. The thought of letting one of them handle her daughter sent a shudder through her chest. Breathe. If the werecrocodile had half the determination at finding Revati she’d shown stalking Tanjung, maybe it would have worked.

Too late now. Ratna followed Purbi downstairs. Outside the Garden Palace, though, she could see a small crowd gathered in front of the Hill Palace. Ratna sighed. She’d taken to granting audiences to the people of Bukit. More and more came every day, but usually in the daytime, not at night. Unbelievable how much her uncle had allowed these grievances to fester.

It was always better to get these things out in the open. She plastered a smile on her face, then drifted among the people milling about in front of her home. Everyone bowed as she approached, but one woman’s face lit up. Hope. Ratna hadn’t seen enough of that lately.

“Please, my lady. My husband’s been stationed at the Astral Temple over a year.” The woman’s fine sarong and baju meant she was probably a Moon Scion, though who knew what House.

Ratna put her hands on her hips and clucked her tongue. “Well. I suspect there are a lot of people eager to see the Temple.”

She watched the crowd as a slight murmur ran through it. Plenty of them had bled or lost loved ones over the years for the Astral Temple. How many had even seen the sacred place? Ratna never had.

She turned to a slave. “Find Malin. Get him to round up a handful of Moon Scions who want to serve there. Bring them for interviews tomorrow morning.”

The slave nodded and scurried off. Perhaps three month shifts, then? If they seemed loyal, she’d send them to Ketu. Only in small groups, of course. Give her uncle time to adjust to new faces. With new blood to protect the complex, Ketu could afford to send some of the current guardians home. He never thought of such things.

“When they start sending home Moon Scions, I’ll make sure your husband is among them.”

The woman fawned over her, bowing and mumbling her gratitude. Ratna tried not to smile. “Please, the rest of you come back in the morning.”

Ratna made a show of waving them off as she entered the Hill Palace. In the courtyard, she drew her Gliding Blessing and ran up the wall. She had only crested the large eave of the saddle roof when she collapsed, panting. Damn Chandi for having it so easy. She made this look like breathing. Ratna’s stomach kept throbbing, contracting, and her ears popped.

Altering her gravity might give her the chance to make sure no one followed, but Ratna hoped she wouldn’t need to do it often. Once more, she drew her Blessings and ran along the roof, then down the backside of the palace.

By the time she found Purbi in the hills north of the Garden Palace, she’d controlled her breathing. Ratna wiped the sweat from her face, fixed her hair, then made her way up to where Purbi sat. Three of their personal guard stood nearby, fingering keris knives, chatting about the local girls or some such nonsense. Each had seligi stuck in the ground, the javelins ready for quick throws if needed.

“Is everything ready?” she asked the young witch.

Purbi nodded. “Tanjung will lure her here. I doubt the Buaya Jadian will fight. The assassins are not trained for handling open conflict against so many.”

Ratna grunted. Purbi seemed to know a fair deal about Jadian training. But then, she was House Kshuparaka, and they had helped run Bangdvipa.

She sat down beside Purbi and folded her hands. Damn Malin for making her waste her time with this. She could be using the witches to find Revati or solve the many problems Ketu had left in Bukit. Instead she had to deal with Malin’s shallow schemes.

Purbi scratched her head, then turned to her. “Malin really killed my cousin, didn’t he? They say he interfered in a duel.”

“He did.” If Malin hadn’t killed Anusapati, the lunatic would have murdered poor Chandi. Poor Chandi? Yes, because whatever had passed between them, Chandi had been her best friend. Malin had saved Ratna’s cousin by killing Purbi’s.

“I miss my cousin,” Ratna said. Foolishness. Purbi probably missed her cousin, too. And she might say he was dead because of Chandi.

But Purbi said nothing. Just clasped her hand and waited.

Ratna did miss Chandi. And her father, too. The Solars had taken both her parents from her, and her cousin. But she couldn’t bring herself to hate them, not the way Ketu did. Not after seeing the devastation of Kasusthali.

She heard the rustling before she saw anything. Then the grasses wiggled, parted as something scurried through them. The crocodile darted into the open, spotted them, and tried to make a dash to the east.

“That’s more than enough, werebeast,” Ratna said as she leapt to her feet. “I don’t want my men to have to impale you with seligi.”

The crocodile held very still. Watched her, with those eerie, unblinking eyes. Yellow, slanted like a reptile’s, yet somehow still human. A chill ran down Ratna’s spine, though she tried to keep from showing it.

“Show us your real face. Now.”

At first, the crocodile didn’t move. Ratna put her hands on her hips and stared it down, trying to mimic the same intensity in her gaze that Tanjung had. After a moment, the creature started to morph. The slight, sickening sound of bones and muscles shifting filled the air, drowned out by the girl’s moans. Scales receded into flesh, teeth shrank, and the long snout became a dainty nose.

In the end, all it left was a small, skinny, naked girl on her hands and knees. Her short hair fell about her face, and her eyes, when she looked up, could have reduced Ratna to cinders.

More rustling came from behind, then Tanjung emerged from the bushes, a bundle of clothes in her arms. She dropped the clothes at the werecrocodile’s feet, then moved to join Ratna. Tanjung nodded at her, but showed no other sign of approval.

Ratna blew out a deep breath, waited while the woman dressed herself. The men around her seemed disinterested. Perhaps seeing her as a crocodile a moment before kept them from enjoying the girl’s lack of modesty. When the werecrocodile had buttoned her baju, at least as far as it seemed she intended to, Ratna edged her way closer.

The werecrocodile was a little taller than her, which wasn’t saying much. Of course, despite her slight frame, the girl probably had more strength than any one of the men guarding Ratna.

“Malin sent you to spy on us?”

The woman glared at her.

“It’s fine. It’s what your kind are good at, so I’m not angry with you. In fact, I’m going to give you the chance to keep spying. But you’re going to report to me. Everything you do, everything Malin says, everything the other Houses do. All the secrets of Bukit, you’re going to bring to me now.” And maybe she wouldn’t have to waste any more time playing these games with Malin.

The werecrocodile snorted, grinned a little.

Ratna shrugged. “Oh, did you like the Bowels? In that case, we can always arrange a more permanent location down there for you.”

The smile slipped off the girl’s face in an instant. She even took a step back, though she seemed unconscious of it. When she spoke, though, her jaw was firm. “You are your father’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes.” Ratna stepped closer. “Report to me, or we put you in a hole so deep not even Malin will be able to dig you out again.”

The girl’s shoulders fell, her head slumped. Ratna didn’t need any other answer. She passed the werecrocodile without another look, heading back to the Garden Palace. Purbi and Tanjung slipped in beside her.

“You did well,” Ratna told the young witch.

Purbi ran her fingers through her long hair and shrugged. As if it were nothing, cornering the crocodile while keeping the plan secret from Malin.

“The Jadian will continue to be a problem,” Tanjung said. “Especially Malin. Not as loyal as he once was. Always stubborn.”

Ratna shook her head. Whatever else Malin was, he was loyal. Her bodyguard had dogged her every step since childhood. Watching her too closely, like an infant that could hurt herself if left alone.

“The Jadian are the greatest weapon in the Lunar Empire. It’s not just the spirits in them, it’s their training.” Nowadays, they were trained in their arts from childhood. Trained to be perfectly loyal, perfectly lethal. “And Malin’s heart is with the Jadian, especially the Macan Gadungan.”

They reached the Garden Palace, and Purbi opened the gates for them. As soon as they entered the main hall, the smell of sticky fried rice and egg overwhelmed her. She must not have eaten since midday, in the lingsir kulon.

“So what do you suggest we do?” Tanjung asked, when the three of them sat with bowls of fried rice and a mug each of coconut water.

“The Jadian are trained to be loyal to their Moon Scion Houses. We want them loyal to me. So we need someone to watch over them where they’re trained, when they’re young.”

“Bangdvipa.”

Yes. The island off the coast served as the training ground for all werebeasts. They saw it as their home. And if Ratna controlled the island, she’d control Malin, through his people.

“You want me to go?” Tanjung asked.

Ratna shook her head. “I want her to go,” she said, pointing to Purbararang. “Purbi proved herself today, and her family already has a history with Bangdvipa. Now let her show just how valuable she can be.”

Purbi paused with a bite of rice halfway to her mouth. “You want me to live on an island filled with weretigers and werecrocodiles?”

“No. I want you to run the island.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

After three years living under the domes of Kasusthali, being outside in the rainy season had grown foreign to Chandi. How much worse did Naresh have it, then, having grown up in the undersea city?

Suladvipa was the smallest and easternmost of the four great Skyfall Isles, and homeland of the Ignis. And of Landorundun, which was why Naresh had agreed to shelter here.

Despite the heavy rains, Bendurana seemed anything but bothered. The Serendibian ran about in the mud with Landi, kicking the rattan Sepak Takraw ball, while children chased them around the field.

“Ah, my dears,” Ben shouted, “brace yourselves. Amazement is headed your way.” He jumped in the air, kicked the ball backward over his head, and promptly fell in the mud.

Chandi had seen a few professional matches when she lived in Kasusthali. Even if those players played with more skill, they never matched Ben’s enthusiasm.

Landorundun chuckled. “Consider us amazed.”

Chandi stood in the rain, arms crossed, unable to hide her smile, as Landorundun helped her beau up. Mud caked the back of his baju and dripped from his locks.

“It’s a good look for you,” Chandi said.

“Ah, Chandi. I was going for rugged and adventurous, with maybe a dash of danger.”

A pair of children laughed as they stole the ball Landi had abandoned. One girl stopped to stare at Chandi, then turned and ran away.

Still.

Chandi sighed. Run little children, don’t let the Lunar monster get you.

She opened her mouth to tell Ben she was going inside, only to find the Serendibian had wrapped Landi in an embrace. One of the children made gagging sounds at the prolonged kiss.

When they came up for air, Landi had her hand on his face. Neither of them seemed to see anything else, so Chandi left them there in the rain.

Teaching the children of Cenrana the game had been Bendurana’s idea, but Landorundun had joined in with a little nudge. “Ah, well, if you won’t play, I guess our Lunar friend will have to show us all how it’s done, eh, Chandi?” Ben had said.

And there Landi had stood, arms folded, looking Chandi up and down. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Chandi might have wanted to try it, if not for the way the Solar children shied away from her.

Cenrana village wasn’t large in population, but it was widespread. Chandi and Naresh shared a house on the western edge. They’d built it themselves, log by log, because she’d fallen in love with the great, twisted tree nearby. The moss-covered thing must have been two hundred years old, and would have looked at home in the rainforest.

That first morning, after the house was complete, Naresh had climbed the tree with her. “I could just Stride us up there,” he’d said.

Chandi laughed. “I know your leg hurts, but the climb itself is the point.”

The sun had risen while she lay cradled in his arms, dozens of feet above the ground.

And now, in the shadow of Chandi’s house, Landorundun’s older sister ogled Naresh. Of course, Chandi’s husband did cut an impressive figure, pacing around on the bamboo mat beneath the house in nothing but a sarong. The sunburst tattoo of the Arun Guard rippled over his muscles as he moved, his limp now reduced. His feet slapped the mat with each step he took, practicing the Lunar Silat forms she’d taught him. His leg trailed behind him a bit, but otherwise, he was becoming as adept unarmed as with a sword.

Naresh leaned forward, chest parallel to the ground, standing on his bad leg. All those strength exercises rebuilt his muscles, but damn, that had to hurt. Why did he do this to himself?

“Naresh, let’s go inside.”

Landorundun’s sister, Hainuwele, started. Chandi suppressed her smirk. Was it wrong to enjoy sneaking up on the woman?

“Chandi.” Naresh smiled without breaking his form. “I’ve almost finished. I’ll meet you upstairs in a moment.”

Chandi bit her lip, then trudged up the stairs. Despite his limp, Naresh never accepted help up the stairs. The stilts that kept the house above flood level meant he had a difficult climb, after what Malin had done to his leg. But she couldn’t begrudge him his pride.

She couldn’t even really hate Hainuwele. Cenrana was her home, was Landi’s family home, and they had accepted the refugees from Kasusthali, Chandi included. Barely accepted, in Chandi’s case. She’d betrayed her people to be with a Solar. She could never go home again. They might at least pretend she was one of them.

The villagers had helped them build this house in typical Suladvipan fashion. A narrow porch surrounded the house on all sides, most of it covered by the eaves. Chandi sat on the porch and watched the rain. Soon, Chandra’s bright face would rise above the clouds.

Naresh trudged up the stairs and plopped down beside her. The rain had washed away much of the sweat, but his chest still heaved.

“How do you see me, Naresh?”

Naresh turned to look into her eyes. He cupped her chin in one hand. “The moon and stars, held forever in the instant before dawn.”

She took a deep breath; it trembled in her chest. She kissed him, drank in his warmth. But even with his arms around her, even in the heat, she felt chilled.

“Do you know how the others see me? I’m ‘the Lunar’ to them. Still, after all this time.”

Naresh cradled her against his shoulder. “That’s not true. Everyone’s accepted you, they’re just on edge. What happens if your father comes for us? It’s the question on everyone’s mind.”

So did it mean this home could never last? Cenrana gave them shelter. Peace, even. Why would her father even care about such a small fishing village? She nuzzled against his side. “Is that why you spend every night training?”

The way he’d taken to Lunar Silat was like nothing she’d ever seen. Was it because he’d already mastered Solar Silat? No. Something else was driving him. Was it Malin? The tiger had maimed Naresh. Or was it more, the loss of his world?

“The Sun Brand makes the Arun Guard war gods,” she’d said, when they began the training. “What are you when you run out of sunlight?”

Naresh shrugged. “Demigods?”

“We all know what Malin and his kind can do to a human.”

Naresh had tried to hide the glance at his leg, but Chandi caught it. She always saw it. Not a day went by that Naresh didn’t lament the grace he had lost that day. Not that he ever said it.

So she’d taught him every move, every step Malin had taught her. He couldn’t master all the footwork, but his progress with his hands astounded her.

Chandi took his hand and looked up into his face, brushed his hair away from his eyes. Those eyes had always held things she couldn’t quite see, hadn’t they? But then, they held her, too. When he looked at her like that, everything else in the world faded away. For a moment.

“Can’t you let it be? Let them have the Lunar Empire? Just stay here and live our lives?”

Naresh shut his eyes, and the spell was broken. “I don’t know.”

“I can’t lose you.”

He opened his eyes, and it was all back for her. “You won’t. Of that, at least, I’m certain.” Something unknotted in her chest.

“I need to start supper,” she said, at last.

“Not yet.” He led her by the hand, down the stairs, and over to her tree.

Their rope still hung there in a loop, where he’d strung it a year ago. Thicker around than her wrist, it more than supported Naresh’s weight as he sat on the swing. Chandi settled into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder.

The rain fell around them, streaming down their faces. Its constant patter was like the drum of a dance—the dance of the whole world, as though they rested in the arms of Djambo Baros, the Tree of Life.

The rest of the village might not want her, but this tree always awaited her. As did her husband. And slowly, she’d win these people, just as she’d won Naresh.

Because this was her home now.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

Naresh had already left when Chandi woke. Most days he did. He took the jukung out into the Bone Gulf, looking for fish even before dawn. She sighed, then stretched, and pulled on her kemban.

A mango sat on their low tea table. Well, at least he always left her breakfast. She massaged the mango until she could squeeze the pulp from one end. Sweet and so ripe, grown right in the nearby hills.

“Oh my lady, come to your window. I must see you!”

Chandi started at the voice shouting from below her house. Bendurana. She smiled, sucked a bit more from the mango, then rose and stepped out onto her porch.

The Serendibian stood below with his arms outstretched to her, a satchel slung over one shoulder. “Ah, Ibu Chandi, at last. I’ve been wanting to ask you something of the utmost importance.” He gave her a stern look.

“Sorry, Ben, I can’t marry you. Naresh wouldn’t approve.”

Ben slapped his hands together and struck a pose of defeat. “In that case, maybe you’d speak to Lambe Susu.”

Chandi leaned against the porch rail. “Landorundun’s mother? Why?”

Ben scratched his head and paced around a bit. “Her parents never wanted us together. We thought, after so much time had passed, they would have accepted it. They still won’t give us their blessing to marry. I just …”

Of course. Bendurana had lost his parents at a young age. His in-laws would be the only ones he’d have. No wonder their approval meant so much to him.

“Her mother, especially, doesn’t like me. I’ve been wanting to give her something,” he said. “Come down here.”

Chandi did, and Ben pulled an emerald-colored bottle from his satchel. Several small holes covered one side, almost invisible, though she could feel them when she took it.

Chandi looked at Ben.

“Fill it with water,” he said. “You can hang it above a garden to give the plants a rain shower. I bet she likes gardening. They have a huge garden.”

“It’s Hainuwele’s garden.” Chandi soured at the reminder of Landorundun’s sister. “I don’t think Lambe Susu spends much time there.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t worry, Ben, it’s a fine gift. But why ask me? They don’t think much of me, either.” They’d barely spoken to her in the year since she’d come to Cenrana. ‘The Lunar’ was probably even worse than ‘the pirate’ in their eyes.

“Well, who better to prove love wins out against all odds?”

Chandi snorted and threw up her hands. “All right, all right, Ben.” What could she say? She owed him more than she could ever repay. Bendurana had taken her to save Naresh from her father, at great personal risk, all in the name of her love.

Chandi smiled as she walked. If she could convince them Ben was good for Landi, it’d go a long way to elevating her in their eyes, too.

She drifted through town, taking her time, but still had no idea what to say when she reached Solokang’s house. Beyond the house, Hainuwele knelt in the large garden, planting orchids.

Chandi stood below their porch, fiddling with the bottle, when a woman called out to her.

“Are you going to come up, or just stand there?”

Chandi blew out a breath and climbed the steps. Like all Suladvipan houses, it featured a front region for guests. When she’d first come here, Chandi had made the mistake of trying to sit on the raised region in the back, with her hosts. Landi’s cold stare had been almost as bad as Hainuwele’s mocking laughter. Like they’d expected her to know not only Solar customs from Kasusthali, but Solar customs from a whole other island.

Lambe Susu was making tea. Chandi bowed, then accepted the cup Landorundun’s mother offered her. She knelt in the guest area and folded her legs beneath her. The woman eyed the green bottle.

“A gift from Bendurana,” Chandi said. “For watering the garden.”

“In the rainy season?” Lambe Susu took the bottle without smiling. “A gift from the pirate. Isn’t that nice? I hope he doesn’t think he can win my daughter with stolen plunder.”

“I hear he won her with a mango.” At least, that’s how Bendurana told it. Chandi suspected he might have exaggerated. “He’s not a pirate. He hunted them for the Solar navy, before. Now he’s just another merchant, trying to get by.”

“I appreciate that you support your … friend, Lunar.”

Chandi tried to hide her glower. Well, maybe she didn’t try that hard.

“But,” Lambe Susu continued, “just because you won Naresh from my daughter, don’t think she’s free to be with that Serendibian.”

Chandi bit her lip, watching the Solar. The old woman’s voice was firm, but her eyes seemed uncertain. Won Naresh from her daughter? Was that what this was? So she wasn’t just the Lunar, she was the Lunar that had stolen Naresh from Landorundun?

“Naresh and Landorundun were finished long before I met either of them. Bendurana didn’t much like Naresh. But when I asked him to, he risked everything to save him from my people. They held Naresh captive, would have killed him. And Bendurana faced the Lunar navy, pirates, and the loss of his home to bring me to Bukit.”

Chandi sipped her tea. “The man you call pirate risked his life to save others. Even others that had treated him poorly. The only thing he’s ever asked in return is that I speak to your husband about the woman he loves. And make no mistake, she does love him. You could try to arrange another marriage for her. But I doubt you’d find anyone that will make her happier.”

“I can see he made an impression,” Solokang said from the porch.

Chandi started. When had he returned? The man wasn’t the village chief, but he seemed to hold everyone’s ear here. This place was as tight-knit as a beehive, and twice as prickly if stirred. But if she could win this man over, maybe he would convince Lambe Susu for her.

Solokang entered and sat beside his wife. “And he’s not the only one that makes an impression.”

Chandi stood and bowed. “I hope I have, Pak Solokang.” Chandra, did she really just use that stupid Solar title?

The man nodded. “But that man has nothing to offer her,” Landi’s father said. “He made his living hunting Lunar pirates? Not much of a profession now, is it?”

“He’s trying to get by. We all are.” Time to get out, while she was ahead? She bowed to both of them, then left.

Hainuwele stared at her as she climbed down the steps. The woman spoke when Chandi tried to walk away. “You think the foreigner is good enough for Landorundun? Who could ever measure up to her? She always gets the best.”

Chandi took a deep breath before facing the Solar. “Landorundun can decide for herself who the right man for her is.”

The way Hainuwele brushed her hair from her eyes—just like Landorundun. “That’s what we have family for. So our elders can help keep us from making mistakes.”

“Landorundun’s twenty-seven. I think she can make her own choices. You, on the other hand, might need some guidance.” Chandi took a step closer to the Solar. “I owe your sister, which is the only reason I haven’t broken your face for making those eyes at my husband.”

The older woman took a step back.

Chandi spun and left before Hainuwele could see her smirk. She probably shouldn’t have confronted the woman. It wasn’t like Naresh showed the slightest interest in the widow.

And she’d probably just undone all that hard work with Solokang and Lambe Susu. She sighed. Not that the look on Hainuwele’s face wasn’t worth it.

The rain began as she walked back to her house. Naresh would return soon, for the lingsir kulon meal. She’d gotten him to develop a taste for Lunar rendang, and she’d need time to prepare it.

Ben and Landi sat on the bamboo mat under her house, holding hands, waiting for her. Whatever he said made her shake her head, trying to keep that cool exterior.

“Ah, Chandi, how’d it go?”

“Can I talk to Landi alone, a moment, Ben?”

They exchanged looks, then Bendurana rose with an elaborate shrug. “Well, I can’t blame you. Who wouldn’t want a little alone time with the most beautiful bird in the sky?”

Landi scoffed, and shook her head again.

When Ben had moved out of earshot, Chandi knelt beside the Solar. “Your parents worry he can’t provide for you. It’s not just the damn Solar honor, Landi, they really fear he’s not going to look after you.”

Landi scowled and said nothing for a minute, just stared off at the rain. “Only my friends call me Landi,” she said at last. “And what do you mean damn Solar honor? I knew it was a mistake to send you, but Ben insisted.” Landi—Landorundun—looked away, at the rain over the hills.

She could be so difficult sometimes, but Chandi owed the Solar. And since when were they not friends? But then, Landorundun was never quite the same after they’d found Kasusthali drowned.

“They didn’t forbid it,” Chandi said. “Give it time.” With a sigh, she rose and left the woman beneath her house.

When she came back down, arms laden with beef and coconut milk, Landorundun had gone. Poor girl. Chandi knew too well the frustration of being denied the person she loved in the eyes of her family.

Or maybe it was more than that. The First of the Arun Guard now commanded only one person. And Chandra knew, no one really commanded Naresh to do anything. Which was fine. Chandi liked a man with spirit.

She sang to herself as she lit the fire pit, adding a sprinkle of turmeric and tamarind, then a generous handful of chilies. Turned out, Naresh liked things spicy, too. It just took him a while to realize it. A hint of galangal when the coconut milk was boiling, and it’d be just about perfect.

If nothing else, Chandi was proud of her growing culinary skills. When they’d first built this home, she’d hesitated over everything. There was no one to ask if she’d made the Lunar dishes correctly. Back in Bukit, slaves did most of the cooking for House Soma. Anusapati had cooked, too.

It’d been a long time since she’d thought about him. Funny that, at last, she could look back without a sting of pain in her heart. She couldn’t forget what might have been, but if things had been different, she wouldn’t have found Naresh. And after four years, she almost couldn’t picture Anusapati’s face anymore.

Heavy footfalls behind her told her Naresh had returned. “Smells good, handmaid.”

Chandi spun and leapt into his arms, threw her legs around his back. “Handmaid? You may be bigger and stronger, but I bet I could still pin you if it came to it.”

Naresh nibbled on her ear. “We’ll put that to the test later.” He set her down, then bent over the pot and took a deep breath. “Seems about ready.”

Chandi folded her arms and leaned over him. “Oh, you’re an expert now?”

He shrugged. “Guess I’d better go wait up in the house, then.”

She ladled the rendang into two bowls, then followed him upstairs. He sat in the central region, by the tea table. Neutral ground, for guests or residents. Silly Solar rules.

Chandi plopped the bowls on the table, then folded her legs beneath her. “Catch anything today?”

Naresh grunted. “Usual.”

“Maybe we should take the boat out tonight, under the moon. If the rains stop.”

He shook his head. “I’m supposed to be sparring with Landi tonight.”

Again? Chandi bit her lip, then sighed. “Can’t that wait? Do you really need to train every night? I know it takes hard work to master these skills, Naresh, but it’s not everything.”

“I have to be ready. I have to protect us, have to save whatever we have left.”

Chandi folded her arms. “You can lose your life in battle, but you can lose it by not living it, too.”

Naresh grunted, but didn’t say anything more as he ate.

Rangda damn it all. Why did she have to always spoil these moments? Naresh was who he was, and he loved her. And that should be enough. It was all she’d ever wanted, and she had it.

Wasn’t it enough? But was he still the same Naresh? Chandi pushed the rendang around in her bowl. Of course he was the same man. The man who had hung that rope in the tree outside. The man who had called birds to the rooftop garden in Kasusthali Palace. He was that man. Because he had also been willing to betray his honor for her.

Naresh rose, kissed her on top of the head, and took his bowl away to wash it.

And yet. Sometimes, he didn’t see her anymore. Why did the man have to close himself off? Hadn’t they all lost so much? Or maybe that was exactly the point.

Naresh and Landorundun must have felt responsible for all that had gone. They were Arun Guard. They were the guardians of Kakudmi, protectors of Kasusthali, champions of the fallen Solar Empire.

But they weren’t the ones to blame for the city’s fall.

Did it matter that the Solars judged her? Chandi had played a role in the fall of Kasusthali, and if they knew how great a role, many probably would try to murder her.

But how could this become her home if they couldn’t look beyond the past?

CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

Landorundun came that evening, as Naresh had said. He asked Chandi to watch them. Maybe he wanted to let her spend some time with him, but this wasn’t what she had in mind.

“I’ll be back soon,” she’d said. “I just need to get some exercise myself.”

Was she making the same mistakes as before, avoiding him? But she couldn’t think what to say. She should be happy, now that they were together. It was just that he couldn’t see the way this was changing him. Making him harder. Not just his body—that had always been tight, but now it was rock hard—but his nature.

In a way, it almost made him like Malin. Jaded, and far too quick to turn to violence. For all the two men hated each other, they had more in common than either would have admitted. She smiled, but it didn’t last.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but still she couldn’t see Chandra’s face as she walked through Cenrana village. Moonless nights meant trouble.

She hadn’t intended to head toward the harbor, hadn’t really had any plan at all. But here she was, watching Bendurana’s sailors load the ship.

She bounded up the gangway to join the captain on the deck of the Queen of the South Sea. “Taking the lady out for the night?”

Ben shrugged so deeply his twisted locks jingled. “Ah, Ibu Chandi. Turns out, hero has to go on a quest before he wins the girl.” He winked. “So I’m off to Daha. We’ll see how Solokang feels when I come back with trade agreements. From the king. Then we’ll see who can provide for whom, eh?”

“King Kertajaya’s got a shrewd reputation, Ben.” Actually, Naresh had called the king of Suladvipa a conniving traitor when they’d first come here. “And a day at sea doesn’t qualify as a quest.”

“Huh.” Ben shrugged again. “Well, my lady, what does it take for a quest?”

Chandi mirrored his shrug, swinging her hair about her shoulders, then grinned. “A long journey through darkness and danger? Epic battles? Maybe a little magic?”

“Ah, ha!” He pointed a finger at her. “So you mean to say, something like the way you won Naresh? Diving into peril, risking it all for the love of one man—or woman, in my case?” He grinned. “I think I can manage that.”

“You need help?” The words left her mouth before she realized she’d thought them. But why not? She’d never seen Daha. Maybe if she helped Ben, maybe if she just escaped this place for a while, maybe the Solars would accept her. A trade agreement benefited all, right?

“Ah, Chandi, I’d never turn you away, of course. But I think I can manage the trade deal myself. Besides, Naresh would be furious.” He scratched his head. “Actually, that sounds great. Welcome aboard!”

Chandi leaned against the rail. A stint at sea again. This time, without the rush, without the urgent danger. It wouldn’t be so bad.

She bit her lip. No. Why in the world would the Solars care if she helped Ben? She knew what she was doing when she joined Naresh. And running away to Daha, even helping Ben like this, wouldn’t solve her problems. If the last few years had taught her anything, it was that she was responsible for her own life. She could blame circumstance or duty or family loyalty all she wanted. But those were excuses for not doing what it took to make things right. Because it was easier to feel sorry for herself than to take the longer road.

She sighed. “I can’t actually go, Ben.”

“Was that ever an option?” Landorundun said as she rose from the gangway.

Chandi turned to look at the Solar. Sweat drenched her face and plastered her baju—she still wore the cerulean baju of the Arun Guard—to her skin. And was that a fresh bruise on her cheek? Had Naresh actually hit her? No, that looked like it came from a fall.

Landorundun slapped her hand away and Chandi realized she’d tried to inspect the woman’s injury. “Well? Were you thinking of going to Daha for some reason, Ibu Chandi?”

“No, not really.” Chandi shook her head and watched the Guardswoman. First of the Arun Guard. But then, as far as anyone knew, there were only two left of the original eleven. And without the Astral Temple, without the curates, no one could restore the Guard.

Did that weigh on Landorundun? Did it weigh on Naresh? They could be the last Arun Guard to ever walk the Skyfall Isles. For six hundred years the Arun Guard had protected the imperial family. But Revati was all that remained of the Solar royal family, if she lived at all.

Once, they were war gods. Now they had no war. They were warriors without purpose, protectors without charges. Maybe almost as adrift as she was. The thought startled her. She was not adrift. She had a home here.

“Bendurana is leaving in the morning,” Landorundun said. “We’d like a moment alone, if you don’t mind, Ibu Chandi.”

Chandi nodded and fled down the gangway. She glanced back at the couple as she slunk away into the village. Landorundun had lain her head on her tall beau’s shoulder.

She hadn’t noticed the rain stop, but now the mud puddles were still, except for the chill breeze. Chandi returned to the house she shared with Naresh. He was still there, on the practice mat, forcing himself through every form. His leg always dragged a step behind, though it had grown stronger over the past year. His handwork was beyond perfect—it was masterful.

No running.

“Should I join you, or are you too tired?”

“Please.” Naresh paused to quaff a goblet of water before returning to the practice mat.

Chandi slipped into a fighting stance, hands out before her like tiger claws.

Naresh mimicked her.

She lunged for him and he knocked her hand away. Again and again they parried blows. Then she caught his arm, twisted it backward at the shoulder. Naresh turned with it, pulling free. Their dance was probably only moments, but it felt like a phase.

Everything flowed.

She’d been like this, even as a child, training under Malin. The Macan Gadungan had taught her both Lunar Silat and his own Maitian toyak fighting. At last she could still her mind. Act and react.

Breathe. Step. Move.

She snared his shoulder and swept his legs from beneath him. He toppled to the mat.

Chandi moved to help him up, and he yanked on her sarong and pulled her down on top of him. “Oh really?” she said. “And I think you were still holding back. You’re stronger and faster, but you fall.”

“Maybe I just wanted you on top of me.”

“Maybe you’re afraid to break me. I’m not a ceramic vase, Naresh. I’m a Moon Scion.”

She laid her head on his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair. She could feel it slick with sweat, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

Naresh squeezed her closer. “You told me you couldn’t ever use your Blessings again without risking lunacy. Does that still make you a Moon Scion?”

The truth? She didn’t know. Naresh wasn’t the only one who had lost some grace a year ago. And she told herself it didn’t matter. She’d done whatever it took to save Naresh, and now she was finished with her Blessings. She’d tasted the power of the Moon God, and she’d nearly paid for it with her mind.

Lunacy had driven her to beat Naresh almost to death, to blame him for the murder of Rahu and the kidnapping of Revati. But the Blessings had been oh so sweet, hadn’t they? That rush of power that built in her abdomen and flushed her system. For a moment, she could have been a goddess.

She told herself it didn’t matter. But it did.

CHAPTER NINETY

Rain pattered on the roof above the porch, a slow, steady drumbeat. The truth was, Chandi liked the rain. Naresh talked about the rhythm of the tide, sometimes. He said the flow of the tide mirrored the flow of the universe. She didn’t mention that Chandra controlled the tides.

But rain had its own flow. With her eyes closed, and the gentle drumming above, she could shut everything else out. Pain and memory and thought and loss gave way to breath. Was this what the Solars sought in Kebatinan? Or was there any point to such deep meditation?

If so, she’d already lost it. How could she still her mind when it flew so fast? Ben had been gone for two days, so he should return in a few more. And then maybe Landorundun’s parents would accept him. Would there be a wedding? They all needed something to celebrate.

She opened her eyes and stood, scanning Cenrana village for some sign of Naresh. And then he was there, in the center of the village, as though he’d known she’d thought of him and Sun Strode to find her.

“Chandi!” he shouted. “Chandi!”

Not a good sign. She dashed down the stairs, calling his name. He appeared in front of the house even before she reached the ground.

“They’ve found us. We have to get everyone out, grab what they can carry, run.”

Landorundun appeared beside them. “A pair of dhows are unloading Lunar soldiers in the harbor. It looks like Ignis are moving in on us from the north.”

So the Ignis were still serving the Lunars. She’d done that, without beginning to realize what might come from it. She never should have approached Semar.

And if her father had sent them after her, they would surely loot the village and kill anyone else they found.

“The northern hills are still our best escape route,” Chandi said. “Once we head into the mountains, they’ll have a hard time tracking us. We have to circle the Bone Gulf to get to Daha.”

“King Kertajaya may not shelter us,” Naresh said.

“Ben’s in Daha,” Landorundun said. “I agree with Chandi. We go through the mountains and around the Gulf.”

Naresh shook his head. “We can’t sneak a thousand civilians past the Ignis. At least not without a distraction. You two take them. I’ll buy you time.”

Chandi grabbed his arm before he could Sun Stride away. “Your leg still isn’t healed. I’ll do it.” And she’d be damned if she’d lose him again.

“I can Sun Stride. I’ll be fine, Chandi. And you can’t use your Blessings. These villagers gave us a home. It’s our duty as warriors to protect them. Landi can’t protect them all alone. You have to go. Please, my love.”

She bit her lip, then grabbed and kissed him. “Come back to me.” She ran.

Smoke rose from the chief’s palace in the north. Chandra knew how many people were inside. Her legs ached to draw her Blessings. To run faster than any human.

A pair of Lunars blocked her path, keris knives in hand. She didn’t know one, but the other she recognized as a soldier from House Soma. By his smirk, he thought he’d win glory by taking her down.

The two soldiers charged her. She dove past one and caught his leg, heaving him to the ground. She braced herself as she rose and twisted the leg until it popped out of joint.

The fallen man’s screams drowned out the rest of the battle. The other soldier almost tripped over himself as he misstepped his charge.

Chandi settled into a crouch, her fingers forming tiger claws before her. The soldier, the man she knew, eyed her a moment, before running off.

Chandi shrugged. Well, best to let him go. She was going to need her toyaks, anyway. She glanced back at the burning palace. People inside needed her, but if there were Moon Scions there … Her weapons had to come first. She ran back toward her house, pushing as much speed out of her mortal body as she could.

She took the steps three at a time. More houses were burning in the north as she dashed inside. Her toyaks rested in a chest in the back, gathering dust. This house she’d built with Naresh, would it burn too? Would their life burn? And for what? What had they done? She climbed into the private chamber, then flung open the trunk and snatched her toyaks.

Whatever else happened, the soldiers here would pay a price for this attack. Naresh’s keris sword sat in a sheath nearby. Chandi grabbed it and tucked it into her sarong.

Smoke clouded the skies as she emerged. If the rain came harder, maybe the village could be saved. Maybe not.

A woman screamed from a nearby house. Chandi ran for it. A man stepped out of the doorway, barring her path. Sacred flame on his baju. Igni. An ally of the Lunars. But not of hers.

The Igni reached a hand toward her. No, not toward her, past her. She glanced over her shoulder. The flames engulfing the palace had spun into a twister. That vortex leapt from the palace toward the Igni.

Chandi dove into a roll as the torrent of fire passed above her. Waves of heat washed over her, singed her hair. She rolled, then rocked back and kipped up.

Speechless, she turned to face the Igni. The flames swirled around the man’s arm. The Igni punched his fist toward her and the flames leapt from his arm in a spiral.

Chandi screamed and leapt to the side, landing hard on the ground and losing her grip on her toyaks. The flames impacted her house. It didn’t burn. It exploded, engulfed in a brilliant inferno twenty feet into the sky. Burning timbers flew in all directions like a Tianxian Fire-Lance had struck the building.

Agony shot through her wrist where she’d landed on it. By the time she regained her feet, only cinders remained of her beautiful home. What in Chandra’s name?

She ran at the Igni as he reached his arm toward the flames again. He tried to swing at her. Too close to use his power? She ducked his punch and thrust both palms into his ribs. He staggered backward, so she swept his feet out from under him, then kicked him in the head. He lay still.

Ashes. She started for the house. Ashes of her life.

The moss kept her tree from burning, but the explosion had singed the rope and knocked it to the ground.

Other Lunars moved around her. Ten? More than she could fight, even if she had her Blessings. She knelt to retrieve her toyaks.

They charged her, led by the one who’d run from her before. Her toyaks flew in wide arcs, deflecting blows from every angle. In and out, fending off three men, with no Blessings. Unable to attack. And then a fourth entered the fray, a Moon Scion by his speed.

“Naresh!” she shouted. Panting for air. Without her Blessings she couldn’t keep up. But she would not die a lunatic. Please, Chandra, not that.

And he was there. Naresh. A heartbeat, he took in the situation. And then he was beside her, eyes glowing like the dawn, moving faster than even a Moon Scion. He caught the wrist of one attacker and twisted. Snapped his other palm into the man’s face. The Moon Scion went down in a heap.

Chandi’s toyak took down another startled man.

The one that had run before tried to back away again. Naresh appeared behind him and caught the back of his leg with his knee, sending the man stumbling forward. Chandi cracked him in the face with a toyak.

Naresh stumbled a little on his bad leg, then righted himself, his face a mask of rage.

The remaining Lunar backed away to rejoin his fellows.

Chandi panted, then threw her arms around Naresh. He held her only a moment before he took the keris sword from her sarong. Pulled it straight from its sheath.

There had to be a dozen Lunars approaching them. Well, so be it. Together they could face this.

The Lunars rallied, glaring, even grinning at her. “Arun Guard!” one of the Moon Scions shouted at Naresh.

Their attackers began to circle them, but all eyes were on Naresh. It was like she wasn’t even there.

Naresh pushed her behind him. “Yes. I am Arun Guard.”

He vanished and appeared next to one, attacking. He was gone again, before Chandi could see if he even connected. Again and again he vanished and appeared among their foes, making a zigzag line through their ranks. Six Lunars fell dead at once.

Chandi stood agape. Not even Landorundun could Stride that fast. She was vaguely aware her toyaks hung limp by her side, but couldn’t lift them.

Naresh swept a man’s legs from beneath him and plunged his keris into the Lunar’s throat as he fell. Then he stood on the roof of a burning building with a Lunar in his arms, and shoved the man into the fires. They tried to fight him, but he was everywhere. A Sun God burning away all opposition.

He stopped, his eyes no longer glowing. His limp invited them in at last. Naresh must have used up the Sun Brand. More and more Lunars were charging him.

It was him they’d wanted all along, wasn’t it? Her father had wrought this destruction to reach Naresh.

She had to move. She ran toward him. Skilled as he was, his bad leg would still impair him if he couldn’t Stride.

And yet, more fell before his blade.

“Come to me!” Naresh roared at the advancing Lunars.

Naresh ran a man through, but another attacked before he could withdraw his sword. He caught the man by his shoulder and twisted it out of the socket.

Every move Chandi had taught him and then some, executed with perfect timing. He used his free arm to parry a knife strike, taking a gash that made Chandi wince. Naresh didn’t seem to notice. He just impaled his attacker.

Chandi reached him, taking down a now-wary Lunar with a swipe of her toyak.

And the Lunars broke, ran from them. Naresh took off, chasing after them, his steps awkward on his bad leg. Two quick steps brought Chandi up to him. She threw her arms around his waist.

“Enough, Naresh! We have to go, now. We have to help the villagers.”

Naresh pulled against her, screaming at the fleeing Lunars, roaring and spewing challenges. But he didn’t throw her off, and she had no doubt he could have.

All of Cenrana burned around them. One glance back at the palace told her it was too late to save anyone trapped inside. But if anything, the bodies of the Lunars outnumbered the dead villagers.

“Rangda’s frozen underworld,” Chandi said. So many bodies. Impaled, hacked open, or groaning on the ground from broken bones and joints.

Ash stained the sky and dirty rain stung her eyes. Naresh grabbed her hand and pulled her along. To abandon another home.

Blood drenched her husband, very little of it his.

CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

A thousand refugees did not move with speed, no matter how scared they were. And Chandi suspected they were plenty afraid.

They had passed into Green River Canyon. It was the swiftest route through these mountains, but if an attack came, the moss-covered rock cliffs on both sides made retreat impossible.

At least the rains had stopped, for now. The sun reflected off the slow-moving emerald waters they walked beside, almost blinding her.

The refugees had stopped to take water and rest. Much as they needed it, they couldn’t afford it. Not if those fire-wielding Ignis were after them. Chandi moved to the front to find Landorundun.

Hainuwele grabbed her shoulder as Chandi reached Landorundun. “You brought this on us, didn’t you? How many of our homes do you want to destroy? It’s not enough to drown our capital? Now your people want to burn our fishing villages, too?”

Landorundun walked over and pulled her sister’s hand away from Chandi. She said nothing, but the look she gave Chandi said she knew what the Lunars were really after. Naresh and Landorundun. The remnants of the Arun Guard.

These people were always so quick to blame her, but how could she tell them it was her husband the Lunars wanted? She couldn’t. She’d just killed more of her own people to protect him, to protect all of these refugees, and instead of acknowledging that, Hainuwele was going to glare at her like a child that had stolen her nagasari?

Chandi kicked a rock into the river. Rangda damn that woman.

Naresh had moved downstream to wash the blood away. Chandi approached and sat on the shore nearby, watching him. He dunked his wild hair in the river, trying to squeeze the now-dried blood flakes from it. Shirtless, he could recharge the Sun Brand much faster. Despite his efforts to wring out his baju, the white embroidery was ruined. The black shirt itself might be saved, though she didn’t think she’d want to see him wear it again.

“It doesn’t wash out so easily,” she said at last.

Naresh grunted, then dunked his head one more time beneath the water, disturbing the otherwise serene river. “I think it’s mostly out of my hair now.”

“Does it bother you, Naresh? That you must have killed thirty people in less time than it takes to eat breakfast?”

That, even with his still-injured leg, even fighting at less than his peak, he’d done more than a Moon Scion could do on her best day?

His mouth hung open a moment, then he trudged through the river and onto the shore beside her. Water streamed down his chest and arms, glittering in the sunlight. When he sat, revealing the sunburst tattoo of the Arun Guard on his back, that too began to glitter. Storing just a hint of sunlight.

A glorious mark, fit to adorn one with the body of a war god. But what if he really was a war god? Because, if he could destroy a small army while weakened, what could he have done at full strength? In her childhood, Moon Scion children whispered of the Arun Guard like demons. But she hadn’t seen bloodlust in the Guard. Not before today.

Was she losing him to this? The rage in his eyes when he turned on her people could have frightened a leyak.

“I don’t know,” he said after a long moment. “Should it? They burned our village, killed the people that sheltered us. It was our duty to avenge the wrongs the Lunars and Ignis committed.”

“Our duty?” This again?

“All these people died because the Lunars forced us into this. Even the Ignis wouldn’t have done this without provocation. Those on the island haven’t even fought the Solars. It’s our duty to avenge this attack. To bring down the people responsible for these deaths.” He took off back toward the front, trying to get the refugees moving.

Chandi rushed to catch up with Naresh. “We brought this on them, when we hid among them.”

Her husband ushered more people around a bend in the canyon, holding up a winding tree branch that hung down over the path. “All the more reason we’re honor-bound to act. Ketu could have let things lie, but he decided to force the war to continue. And it won’t end until he does.”

Chandi threw her hands up. “He’s my father!”

She had crossed him once, to save Naresh. But how could she possibly condone outright war against him? Much less allow him to die? He was her only blood relative left—Ratna wasn’t really blood, for all Chandi loved her. Or maybe Ketu could still be convinced to stop this.

Naresh sighed and motioned for another man to come hold the branch. He guided Chandi away with a hand on her shoulder. “I know that, love. But if he’s not a lunatic, he’s close enough.”

“He’s after you. We can run, we should have run. You think he’d chase us beyond the Skyfall Isles? We can go to Mait. I speak a little Maitian.” Actually, she’d scorned the lessons Malin had tried to give her in his mother tongue, but she’d pick it up. “We’d be safe there. And without us, these people would be safer.”

Naresh dropped his hand from her shoulder. “Flee? Hide? Leave all these people to their fates? Leave them to the man who brought the eclipse, who destroyed Kasusthali, who slaughtered and burned a fishing village? I will not, and cannot abandon my duty to what remains of the Solar people.”

Chandi kicked at the dirt. “Duty? I left my family, my people for you. Because I love you. Have you forgotten what I left behind?”

Naresh put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll never forget what you’ve sacrificed. But I can’t abandon my honor, my duty, because of my selfish desire to live in peace with you.”

“Maybe your honor is your selfishness. You can’t bear to sacrifice it.”

Naresh stepped away and glared. “Ketu is burning the Isles around him. It won’t stop while he lives. And I have to stop it, whatever either of us wants.”

He walked away down the canyon, left her standing by the river.

Her legs trembled so much, she stumbled and fell onto the sand of the riverbank. Naresh was going to kill her father. And she’d lose them both. The Ignis hadn’t just burned Cenrana. They’d ignited a spark within Naresh, a fire that could consume him.

And Chandi had no idea how to extinguish it.

CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

On a clear night, all of Bukit turned out to sit beneath the moon and stars and share their stories. Bonfires littered the market, the northern highlands, even the beach. Malin stalked through Bukit, catching bits of stories or gossip here and there. Had to keep ahead of Ratna. For her own good.

Her witches almost ran this city now. Maybe Ketu wouldn’t have a throne to come back to. If it were anyone else but Tanjung guiding Ratna … One day he’d kill the witch. Moon Scion or not.

“They ask about you.”

Malin’s hackles rose, but he forced himself not to reveal his surprise. So Pohaci could even sneak up on a Macan Gadungan. Good to know. As soon as he turned, saw her crouched in the shadows beyond the edge of the fire, he realized why. Smoke obscured her scent.

“Who does?” He knelt nearby, watching the Buaya Jadian’s black eyes. Firelight reflected off them.

“Your people. The Jadian. You spend so much time thinking of them, serving them. Working for our freedom. But are you one of us?”

His Macan Gadungan could never doubt that. But perhaps he held the Buaya Jadian at arm’s length. Maybe as much as other Lunars did. The werecrocodiles were more brothers and sisters to the weretigers than either acknowledged. Bodyguards and spies, all slaves to the Moon Scions.

Pohaci was like Chandi in that, too. The insight. Serving the Jadian meant more than just freeing them. It meant uniting them.

“Come.” He hiked up into the northern highlands, where his people made their own fires. Though bound to Moon Scion Houses, on a night like this, the Macan Gadungan gathered amongst themselves.

The strong, spicy smell of chilies and turmeric drifted from a massive stewpot hung over a cook fire, overpowering the scents of the other weretigers.

Seven of the Macan Gadungan had gathered around the fire. Probably more than half the weretigers in Bukit. One, a youth named Sunten, waved him over as soon as he approached. “Malin! Join us. The fried rice is almost ready. Fresh eggs and chicken.”

The others murmured their assent, scooting aside to make room for him.

Malin glanced back at Pohaci. When they followed his gaze, some of them grumbled.

Sunten glowered. “Should we get two bowls, Malin?”

Malin watched the younger weretiger a moment. “No. Bring all the bowls. The pot too.”

His people exchanged glances, but they obeyed. No hierarchy ruled the Macan Gadungan—or the Buaya Jadian so far as he knew—but he was the first, so his people followed him.

“Where are we going?” Sunten asked. A pair of Macan Gadungan dragged the pot between them.

“The beach. The Buaya Jadian hut.”

“You want us to feed the werecrocodiles?”

Malin glared at Sunten until he backed away. Good boy, but a bit dense.

Pohaci walked by his side, a slight smirk on her face. She didn’t speak.

Their pack attracted stares from the Lunars they passed. Malin fought the urge to smile. They made their way through the Loghouses. Malin wouldn’t take them through the marsh, not carrying the food, so the trek required winding through more foul alleys than he’d like.

Sunten crept up beside him again. Eager to get back in his good graces, Malin guessed. “You heard about Bangdvipa?”

Malin glanced at the youth.

“Ratna sent one of her witches to run the island.”

Malin growled. So she thought to control the Jadian home island? The arrogance would cost her.

He expected Pohaci to hurry ahead to her people as soon as they spotted the Buaya Jadian bonfire. But the girl just walked by his side, kept pace with him.

The Buaya Jadian gathered in a large congregation, at least twenty around the fire, telling stories. All talk stopped as Malin and his people approached.

Malin motioned to Sunten, who sent the two carrying the pot forward. “Serve them,” Malin said to Sunten.

“What?” Sunten glanced around at the werecrocodiles. They were all in human form, of course, but they held so still. Watched it all, unblinking.

Malin leaned in close to Sunten. “Stick a bowl in the rice and fill it up. Give it to someone. Repeat.”

The youth took a step back, but did as he was told.

“Pohaci. Make sure the Macan Gadungan get served, too.” Malin sat beside the Buaya Jadian that had been speaking. A middle-aged man. Older than most Buaya Jadian. Actually, Pohaci couldn’t even be thirty, and she was among the older generation. Rahu had taken young volunteers for the Buaya Jadian. Those with nowhere to go. When a life of spying became a step up.

“Please continue the story.”

The man licked his lips and ran a hand over his short, scraggly hair. “You know the story of Prince Panji? His father had arranged his marriage, but before marriage, Panji went to Puradvipa to study.” The man waved a hand at Malin. “This was before the Fourth War, of course.”

After everyone had a bowl of rice, Pohaci sat beside Malin and handed him one as well. He dipped his fingers in. Still warm enough. Well-cooked, excellent spices.

“Panji visited the Astral Temple, then the ashrams. He was heir to a Moon Scion House—no one remembers which anymore—and he knew knowledge of the spirit outweighed knowledge of war. And so he studied night and day at these ashrams. Many pilgrims did. Solars, even. One such Solar was the girl, Dewi Anggraeni.

“Panji made the mistake of thinking he had something to learn from her, as well. He forgot that even in peace with the Solars, danger remains. Worse still, he fell in love. With a Solar.”

Pohaci had finished her fried rice and leaned forward, arms on her knees, watching the Buaya Jadian speaker. Malin caught himself leaning forward, as well. Once he’d have called such a thing unlikely.

“He told her, if you say you love me, before these people, we will be wed. I will take you home with me. She was frightened, of course, to come to Lunar lands. The Lunars allowed no foreigners on Swarnadvipa in those days. But her heart burned fiercely for Panji. He was a charming, handsome young man, and any young woman would feel his pull. But some say his very soul called to Dewi Anggraeni.

“So she told him, ‘I love you,’ in front of the whole ashram. Any Lunar there could attest that was a real marriage. Well, when Panji took his new bride home, his father was not pleased. Panji had broken his arranged marriage with another House—House Janggala one version said, but I can’t speak to that.”

“It was House Janggala,” Sunten said.

Malin jolted, then glared at the youth. Everyone stirred a bit, drawn out of the speaker’s spell.

“House Janggala it was, then,” the storyteller said. “Well, House Janggala, they threatened war with Panji’s house if he didn’t put aside his wife. But Panji, he loved Dewi just as much as she loved him. He swore he’d never leave her, so he couldn’t marry the Janggala princess, Kirana.

“Panji’s father grew desperate, and he was a wily Moon Scion, so he pretended to agree. And he told Dewi to go and hide in the rainforest east of his lands, while he and his son talked things out with House Janggala. Panji’s father sent his house soldiers to protect her, so Panji felt secure.

“Of course, the soldiers’ real orders were to murder the Solar. Now Dewi, she found out the truth. But she also learned that if Panji didn’t marry Kirana there was going to be war. Even though she was a Solar, she still didn’t want that on her conscience. So she went with the soldiers, anyway, and they did their grisly deed.”

“They killed the girl?” Pohaci asked.

“Yes. But sadly, that’s not the end of it. Panji went berserk, lunatic some say. He turned on his father, on his own House, and sundered it. He became a bandit, preying on the wealth of his father’s House and that of House Janggala.

“And poor Dewi Anggraeni, murdered and left to rot in the jungle, found no peace. Neither Solar nor Lunar rites sent her soul on. It didn’t find a home in Kahyangan. It lingered, torn with rage and grief and Chandra-only-knows what else. And Dewi came to House Janggala, which she saw as the cause of her misery.

“Bodiless, powerless to enact her vengeance, she slipped through the walls. Watched in the shadows of night, as House Janggala fell prey to Panji’s lunatic raids. Saw the grief of Princess Kirana, who felt responsible. And for three nights, Dewi drew closer and closer to the princess, feeding on her sorrow. That sorrow fueled her rage and drove Kirana beyond the breaking point. And when the weakened princess could take no more, Dewi Anggraeni entered her.

“The princess’ fragile human mind and soul were no match for a being that had touched Kahyangan. Now, Dewi had a body. Now she could be reunited with her lover. So, Kirana—Dewi, that is—disguised herself as a man and escaped the palace. And for weeks she searched for her lost husband.”

The speaker paused for a draught of water.

“And?” Pohaci said.

“And love does harsh things to a mind. Death does harsher. What goes to Kahyangan is not meant to come back. Dewi found Panji and tried to save him from his lunacy. But she couldn’t let go of her own maddened grief. Together they preyed upon their former Houses, and then, finally, on any travelers they found.

“But after many years, Dewi couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from Panji. So she convinced him to kidnap a young man. And she told him to take his own life, and then take over the boy’s body. And they would live together forever. So Panji, he took his keris, and he slid it into his heart.

“Now maybe Dewi forgot it took her time to be strong enough to possess a body. Or maybe Panji found his way to Kahyangan and left her alone. But when nothing happened, she despaired. Just left the boy, who escaped to tell the tale. Some say she still hops into the bodies of young women stricken down by grief, still wanders the hills, searching for her lost love.”

Malin folded his arms. Not the best ending he could imagine to a Solar and Lunar romance.

No one spoke for a while. Malin watched the fire as the talk began. The Macan Gadungan murmured to each other, the Buaya Jadian whispered among themselves.

After some time, the middle-aged Buaya Jadian cleared his throat. “So what brings you Macan Gadungan down to us? You have our gratitude for helping Pohaci—”

“And for the fried rice,” someone said.

Malin rose, walked among them. Eyed each of the Jadian, werecrocodile and weretiger alike. “A year ago, the Ignis rose up and shattered the Solar Empire. They were tired of being oppressed by the society their labor upheld. We thought them weak. Perhaps there’s something we should learn from them.”

The Jadian watched him.

“If you are tired of serving, the first step is unity. When there is trust between us, we can force Ketu and Ratna to acknowledge us. Or our bloodlines can live apart from each other, tell our stories, and forget we are all as much Lunars as they are. Forget that Moon Scions are no more perfect than the rest of us.”

Malin didn’t want to know how they’d react if they learned he was a Moon Scion, too.

He watched each of them, especially the storyteller. But that man seemed to look to Pohaci. She wasn’t the oldest or first or wisest, but her ordeal must have made her a symbol among them.

“Choose your future,” Malin said. “We can be slaves, or we can be kings.” He turned about and trod away. Let them murmur. Let them ponder. Let them act.

Pohaci followed him as he left the beach camp. “I have something to tell you. I wanted to tell you before, but it was difficult.”

“You don’t seem the type to hold back.” Malin wound his way back through the alleys of the Loghouses. This late at night, he had to watch his step. Even his night eyes might miss something he’d rather not step in.

“Not here. Too many ears.”

Malin nodded. “Come.” He led her back to his house. He opened the door for her, and she slipped inside.

Malin didn’t bother to light a candle. Both of them could see in the dark well enough.

Pohaci stood very still, in just the spot where Malin’s tea table had once sat. “Ratna caught me spying. Demanded I report to her about you. She said if I didn’t she’d lock me so deep in the Bowels even you couldn’t find me.”

“And do you believe her?”

“I believe she might try.”

Malin stepped closer to her. “I promise you, you will not go back to that place. There is nowhere so deep I can’t find you.”

He pinched a bit of her hair between his fingers. Soft, clean enough she must have spent phases working to get it that way. “Did you betray me?”

She shook her head. Had to be telling the truth. He could feel it. Smell it.

“You’re not angry.”

Malin shook his head. “I’m not that surprised. She’s clever, when she wants to be.”

Pohaci grabbed him by the shoulders. Startled, Malin didn’t resist as she shoved him against the hut wall. She pressed her body against his. Her breasts pushed against his ribs. So warm.

Pohaci rubbed her neck against Malin’s. He shuddered at the strange feeling. Soft, silky, but so strong. Her lips found his, filled his mouth with an exotic salty taste. She bit down a little.

She wasn’t Chandi. Malin cursed himself for thinking of her. But she’d crawled into his mind and he couldn’t get her out.

He pushed Pohaci back by her shoulders. The girl didn’t look hurt. Frustrated, perhaps. Hungry even.

Malin gripped her cheek with his palm. “Go. Rest.”

Pohaci smirked and bowed before she left.

Malin collapsed onto the mat in the corner, blowing out a deep breath. His heart pounded. It had been too long since he’d taken a mate.

Pohaci’s warmth lingered on his skin long after she’d left.

CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

Maybe Ratna should have kissed Mahesa while he was here. She’d asked herself over and over if she loved him. No answer came, except that she needed to find out. He’d been gone less than a month, but she’d already sent sailors out asking after him. At least to know where he was.

She sat in her mother’s old room. The open shutters let in a little light, and the sound of the rain. A candle on her low table illuminated the stack of papers that had piled up.

She set the next paper on a stack for reading later. It was amazing the things people thought they could get away with. The things that turned up if you looked in the right places.

Her door creaked. Malin stood there, in the shadows of the hall, watching her.

“Did you know this palace used to belong to House Shravana before House Soma? One Queen Kencanawungu lived here.”

Malin crept forward and knelt across from her desk. “Queen Kenya burned down the palace of House Soma when Rahu fought her for leadership of the Lunars. Her whole House died. We took her palace in compensation.”

So Malin not only knew, he was there. All records seemed to indicate House Shravana had once been one of the four greatest Houses, an honor not bestowed on House Soma. At least not before Rahu became the War King.

“I heard an interesting story last night,” Malin said. “Someone told me you sent a witch to Bangdvipa. Not Ratna, I thought. She wouldn’t make such a mistake.”

Ratna waved him off. Maybe it was a mistake to send Mahesa away. Seeking Solar secrets … What if he was in danger? He could fight, and he was clever, but so young.

“Are you listening to me, Ratna?”

She sighed. “Not really. What do you want, tiger?”

“The Jadian deserve an equal voice in running the Lunar Empire. We are every bit the children of Chandra you are.”

Ratna rose. “How dare you? I have the blood of the Moon God in my veins. You are just servants.”

Malin stared up at her a moment. “You don’t know. They never told you the truth.” The weretiger looked far away for a moment. “You should have been told when Revati was born. Why hasn’t Ketu told you?”

“Why hasn’t my uncle told me what?”

Malin rose. “He’s not your uncle. And you don’t have the blood of any gods.”

Not her uncle? What was he carrying on about now?

Hands on her hips, Ratna glared at the impudent tiger. “Just get out. When I need you, I’ll send for you.”

Instead he stepped closer to her. “You can revel in your ignorance if you want. But I give you one last chance, Ratna. The Jadian are no longer servants. Help us show Ketu we deserve more.”

His hot breath fell on her face. But if she backed down now, the tiger would think he could intimidate her. “You speak treason. Another word of it and I’ll have you locked in the Bowels.”

His eyes narrowed and a growl leapt from his throat. “I held you in my arms, child. I cared for you when your mother died—”

“You failed to protect my mother! Get out!”

At last, Malin backed away, but he paused in the doorway. “You know nothing about your mother.”

And then he vanished into the shadows. Ratna gasped at the sudden pain in her chest. Breathe. She had to relax. She stumbled over to her dresser, where her mother’s brush rested. She ran it through her long hair, forced out one shuddering breath after another. Slowly, the pain faded from her chest.

Once, she’d depended on Malin. But he’d failed her mother. He’d failed Revati. He failed her father. Now he spoke as though he deserved reward for years of failure.

He claimed Ketu was not her uncle. Could that be true? But then, he also claimed she didn’t have the blood of the Moon God, and she obviously did—her Moon Blessings proved that.

Ratna rubbed her face. Malin had turned on her, hadn’t he? Chandi was gone, too. The only one she could count on was Mahesa. Why had she sent him away? Did the book matter more than his life? Or maybe she should have gone with him.

She slunk to the floor and continued brushing her hair. Her chest seized up again.

Mahesa had come to her in Kasusthali. He’d promised to stay as long as she wanted.

But it never seemed to work out that way. Ratna set down her mother’s brush. He’d have stayed with her now. All he wanted was for her to send away Tanjung.

But she had to find her daughter. She wiped angrily at the tear falling down her face. She did not cry.

Only Mahesa had come to see her. And Malin had welcomed him there, maybe even sent for him. The Macan Gadungan had watched over her for her entire life, it was true.

And she had cast him out. She wiped her face again. Well, she’d clean herself up, and she’d find him, after the lingsir kulon meal. What if he was right? Maybe his years of service did deserve recognition.

Malin had stood by her side from the day she was born. Had stayed alone with her and Chandi in Kasusthali, though it must have pained him. Misguided though he was, he’d sent Mahesa to her.

And once she had Revati back in her life, maybe she could have Mahesa, too. She rose and walked to her dresser, splashed water from the bowl there on her face. It wasn’t cold, but it helped refresh her a bit.

Her mother’s brush remained on the floor. Had her mother been the vile witch everyone seemed to remember? Or had she been just like Ratna, trying to do what she could for her daughter?

Tanjung had spoken of her version of events from back then. What tales would Malin tell, if she gave him the chance? He’d talked to Chandi sometimes. Maybe he’d always liked her better. Perhaps Ratna had given him reason.

Malin was irritating, emotional, and arrogant. And loyal. Had he ever lied to her? She paced about her room, but nothing came to mind. Malin didn’t lie. Which meant he had reason to believe Ketu was not her uncle.

And that Chandra’s blood didn’t flow through her?

She had lost too much. It was time to gather her allies, her family. And if Ketu was not her family, maybe she should help Malin against him after all.

CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR

Rangda take that girl. Malin kicked a barrel in the street, crushing it. The owner, a mango vendor, shouted objections until he saw Malin’s face.

Still, not the merchant’s fault. Malin dropped him a couple of silver coins.

He’d given Ratna her last chance. He’d promised Calon to protect her. Well, now he’d protect her from her own arrogance and stupidity. She had no more right to rule than Ketu did.

Children ran past him as he wound his way around the Loghouses. Lunar children, happy, playing in the rain. Splashing mud. If he did this, children would die, too.

He’d spent a year trying to avoid civil war. Pointless, probably. But he had to give Ketu one last chance. To do what Ratna had failed to. To see the truth the child was blind to.

The rain came so heavily now, the streets flooded faster than the grates could let the spillover into the Bowels. Malin found himself wading through ankle-deep, chilly water. Water and worse things.

But the marshland would flood higher. Malin had no desire to swim to the beaches. All the filth in the water stank less than the corruption and madness that permeated Bukit. Perhaps it had been sick all along. Perhaps Rahu had brought this sickness.

And Malin, a foolish young man of twenty-five, had joined the madman. “Come with me, and take the power to change your destiny,” Rahu had said all those years ago. And Malin had done so with relish. Mad with grief and guilt for the death of his wife, lost and bitter. Prey to the strong.

Malin was prey no longer.

He stalked onto the beach. Lightning crashed above, illuminating the afternoon sky. The Buaya Jadian had taken refuge from the storm in their hut.

Malin ran toward it, clean wet sand clinging to his feet and tossed up in the air. Chest heaving, he stole into the shadowed community house.

The Buaya Jadian congregation lay about, most half-clad, sleeping in close proximity if not on top of each other. Some watched him with one open eye. Pohaci and the storyteller among them.

Malin had to pick his footing carefully to avoid stepping on any of the reclining Buaya Jadian. None moved to make his progress easier, though Pohaci sat up when he reached her.

“Change your mind about my offer?” she said.

“I’m going to the Astral Temple. I will speak to Ketu. Will give him one last chance to recognize us, officially. We will join his government, or we will topple it.”

The Buaya Jadian made almost no sound when they moved. But Malin could feel them all sit up. Now all watched him.

“Tell me what you need from me,” Pohaci said.

Malin thumbed her soft cheek. “We need to be ready. If he refuses us, we need to strike quickly. But wait for my signal before you act. I want the Buaya Jadian dispersed.”

“What?”

He looked around at the gathered werecrocodiles. All watched him, far too still. But they smelled … Eager.

“A few at a time, slip throughout Swarnadvipa. Get in position to strike on all the Moon Scion Houses. All of them. Spread the word to the Macan Gadungan. I’ll have my people tell them to expect you.”

Malin rose and turned, taking them all in with a sweep of his arm. “For almost twenty-five years the Moon Scions have used us. Tossed us aside. But they trained you exactly how to hurt a foe and slip away unseen. It’s time to hurt them. Soon.”

Pohaci stood beside him. “We’re with you.”

Good. The Buaya Jadian were scorned and hated for the very duplicitous actions the Moon Scions trained them for, demanded from them. But the Moon Scions had forged them into powerful weapons.

“I’ll come with you to the Astral Temple,” she said. “I can help you.”

“No. Pohaci, I need you to do something special. A year ago, I sent some Moon Scions to a village across Swarnadvipa. Men Ketu ordered me to kill. Find them. Look for Sangkuriang. Tell them they may be coming home. Bring them here, ready to infiltrate the Moon Scions in Bukit. They’ll be all too glad to bring down Ketu.”

Pohaci turned, taking in her people. “And if Ketu agrees to your terms? What do I do with all these new Moon Scions?”

Malin cracked his neck. “I’ll deal with it when I return. If they have to live out their lives in hiding, so be it.”

The next time he saw Bukit, it would not be as a servant to a Moon Scion. Malin made his way from the werecrocodile hut out into the cool afternoon rain.

Clean. Enough to wash away all that had gone wrong on this island. Swarnadvipa had long since become his home. And he intended to protect his home.

“Malin!” Pohaci called. She ran through the rain toward him, chasing him as he hurried toward the harbor.

He paused to let her catch up. In the darkness, she looked even more like Chandi, running along the beach. Chandi had run here almost every night, before she went to Kasusthali.

The rain plastered Pohaci’s half-buttoned baju to her skin, revealing her form. Her hair hung limp around her face, obscured her eyes a bit, but she didn’t push it aside.

“Watch your back with Ketu. I want you to come home to us. If he’s anything like his brother, you shouldn’t go alone. Whatever spirits he put inside us, Rahu was a true demon.”

No. Rahu was a vicious bastard, but Malin had seen a real demon. Seen the leyak Calon and Tanjung had released possess a corpse and feed on anyone unfortunate enough to be caught alone. “Rahu was just a lunatic. Pray you never witness real demons.”

The wind and rain whipped her hair and clothes about, but Pohaci didn’t move. Didn’t even seem to shift her weight from foot to foot like most people.

“There are people here that care about you, Malin.”

Malin shivered in the rain. The girl saw too much, sometimes. All he’d done for Ratna, and she’d never appreciated him. One look in Pohaci’s eyes told him that she would never take him for granted.

“I have to go,” he said. “I want to be at sea before nightfall. Don’t worry, I’m coming back.”

As he turned to run down to the harbor, he could still feel her watching him. If Rahu wasn’t already dead, Malin would kill him again for putting anyone in such a vile hole, much less someone like Pohaci.

Malin raced through the harbor to reach his jukung. He’d bought the outrigger years ago, but mostly had to leave Mahesa to tend it. Puradvipa was a far sail on a jukung, but Malin could make it.

He shoved off the dock and used the oars to pull out to sea. Storm wasn’t too bad. Little more out, then he could raise the lateen sail.

The wind stirred up the waves, but not to dangerous levels. And then he was away, free from Bukit. Free from the corruption and stink and treachery.

Let Ketu prepare himself. Reckoning approached.

The tiger spirit within him growled.

CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE

“There,” Naresh said.

Chandi followed his gaze. The city, Daha, rose up on the shore, a welcome respite after nine days’ hike with nothing but the occasional fishing village. Her stomach growled. What little they’d scavenged had hardly lasted the refugees.

At the sight of the city, though, everyone’s pace picked up a bit. One family scampered past her, the father holding his daughter on his shoulders as they hurried forward. Would Kertajaya give them food and shelter? Surely the king couldn’t turn away his own people.

Chandi hefted her bag higher on her shoulder and trudged on. She’d taken to carrying a pack for an old woman who couldn’t manage it. The woman didn’t wake up this morning. Chandi couldn’t bring herself to just throw the bag aside, though she didn’t even know what was in it.

Daha was large, larger than Bukit, though nothing compared to the majesty of Kasusthali. Not that she had expected it to match that undersea wonder, but still. A long pier stretched out into the sea, in the midst of several smaller piers. Daha sat not on the Bone Gulf, but on the ocean side, which meant they’d had to trek across the southeastern peninsula. The old woman was not the only one they’d lost along the way, but as far as Chandi knew, she was the last.

Kingfishers perched on almost every building in the harbor, walked the pier, and even followed people around. Occasionally, someone stopped and tossed them scraps.

Almost as soon as Chandi and the others entered the bustle of the harbor, a band of men approached them. Soldiers, garbed in black-and-crimson bajus, led by a man a bit older than her. A few strands of hair hung down over his eyes and stubble covered his chin, but otherwise he kept himself neat.

The man marched up to her and stopped, pointing a finger at her. “You lead this band?”

Chandi shook her head. “I—”

Naresh appeared beside her, sizing up the soldiers before starting. “Pak Lang?”

The soldiers’ leader rolled his eyes. “Should have known.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here, Pak Naresh.”

Enough dancing around. “How do you know each other?” Chandi asked.

“He was a potential for the Arun Guard. He lost a match to—”

“A match to that damn Spice Islander,” Lang said. “He didn’t even survive the ritual. I was denied my chance at honor because of his tricks.”

“So you ran. You would have had another chance to prove yourself.”

“I don’t have to prove a thing to you. Not to anyone. Pak Kertajaya made me his heir after his son died in the Fifth War. You’re looking at the Prince of Suladvipa. Feel free to grovel, if you like.”

Chandi grabbed Naresh as he started to clench his fists. Not this time. “We need sanctuary. The Lunars attacked Cenrana village. Please tell Kertajaya—”

“King Kertajaya has already heard about the fate of the village. He regrets that he cannot offer shelter, for to take in the Arun Guard would only bring Ketu’s wrath on Daha.”

By now, the whole ensemble of refugees had gathered. Murmurs rippled through them, followed by angry shouts. Chandi tried to move back to calm them, but Landorundun pushed forward, followed by her family. Not that the people listened to Chandi, anyway.

“Does the king fear the Lunars, Pak Lang?” Landorundun asked.

“Well,” Lang said. “So you’re here too, Ibu Landorundun? Welcome to Daha. Now I’m afraid that—”

“Landi!”

Chandi knew that voice. Bendurana barreled through the harbor, stumbling and almost falling when he collided with a porter. He spun around the man with murmured apologies, hopped on one foot, then continued his run. And then Landorundun Strode beside him. She leapt into his arms and wrapped her own around his neck.

Chandi grunted. So even Landorundun broke down sometimes. Good to know.

“Well, that’s totally inappropriate,” Hainuwele said and brushed her hair back from her eyes. Dirty as her blue baju had grown over the long trek, the woman still managed to be beautiful. Just like her sister. Long silky hair, smooth skin. And too curvy. But where Landorundun’s face was almost sweet, Hainuwele’s eyes reminded Chandi of a tiger’s.

Lang started to point a finger at Naresh, then took in Hainuwele, and bowed. “My lady.”

“If you are a prince, I imagine it’d be no difficulty to convince the king to help us. We are a people in need.”

Lang seemed to be taking another look at Hainuwele. Let him. Chandi pulled Naresh aside. “Maybe he’s right. As long as we’re here, we put everyone in danger. The refugees, everyone would be safer if we were gone. They’re hunting for the Arun Guard, you’ve got to see that.” And besides, she was still ‘the Lunar’ to these people. They’d never find a real home, here.

Naresh shook his head. “Go where, Chandi? Flee to the Spice Islands? And when the Lunars take them in another year? Perhaps to Irian? Or do you still think we should flee to Mait? I’ve already told you, I’m done running and I’m done hiding. We regroup, and then we take the fight to them. If Ketu wants the Arun Guard, he’ll get them.”

Ben and Landorundun returned to the group. Chandi would swear they both had tears in their eyes. Naresh stepped away from Chandi to cuff Ben on the arm.

“Ah, Naresh, good to see you missed me, too. Maybe not as much as some.” Ben glanced at Landorundun. “Which is probably for the best, too. I couldn’t handle such a greeting from you.”

Chandi liked Ben more than she’d ever admit, so she was glad her husband’s view of the captain had changed. The Serendibian had risked everything to save Naresh. They all knew it.

Lang patted Hainuwele on the shoulder, earning a glare from both Naresh and Landorundun. “Very well, my lady. You make a convincing argument. I will speak to the king about finding some emergency housing on the beach for your …” he looked around at the refugees, “village. Remain here until I return.” The man bowed and marched off with his soldiers, back into the city proper.

Bendurana grinned. “Who’s hungry?” Shouts, cries, and commotion among the refugees answered him. People stumbled all over themselves toward the captain. “The Queen of the South Sea is ready to save the day. As always! Ah, my fellows, have a seat, relax, and I’ll return with food.”

“You heard him,” Landorundun said. “All of you sit down. Stay calm and we’ll get through this. Everyone will get their fair share.”

“If they’re in a hurry, you could Sun Stride me to the ship,” Ben said.

“Go, Ben,” Landorundun said. “We’re all hungry.”

“Ah, my love, as you wish.” He bowed and ran off towards a pier, scattering angry kingfishers as he barreled past them.

Chandi sat down, legs folded beneath her. Her stomach growled. Maybe Landorundun should have Strode Ben to the Queen.

Naresh sat across from her. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head.

“Chandi, I can’t run from this. I owe these people my service.”

She reached up to stroke his face. Beautiful, dark eyes. They still had the spell, but something else clouded them. “Why do you owe them service? They’re not your family.” Chandi was his family. Didn’t he owe her more? Didn’t he need her more?

She’d asked him how he saw her. “The moon and stars, held forever in the instant before dawn.” Was she still?

He held her hand in his, running his rough fingers over hers, then shut his eyes for a moment. “Why can’t you understand? This is who I am. You always knew that, Chandi. You want to take responsibility for your life? It means you have to accept it when it is given to you. You have the strength to fight for these people. Don’t you have the courage to do so?”

Courage? Chandi pulled her hand away. Courage was diving into the coliseum beneath Bukit to rescue the man she loved, not standing up for a people that were not her own.

“Do you believe in me?” she asked.

Now he placed his hand on her forehead. “More than you’ll ever know.” He leaned in and kissed her brow, then stood. “It doesn’t mean you’re always right.”

CHAPTER NINETY-SIX

Much as Lang seemed to dislike Naresh, the man had invited all of them to his home. Or maybe it was because he disliked Naresh. He did, after all, live in a wing of the palace.

The Iron Palace, the locals called it, Ben had said. Not so much because of the massive iron gates one had to pass through to get past the two-story-tall wall, but because Kertajaya had gotten rich off iron exports.

Lang led them past an artificial fishpond that probably stretched a thousand feet or more. Perch swam about beneath the lilies, and Chandi spotted more than one frog as Lang led them past it. Palm trees dotted the edges of the pond, even shaded a few benches here and there.

“We seek Kebatinan here,” Lang said to Hainuwele.

Landorundun’s sister had taken the Suladvipan’s arm and clung to him like a boat in a stormy sea. The two of them led the way, with Chandi, Naresh, Landorundun, and Bendurana following behind.

The alabaster-painted palace reflected the light of the setting sun, stinging her eyes. The king had had his entire palace painted white, save for the massive saddle roof. Igni-forged ironwork outlined the rims of the roof, drawn into curls, spirals, and leaf-like designs. Some of the metal leaves featured so much detail they could pass for real foliage, if the color were different.

Lang made sure they noticed the intricate Igni ironwork by pausing at the pond and staring up at it. Chandi rolled her eyes. She’d seen the majesty of Kasusthali. She’d seen the dome of the great hall, beneath the South Sea. She’d walked the Circuit and seen mantas swim by.

And she’d seen the rest of Daha. The wealthy had their own small palaces near the Iron Palace, but Kertajaya left most of his people in relative squalor. Tightly packed houses lined most streets, with ladders to climb to the house, since there was little room for stairs.

And while she appreciated the bright green grass and palm trees scattered about the city, the unpaved roads had covered her sandals and sarong in dust. Dirty people clogged the streets doing laundry—they all wore black for some reason—that would surely get caked in that same dust as it hung to dry. And animals freely roamed the streets. Not just the kingfishers, which Ben said Dahans called good luck, but even water buffalos and chickens. Why couldn’t this king spend his money to care for his city, instead of covering his roof with ironwork?

The interior was predictably decadent as well. Igni-carved furniture and woven wall hangings lined the halls, and servants bustled about. Lang led them to the east wing, into a comfortable sitting chamber. Plush crimson cushions formed a circle around a tea table. Lang reclined on one and waved for the rest of them to do the same.

Chandi turned to take in his quarters first. No bed, so he must only use this room to receive guests. A bamboo door led into another chamber, probably his private rooms.

A half-dozen ivory statues of kingfishers sat on a table against the wall. Chandi strolled over to them. “What are these?”

“Commemorations of Sepak Takraw tournaments,” Lang said. “I was a professional player, before Pak Kertajaya named me his heir. We even won a tournament in Kasusthali last year.”

“Ah, I saw that,” Ben said. “I didn’t recognize you at first, my good man. Quite a kick you have there.”

Lang nodded once. “It was a tight game. The stadium in Kasusthali was a feat of engineering. I’ve been telling Pak Kertajaya to attempt something like it—he loves to watch the game, of course—but he worries that now is not the time for indulgences. But then, maybe now is when the people need their indulgences most.” He smirked at Hainuwele, who had sat down beside him.

Chandi knelt next to Naresh and patted him on the arm. “What are we doing here?” she whispered. “I thought you wanted to stay with the refugees.”

Naresh leaned in to her ear. “I do. But Pak Lang has the ear of the king and knowledge of the outside world. We need both. If he knows anything about the rest of the Arun Guard, we must learn it.”

“You trust him?”

“Not really.” He leaned back as servants deposited a pair of teapots and several teacups on the table.

“You were saying, Ben?” Landorundun said when the servants had left. “About the duyong?”

Ben waved his arms about. “Ah, my dear, I assure you, mermaids are quite real.”

Naresh grunted. “Surya save us. Is this really the time for such nonsense?”

Ben shook his finger at Naresh. “Indeed. Or at least it was the time. You see, there I was, lost at sea. Adrift, without even my boat anymore. And what’s a captain without so much as a boat? Ah, well, he’s Nirrti’s new toy, that’s what.”

“Nirrti?” Chandi asked.

“What we Serendibians call the queen of the frozen underworld. Ah, what was I saying? Yes, the sea was tossing me about, trying to pull me under. And I thought to myself, ‘this is it, Ben, you’ve sung your last song, had your last adventure, and wooed your last maiden.’ I was—”

“Wooed your last maiden?” Landorundun said. “Really? Maybe we should hear more of those stories.”

“Well now, my dear, if it had really been my last, none of us would be here having this conversation, would we? No. Because mermaids saved me. Pulled me to safety, so that I could be here with you today. Ready for more heroics.”

Chandi sipped her tea. “Is that true? You really saw a duyong?”

Naresh folded his arms. “I’m sure some part of it was true. The part about wooing maidens, probably. Can we address the real issue?”

Landorundun laughed and smiled at Bendurana. He stroked her hand with his thumb.

“Indeed.” Lang set his cup down on the table. “What we need is a Ratu Adil.”

Naresh chuckled. “More myths. Wonderful.”

Ratu Adil?

“We’re agreed that Ketu won’t leave us in peace?” Naresh said.

Chandi shrugged. “He’ll see the Arun Guard as a threat. We all grew up hearing horror stories about the merciless Guard that serve the Solar elite.” Landi glared at her. “Sorry,” Chandi said.

“Oh, it’s all right. We grew up hearing stories about the merciless Macan Gadungan,” Landi said. “Guess Solar stories have more truth.”

Naresh squeezed her hand. So be it. Once, after Bukit, she’d thought she could bond with Landorundun. It hadn’t lasted.

The woman had darkened with each day here, smiling only when around Bendurana. Her parents refused to accept the man she loved, her emperor had died, her city had fallen. Even the Radiant Queen had been lost, right in front of Landorundun.

But Chandi had been there, by her side. And if even Landorundun couldn’t accept her, how could anyone else? Naresh said she wasn’t always right. Well, she was right about one thing. These people were never going to give her a home.

“If the Moon Scions plan to seek out the Arun Guard, we should be doing the same,” Naresh said. “How many of us are left?”

Landi brushed her hair from her face. “Besides you and me?”

“Ah, Naresh,” Ben said, “is it wise to divide our resources searching for people that may or may not live? I mean no disrespect to your compatriots. But any that survived Kasusthali have probably gone into hiding.”

“Making the same mistake we did,” Naresh said. “We have to draw them out, unite them. They are our brothers and sisters, and our greatest assets.”

And the easiest way for them to kill her father. To slaughter more Lunars. Like radiant, pitiless gods of war.

“You want to unite people,” Lang said, “we need to set up a Ratu Adil.”

“Do you have anything useful to add, Pak Lang?” Naresh said.

“Now, Pak Naresh,” Hainuwele said. “At least hear out our host.”

Chandi snatched her hand away and slapped the floor with both palms. “Rangda’s evil gaze! Would someone please tell me what a Ratu Adil is?”

Naresh seemed to hide a chuckle, which only made her glower more. Even Landorundun and Hainuwele were smiling. Rangda damn it all. Why did they all know more than she did? Damn Solars.

Now even Naresh sided with them.

“I’d like to know that, too,” Ben said.

“There’s a legend,” Naresh said. “During the Pact one Just King was able to unite all three dynasties. Not just in peace, but under a single ruler, against a great threat. Take it from someone who spent more than a single year at the Academy, Lang. It’s just a story.”

“Doesn’t matter if he really existed.” Lang said. “He’s a symbol. And if we could set up another one? Unite the dynasties under a single ruler? Do you have any idea how many Ignis live in this city alone? What if we could win Lunars to the cause? We have one already.” Chandi didn’t like the way he kept pointing at her. Someone should have told him it wasn’t polite. Besides, winning her to the cause? They might have to treat her like a person for that.

“You’re insane,” Naresh said. “And the Ignis are more dangerous than we ever realized.”

“The Firewalkers. Yes, we heard.”

Firewalkers? Was that what they called themselves? Chandi had had more than enough of Ignis for one lifetime. How had they concealed such power? No. If they’d had it all along, they would have used it, wouldn’t they?

And to try to unite Solars and Lunars under a single ruler … Naresh was right. It was insane. Uniting them in marriage was difficult enough. Kakudmi and Ratna had been a disaster. And even she and Naresh … No, they were fine. But if she didn’t have a single friend amongst all these Solars, how could they expect entire nations to live and work together?

“We need to know if there are more Arun Guard in the Outer Isles,” Naresh said.

Lang shifted.

“What is it?” Chandi asked.

Lang eyed her before looking to Naresh. “There’s a rumor the Ignis might be holding an Arun Guard.”

Naresh smashed the table with his fist. Teacups overturned, and Chandi jumped back to avoid being splashed. “And why didn’t you tell us this before? How long have you known one of our brethren might need aid?”

“Not my brethren, remember? It’s just a rumor, anyway.”

“Where?” Landorundun asked.

“There’s an Igni town beyond the wetlands. Pottala. Could be there.”

Naresh nodded. “Will you take us there?”

Lang just shrugged.

“Good.” Naresh hesitated. “They were part of the Solar Empire. If we can drive them from the Lunars…” He clenched his fists in his lap. “Whatever they’ve done, we have to try to reach an understanding.”

Chandi stood. “You can’t be serious. These people destroyed our home. Twice! They are treacherous, and more powerful than we ever imagined.”

“They were oppressed.” Naresh looked up at her. “You were right, way back then, and I didn’t see it. I can’t forgive what they’ve done, but I can understand it. We need to show them we’re better than Ketu. We know, no matter what, he’s never going to stop coming after us.”

“My father didn’t start this war!”

“No, Malin did. At Rahu’s bidding, I assume. Do you imply your father will make peace now? Do you think he’ll stop with Suladvipa? Even with the Skyfall Isles?”

Lang pointed his finger at her. Again. “She’s Ketu’s daughter?”

Chandi threw her hands up and stormed out of the room. First Naresh wanted to hunt down her father. Now he wanted to trust the damn Ignis. Chandi had seen where that led.

Thousands of deaths and broken empires.

And broken lives. Just as their lives were breaking at the seams. That fire was still burning away at Naresh, devouring him like so much dried tinder, until all that remained would be cinders.

As soon as she exited the palace, she slumped against the wall, waving off the guards that came to check on her. Why? She’d married him, they loved each other, they had everything. Except a home.

Except understanding. If such a thing could ever be found.

She wouldn’t cry.

She forced herself to walk out of the palace gardens, and into Daha.

Stories said love was enough. But stories never spoke of the slaughter of nations or the weight of duty.

Soon she was running through the city, the evening wind in her hair. She would run until sleep took her.

But she wouldn’t cry.

CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN

The jukung threaded through the river with ease. Chandi hadn’t realized quite how accomplished a waterman Naresh was. He’d spent his time fishing off a jukung this past year, so it shouldn’t surprise her.

Lang sat at the bow, giving occasional directions. On the shore, a pair of anoa drank from the river. They were the first live lowland anoa Chandi had ever seen. The cattle seemed to have no fear of the boat.

Soon, brilliant green and red foliage covered most of the banks. On the far side of the river, men rode a train of four elephants through the pale green water. The plants were so dense, they couldn’t travel any other way.

“Ignis?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lang said. “They’re probably trading with another village. They won’t bother us.”

Chandi watched the train pass. The men—well, one was a woman—on the elephants stared at her, or perhaps at the jukung, without so much as a wave. But then, Chandi and Naresh were the intruders here.

Theses waters weren’t the brilliant emerald of the Green River, but a soft green, like the grass just before the rainy season. Peaceful, slow. And so quiet. With the elephants behind them, the only sound she heard was the occasional rustle of the lateen sail as Naresh adjusted it, or the slight splash the boat made through the river. No, if she listened closely enough, she could hear birds in the distance, or the beat of insect wings.

She shut her eyes, reclined in the boat, and let the sunlight warm her face. She hadn’t often gone sailing with Naresh. She should have done so more often. Drifting through the warm silence, there was a calmness that must have almost approached Solar Kebatinan.

She glanced at Naresh. He was quiet, too, and still, watching the river. Chandi smiled, and shut her eyes again. Maybe all of it wasn’t so bad. He was still in there. And Chandi would never give up on him.

“Look,” Lang said.

Chandi sighed and opened her eyes with a stretch. Had she slept? Her gaze followed the direction Lang pointed. The foliage here pushed back from the shore, revealing a standing stone rising from the hillside. At least ten feet tall. Another followed soon after. The stones were too far away to see what the builders had carved onto them.

“Why did your people make those?” she asked.

“We didn’t. Neither did the Ignis. As far as we know they’ve always been here.”

For some reason the thought made Chandi shudder. “The Astral Temple.”

“What?” Naresh looked past the sail at her.

Chandi shook her head. Could the same people have built these megaliths and the Astral Temple? Semar had hinted that Rahu’s people may have built, or at least understood, the Temple. But she had never made sense of that. The Temple had always been on the Isles.

Like these stones.

Things built by people so long ago no one even knew they existed. All they had been, forgotten. Their works attributed to the gods themselves. And why not? It was easier to imagine Chandra had built these things. Easier to consider that than a civilization with the power to build the Astral Temple vanishing.

If their choices, their mistakes could erase them from history … Could their legacy do the same to the current inhabitants of these Isles?

“Are you well, love?”

Chandi nodded, shaking herself from her musings. When she looked at Naresh, his eyes glowed with sunlight, for a moment. A flock of lorikeets flew overhead. Their brilliant plumage covered the sky in a rainbow.

Chandi grinned at her husband. It had been a long time since he’d called the birds to make her smile.

“Well that was useful,” Lang said.

“Shut up,” Naresh said.

“You just announced our presence to anyone watching. We’re sailing to Igni territory. They’re all but sharing beds with the Lunars these days.” Lang turned to Chandi. “Or maybe the Ignis are sharing Lunar beds? How are they at that?”

Before Chandi could open her mouth Naresh had appeared by Lang. He held the Suladvipan by the throat.

Lang swung his fist sideways at Naresh. Her husband blocked and shoved the man from the outrigger. Murky water soaked Naresh as Lang disappeared beneath the surface.

He reappeared a moment later, sputtering.

A crocodile slipped from the shore into the river.

“Naresh!” Chandi shouted at him.

“Let him swim.”

Lang did swim, trying to catch the jukung. He never would.

“Naresh!” This time she pointed at the almost invisible crocodile drifting toward the struggling Solar.

Still Naresh watched the man.

Chandi kicked off her sandals. If she used her Moon Blessings, she might be able to wrestle the crocodile, even in water. She might also fall back into lunacy.

And then Naresh was in the water. Both men appeared in the boat a moment later. Water and muck dripped off them. Naresh held Lang down. “Speak to my wife like that again,” he said, “and you’ll wish I left you to that crocodile.”

He returned to the sails. Chandi sank back down into the boat, her heart racing. She stared at her husband, unable to close her jaw. Could he have really left the man to the crocodile over her honor?

No one spoke much after that, but Chandi couldn’t return to sleep. Couldn’t even bring herself to close her eyes. Instead, she slapped at mosquitoes that seemed to appear from nowhere at a steady rate. Her friend Mahesa had claimed someone told him mosquitoes were sent by Rangda Demon Queen to plague the Earth because she couldn’t reach it herself.

They took the jukung almost to the edge of Pottala. The town lay above the wetlands. Naresh tied the boat up at a small, half-rotten dock.

Chandi hadn’t seen so many Ignis together since she’d left Kasusthali. They worked the wet rice terraces beneath the scorching sun, but seemed content. Much like the wet rice terraces in Swarnadvipa, these fields must have used irrigation lines dug long ago into the rainforest. It meant the farmers waded in knee-deep waters to tend their fields, but harvested a fine crop.

Chandi put her arm in Naresh’s. His baju had almost dried from his dip in the river.

An Igni farmer glared at them as he passed. How could she tell which were Firewalkers? Could they all be? Unlikely.

“Naresh.”

He looked back at her, and she tried to smile.

“I’m worried about you. I know you’ve been training so hard. Maybe it was too much.”

Naresh sighed. “This is about Lang?”

“That.” Chandi pulled him to a stop. “Give us a moment,” she said to Lang as the man approached.

Lang glowered and stomped past them.

“More. You were a different person when they attacked Cenrana. Brutal. I thought it was just then, but when Lang …”

Naresh rubbed her cheek, then pulled her in to kiss her. His rough lips pressed hard against her mouth as his hand traced down her back. He pulled away too soon, drawing a deep breath. “I don’t know why I got so infuriated. When he spoke to you like that, I …”

Naresh shifted from one foot to the other. “I failed, Chandi. If I’d stopped Malin at Puradvipa, I might have been there to save Kasusthali. Instead, you and Landi left the city to rescue me. They murdered my mother. They murdered Kakudmi. He was my charge, my responsibility. I can never make that right.”

Chandi reached for him again, but Naresh took a step back.

“I can’t make it right. But I will be ready. If they come after us, if Malin comes after you, I’ll be strong enough to destroy him this time.”

Chandi watched him, praying he’d come back to her. But he just shook his head and trudged to the Igni village.

For a moment, they’d been one, in that kiss. Everything perfect, the way it always should have been. For a moment.

Chandi blew out a breath.

The Igni architecture here differed little from that of Suladvipan Solars. On the edge of town, not a palace, but a Shrine of Sacred Flame.

Lang disappeared inside the shrine, and Naresh hurried after him. Chandi followed. Never thought she’d enter another of those shrines.

Lang was already talking to someone when Naresh and Chandi entered. Was that …?

Semar. Chandi charged past Naresh and shoved the priest. The Igni stepped back, but didn’t fall.

“What are you doing here?” she said. “Want to destroy another civilization?”

“Hello, Chandi. These days, people speak of the War King’s daughter who married an Arun Guard. Word spreads that a Lunar plans to make a play from it, a romance.”

She slapped him. The sound of it echoed through the temple.

Ignis drew near, glaring at her. Naresh moved beside her. From the corner of her eye, she saw his hand drift to his keris. “We didn’t come here to fight.”

Semar raised his hand. “That won’t be necessary.” At his words, the Ignis backed off. “And Chandi, Suladvipa is home to the largest population of Ignis. Did you ask yourself where someone like me would go after Kasusthali? You are quick to blame me for all that happened, but never considered what I would do next?”

Naresh grabbed her when she took another step toward the priest.

“We need him.”

“I don’t,” Chandi said. “We can’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. Not one lie, but somehow never the truth, either.” She pointed at Semar. “I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want anything to do with your schemes.”

“If you don’t wish to see me, perhaps the Igni town is not the best place for you.”

“No. It isn’t.” Chandi stormed out of the shrine.

She heard Naresh chasing after her, but she didn’t turn.

“Chandi!”

At last she spun on him. “What? What do you want to say? You want to talk to that man?”

“That man didn’t arrange the fall of Kasusthali, even if his people did. And he knows things, he knows people. He has the Firewalkers. We need them on our side. At the very least, we need them off your father’s side. And we need to know if any of the Arun Guard are here. I understand you have a history, but we have no choice.”

“You don’t understand. His words go down like sweet nagasari. Until you choke on them. He told me all the things I wanted to hear, seemed so wise, seemed to understand all about me. Every word, all of it, Naresh. It all led me to …”

Naresh spread his hands and stepped toward her. “It’s all right. We agreed not to dwell on the mistakes we made back then.”

She shoved him away. “It’s not all right. You want to take away the Firewalkers? Kill the bastard and let’s be gone.”

Naresh clenched his fists. “Were you not just lecturing me against violence?”

Chandi folded her arms and glared at him.

Lang returned from the Shrine then. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” both Chandi and Naresh said. And damn him for it. She would not smile.

“Well, he doesn’t admit to having one of the Arun Guard, though he didn’t deny it, either. He’s agreed to let me stay and negotiate as far as future hostilities are concerned.”

Naresh took a step toward the man. “You? Why you?”

“Because, Pak Naresh, you and the Lunar are too personally involved. If there is anything for the Solars to gain here, you need someone objective. And because I don’t much like the idea of riding the jukung back to Daha with you. I’m sure you understand.”

At the moment, Chandi didn’t much like the idea of sailing back with Naresh either. She stared at the back of his head, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Naresh sighed. “So be it. Do not disappoint me, Pak Lang.”

Naresh tromped away, back toward the wet rice terraces. “You worry about my anger,” he said when she followed. “You’ve got to control your own.”

“You’re making a mistake trusting him.”

Naresh shrugged. “I have no choice, Chandi.”

Chandi had felt she had no choice once. The things she had done had not ended well. Chandra save them all from their powerlessness.

CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT

The pillars of the Astral Temple always filled Malin with more trepidation than awe. This place was a temple built by the gods. Or so the Moon Scions claimed. But they’d lied about everything.

The rains hadn’t come yet this morning, and a thick bank of mist surrounded the cliff where the Astral Temple rose. Around the temple, the wild rainforest called to him, and below, on the beaches of Astral Shore, the Fourth War had ended. Anusapati had stolen Ken Arok’s sacred keris and murdered him with it. Ironic that the peace Kakudmi made after his father’s murder eventually led to the fall of his city.

Malin passed through the gateway leading to the interior temples. No one remarked on his passage. Moon Scions watched him like he remained their faithful guardian. Beneath their notice. That would change today.

As a boy, Malin had followed the gods of Mait. When he came to the Skyfall Isles, he’d embraced Chandra and become a Lunar. If the Moon God had put the tiger spirit inside him, his power must be real. Assuming Chandra had anything to do with what Rahu had put inside Malin.

The ladder down to the lower levels stood exposed. Moon Scion arrogance, that they no longer concealed the secrets of this place. Malin paced around the depression before descending the ladder. No reason his heart should pound like this.

If this didn’t work, he was going to destroy the Lunar Empire. Acid bubbled in his stomach. It wouldn’t come to that.

Ketu paced around the second level, moving between the shadows of the pillars. Scattered papers covered the floor. Malin stalked closer. The sounds of screeching metal from the level below muffled his footsteps. Voices carried from down there, but Malin couldn’t make out the words. No one would hear if he killed Ketu right now. A moment he waited, then coughed.

Chandi’s father started and spun. “I haven’t summoned you, Malin. You should be guarding Ratna.”

Perhaps. The girl could find trouble in an empty box. “There are issues we need to discuss.”

Ketu glanced at the notes in his hands, then paced to another pillar. The priest sketched a copy of some of the script.

“It would be best if you listened to me,” Malin said.

“I’m busy, tiger. What do you want?”

“Freedom.” Malin stalked closer to the priest. “Respect. Authority.”

Ketu snorted. “What are you talking about?”

“I gave you your position, priest. I put down your enemies for you. The support of the Macan Gadungan holds your empire together. We are tired of the shadows. It’s time the Moon Scions shared the light with us.”

“Chandra created you as servants to his children. You forget your place. But you have done well, so you will be rewarded, Malin. I’ll make you my general.”

Malin shook his head. “It’s not about me. It’s about all the Macan Gadungan. The Buaya Jadian, too. I found one rotting in a cell for questioning Rahu a year ago. Since when is expressing doubt punishable by that?”

“I don’t like your tone.” Ketu tossed his book aside. “And I don’t know anything about this werecrocodile you’re so concerned with.”

“Of course you don’t. That’s the problem.” He’d stood up to Rahu. He’d stand up to Ketu. “We are as much Chandra’s children as you are, priest. You think we are beneath your notice and it blinds you to what happens around you. All we have done for you.”

Ketu scoffed. “You want my notice? Deal with the situation on Suladvipa.”

“The Firewalkers are not my concern.” Well, they did concern him, but Ketu didn’t need to know that. Such allies might prove more trouble than they were worth—or perhaps a welcome boon to his cause.

“Forget the Firewalkers. It’s that Arun Guard, Rangda damn him. My Igni spies say he’s traveling to the capital. He may be there as we speak. He’s the heir of the Radiant Queen.”

Naresh. “Chandi’s with him.”

“She made her choice,” Ketu said, staring at the pillars. “She will have to live or die by it. I will use the temple to destroy them. You, Malin, will take the Macan Gadungan to assault the island once I’ve done my work.”

No. Not again. “Do not use the temple to create another eclipse. It’s not our place to meddle in Chandra’s course through the heavens. Can you possibly believe such actions are his will?”

“Chandra gave me this power because it’s his will.”

If Chandra created this place at all. Rahu had known far too many of the Temple’s secrets for Malin’s liking.

“But I don’t need to create another eclipse. The power the Astral Temple offers us is so much more than we understood a year ago. Chandra’s gift to us will allow me to smash our enemies anywhere on Earth. I need time to prepare, but when I’m ready, no place will stand before our power. We’ll have all of the Skyfall Isles within the year.”

Malin shook his head, slipping into the shadows. The man still never heard him. He was done having his hand slapped away when he offered it in peace.

And the Jadian were done serving. He climbed the ladder, then stepped out into the sunlight. He hadn’t realized how stifling the underground air had been.

Deep down, he’d known this trip would make no difference. He’d made the motions to avoid civil war, but that’s all they’d ever been. He should have killed Ketu down there. He needed more time to master his Moon Blessings before fighting the priest.

Of course he did.

But really, it was Chandi. After so much, he still couldn’t bring himself to betray her. Even if he planned to overthrow her father, he wouldn’t murder the man in the dark.

Not yet.

CHAPTER NINETY-NINE

“If Semar is holding one of our people, what will we do?” Naresh asked.

Landi grunted, shoving a board into place. Between the two of them and Bendurana, they’d nearly finished a new house for the refugees. Landi had gotten the king to arrange a house for Naresh and Chandi—he was Arun Guard, after all.

King Kertajaya had also granted Landorundun’s family their own house near what people were already calling the Cenrana District. Smaller than they’d had in their home village, but he at least did the First honor enough to grant her immediate living space.

Naresh had spent the three days since he returned from Pottala helping the refugees build community houses. Which meant a lot of cold, rainy nights for a lot of people until they finished. But then, a thousand people determined to work together to get it done made pretty good progress.

Sweat streamed down his back in the afternoon heat.

“Maybe Pak Lang will get him to negotiate,” Landi said.

Lang the diplomat. Rangda take him for leaving that man in charge of such a mission.

Naresh swept his matted hair from his eyes. “If we have to go in, we need to be fast. We need to hit them so hard they have no chance to react. Those Firewalkers can cause immense destruction, given the chance.”

Bendurana cut himself off from saying something. “We need more wood,” he said after a moment.

“Naresh,” Landi said, “I’d rather avoid the slaughter of an Igni town. And the two of us couldn’t do it, even if we wanted to.” She sat on the grass and sipped water from a goblet the children kept filled.

Naresh opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Had he just suggested killing a whole town? He didn’t think that was what he’d meant. But if he shut his eyes, he could see himself doing it. See himself storm the village with the wrath of the Sun God. Could see men falling before them by the dozens or more.

Ignis had killed tens of thousands in Kasusthali. They had murdered his mother. Naresh’s fists clenched. His mother, and he considered peace with them.

But if not, who would stand against Ketu, the true architect of all this?

Chandi was right. His fingers hurt from clenching his fists so hard, but he couldn’t make them release. He’d let the Fifth War get inside him, too deep. Let it make him into something like the Macan Gadungan. But if he couldn’t become like them, he couldn’t save all he loved from them. He pounded his fist into a plank, cracking it.

He wouldn’t lose anything else. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Chandi. The Lunars gave them no choice but to make a stand. Damn them for it.

“Pak Naresh,” Hainuwele said.

Naresh opened his eyes.

“My parents wish to see you. They seek your blessing.”

Naresh glanced at Landi. “My what?”

Landi snorted. “You’re the son of the Radiant Queen. Everyone heard what she did at Kasusthali. I guess being her son makes you even more of a figure of interest.” She punched him on the arm. “At least to some people. Don’t worry; I’ll go with you. We’ll keep the fawning in check.”

Surya’s glare. Why couldn’t this nonsense ever be finished? “I’ve got too much to do. Sorry. So many houses need building. Still need to see King Kertajaya.”

The sisters exchanged glances he couldn’t fathom. The First leaned closer to him. “I think they want your approval of my relationship with Bendurana. Since we were engaged and all.”

Naresh sighed. Having married a different woman, he’d have thought Landi’s marriage none of his business. No point in arguing. He motioned for Hainuwele to lead the way.

The woman drifted toward her house. “You don’t really need to come, Landi,” Hainuwele said.

“I could use a break, anyway,” Landorundun said, her smile dark.

Hainuwele snickered. “So Naresh, I heard you went to see an Igni chief. Did you bring us to peace with them again? Are they going to return to their rightful places?”

“No.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll take care of it. Any idea when your diplomat might return?”

Lang. Naresh shook his head. Soon, with luck.

“Well perhaps, when he comes back, you could speak to him … About me. You were friends, weren’t you?”

Landi grabbed Hainuwele and pulled her aside before Naresh could speak. “What in Rangda’s freezing underworld is wrong with you? Your husband’s been dead less than a year, and now you’re hunting another. And don’t think I never noticed the way you looked at Naresh before Lang came along.”

Well.

Naresh started to slip away, but Landi grabbed him. “No, Naresh. You stay. My parents want your blessing, so you’re going to give it to them. And first, the three of us are putting an end to this.”

“You’re so used to getting your own way, aren’t you?” Hainuwele said. “You, who got everything. I was beautiful as a girl, but my little sister was radiant. I was a musician, but you were a prodigy. And that wasn’t enough for you. No, you had to go and become First of the damned Arun Guard.”

Landi moved to slap her sister, but Naresh grabbed her arm. “I worked for everything I had,” Landi said. “I fought harder than anyone to be accepted to the Arun Guard. I had to beat Lembu Ampal in a fight. You were a musician? I practiced night and day for that, while you were off chasing boys, or sharing our parents’ wealth with everyone you met.”

“Since when is helping those in need a character flaw?”

“Since it brought our family low enough the Radiant Queen wouldn’t dream of joining our families.”

“Landi—” Naresh began.

“You had another chance to marry him,” Hainuwele said. “The most eligible man in the Isles, probably. Son of the Radiant Queen. An Arun Guard himself. And look at that body—”

Naresh shuffled his feet and looked away. He definitely should have stayed on the beach with Ben.

“And he still wasn’t good enough for you. You needed the excitement of a pirate. You ran off having adventures with the captain while my husband died in the Fifth War. A war I hear Chandi helped start. She is Ketu’s daughter, isn’t she?”

“He disowned me, actually.”

Everyone froze. Naresh blew out a breath before turning to face his wife, standing there in the shadows beneath a house. Even in the darkness, he could see anger in her jaw, and pain in her eyes.

Naresh walked toward her, but she shook her head and slunk away. He glared at Hainuwele, who now seemed to find her sandals fascinating.

“Let’s go,” Landi said after a moment.

Naresh started after Chandi, but Landi grabbed his arm.

“Please, Naresh. Help me.”

Well, Landi and Ben were his truest friends, and they needed him. Naresh sighed. A long time ago, he’d loved Landorundun. Now, he could only see Chandi. And when he shut his eyes, he saw the pain in hers.

But he let Landi lead him away. Because he had a duty to her. He climbed the ladder to Solokang’s house, leaving Landorundun standing in the shadow below. He shouldn’t even be here. There was nothing he could say to the man. Naresh had broken off the engagement with Landi, and that was that.

And yet, the man bowed, and offered him tea. “Pak Naresh, please be seated.”

Naresh took the offered cup and seat, and sipped the tea. Very hot, with a hint of cinnamon. “Ibu Hainuwele asked me to come to see you.”

Solokang nodded, slowly. “My daughter wishes to marry that … man.”

His wife sat in the back of the house, in the private alcove. She coughed loudly, but said nothing.

“We do not approve. But if you can vouch for him …”

“I can. But I don’t see why that matters. You don’t really know me, Pak Solokang. Trust your daughter. In all that happened, the one thing I learned is that you have to follow your heart. Anything that stands in the way of that will fracture and crumble, burned away to ash.”

“You are the son of the Radiant Queen, Pak Naresh. I need not know you personally. Is he a good man?”

Naresh sipped his tea. Bendurana had come for him, though Naresh had never given him reason to do so. “He has a good heart, and it loves your daughter. Everything else is immaterial. And in the end, if you stand between her and her heart, she’ll defy you and marry him anyway, or she’ll hate you for driving him away. Either way, you’ll lose her.” He set the cup down on the tea table and rose. “For whatever it’s worth, you have my blessing. Please excuse me.”

He had matters of his own heart to tend to. He nodded at Landorundun as he passed.

Naresh searched the city for Chandi, limping through Daha on his Rangda-damned leg, but the girl knew how to avoid being found. Three years as a spy must have taught her that.

His wife needed him. But try as he might to tell himself nothing else mattered, he had a duty to the people of Suladvipa. They needed him, too. And they couldn’t come second to his own desires—he had to protect these people.

The mistakes his people had made, their arrogance, their failures, had sundered their Empire. But he had to believe it could be restored. Starting with Suladvipa. This place was half Solar and half Igni. What better place to forge a new empire?

After centuries of dominance over the Ignis, Naresh’s people might find treating them as equals difficult. And after what had happened at Kasusthali, he understood their cries for vengeance. He’d seen the simmering undercurrents here. The way old women hurried away when Ignis passed. The way young men stared hard at them.

And the way the Ignis now trained with weapons. Mostly in their homes, but sometimes out in the open. A subtle defiance of the king. A reminder of what had changed, or perhaps a warning of what was to come. Maybe he could convince Kertajaya to reunite the people, but Naresh was loath to deal with the man that had already betrayed the empire once.

Working on the houses kept his mind clear. He needed to focus. Bendurana was still there, hauling lumber, sweat staining his white baju.

Ben ran over as soon as he saw Naresh. “Ah, my friend.” He clapped Naresh on the arm. “How’d it go?”

Naresh shrugged. “I told them what I thought of you.”

“Well. I was hoping for better. Maybe you didn’t cast me in the best possible light. I think my left side is probably the most stunning. Perhaps you should try again. But with singing, this time. Come on, I’ll help you write the lyrics.”

Naresh snorted. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Ben.”

Ben shrugged, jiggling those odd locks of his. He must have had a dozen of the things. If he untied them, his hair was probably almost as long as Landi’s.

“Ah, Naresh, what is it that so bothers you?”

Naresh scratched his chin. Hard to say where to begin on that one. That everyone he was sworn to protect and all of his family had died. That Malin had murdered Empu Baradah, and Naresh never killed the weretiger. Or that his wife’s father was doing everything he could to destroy them all, giving no care to who else died in the process.

When Ben put a hand on his shoulder, Naresh spoke at last. Had to. “I don’t know … where I’m going.”

Ben shrugged. “Are you sure you’re not already there?”

“Surya! I hope not.”

“Wherever you’ve come from, there’s no going back. So pick a direction and keep walking until you get somewhere you want to be. Me, I’m going that way.” He pointed at Landorundun.

She wore a plain white baju now, but even next to it, her skin looked pale. She trembled a little. Ben rushed to her and clasped her hand.

“What happened?” Naresh asked.

Landi looked at Ben when she answered, trembling. “They set the wedding for two days from now.”

Ben wrapped both arms around his future wife and lifted her off the ground. She laughed a little.

Naresh smiled. Chandi should see this.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED

Chandi had invited Landorundun to use her house to prepare for the wedding. She owed her more than she could ever repay, and the things Hainuwele had said or done weren’t Landorundun’s fault. Besides, the Guardswoman’s sister wasn’t doing the things for her she should.

Landorundun had shown up a phase before dawn, and Naresh had found somewhere else to be. He’d made an effort to talk to her, Chandi knew he had. But she didn’t want to dwell on what was said. Or maybe she just didn’t want to hear it? Was it his fault? Was it hers? Either way, it felt like he was losing himself, and maybe that meant she was losing him too.

So many of the people she’d trusted had been lost to her, but then, she’d failed many of them, too. In Kasusthali, she’d thought Semar her friend. Maybe he had been. So many days, she’d visited the Rangda Teahouse for the lingsir kulon meal. Semar had first taken her there. Was she too hard on him? She’d made her share of mistakes back then. Did she bear as much blame as Semar?

And if she judged him too harshly, then she had surely judged Naresh so, as well.

The Guardswoman shivered a bit under her touch.

“It’s all right,” Chandi said. “I did this for Ratna.” She’d brushed the woman’s long hair, trying not to be jealous of the way it shined. Now she wove jasmine into Landorundun’s locks while the Solar fidgeted.

Landorundun kept knocking her palms on the table. Had the woman even smiled once? “My sister used to do this for me, too. She should be here now.”

“Instead of me,” Chandi said.

“I just don’t want any mistakes. Just a perfect wedding. Something I won’t disrupt … I want something that’s really mine. Something given to me.”

Chandi pressed the Solar by the shoulders. “Be still. You are being given something. Bendurana is a good man. You talk like you’re some victim.”

Landi shoved her away. “What do you know? Hainuwele did weave flowers in my hair, the day Naresh came to ask me to marry him. She came all the way to Kasusthali to take care of me. But it was taken from me.”

“And are you sorry you didn’t marry him?” Chandi took a step toward the woman. She caught her hands as they started to rise into a fighting stance. “Do you want my husband, Landorundun?”

“No. But that’s just my point. Even he was given to you. You’re as close as the Lunars have to royalty. Everything you’ve ever wanted was provided for you. And Naresh, son of the Radiant Queen. Even now people look to him more than me. First of the Arun Guard in name only. Between Aji Bidara and Empu Baradah, his whole future was given to him.”

Chandi raised her hand to slap the woman. But Landorundun had rescued Naresh. And had defended Chandi against Hainuwele. “You callous bitch. Everything was given to me? Have you considered everything that was taken from me? What I had to give up to be with Naresh? I lost my people, my home, and my family. Even Ratna left me. She was my best friend and closest family.”

Before the anger could control her, Chandi stalked to the other side of the room. “And you? The most beautiful woman in the Skyfall Isles and beyond. You think nothing was ever given to you? You think you never received special treatment? Are you so innocent of the world? Every man wants to please you, and every woman wants to be you. Your own sister, a lovely woman in her own right, is insane with jealousy of you.”

Sweet Chandra, was that a tear running down Landorundun’s face? Chandi cursed herself for venting at the woman on her wedding day. What was wrong with her? Of course the poor girl felt insecure.

“Sorry, Chandi,” Landorundun said. The Guardswoman looked into her eyes for a moment, then buried her face in her arms. “I don’t know why I’m so … Why I’m such a callous bitch.”

Chandi winced to hear that line thrown back at her. She drifted to Landorundun’s side and put her hands on her shoulders. The Solar at last turned around to look at her.

She’d lost a lot, too, hadn’t she? Pride, honor, it was everything to these people. And she’d failed in all her duties as the First, watched as her own village burned. Who wouldn’t doubt themselves after that?

“No. Landorundun, I’m sorry. Really. You are a hero. I can’t ever forget what you did for Naresh and me. And here, these people do need to believe in Naresh. But Kakudmi made you the First for a reason. You do deserve it. And this is your wedding day. You deserve to be happy, too.”

Landorundun pulled her into an embrace.

Last night, Naresh had embraced her, too. As though nothing had changed. In fact, he’d been smiling, almost his old self since Landorundun and Bendurana had arranged their wedding three days ago.

“Please try to understand,” he’d said. “I know you want to leave the Skyfall Isles. You think you can run from this, but you can’t. If we ran, it would haunt us forever. And one day, your father would send the Macan Gadungan after us. You know he would.”

And what could she have said? That, in choosing to stay against her wishes, he compelled her to remain here? In a place that couldn’t become home, because no one but he—and maybe Landorundun and Ben—wanted her.

So she’d said nothing to Naresh. And she needed to rectify that. Denying her heart had led to nothing but tragedy.

They held the ceremony in the heart of the Cenrana District. A Curate from the Children of the Sun officiated it. Solemn, just as Ratna’s marriage to Kakudmi had been.

The echoes of the Solar hymn had unnerved her in the Temple of the Sun, but she missed them now. In the open air, the song lacked the ethereal quality that had carried her into the dream of Kasusthali.

How bitter she’d been then. How odd that she could now look back on those memories fondly. Sometimes she missed her life in the underwater city she’d tried so hard to escape.

“I pledge my love until the dying of the sun,” Landorundun said, echoing Bendurana. Their kiss, at least, held far more passion than Ratna and Kakudmi’s had.

When the Solar ceremonies at last concluded, they brought out the feast, such as it was. Naresh and Bendurana had gone out on the fishing boats yesterday, to catch the seafood that decorated the platters.

Cooked, it didn’t smell that bad. They feasted, and they talked, and they feasted some more.

Landorundun stood beside Bendurana, her expression dour. She kept looking at her parents, at their wan smiles. One guest after another brought her gifts to celebrate her wedding. She accepted each in turn, with a gracious nod.

Chandi started for the Guardswoman. How could she talk to Landorundun without anyone overhearing? She tugged on her hand to pull her aside

“What happened?”

Landorundun shook her head, so Chandi squeezed her hand until the woman gasped and turned to her. “My mother was crying,” she whispered.

“Mothers cry at weddings, I hear.” Not that Chandi’s mother saw her wedding, but maybe she watched from Kahyangan. Chandi hoped so.

Landorundun embraced her again, and spoke into her ear. “They never wanted this. I think, whatever Naresh said, it left them feeling trapped. I wanted to marry Ben more than anything, but I’ve lost so much … How can I lose them, too, Chandi?”

Well, Chandi had lost her father for Naresh. And was it worth it? It had to be. It was. Forever.

A man approached dragging a cow by a rope. He offered the rope to Landorundun with a bow. The cow had been lamed in one leg and hopped its way toward Landorundun. Landorundun looked back and forth between the cow, its owner, and Chandi, clearly trying to keep a straight face.

Chandi took the offered rope and thrust it at Landorundun. The Guardswoman tried to lead the lamed cow away.

“Landi,” Ben said, pointing at the cow hopping behind his new wife. Landorundun shrugged, snickering. “We could name it Naresh,” the captain said.

Chandi gasped, hand to her mouth. And then Landorundun started laughing, a little bit at first, and then clutching her sides until she doubled over with it. Chandi couldn’t hear whatever else Ben said.

Oh, Naresh. Thank Chandra he was too far to catch any of that. He sat there on the beach, watching the sea. Chandi strolled over and sat beside him.

“Are you sorry we didn’t have all this?”

He nodded. “Sometimes. Traditions matter.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He took her hand, and she wrapped her fingers in his. “What we do for each other matters more. It’s not about living in the past, you know.”

No. It was about their future. Because, no matter what, he was her future. “I pledge my love until the dying of the sun,” she said. She leaned her head against his shoulder, as he repeated the line. A phase or more they sat there, watching the tide, and then the sunset.

When night fell, the dancing started. With the torch poles lit, the drums going, Chandi could almost pretend she was back in Kasusthali for the Harvest Dance. Bonfires dotted the beach, surrounded by the dancing throngs. Everyone trying to lose themselves.

Chandi smiled and yanked her husband to his feet. The drumbeats had intensified. The flow filled her. They’d called the Harvest Dance a celebration of music and life. And they all needed that now.

“Chandi, I can’t,” Naresh said, as she pulled him toward the other dancers.

They hadn’t danced, really, since his injury. Had only ever had the one dance.

Chandi pulled him closer. Savored his warm arms around her back. Though awkward at first, Naresh fell into a rhythm that kept the pressure from his left leg. They couldn’t keep the wild pace of the drumbeats.

But it didn’t matter. Chandi rested her head against her husband’s chest and closed her eyes. Closed out everything else.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE

Getting to the roof of the community house without using her Moon Blessings wasn’t easy. But it was quiet, and she couldn’t sit among the Solars right now. Naresh could reach her, of course.

Not that her husband was likely awake yet. Half the Cenrana refugees slept on the beach after the wedding. Maybe she wanted him to seek her out? For one night, they’d danced and held each other. Resting her head on his chest as they swayed, and at last sleeping in his warm arms, was all she’d really needed.

Except she needed to know if he felt the same. If he’d awaken and find her missing and go looking, or if he’d be so caught up in his need for revenge against her father he wouldn’t even notice. Was she being unfair to him? Maybe.

The rains had abated last night, but this morning they had returned in force. She rubbed the goosebumps from her chilled arms. The wind whipped her hair about her face, kicked about her sarong. The sky over the horizon had turned almost black. It was the rainy season, but this looked like a storm right out of Rangda’s underworld.

Or more than a storm. Chandi didn’t like the way the winds drove the waves into a frenzy against the shore. She scurried to the edge of the roof. It would take too long to climb down. She could use her Blessings … No. She’d resisted the temptation for a year. She wouldn’t undo all that.

Her husband was awake, walking the beach and rubbing his face. “Naresh,” she shouted. The wind was starting to batter her, stripped her words.

But he turned, looking around. She waved her arms and shouted for him again. Then he stood beside her, his balance precarious on the roof.

She pointed to the distance. “That looks like a cyclone.”

“Can’t be. It’s too early in the season for that. It’s just a thunderstorm.”

“I don’t think so. I think we’d better get everyone secured. That’s coming inland. Fast. Very fast, Naresh.”

He grabbed her and Strode them both to the ground. “Get everyone into shelters,” Naresh said. “I have to find Landi. People are going to need us if you’re right.”

Chandi raced across the beach. Many of the refugees had been awakened by the wind and rain, but most stood around looking confused. “Go, now!” She pointed toward some of the few completed community shelters, praying they could withstand the winds.

Rain plastered her hair over her face. It soaked through her kemban, chilled her.

Lightning lit the sky, cast the city in silhouette for an instant. The thunder left her ears ringing. A young girl cried out from under a house. Chandi ran to her. An Igni. She swept the child into her arms and dashed toward the community shelter.

A Solar crossed her path. Large man. “Take her to the shelter,” she said. The man hesitated, looking at the Igni child like she was a snake. “Sweet Chandra, she’s just a child. I have to help everyone else. Take her now!”

The man did as he was bid, rushing off. Chandi headed back into the city. More people were running for the shelters now. The peals of thunder came back-to-back.

Leaves and debris and dirt swirled in the air along with the rain.

The pounding the elements delivered grew worse with each passing moment. Chandi covered her face with her arm in a vain attempt to shield her eyes.

By the third trip helping the people to safety, the wind threatened to tear her sarong off, to throw her from her feet. Debris stung her eyes. A thousand needles on her skin. Something scraped her cheek. Her hand came away bloody when she touched it.

She had to get to the shelter herself.

Someone screamed. Chandi ran toward the sound. Debris had ripped through the roof of a house. A woman stood at the door, shrieking.

Hainuwele. The fool woman just stood there, clinging to the doorframe as the wind tried to tear her away. Why hadn’t she run to a community shelter? The larger supports might withstand the winds, but the smaller houses never would. Chandi was too turned around to even know if this was Hainuwele’s house. The woman shouted something Chandi couldn’t hear over the wind.

Chandi waved Hainuwele to her. “Come to me!”

The Solar trembled, shaking her head.

Rangda take her. It would serve her right to leave her here. But Chandi was already running for the ladder, arm held before her face against the wind.

Mud squelched beneath her feet, flowing over her sandals. Her foot slipped. Chandi fell, but caught the edge of a support post. Gasping, choking on rain and dust, she pulled herself up.

Something pounded into her back as she tried to climb the ladder. Her muddy, bloody hands couldn’t grip the rungs. She tried to use her elbows to heave herself up.

She needed Naresh.

No, he wasn’t here. She had to do this.

Something cracked above her. One side of the ladder had torn free of its bindings. Her perch swayed in the wind.

Chandi screamed. Chandra help her.

She drew her Potency Blessing.

So sweet. Beautiful vigor filled her, the strength to almost fling herself up to the porch. The power of the Moon God surged through her veins.

Hainuwele clung to the doorframe, still. Chandi yanked her away with one hand and threw the Solar over her shoulder. She leapt off the porch and shifted her gravity to a support post. Ran down it.

Something smashed through the house. Chandi didn’t look back. She drew her Blessings harder. She was alive. So alive. She ran faster through the rain. The woman on her shoulder felt like no more burden than a child would.

She ran.

Moving so fast, she almost felt she could see each drop of rain. Feel every perfect step as she flew across the yard to the community shelter.

This was it. This was what she’d been missing. She was a fool to think she could leave it behind. She was a Moon Scion. It was part of her. It filled her and made her whole.

And that was the problem. She dropped Hainuwele in the mud before the shelter. Let the Blessings go. Her heart fell so fast she wanted to weep. But she was not a lunatic. Still Chandi.

She hoisted the Solar to her feet. “Climb.”

Hainuwele grabbed the ladder, but shrunk away from the pounding wind and rain. Landorundun was there, then, a hand on them both. Then they were on the landing of the shelter. Landorundun ushered them inside.

Chandi looked around the shelter. “Where’s Naresh?”

Landorundun shook her head.

Chandi grabbed the Solar. “Where’s my husband?”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO

Naresh Sun Strode aboard the Queen of the South Sea. The ship was headed upriver through Daha, so Bendurana must know the cyclone was coming, but maybe Landi was still aboard.

“Naresh!” Ben hurried over, seemingly unfazed by the turbulent waters.

“Ben, where’s Landi?”

The captain steadied himself on the rail. Probably a good idea. “She went to help the refugees get to safety.”

“Good. I have to get back to Chandi.”

“No!” Ben grabbed him before he could Stride away. “Naresh, the storm is coming too fast. We’ll never get her tied down without your help.”

Naresh gripped the rail tighter. Landi would be fine, but Chandi had no defense against this weather. And Ben was right, it was coming in fast. His wife needed him.

He looked back at Bendurana. There was no way this crew would abandon the ship, and they could all die without him.

Naresh grit his teeth and clapped Ben on the arm. He wouldn’t leave him.

The deck swayed under them as they made their way up a narrow creek. Rain had long since drenched Naresh. Ben handed him a line. “We have to tie her off.” The captain indicated trees on either side of the river. “Leave enough slack; the water is going to rise.”

Naresh Sun Strode to the largest tree as the crew rowed toward another. He circled the tree three times with the line before tying it off.

He Strode back to the dhow. The roar of the wind whipped the sails the crew desperately tried to lower. One line tore free, and a sail ripped from the mast. Ben dashed to him with another line, pointing at another tree. Naresh couldn’t make out the captain’s words, but he could see the man shivering in the wind and rain.

Naresh Strode toward the next tree. Tied it off. A third tree. By the time he returned to the deck, the rain was almost blinding. His hair stung his eyes, and chills ran through him. Naresh rubbed his arms, trying to get the feeling back in them.

“Tighten that line!”

Naresh rushed to follow Ben’s orders. The rope rubbed his palms raw as it slid through his hands. The ship bucked under him.

Again and again he rushed about, Sun Strode when he dared, trying to keep the dhow secured.

The ship lurched, tossing a crewman off the side. Naresh Strode to the place where the man had stood. He had to shield his eyes against the rain.

Long as he searched the churning waters, he saw no sign of the missing man.

“He’s gone,” someone shouted.

Another man fell at some point. Naresh lost any sense of time. They must have spent phases trying to hold the ship together. Naresh vomited. He couldn’t catch his breath. Naresh dragged himself along the deck, back toward the lines.

A crewman waved him off, gave him moments to rest. Surya preserve them. Cyclones over Kasusthali had been an inconvenience. Here, he felt like an insect at the mercy of a cruel child.

And then the rain began to abate, almost too quickly. The howling wind ceased. Naresh slumped against the rail of the Queen of the South Sea. His raw, rope-burned hands gave him new appreciation for Bendurana’s crew.

“Surya’s sweaty back,” the captain said as he approached. The swaying deck didn’t seem to bother him, though he kept glancing at the ropes tying the ship to the trees.

“Some would smack you for that blasphemy,” Naresh said, without moving.

“And yet, the son of the Radiant Queen is not one of them. I’ve probably got almost as much faith in Surya as you, Naresh. Maybe more.”

Naresh didn’t answer. Bendurana took too many liberties. It didn’t matter that he was mostly right. Instead, he forced himself to his feet.

So much debris clogged the river. A tree trunk floated by them. Bodies of anoa. The body of the first crewman. The one Naresh had not been fast enough to save.

The sun peeked out from behind the clouds. By the time they had untied the lines, clear skies had returned. The blue sky seemed to mock the savaged land, which, if anything, looked more clogged than the river. Whole trees had been torn down, and palms covered the land as far as Naresh could see.

Naresh grunted as he tried to clench his hands. The rope burns stung like Rangda herself had spat on them. Ben must have noticed his discomfort, because the captain appeared with a balm that eased the pain.

“I have to find Chandi.”

“Ah Naresh, it’s the day after my wedding. Don’t you think I want to see my wife just as much?”

The rising waters had turned the river into a wetland. Navigating back would be near impossible. He didn’t have enough sunlight to Stride far. Wouldn’t get him back to her much faster.

Bendurana glanced at him, then they both climbed the rail and leapt into the water. Naresh splashed down, covered to mid-thigh.

“Well,” Ben said, “the good news is that the storm probably drove any crocodiles or water snakes into hiding. And after so much sweating last night, we both needed a bath, anyway. Sweating from all the dancing, I mean.”

“Of course you did.” Naresh cursed under his breath as he slogged through the marsh. The nearby wet rice terraces had drowned. The crops floated past him in the waters.

“Sweet Surya’s blistering gaze,” Ben said, as they approached Daha.

The cyclone had torn the city to pieces.

Chandi was there, clearing away debris from what remained of Cenrana District. The cyclone had undone most of the work they’d completed since arriving in Daha eight days ago.

“Chandi,” he called, surprised at how raw his voice sounded.

She turned at his voice, hand over her heart. She ran to him, embraced him. He blew out a hard breath. Whatever pain she’d been through, this had reminded them both what really mattered. Naresh’s heart leapt in his chest, faster than he expected. Chandi was well. Thank Surya, she was well. He held her for a long time, rubbing his palm against her back.

“Our house survived,” she said.

Naresh laughed. He helped her try to repair the damage done, for as long as his strength lasted. Then he collapsed on the mat in the private area of their home.

Chandi sat beside him and stroked his hair, brushing it from his face. After a little while, she rose to cook something for him.

Naresh must have slept, because Chandi shook him awake by the shoulder. “Huh?”

She handed him a steaming bowl of nasi goring.

Naresh laughed. His mother had made that rice curry for breakfast almost every day of his childhood. At least until the assassination of Mpu Gandring had made her the next Radiant Queen. Almost ten years ago, now.

If Kebo Ijo hadn’t killed the old Radiant Queen, Naresh’s mother would have remained a curate. And maybe she’d still be alive. Landi had begged Naresh’s forgiveness for failing to protect Aji Bidara. But he couldn’t blame Landi for anything. Maybe he blamed his mother, a little, or himself.

Or everyone and no one. Either way, she was gone.

He closed his eyes as he took the first bite of nasi goreng. Almost like his mother made. Maybe she’d found peace in the underworld. Whether with Naresh’s father or Empu Baradah didn’t matter. Maybe she’d find it when the Wheel of Life gave her another chance.

Considering neither of them knew much about cooking when they’d arrived in Cenrana a year ago, Chandi had become quite the chef.

“Thank you,” Naresh said, waving at the food. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

Chandi nodded. “I invited Ben and Landorundun for tea tonight.”

Naresh grunted. No one needed tea tonight. But he wouldn’t deny Chandi anything right now.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE

“It’s my father,” Chandi said, breaking the silence. No one had touched his or her tea. “I think he used the Astral Temple again. He’s targeting us.”

“We don’t know that the temple can do that,” Naresh said. “You told us it was controlling the heavens. How would he use it to create a cyclone?”

“A cyclone came up out of nowhere, off season, and then dissipated far too quickly,” Landorundun said. “Is it so hard to believe it wasn’t natural?”

“I don’t know how he did it.” Chandi sipped her tea. Even if no one else would, she’d gone to the trouble of making it, so she was going to drink it. “Or what would have driven him to it. But it did happen.”

It seemed almost lunacy that he would turn a cyclone on an island. More than a dozen refugees were missing, and little hope remained of finding them now.

“If Ketu has the power to throw cyclones at us, turn day to night, and Surya knows what else,” Naresh said, “how do we face him? Storm the temple?”

Landi shook her head. “With two Arun Guard, a Moon Scion who no longer uses her Blessings, and some well-meaning Solar soldiers? I think he’ll have the Temple secured against that. Assuming he can’t use the Ttemple itself against us. Not easy to attack by sea if he can create a cyclone.”

Naresh folded his arms. “He must have known we were trying to reunite the people of this island. He fears that. All the more reason we have to stand together. Now.”

Ben sighed. Everyone looked at him. “Well … If Ketu has that kind of power, we can’t fight it. Not with what we have now.” He turned away for a moment, and continued only when Naresh cleared his throat. “We need to find the Queen of the South Sea.”

“Your ship isn’t lost, Ben,” Naresh said. “It will be fine with minor repairs.”

“Ah, Naresh. The real Queen. The one the ship’s named for. Nyai Loro Kidul.”

Naresh scowled. “Ben, now is not the time for more myths.”

Chandi tried not to snicker, and Landi shook her head.

Ben just shrugged. “Myths? Ah, Naresh, you forgot? I told you I was rescued by a mermaid. Off the Spice Islands.”

“Wait,” Landi said. “Now it’s not just a mermaid that saved you? It’s the Queen of the South Sea, herself? Queen of mermaids, ruler of the seas? A goddess?”

Ben wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Exactly the one. I’ll bet she could stop Ketu.”

“You’re serious?” Naresh said. “Even if this spirit existed—and she doesn’t—how would we convince her to help us?”

Chandi rose to refill her tea. “We’ve all seen some strange things in the last year. What if he’s right? If we could find the spirit, maybe she’ll aid us. I imagine she’s not thrilled with my father throwing cyclones up across her sea.”

Naresh glowered. “We can’t go gallivanting around the Spice Islands,” he said. “We have to unite Suladvipa. If we run off now, the island will fall to the Lunar Empire. Ketu will have gotten exactly what he wanted.”

“Naresh is right,” Landorundun said. “He needs to stay here.”

“What do you mean I need to stay? We all need to stay.”

“No. You’re a symbol to the people. Even the king fears you, I suspect. If Pak Kertajaya didn’t, he wouldn’t be playing these posturing games with you.”

“I’m no one’s symbol.”

Chandi bit her lip. Was Ben right? Naresh never really believed in the powers of Kahyangan, but Chandi had heard the rumors about Ratna’s mother. If her power was real, it had to come from somewhere.

She could help Ben … But then, if she was finally finding Naresh again, how could she leave him?

“Maybe you need to be a symbol,” Landorundun said. “People need hope.”

And yet, after all she’d done, this still wasn’t her home. They hadn’t accepted her. Naresh had, and Ben and Landorundun. But it wasn’t enough. She had to win the rest of the people to her, because, if Naresh wouldn’t leave the Isles, then she needed to spend a lifetime here.

Naresh shook his head. “You’re going to get yourselves killed over a foolish story.”

Chandi’s chest shuddered. Could she do this? “It’s all right, my love …” She had to. “I’ll watch over them. If this spirit is out there, we’ll find her. And then we’ll come back to take on my father together. This …” she waved her hand to indicate the city outside their home, “this is going too far. All Suladvipa is probably in chaos. Hundreds or more could be dead. Because he wanted to hurt us.”

“I won’t be separated from you, Chandi. Not again.”

She nodded. Once she would have said the same. “If I do this, maybe these people will finally see me as one of them. I can’t live as a pariah, Naresh. Whatever part I may have played in the Fifth War, if you want to make a life with me on Suladvipa, I need the people to trust me.”

Naresh shook his head. “No. Chasing after imaginary power is madness. We have real power, right here on this island. Semar and the Firewalkers. It’s time for a real alliance with them. Equal partners.”

Chandi set her tea down on the table. “Never. Naresh, no. The man is manipulative, conniving, and dangerous.”

Ben chuckled and winked at Landi. “Normally I’d call those worthy traits in an ally. But I’m with Chandi on this. Semar is more than he appears.”

Landorundun rose, pacing as she brushed her hair from her face, though Chandi’s house had little room for the Guardswoman to walk about. “I think Naresh is right on this, Ben.”

“Thank you,” Naresh said, folding his arms.

“I know Semar gave you and Chandi reason not to trust him … But we have to pursue all possible allies at this point. Right now, Ketu has us sorely overmatched.”

Naresh nodded, and Ben said nothing. Chandi bit her lip. Why wouldn’t they ever listen to her? Did Naresh and Landorundun really think Semar would help them?

“It’s settled, then,” Landorundun said. “Naresh will remain here and unite the people of Suladvipa. The three of us will take the Queen of the South Sea to find her namesake, as soon as the vessel is repaired.”

Ben rose to stand beside the Guardswoman. “Don’t worry, Naresh. We’ll take care of your wife. Chandi likes me. Don’t you? I’m a kind and endearing scoundrel.”

Naresh folded his arms and scowled at her when they left. “You could have supported me. You don’t really believe in this mermaid nonsense?”

Why couldn’t it be true? If there was darkness and secrets and horror in Kahyangan, couldn’t there be beautiful mysteries as well? “I have to do something.”

“So help me forge an alliance with Semar. You know him. You can help ensure he doesn’t manipulate us. We need to destroy Ketu, Malin, and the rest of the Lunar Empire.”

“Destroy the Lunar Empire? Murder my father?” She rose. “What in Rangda’s frozen underworld is wrong with you? I agree we need to stop him, but we can do that without—”

Naresh leapt up. “Stop him? He killed our people. He assaulted our entire island. He helped drown Kasusthali and indirectly led to the murder of my mother. Why wouldn’t I kill him?”

Chandi stepped away from him. “Because it’s that kind of thinking that brought us the five wars. Because you told me we had to let go of the past. You told me for peace to last we had to forgive. Where’s your forgiveness now? Your father would be ashamed of you. Whatever horrible things he did, at least they weren’t in cold blood. Even when he killed my mother at least—”

“My father? You never even met my father. How would you know?”

“Of course I met …” Chandi shook her head. Damn.

“Empu Baradah killed your mother. My father died in that same battle.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Forget it, Naresh.”

Naresh shook his head. He reached out to her. “What are you saying? Tell me.”

“Nothing.”

He grabbed her arms and squeezed until it hurt. His eyes pleaded with her. Why couldn’t he let this go? Why did she have to open her mouth about this? She tried to pull away, but he held her too tightly. “Tell me the truth.”

She looked away. “Please, Naresh. It’s nothing. Just sit down.”

“You promised me no more lies. You swore to me there would be no more secrets between us. You promised me.”

Chandi grunted from the pain in her arm. She bit her lip and looked into his eyes. But he’d never get past it, if she didn’t tell him. And she had promised no more lies. “Kakudmi told us … Empu Baradah was your real father. His affair with Aji Bidara started before you were born.”

His hands dropped from her arms. Angry marks where his fingers had squeezed lingered on her skin. Still she reached for him, but he backed away.

“Told us?”

Chandi sighed. “We were all there, Naresh.”

“Everyone knew.” He clenched his fists at his side. “Landi? Ben? You all knew the truth about my family, and no one told me. Not even my wife. How … How could you keep something like this from me? I’m the bastard son of an affair? I thought they only got together after my father died. I thought … And you, you lied to me. Again.”

Chandi took a step toward him. He backed away more and raised his hands to the side of his head.

No. Please, Chandra, she needed him. “I thought you’d already lost so much, already accepted it. I thought it’d be easier if you didn’t have to know.”

Naresh shook his head and forestalled her with a hand between them. “Is that what you thought? Or maybe it’s just that your spying and lies got him killed in the first place. Your actions killed my father, Chandi. But worse, you lied about it for over a year.”

Chandi nodded. Her jaw trembled. “Yes. But you should take a long look at where you’re heading, Naresh. You blame yourself for all the death that’s happened in the Fifth War. So you think to rectify it by slaughtering everyone that stands in our way?”

Naresh inched toward her. He started to reach for her. She tried to force the rage from her face. They had to get past this. They needed each other, they were a part of each other. And she wouldn’t let this destroy them. She tried to take his hand.

“Please, Naresh. You don’t see how you’re changing, do you? This fury is going to—”

Naresh pushed her aside and walked onto the porch. Then he Strode and was gone.

“Naresh?” She ran out onto the porch. “Naresh!”

If he was even close enough to hear her, he didn’t answer. Had she betrayed him again?

All night she waited. She watched the rain. She watched the moon and searched the stars.

He didn’t return.

The sun had begun to rise when Ben drew near. “We have to leave now, to make the tide.”

They were always chasing one tide or another. She’d thought leaping into the arena beneath Bukit would be the end of it. That in that final decision, she’d no longer have so many forces pulling her and Naresh apart.

Yet even with the Solar Empire in ruins, he still felt bound by duty. Wasn’t his first duty to her? But he’d never quite seen it. If she saved these people, maybe they could give her a home. Then could Naresh let all this go and become himself again? Please, Chandra let him find his way back. If she stayed, she might reach him. But if he had turned his back on her, only Ben and Landorundun were left to her.

And whatever her father had done, he was still her father. She could see him removed from power, imprisoned if need be. But not murdered.

Chandi stood. Her muscles ached from sitting on the porch all night. Ben must have seen the look on her face, because he didn’t ask about Naresh. When she climbed down the ladder, he just took her arm and led her to the harbor.

The Queen of the South Sea stood at the end of Daha’s longest pier. A long walk to it.

“My lady, are you certain you wish to come?” Bendurana asked.

“I have to.” She had to prove to everyone she belonged here. To Naresh most of all? Yes, because if she could save this island with the help from some mermaid, they could finally make a home here.

Chandi stared up at the dhow. Then she hiked up the gangway.

Hainuwele stood with Landorundun on the deck. Sweet Chandra, don’t say the woman was coming along.

“I’m sorry about … everything,” Hainuwele said to her sister. “Make sure you return safely, sister.”

Hainuwele looked at Landorunrun like she was losing a child. Chandi guessed Hainuwele must be five or six years older than her. Enough that Hainuwele might well have helped raise Landorundun when she was young.

What would it have been like, had Chandi’s own mother lived? If she’d had an older woman to talk to about life as she grew up? Maybe she would have found a way to deal with her frustration that didn’t involve beating someone bloody. She smiled. Maybe not.

“I hope we’ll be back before the season is out,” Landorundun said. “Tell our parents not to worry.”

Hainuwele brushed her hair from her eyes, then pressed a prayer medallion into Landorundun’s hand.

“We have to go if we want to make the tide,” Bendurana said.

Hainuwele joined the few others offshore that had come to see the ship off. Chandi searched the shore for Naresh. Where was he? Could he really let her leave like this? Damn him.

Please, Naresh?

“We’ll start our search in the Spice Islands,” Bendurana said as the ship pulled away. “I have contacts there that might be able to help us. The Spice Islanders have more lore on Kahyangan than anyone else I know.”

Chandi blew out a breath. The idea of searching the whole South Sea for its possibly mythological queen hadn’t seemed so insane until now. She’d had this feeling in her stomach before, when she’d agreed to serve as Ratna’s handmaid in Kasusthali. Funny, she’d made that voyage on the Queen of the South Sea as well.

Chandi fought the urge to jump over the rail and swim back to land before it was too far. Landorundun moved beside her. She rubbed her fingers over the image of Surya on her prayer medallion. She pointed to the roof of the harbormaster’s building.

Naresh was there. Watching them.

Chandi started to raise her hand to wave to him. Let him wave first. Let him wave. She prayed he would. And then he was gone.

Chandi grabbed the rail and tried to catch her breath. Gone? Naresh? Had her pride stopped her? Chandi shut her eyes, trembling.

“He’s going to be fine,” Landorundun said. “Naresh is stronger than even he realizes. He could draw everyone to him, if he tried. He just doesn’t see it.”

“I used to think you two didn’t even like each other.”

Landorundun laughed. “Sometimes we don’t. But I wouldn’t want anyone else at my back in a fight.”

Chandi stared in the direction of Daha long after it had faded from sight. She’d just left her husband with no one at his back.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOUR

A dead tiger lay pinned under a fallen tree. A real tiger—a weretiger would have returned to human form in death. Ketu’s cyclone had left Suladvipa in a sorrier state than Malin had ever seen. The new War King might not be the lunatic the old one was. But destroying the better part of an entire Isle to kill one man wasn’t far off.

Malin liked traveling at night. The moon was bright—almost full—and he could see nearly as well as in day. His dreams of Kahyangan had faded at last, but Malin still felt little desire to sleep.

And the moon called him, or the spirit within. Almost impossible to resist shifting as the full moon neared. The spirit inside ached for it, like lust too long denied.

The reports gave him the general location of Pottala. Finding it from there wouldn’t pose much trouble. He passed the time by practicing drawing his Blessings. Speed and strength he could do at will, now. Glamour—well, at least it didn’t happen by accident as often anymore.

A bellow shook the trees. A flock of nightjars took flight. That sound. Warak Ngendog. Malin drew his Blessings and dashed toward it.

The creatures came from Suladvipan rainforests. Once, the Arun Guard had mastered them using the Sun Brand. Now, the beasts probably ran amok.

The cyclone had shown some mercy to the Igni town. The Warak Ngendog did not. The thirty-foot tall creature rampaged around the town, stomping anything in its path. An Igni drew fire to his hands. Flung it at the rainbow-colored beast.

The fire rolled over its hide, driving it into greater frenzy. Its dragon-like head snatched up the Firewalker and bit him in half. It leapt into the air, flapping its feathered wings. The thing couldn’t fly, but it managed to glide and land atop a building.

The house collapsed under its great weight. Malin cursed and tore off his baju. The creature bowled over more Ignis with its tail as Malin shifted. The spirit inside him roared, climbing its way to the surface. It dug its claws through him, fighting for control of his mind. Malin embraced it. Fur burst through his skin, his bones reshaping. Muscles tore, thickened. Glorious agony.

He drew his Potency Blessing. The ground flew past him. He’d never had such a sense of speed. He drew his Blessings harder. His leap carried him to the roof of an Igni house. His next one flung him through the air at the Warak Ngendog.

The dragon roared and swung its head to intercept him. Malin was faster. His claws ripped through the beast’s eyes, his teeth closed around its nostrils. His momentum carried the creature down by its neck.

The ground shook as the Warak Ngendog lost its footing and crashed down. Malin sprung free, then dove for the dragon’s neck. The creature’s blood ran down his throat. The beast roared. So did Malin. His teeth ripped through its scales.

Malin’s perch shook as the blinded creature tried to swing back to its feet. He dug his claws into its long neck. Bit harder.

The creature swung its neck back and forth, its bellows now turned into strangled gurgles. Malin lost his grip and flew through the air, crashing through the wall of a house.

Splinters tore gashes even in his thick skin. His head slammed against something. Blackness.

Malin shook himself to clear his head. He was lying on the floor. He’d reverted to human form.

By the sounds outside, he’d been out only a moment. The house was empty, so he grabbed a sarong from the dresser before heading out.

The Warak Ngendog had fallen again. The blood pouring from its throat had begun to slow, and with it, the thing’s breath. An Igni with a Solar keris sword ran his blade through the beast’s empty eye socket.

Malin shook himself again and stalked toward the man. No sacred flame on his baju, so maybe he was a Solar after all. The man jerked his keris free and held it before him when Malin approached.

“I’ve come to see the leader of this town.”

The man waved his sword at him. “You’re not going anywhere, Macan Gadungan.”

Malin drew his Blessings again. “You think you can stop me?” He continued forward, glaring into the Solar’s eyes.

The Solar swung. Malin dodged. The man had skill, but no way to match Malin’s speed. Malin caught the Solar by the wrist in one hand and the throat with the other. A simple twist of his wrist and the Solar dropped the sword.

Malin flung the man aside. The Solar flew through the air and crashed into a pile of rubble. He’d live.

“Where is your leader?” he said, addressing the gathered crowd.

Another Firewalker drew the flames from a hearth. Fire spiraled around his hands. Malin glared until the man let the fire dwindle.

The Solar had staggered to his feet. Approached Malin again.

“Enough, Lang,” someone said. Malin had never spoken to Semar, but he knew the man’s scent. “I’ll speak to you later,” Semar told the Solar. “Welcome to Pottala, Malin. I suspect this town has never seen such a fearsome display.” Semar waved at the dead Warak Ngendog.

Malin took a moment to survey the creature. He’d never heard of a Macan Gadungan killing one single-handedly before. The Amrita had made him something beyond weretiger or Moon Scion.

Malin smiled.

The Solar still glared at him. Better if he killed the man than left an enemy behind him. But Semar might not appreciate that.

“I want to make an alliance with you,” Malin said.

“The Lunar Empire already has an alliance with the Ignis.” But the look the priest gave him told Malin he already knew that wasn’t what he meant. The Ignis, at best, managed not to interfere with either Solars or Lunars.

“I wish an alliance with the Ignis.”

The Firewalkers might not have brought down the Warak Ngendog, but those flames would annihilate a Moon Scion. Ketu’s forces would never stand against the Jadian and Firewalkers combined.

Semar nodded, and turned back to the Shrine of Sacred Flame. Malin followed him inside. Dark, hot. The stone temple seemed like a prison. The fire pit at its heart cast flickering shadows over everything.

“If the Ignis allied with the Macan Gadungan, what do you think would happen to the Lunar Empire?” Semar asked.

It’d be ripped apart, of course. Malin had known that coming here. That was the idea.

When he didn’t answer, Semar continued. “And that event, you believe, is in the best interest of your people? No matter how many may die because of it? No matter that all the Skyfall Isles may burn.”

“I think,” Malin said after a moment, “you should let me kill the Solar.”

“Lang is here as my guest. A formal ambassador to the Ignis. How would it look if harm came to him while he was here?”

Malin grunted. He hadn’t really expected Semar to agree. “Here’s what I see, priest. Despite your clever words, despite your Firewalkers, Ketu holds the power in the Isles. He uses the Astral Temple like a cudgel to smash his enemies. Am I calloused over the cost of war? Ketu is more so. An eclipse that threw the heavens and tides into chaos. A cyclone that destroyed one of the Isles. I don’t want to see what else he comes up with.”

“And suppose the Ignis help you seize the Astral Temple. What will you do with it? Will you turn it on your enemies?”

“I wouldn’t know how.” Malin paused, watching the priest carefully. “Maybe it would be better if it was destroyed. It caused all five wars.”

“Maybe it would. Do you think you could destroy it? Would you?”

Malin shook his head. “Not sure. But I’d make sure no one used it as a weapon again.”

And he’d free the Jadian from under the heel of the Moon Scions. If he revealed the Amrita, their hold on all Lunars would be broken forever.

“Get to the point, Semar. No more circles.” Damn priest tried to twist his mind. “What do you want?”

“An interesting question. I could say I want what all men want.” The priest leaned forward, the fire illuminating his face. His blue eyes almost sparkled. “Love and life. A reason to go on. Peace. I’d like those things.”

Malin snarled. “What do you want from me? What will it take to secure your aid against Ketu’s forces? I’m taking down the Moon Scions. Help me break their hold on the Lunars, and you can name your price.”

“What a dangerous offer. Name my price. But I’ve no interest in fighting Ketu with you. What makes you think you can offer me anything better than what he does?”

Malin shifted. Damn stone dug into his haunches. “What would it take to get you to walk away from Ketu? At least don’t support him.”

“In theory, if you recognize the Ignis as an independent nation, that might be a start. With favorable trade terms. Very favorable.”

Malin started to rise. “Very well.”

“Hypothetically, if I agreed, that wouldn’t be all.”

“What else?” Malin sunk back to the ground, glowering. “You’ve already asked me to grant you boons for not fighting.”

“In asking the Ignis to walk away from Ketu, you ask them to risk his wrath if you fail. To take that risk, do you not think the potential gain must be high, indeed? Do not go after Naresh. Do not try to kill him.”

Malin snarled. The priest was mad. If the Guardsman came for Malin, he’d have no choice. And Naresh would want vengeance.

“What do you care about the Solar?”

“I have my reasons. And you have my terms.”

Malin sat there, watching the man’s face. Semar’s crystal blue eyes bored into Malin. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear the tiger spirit in his soul squirmed under that gaze.

“Done.”

Malin left the shrine, surprised how unsteady his feet felt. He’d just started a civil war.

PART TWO

1196 AP

(Five Months Later)

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVE

The rains had gone at last, and still Naresh’s wife had not returned to him. Four months, almost five, and little word of the Queen of the South Sea. She’d been in the Spice Islands, some said. But that was months ago.

Rumor had come of a new king rising in those islands. Perhaps she had met this supposed Spice King. Perhaps she had found no answers there and moved on.

He’d passed the new year without her, unable to join in the festivities throughout Daha. There was no celebration without her. In Kasusthali, they had danced at the Harvest Festival. Shadows and firelight had played over her lithe body, entrancing him more than he’d realized at the time. The celebration here, vibrant though it was, seemed pale in comparison. In the early morning, the first morning of the new year, he’d seen a pair of kingfishers walking the streets, searching for scraps left by the revelry. Chandi would have loved them, and for one moment, he’d thought to call out to her, had forgotten.

Malin’s civil war against the Lunars had brought reprieve to Suladvipa, for the moment, at least. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for the rest of the Skyfall Isles. Ketu, perhaps lunatic, had even thrown a cyclone at Malin’s forces on Puradvipa. What desperation must have prompted the Moon Scion to assault an island that housed as many of his own people, Naresh couldn’t guess. Word said that all the werebeasts had risen against their masters and abandoned Bukit. Sailors claimed fires had burned all night in the Lunar capital. Even still, it was madness for Ketu to turn a cyclone on his own people.

Now, in the midday heat, Naresh stood outside the gates of the Iron Palace, staring at a steward sweating even more profusely than he was. “I’m sorry, Pak Naresh. The king is in meetings with his nephew.”

Naresh folded his arms. “Yes. I’m just as eager to see Pak Lang.” Three times he’d demanded the man return from Pottala with reports about the meetings. Once, he’d even gone himself, but the Ignis had rebuffed him, claimed it was a religious rite and he’d have to come again later.

“I’m Second of the Arun Guard,” Naresh said. “He can’t make time for me? What remains of the Solar Empire, of all the Isles, is crumbling around us. Does King Kertajaya think that worth his time?”

“I’m certain the king knows best.”

Naresh clenched his fists and took a step toward the steward. The man blanched and backed into the iron gate. Guards bristled, their hands drifting toward keris swords.

Naresh kept his gaze on the steward. “Did he order you not to let me inside?” Every attempt he’d made to aid Kertajaya, to keep the man from destroying what remained of the Empire, met with this blind arrogance.

The man pressed himself further back into the gate. “Not specifically, you—”

“Good.” Naresh Sun Strode past the gate and appeared in front of the palace’s double doors.

Another pair of guards at the entrance jerked at his sudden appearance, then waved their arbirs at him. Naresh glanced at the polearms, then up at the guards.

“I am Arun Guard. Open the doors.”

The pair looked at each other, back at Naresh, and then each other again. One moved to open his door, then the other followed. Good. Wouldn’t want to hurt them.

Inside, servants stood in long rows, applying fresh paint to the entry hall. Auburn, with gold trim. Because Kertajaya had to remind everyone he was in charge on Suladvipa. At least, until Malin or Ketu or Semar decided to take the island.

Even the Fourth War, bloody as it was, had been better than this chaos.

Other guards stared at him, some looking bemused, some relieved, to see him wandering the palace alone. He could almost hide the damn limp now. Probably as good as it would ever get.

The king had only deigned to receive him twice before in the time since Chandi had left, but Naresh remembered the way to the throne room. He threw open the doors and stepped into the great hall.

A high, arched ceiling with massive open windows let in plenty of light. Purple velvet carpet ran from the entryway to the throne. Everyone stopped when he entered, even the servant fanning the king with a palm leaf.

The king sat on an Igni-carved throne, hands folded in his lap. No doubt trying to figure out a way to use Naresh for his own ends. As he had probably done to everyone that stood in this spot, Landi included.

Ken Arok should have killed the man. Kertajaya, a cousin of the imperial family, had used the advent of the Fourth War to make a claim for the throne. But occupied with Rahu, Ken Arok had found it easier to place his defeated cousin on the throne of Suladvipa than risk a protracted civil war. Of course, even when peace came, Kakudmi had done nothing.

Now, the king glared at the servant until he resumed fanning. Lang left the king’s side to meet Naresh halfway to the throne.

“Welcome back from Pottala, Pak Lang.” Naresh glanced at him, then looked past him at the king.

Kertajaya watched him, not moving, except for his eyes. An old man now, but still his eyes were alert, fierce even.

Lang pointed a finger at Naresh’s chest. “Not even you can just barge in here, Pak Naresh. My uncle and I are discussing the future of our island.”

Naresh continued to look at the king, addressing him. Probably infuriating Lang. “And you don’t think the Arun Guard should be at such a meeting?”

“Indeed. As bodyguards.” Kertajaya rubbed his face. “Being the son of the Radiant Queen may impress the common people, Pak Naresh. But you’ll have to do something more to earn my trust. Thus far all you’ve done for my kingdom is help refugees from Cenrana into Daha, and train them in Silat. We appreciate the service—” Naresh doubted it, “—but that hardly justifies taking you into my council.”

No more than Naresh wanted to take council from the traitor. “Now is our one chance to unite our people. While the Lunars wage their civil war, they are weak. Strike at Ketu and destroy him. Join with Semar if you can.” As Naresh had tried to tell him before.

“We already have,” Lang said.

Now Naresh looked at the failed potential. Looked him up and down. Arrogant as ever. Strange, his feet looked scarred over. “Why wasn’t I informed if you’ve made headway with Semar? For that matter, why didn’t you respond to any of the inquiries I sent you?”

“Because you are a servant,” Kertajaya said. “My nephew, my heir, has done as I have commanded. You’re being informed now. The Ignis, the Firewalkers, have come to realize the lessons of history. In another age, three dynasties were one. Before the Lunars murdered our high priestess, we had the Pact. And once, long before that murder, all three dynasties were united under one great king. A Just King. The Ratu Adil. Now, from the ashes of these wars, the Ratu Adil must rise again, to lead all dynasties into the future. Bow before your new high king, Guardsman. Reaffirm your oath.”

This was a joke. The Ratu Adil? Kertajaya? The man who had tried to overthrow his own cousin. Ken Arok had been one of the greatest emperors in Solar history, and this man had betrayed him for personal power.

It shouldn’t surprise him. Naresh clenched his fists. It didn’t surprise him. He caught himself drifting toward the throne.

“The Firewalkers have joined us. Swear the Arun Guard to my service, Pak Naresh.” The king slapped the arm of his throne. “Swear it for all time, and we will force the Lunars to join us. We will sweep away the corruption of Ketu and Malin, and usher in a new age of peace for all.”

“You think you can restore the Solar Empire?”

“Not the Solar Empire. The Skyfall Empire.”

Beautiful, if it was possible. And if it wasn’t under a man who had betrayed his own family. But to call such a man the Just King, the Ratu Adil, was to build an empire on a foundation of lies.

Lang put his hand on Naresh’s shoulder and pushed, guiding him toward his knees.

But then, wasn’t it his duty, either way? Naresh had sworn the oath of the Arun Guard. He was the servant of the emperor. But the emperor was dead. If his cousin claimed that throne, was that not his right? Kertajaya probably was next in line now, with Kakudmi dead and Revati gone.

And so Naresh would bow before him. More than twenty years delayed, but Kertajaya would have the throne he’d tried to steal from Ken Arok. And they could avoid the chaos, end it. Save these people.

He looked at Lang. The man nodded at him, eased him down. Together, with Semar, they really could destroy Ketu and bring Malin to heel.

But the price was too high.

Naresh shoved Lang away and stood to his full height. “The Arun Guard are not yours to claim.”

Kertajaya sighed and looked down on Naresh like he wanted to step on him. Naresh wouldn’t have minded crushing the king beneath his sandal, either. The king motioned toward his guards. A pair at the entrance to the throne room moved in on Naresh. Lang got there first.

He swung. Naresh blocked, then struck back. Lang knocked his punch aside. And then the dance started. Hands and grabs and kicks, each blocked the others’ blows.

Back and forth. Every time Naresh got a grip on Lang, the man escaped. The Suladvipan had been practicing.

The guards with the arbirs closed in. More were rushing in through the halls, Naresh could hear it. Naresh swept Lang’s feet from beneath him. Then he Strode to the open window above the great hall.

From fifteen feet below, Lang cursed him.

Naresh Strode to the ground behind the palace wall. He ran, then, as best he could. Rangda take this leg. He forced himself to keep moving. He could walk and balance without much pain, but an outright run always evoked a gasp from him.

No choice, really. He Strode into the Cenrana District as soon as it came into sight. The last half-year had turned it into a true district, if a poor one.

Two dozen of the refugees stood in the district heart, working through the Silat forms he’d taught them. Months of practice had created a people of strong minds and bodies. A people who would no longer be easy prey to Lunars or Firewalkers.

As soon as someone spotted him, a shout went up, and all the people turned and bowed to him. Not again.

And Kertajaya knew he’d been training them. Well, maybe it would keep them safe.

As if one madman trying to conquer all the Skyfall Isles wasn’t enough. Ketu wielded the Astral Temple. Malin ran about slaughtering anyone in his way. And now Kertajaya had declared himself the rightful king of three dynasties. Naresh’s head hurt.

He Strode again, to the porch of his house. He tried not to spend much time here. It no longer smelled of Chandi, but her touch was everywhere. He stumbled into the house and grabbed his keris. Kertajaya’s men would be on him in moments. And he’d never see their home again. He paused at the doorway.

One more thing he couldn’t leave without. Naresh dropped to the floor and hurled the tea table aside, then flung open the footlocker beside it. Blankets and books and bottles. It was here. He tossed each item until he found his sketchpad. It was still open to the last one.

He’d tried to draw her from memory. Some detail was never quite right. Never would he have thought he’d have trouble picturing her face. He was trying too hard, of course. Memory, like a dream, slipped away if he tried to hold it too tightly.

Pad tucked under his arm, he hurried from the house. There, in the distance, Kertajaya’s men ran toward Cenrana District.

Naresh pulled back his baju to check the sunburst tattoo on his shoulder. Not much sunlight left. He Strode down to the pier and climbed onto his jukung.

Kertajaya’s men might chase him. If they did, they probably didn’t really want to catch him.

He shoved the outrigger away from the dock and away from Daha. If he fled, Chandi couldn’t find him. It could be months more until they were together again. But he had no choice left now.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIX

The maze of waterways cutting across Suladvipa meant Naresh could sail his jukung to Pottala without returning to Daha. A fool’s mission, probably, but he had to try.

Alliance with Semar was his last chance, and Lang had failed him. Or betrayed him, rather.

He slapped another mosquito. Crocodiles left him alone as long as he gave them a wide berth. The mosquitoes were relentless, though.

One hand on the tiller, he glanced again at his sketchpad. His every attempt to capture Chandi had been close, but off. He forced himself to focus only on her crooked smile. The way her hair fell about her face, just above her shoulders. Her sweet face that made her look even younger than her twenty-four years. Or it would be twenty-five now, wouldn’t it?

Damn it. Naresh shut the pad.

He needed focus now.

Maybe Semar would listen to him. In Kasusthali, he’d thought they had a connection. The priest spoke wisdom, and Naresh had welcomed it.

Chandi had felt that way, too. Maybe Semar had used her to destroy Kasusthali. But maybe it was more complicated than that. Perhaps the situation had grown out of his control, as much as it had hers. Perhaps the priest had never wanted so many people to die.

Something slithered past his boat in the water. Naresh watched the ripples. Actually, the mosquitoes probably were the most dangerous thing to him in these wetlands. He slapped another one, then wiped the bloody mess on his sarong.

Damn, he missed Kasusthali. Maybe he even missed Cenrana.

For a long time, he sailed toward Pottala. Save for a few fish caught in the river, he hadn’t eaten much the last two days, as his complaining stomach reminded him. Constantly. Having to avoid Daha made this trip a lot longer than he remembered.

Armed townsfolk greeted him when he neared Pottala, but they didn’t attack. Good sign. Naresh tied the jukung to the dock and jumped off. The townsfolk followed him as he headed into town, but hung back at least ten feet.

And there, in the center of town, outside the Shrine of Sacred Flame, stood Lang.

“We thought you might come here,” the man said. He reached toward the brazier burning in front of the Shrine. Flames leapt from it and surrounded his arms.

Lang was a swirling inferno. He laughed, his voice muffled by the flames. “You can’t stand against what I’ve become, Naresh. Not even the mighty Arun Guard can match an experienced Firewalker. I have become the new god of war, emissary of the Ratu Adil.”

Naresh drew his keris, but he couldn’t get close to the man. If he Strode in, the flames would engulf him before he could strike.

What in Surya’s name had possessed Semar to give Lang the power of the Firewalkers? But it did tell Naresh something. The power was not something inherent to the Ignis. Like the Sun Brand, or even the Moon Scion’s Amrita, it was something granted to them. Probably derived from the Astral Temple.

“Come and face me, if you wish, war god,” Naresh said. “Leave the flames and show me your swordplay.”

Lang snorted. “You were all too quick to use the Sun Brand on me when you had power and I did not. Now, when the scales have shifted, you want to forgo our powers?”

“Enough.” Semar’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried across the entire square. The man stood in the shadows of the Shrine’s doorway. Others crowded behind him, but Naresh couldn’t make out their faces. “You have both come here seeking me. Which makes both of you my guests. It would be a poor host who allowed his guests to slaughter one another on his doorstep.”

Lang grimaced, glanced at Semar, and let the flames dwindle from his hands. Well, then, Lang could wait. Naresh sheathed his keris.

A big man stepped from the shadows behind Semar. Naresh had never seen Lembu Ampal so haggard. If the Ignis had mistreated him, they’d answer for it.

“Pak Lang?” Naresh said.

“Pak Lembu Ampal was fighting here when Kasusthali fell. The Ignis captured him when he used up his Sun Brand. They’ve held him almost a year in the darkness.”

Naresh looked the big man up and down again. It explained his appearance. Lembu Ampal didn’t meet his gaze, just stared at his feet.

“Are you injured, brother?”

The other Guardsman shook his head.

“You will speak to him later,” Semar said. “Tell me why you’ve come, Guardsman.”

When the fire priest beckoned, Naresh followed him inside the dark Shrine. No windows lit the interior, though a chimney over the fire pit let out smoke. Semar sat, legs crossed, on cushions beside the pit, and waved for Naresh to do the same.

After he’d settled, Semar handed him a skin of water. Naresh eyed it a moment before drinking. Warm, a little bitter, but at least not stagnant. Had to drink slowly. Too fast, and he’d vomit it back up.

“I wish you’d spoken to me before joining Pak Kertajaya, Pak Semar.”

The priest fixed him with his unnerving gaze. “I imagine you wish many things worked out differently than they did.”

“Speaking of which, why make Pak Lang a Firewalker?”

“He wanted it so very much.”

“Lots of people want power. Most don’t deserve it. Especially those who want it the most. You can’t really believe his uncle should become the Ratu Adil?”

“What is the Ratu Adil? A figurehead to unite diverging people. Couldn’t it be anyone with the drive and force of character to call people to his or her banner? You, for example, could win the support of your people with a word. Imagine what you could accomplish if you chose to. Who would you become, given the crown of power?”

Naresh took another sip of water. “I don’t want a crown of any kind. I’m a warrior, that’s all.”

“You claim you’re not a leader, but your actions speak otherwise. Even the First of the Arun Guard often defers to your judgment.”

No. “I advise Ibu Landorundun. That’s all. She’s new at this, needs the help. And how do you know what goes on between us, anyway? Are your spies that good?”

“Was Kakudmi a good man? Was he a good emperor?”

A good man? Without doubt. A good emperor? Maybe he would have been, if things had been different. He’d wanted to restore the Pact. Maybe that would have led him into the role of Ratu Adil. If anyone could have done it, Kakudmi could have.

“I don’t know,” Naresh said at last. “He failed to save his people. In the end, the only person he saved at all was his daughter. And where did Kala take Revati, Semar? Is she safe?”

“I don’t know where she is exactly. Not here.”

“Chandi would call what you’ve done with Lang another betrayal. Maybe kill you for it.”

Semar shook his head. “Chandi’s heart is pure. Sometimes it leads her more than her head. Do you think I can betray the Solar Empire if I did not hold loyalty to it in the first place? Consider, for just a moment, the larger perspective. Both the Solar and Lunar Empires were crumbling under the weight of their own corruption. What happened with the Igni revolt, what’s happened with the Macan Gadungan, do these seem the signs of healthy civilizations to you?”

No. It had taken the fall of Kasusthali to show them the problems they had with the Ignis. The problems in how they’d treated the Ignis. And Chandi had tried to tell him that, well before the revolt started.

But Naresh had to believe the Solar Empire could be saved. Its civilization had endured for twelve hundred years. It would not fall in two. He wouldn’t let it.

“What is this power you’ve given Lang? Where did these Firewalkers come from, Semar?”

The priest just stared at him in the darkness, his eyes almost sparkling.

Naresh shifted. “Kertajaya won’t create the future you want. Lang certainly won’t either. They have no honor.”

Semar nodded. “Then prove to me you are the better man. Maybe you want to become a Firewalker? But that power is for those who accept the burden of leadership that comes with shaping the future.”

Naresh shook his head and rose. “You don’t know me. I’m not so easy to tempt with dreams of grandeur as Lang.”

Semar smiled, his eyes sparkling, and waved toward the entrance of the Shrine. “I know you’re hungry. Make yourself at home in Pottala. You and Lembu Ampal are my guests for as long as you wish to remain. Kertajaya will not harm you here.”

Yes. Lembu Ampal. Naresh needed to see him.

But food first.

One of Semar’s acolytes waved Naresh over as soon as he exited the temple. Naresh followed him into a small teahouse. Small, but nice, each booth separated by bamboo divider walls. And, thank Surya, open windows to let in light.

The acolyte waved for him to sit, and someone brought him a bowl of steaming stew.

“What is it?”

“Coto Makassar. An Igni specialty. Beef stew with cow intestine.”

Naresh glanced at the stew, then back at the acolyte. Well, he was starving. “I thought you ate Solar food?”

“Solars assume many things about Ignis.”

Maybe that was true. He needed to reevaluate everything, if he was to build a true alliance with these people. “Would you ask Pak Lembu Ampal to join me?”

The acolyte nodded, and departed.

Naresh sipped the stew. Spicy, though not as much as Lunar food. He needed to eat slowly as well.

He’d emptied half the bowl when Lembu Ampal slid into the booth across from him. Naresh clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Brother. Tell me of your ordeals, and I will tell you of mine.”

They hadn’t been friends, not really. But Naresh didn’t know if the man had any friends, and he needed someone. A few days of Lunar captivity had sapped Naresh’s spirit—what would a year without sunlight do to an Arun Guard?

Lembu Ampal fingered the silver medallion he wore around his neck. He said little, mostly just sipped his tea and listened. So Naresh told him of his capture, his trials in Bukit, and his marriage to Chandi.

“You weren’t in Kasusthali?” Lembu Ampal said at last. “When it happened?”

Naresh shook his head.

“Could you have stopped it? If you were?”

Naresh had asked himself that question too often, with no answer.

When he spread his hands in uncertainty, Lembu Ampal stood. “Welcome to Pottala, Pak Naresh.”

The big man left him alone in the teahouse.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVEN

Record sheets littered the floor of the Hill Palace. Ratna tossed another one aside. The notes went back before even Rahu and Ketu had come to Bukit. Malin had said Ketu was not really her uncle. It took time to look into, especially given the chaos his betrayal had created.

No one had disputed the claims that Ketu and Rahu were brothers from House Soma. But House Shravana’s records had been buried here, too. No mention of either name, at least not among the elite of House Soma, and House Shravana had kept records of the lines of succession on all twenty-seven Moon Scion Houses. So Rahu and Ketu had created lineages that, as far as she could tell, didn’t exist.

She’d sent away to other cities for their records. House Soma had been wiped out before the Fourth War, save for the two brothers. But if they were House Soma, why were there no records of them?

If Malin spoke the truth, and Ketu wasn’t her uncle, it meant either Rahu was not her real father, or, more likely, Ketu was not really her father’s brother.

The pain started again. A sudden clenching in her chest, sharp, like the blade of a knife twisting over her heart. Breathe. Breathe.

She placed her palms on the desk in front of her and shut her eyes. She’d sent men to Puradvipa to seek out Mahesa. Those who’d returned did so empty-handed. Where was he? The pressure built in her chest, the sudden clenching. Breathe. He might still be well. She had to believe that. Just like Revati was well.

If Mahesa had fallen prey to Malin’s revolt, she’d have the tiger skinned. Why, why had she trusted the Macan Gadungan? Dozens of Moon Scions had died that first night, when their trusted bodyguards turned on them. One woman had stumbled down the street, clutching her slit throat as her blood poured through her fingers.

The werecrocodiles had scuttled the ships, ensuring no one could chase the Jadian as they fled. Fires had reduced at least a hundred homes to cinders. That next morning, when the fires had died down, Ratna had tried to find shelter for the homeless, but there were hundreds of them, huddled together, clutching each other.

The absence of her bodyguard might have saved her life. Could Malin have killed her? It seemed unthinkable. He’d been there since her earliest memories, always watching over her. Waiting to betray them all.

But so many had died. She couldn’t be sure how many Moon Scions there were, but her best guess was that the Jadian betrayal had destroyed almost a fifth of the population. More than half the Moon Scions in Bukit, including several House lords. She had to give it to Malin, he didn’t think small.

She could look back and see it rising in him, of course. He’d grown bolder every day since her father died. And, maybe, though she hated to admit it, he’d even tried to warn her. Not that he’d had any right to take this course. Her father had created him. He owed all of his power to the Moon Scions.

“They’ve arrived, my lady,” her advisor said.

Ratna sighed and pushed the papers away. “No one is to disturb this room.”

In her own room, she checked her hair, then donned her black baju, worked with songket embroidery. After a moment, she settled on a tame headdress. Authoritative, without being gaudy.

They waited for her in the courtyard, Bukit’s remaining House lords. Nine men and women, sitting on mats around the fishpond.

She greeted each in turn, before taking her seat in the circle. “What news from the front lines?”

“Ketu still holds the Astral Temple, but much of Puradvipa has fallen to Malin’s rebels,” Tumang, of House Rohini, said. “I sent our troops there on your orders.”

“Good.”

The lords fell to arguing about Suladvipa. Malin’s forces had withdrawn, as far as she knew. But Semar’s Firewalkers had abandoned their Moon Scion allies.

“We should wipe out the Firewalkers without delay,” one lord said.

Others argued for reconciliation.

Ratna scoffed. “They betrayed the Solars. They betrayed us. We cannot trust them now.”

On that, she and Ketu agreed. No one knew where their terrifying power came from, which made them too great a threat. And only a fool would depend on those who had betrayed two alliances in two years.

“With the Arun Guard broken,” she said, “the Empire might not need the Macan Gadungan either. It might be best to wipe out both Jadian bloodlines.” She kept her eyes on Tumang.

“Is that wise?” he said. “Such attitude may make reconciliation impossible.”

“We don’t want to reconcile. We want to purify the Lunar Empire. Ketu plans to eliminate all supernatural threats to the Moon Scions. That means the Firewalkers, Arun Guard, and the Jadian are finished.”

Several Moon Scions nodded their approval.

“Still, before we can clean away that mess, we must eliminate the traitors in our midst.”

Tumang nodded, and rose. She’d had him gathering information on the other lords. Information she could use to blackmail them.

One had poisoned his brother for his position. Another cheated on his wife. A third ran a pirate cabal. These things she could forgive. But she’d made sure these men knew she knew. Made sure she could count on them to follow her orders without question.

She waved her hand, and the three men jumped up and seized Tumang before he could point out the supposed traitor.

“What is this?” he said.

“Did you know my uncle recorded your death, Sangkuriang? No one else here seemed to know it. According to him, Malin executed you a year and a half ago. And yet you return, claiming to be a Scion of House Rohini.”

“I … I am.”

She nodded at one of the men holding him. The man punched Tumang—Sangkuriang—in the stomach. He shuddered. But it held.

“They said you were a master of the Glamour.” Ratna nodded at the man again, and again he punched Sangkuriang.

This time, the Glamour fell, Sangkuriang coughing. The man struggled in the grasp of his captors. But they were all Moon Scions, and he wasn’t going to break free.

“There’s no record of Tumang of House Rohini, and believe me, I’ve spent a great deal of time searching records lately.” And that alone had been enough to have the man watched, to see who he really was. “So who was Tumang?”

“My dog.”

Ratna stared at the traitor. Then she laughed. His dog? “Your visits to Malin in Malayadvipa provided us an opportunity, Sangkuriang. You’d feed our false information to the weretiger, and I’d send the real orders to our troops. The Macan Gadungan will try to ambush our forces on Puradvipa, but fall into their own trap.”

“But I served you.” He’d ceased struggling.

“A bonus. I doubt your further usefulness will outweigh the risk of having a traitor in our midst. But I won’t make Ketu’s mistake.” She waved to one of the men she’d blackmailed. “He’s a traitor to our people. Execute him. Here.”

The man she’d ordered looked into Sangkuriang’s eyes before running him through with a keris.

Ratna felt a little bile rise in her throat. She hadn’t expected that. Her father never mentioned the look in someone’s eyes when you had them killed.

Ratna watched the fish in the pond while servants dragged the body away. She didn’t speak until she was sure they’d left the palace. “I trust we all understand what’s at stake now. Malin has bribed, blackmailed, or otherwise conscripted some of our Moon Scion brethren. Even now, they may try to infiltrate our forces, sending reports, waiting to take advantage of any weakness. They are traitors to their own kind and deserve no mercy. And the Macan Gadungan themselves must be destroyed.”

The Moon Scions bowed and left her.

“You did well,” Tanjung said from the shadows of the courtyard.

How long had the witch been there? Ratna sat beside the fishpond and brushed her fingers through the water.

The witch drifted over and knelt behind her, hand on Ratna’s shoulder. The woman ran her fingers through Ratna’s hair. Ratna closed her eyes. Her mother could have done this, if she hadn’t been murdered during the Battle of Bangdvipa, all those years ago.

“There’s only one way to deal with betrayal,” Tanjung said. “However much it pains us, we do what we have to.”

“What do you know of betrayal?” She’d trusted Tumang, at first, but she could get over that. But Malin she’d known her entire life. He was supposed to be there for her. Instead, he’d abandoned her and betrayed the Lunar Empire.

And her supposed uncle had kept so many truths from her. What was his obsession with the Astral Temple? Had he created the cyclone with it? Some claimed he wielded the power of Chandra with the Moon God’s blessing. Some claimed he worked blasphemies in the shadows of the temple.

Both had betrayed her, and now, would she have to watch that look in their eyes when they died? Did she want Ketu dead? Perhaps not, but the man was not good for either her or the Lunar people.

Tanjung stroked the back of Ratna’s neck, her gentle touch almost enough to loosen the tightness. Almost. “I’m a widow, too. I married, just around the time you were born. Beautiful man, named Sidapaksa. The man could laugh away the night, when we weren’t enwrapped in each other’s arms.

“Then one night, we were invited to visit Sulakrama, lord of House Rohini in the north. While Sidapaksa was entertaining the guests with another of his ridiculous stories, Lord Sulakrama thought to work his charms on me. I slapped him. The man, our host, tried to force me. And when my husband came in, and found me beneath our host, held in his arms, he raged at both of us.

“He spewed blasphemies at Sulakrama that would have made the hardest pirate blush, and the lord cast us both out. I wept and wept and begged him to understand. Then he stabbed me with his keris knife.”

Ratna jerked away from Tanjung and twisted to look into her face. The woman’s voice hadn’t even broken and her eyes were dry. “Your husband stabbed you?”

She nodded. “Left me to die. I prayed to Chandra, as I felt my strength leaving me. And then I prayed to Rangda. It was the first time I’d really prayed to her with all my heart, the first time I’d even tried to call on her in years.”

Ratna rubbed her hands over her face. “Rangda Demon Queen saved your life?”

“I like to think so. I felt myself falling. Later, I woke up, bloody, weak, but alive. Maybe the Queen of the underworld gave me a reprieve, sent me back from her doorstep. Maybe she had work left for me to do.”

Sweet Chandra. How had she gotten so caught up in all of this? She was Rahu’s daughter, for certain she owed the Lunars better than Ketu had given them. And righting things here should make it that much easier to find her daughter.

But still. Relying on the witches was one thing. Allowing them to worship the goddess of the underworld, sanctioning such worship, was another.

But then, Chandra had never helped Ratna, either. She rubbed her face. She just wanted her daughter back.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHT

Malin had not often spoken of his home to Chandi. He’d taught her a bit of his native language, his fighting style. Now she wished she’d paid more attention to the former.

The Maitian islands weren’t so different, physically, from the Skyfall Isles. But she’d found it hard to communicate. Landorundun’s Maitian was better than Chandi’s, at least.

“Ben, there’s nothing here,” Chandi said. “There’s nothing to be found. Maybe you dreamed Nyai Loro Kidul. Maybe she’s real, but we’re not going to find her. It’s been half a year.”

Half a year since she’d seen her husband. Since pride had stopped her from waving goodbye. Should she have jumped from the ship and remained with him? All this searching had brought her nothing. She could shut her eyes and see his face, on the edge of sleep, could remember his voice. It echoed with the accusations of her betrayal.

Bendurana shook his head, stood looking over the rail as the next of the Maitian islands approached. “Ah ladies, where’s your sense of adventure? The hero can’t give up before the end.”

“What if Chandi’s right?” Landorundun said. “We have no idea what’s happened in Suladvipa. We haven’t even been in the Skyfall Isles in months.”

Their search in the Spice Islands had turned up few leads. So they’d gone on to Irian. There, locals spoke of the witches of Mait. Supposed experts in curses, spirits, and all things Kahyangan. But searching Mait for witches had worn on everyone’s nerves by now.

“One more witch,” Ben said. “Because this one is it. I can feel it. I have a great sense of timing, you know.”

But when they made port, he kept staring at the other captains. “I’ve seen some of them before,” he said at last. “Pirates. Don’t like the way they’re looking at the Queen.”

That was all the reason Chandi needed not to practice her Maitian anymore. “So let’s go home.”

“You two go meet the woman,” he said. “I’ll watch the ship. A phase. That’s all you need, then we go home heroes. We defeat Ketu, save the islands, everyone eats nagasari. Smiles all around.”

Landorundun pulled Chandi away. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Chandi sighed and hurried down the gangway. The sun would set soon. She planned to be back aboard before that.

Men and women in bright clothes clogged the docks. Pushing, shoving, and more than a few snatching purses. Chandi tightened her grip on her own money purse. Her supply of Solar pearls and silver coins had dwindled to almost nothing.

As they delved deeper into the city, they passed people playing stringed instruments. Chandi recognized neither the instruments nor the songs.

Landorundun had played her flute on the ship, sometimes. Not often, but Chandi recognized the song. Naresh had said she wrote it when they were at the Academy together.

Really, he’d always had more in common with Landorundun, hadn’t he? Chandi sighed. Was Naresh just too different from her? He could have Strode to the dhow before it sailed away. He could have stopped her from leaving, but he didn’t.

Landorundun had gotten better at discretion, after a few lectures from Chandi. She kept her enquiries about the witch from drawing too much attention to them.

An old man sitting on a stool nodded in the direction of a hut on the edge of the city.

Chandi followed Landorundun inside the hut. It smelled of incense, and underneath that, something foul, decaying. Chandi hoped that smell wasn’t coming from the old woman wrapped in the shawl.

Landorundun sat on the mat in front of the woman. “You’re the Mangkukulam?” she said in Maitian.

The woman leaned forward. She wasn’t as old as Chandi had first thought. All this time around these foul odors must have wrinkled her skin. Chandi felt dirty just standing here.

The woman stared at her, so Chandi sat beside Landorundun. Naresh wouldn’t have believed in any of this, would he? If he were here, he’d scoff at the witch. Chandi could almost see the look in his eyes.

“We want to know about Kahyangan,” Landorundun said. “We need to summon a spirit.”

The woman slid a clay bowl forward. Chandi dropped a pearl from her purse into the bowl. The woman stared at her. With a sigh, Chandi dropped a heavier pearl in the bowl. The woman drew it back, then.

“Dangerous business, summoning,” she said.

Landorundun nodded. “We know. But the Skyfall Isles are beset by supernatural danger,” Landorundun said—or Chandi thought she said, she couldn’t be certain. “We need supernatural aid.”

“What kind of spirit do you seek?”

“Nyai Loro Kidul, Queen of the South Sea,” Chandi said.

Landorundun scowled at her a moment before looking back at the witch.

“Starting big, eh?” the witch said. The woman shook her head. Was that pity on her face? “Big. Small. Spirits have no form here.”

Chandi wasn’t sure she’d understood. They carried on more about offerings, and appeasement, she thought. Landorundun waved her silent when she tried to ask about it. “How do we call her?”

The witch slid the offering bowl forward again. The pearls were gone. Chandi glared. She hadn’t seen the woman remove them, and she had fast eyes.

She put her last heavy pearl in the bowl. The woman stared at her.

“Rangda’s scorching kitchen,” she mumbled. If anything, the witch’s glare deepened. Chandi emptied the rest of her purse into the bowl, making a show of shaking the empty bag up and down. A handful of silver coins and a few small pearls now sat in the bowl, mocking Chandi.

The witch withdrew the bowl and turned back to Landorundun. “Signs for each spirit,” the witch said. She started showing Landorundun some kind of glyph, but never all at once. She scratched out the first part of each glyph before drawing the next.

Chandi couldn’t understand what else the witch said. She rocked back on her heels and looked around the hut. Pots lined the shelves. The Moon God alone knew what the old woman kept in those.

The witch glanced at Chandi, then said something else she couldn’t understand. Chandi swore the two women had started talking faster just so she’d lose the conversation.

“What?” Chandi said.

Landorundun pointed her finger at the old woman, called her something Chandi thought meant dugong. Then the Guardswoman rose. Chandi followed her out of the hut.

“Well, that was a waste of money,” Chandi said.

Landorundun didn’t answer for a long time. “I don’t think it was,” she said at last, and patted Chandi on the shoulder.

Chandi followed as Landorundun led her back to the ship. What had happened with the Solar? Would she ever understand Solars at all?

Honor and duty seemed to come before anything else. She could never believe she’d made a mistake with Naresh. Never. Her heart felt it could rupture at the thought, and when Landorundun jerked, Chandi realized she clutched the other woman’s arm. Tight enough to leave a mark.

But … Lunars and Solars were so different. Did he even miss her? A year together. Sometimes she knew everything he was thinking before he said it. But sometimes, she never understood what went on inside Naresh.

The Queen of the South Sea left Mait, returning at last toward the Skyfall Isles. The place that should have been her home, but had somehow stopped feeling like it.

And Chandi didn’t even know if her husband still waited for her there.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE

Ratna stumbled backward over a rock when Mahesa entered the courtyard. Another half foot and she’d have fallen in the fishpond. Her mind wouldn’t work. She wanted to say something clever to save face after her fall, but nothing came to mind.

And then Mahesa was there, helping her to her feet. His arms wrapped around her elbows, he pulled her up. Grinning, laughing. Before she could stop herself, she kissed him.

He grabbed her shoulders, clumsy but very receptive. Ratna pulled him into an embrace. “I thought you were dead.”

She couldn’t lose anyone else. She’d wanted to be more romantic about this. Wanted to lure him into making the first move. When had she become the kind of person that threw herself at a boy? Rahu’s daughter should be more dignified than that.

“A few adventures, but otherwise unharmed,” he said. “I’ve got some good stories to tell you.” The boy thumbed his golden earring. He’d found that out with Ratna and Chandi. They’d hiked into the mountains, must have been ten years ago now. Chandi had insisted they sneak out while Malin was occupied with Rahu.

The tiger had hardly let them out of his sight since their mothers had died. Ratna frowned. Back then, Malin had been so faithful.

Mahesa had scampered up the mountain like a macaque, but he’d missed a jump between rocks. He disappeared. Ratna ran to him, scraping her knees along the way. Little Mahesa had fallen into a hole—a natural cave with only a vertical entrance.

She called his name again and again, but the boy wasn’t hurt. “Come down here,” he said.

And Chandi, too brave for her own good, lit a torch and climbed right down. They could be so stupid. Ratna braced herself against a rock and slid down into the darkness. Torchlight flickered below. She’d be fine, Chandi was there.

Ratna’s sandal slipped off the rock. Something scraped her elbow as she tumbled down. She landed face-first on the slick rock ground.

With a grunt, she pushed herself up. Mahesa scurried over and grabbed her arm, helping her stand. Chandi stood in the distance—holding their only light—leaning over something perched against the wall.

Spiders skittered away at her approach. Disgusting. Years of dust covered whatever it was Chandi was looking at. She blew on it, throwing a cloud up into the air.

That was… a human skeleton. Ratna’s scream echoed through the cave.

“Maybe he was a pirate,” Mahesa said. He sorted through bones with little thought.

Ratna felt sick, and turned away.

“Look!” Mahesa said after a moment. In his grimy hand he held a golden earring.

Later, he’d begged Ratna to pierce his ear.

Ratna smiled. She’d refused, of course. And sweet Chandra, had the boy howled when Chandi did it. When Malin found them, he had thought Chandi was torturing the poor Mahesa.

Ratna shook her head and embraced him again, then pulled him down to sit beside the fishpond with her. “Malin’s forces had been all over Puradvipa.”

“Yes. Made moving about more difficult. I had to hide out in a village for a while.”

“And did you find it? Do you have the book?”

Mahesa sighed and unslung his shoulder satchel. “Ratna, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You have it?” She snatched the bag from him.

The book was there. Old, musty. She ran her fingers over the unmarked cover. Cracked leather. Probably once crimson, it now looked muddy brown. The pages had yellowed and the edges crumbled as she turned them.

Her mother’s handwriting filled some pages, though parts had been written by at least two other hands. And Glyphs. Strange signs that swam before Ratna’s eyes. These were the Spirit Glyphs she’d read about, the ones Tanjung had promised her.

“Gives me a headache to even see it,” Mahesa said.

“Yes. It’s wonderful. Can’t you feel its power?”

Mahesa sighed. “Empu Baradah had a son, Empu Bahula. Living on Puradvipa. The late First of the Arun Guard had given the book to his son for guardianship. From what I can tell they weren’t close, but the Solars used him to handle special situations.”

“What situations?”

“Your mother wasn’t the only witch the Lunars ever turned on the Solars. It’s rare to find one whose power is more than tricks, but it happens. After Calon, I guess the Ministry of Information assigned a few people to deal with the situation quietly. Empu Bahula was one.”

Ratna scoffed. “The Ministry of Information ran the Academy. What would they know about assassinating witches?”

“The Ignis I spoke to claimed the Ministry distributed information. But it also suppressed information they found dangerous. Like knowledge of Kahyangan. Kind of scared me how much the Ignis know about the Solars. More than I think the Solars realize.”

Ratna smiled at him, and rose, then hurried from the courtyard to her private room, book tucked under her arm. Mahesa followed her inside as she sat upon her mat.

“I can find Revati with this. There must be some spirit that can tell me where the Stranger took her.”

Mahesa sat down across from her, arms folded. “You don’t want to do it like this. Let the book go.”

“Let my daughter go? You don’t understand, Mahesa. If Revati was your daughter, nothing would stop you.”

Revati should have been his daughter. Ratna had wanted to marry him, back then. Would have, if not for Kakudmi’s offer of peace. Strange, that if Anusapati had not murdered Ken Arok, Ratna might have had a happier life.

And where would they be now? Living in a little cottage on the beach, overseeing fishermen, probably. Revati would be three now. They might even have another baby. They’d be trying for one, at least.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked.

Not anything she was about to admit to him. “Please, Mahesa. You’re the only one I can trust. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Ratna said, flipping another page. “I can’t ever repay you for this.”

“There might be something,” he said, his voice muffled.

“Name it.”

He hesitated. Ratna waited until he spoke. “Burn it. Burn the damned thing.”

“You risked your life for this, Mahesa.” Ratna resumed reading.

“I did,” he said, his voice shaking. “I saw enough of Calon’s book to know she almost worshipped Rangda Demon Queen. Either it offers no real power, and you waste your time, or the power exists, and we don’t want to know the price. Please, don’t do this.”

“My mother didn’t worship Rangda. She just appreciated the power of Kahyangan. It’s all about control. I’ve been taking control of the Moon Scions here. I’m good at it, too.”

Ratna flashed him a smile. She’d eliminated Malin’s spies, struck back against his forces. The letters Ketu had sent almost beamed with pride in what she’d done. He might not really be her uncle, but he seemed to want to be her father. Which would be charming, if he wasn’t destroying their people in his arrogance and neglect.

“All I have to do is find the right spirit to tell me where my daughter is. Then we go and get her.” And kill the Stranger. “And this will be over.”

Mahesa sat watching her, not moving. She resumed reading, but she felt his eyes on her.

At last, he leaned forward, spread his palms over the book. She looked up into his eyes—eyes that wouldn’t release her.

He reached for her shoulder. She let him pull her forward and kiss her again. Her body tingled with the energy of it. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her mouth closer and closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and back and pulled him down on top of her.

Why had she not married this boy, instead of Kakudmi?

She unlaced her baju.

Too long she’d been alone. She’d lost her father, her daughter, her cousin. Even her husband. She hadn’t loved Kakudmi. She told herself again and again she hadn’t loved him.

And looking in Mahesa’s innocent, excited, frightened eyes, she knew she loved him. Had always loved him.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN

When Ratna woke, the sun had long since risen. At first, she snuggled against the comforting warmth around her. Then she started. Mahesa. Still asleep, his arm draped over the small of her back, her head on his chest.

Never, in the three years she’d been married to Kakudmi, never had she awoken in his arms. Never had he spent an entire night with her.

Mahesa’s even breathing was like the whisper of the tides, answering Chandra’s call.

Her chest seized up again. What if she’d gotten pregnant?

But then, did it really matter? She could have another child. One to raise properly, with a proper husband. Yes, she would marry Mahesa soon, as she should have done long ago. And once they had Revati back, they would raise their family together, with a new child of their own.

Ratna rubbed her belly. Another daughter, or a son, perhaps? A son that might one day rule the Lunar Empire. No. That was Revati’s birthright, and Ratna was going to find her daughter.

The book still lay by the side of her mat. Calling her, beckoning her to its faded pages. Those Glyphs swam in her mind, offering the world, if she could just look a little deeper, study a little harder.

Had Rangda saved Tanjung from death? If so, surely a lesser spirit might restore Revati to Ratna.

Ratna eased Mahesa’s arm off her and crawled over to the book. Her fingers brushed over its leathery cover. Her mother had held this before she died. Now she had two things left from her.

Inside, on the first page, her mother’s words spoke to her. Beyond the Earth, beside it, is another realm. A realm not of physical beings, but of thought and passion and energy. Though the true nature of these alien entities will forever elude mankind, by unlocking glimpses of their secrets, we can empower ourselves on Earth. Because our realms are forever entwined, just as our bodies house our souls. In death, our souls are drawn into Kahyangan, the Spirit World.

“I did a lot of things I’m not proud of,” Mahesa said. Ratna jerked and turned to him. “At Astral Shore, on Puradvipa, I did things. But I brought you that book so that you could make the right decision yourself. I brought it to you because I love you, and I know you’ll never let it go unless you’re forced to choose.”

Ratna’s fingers trembled over the pages. No. She needed this. What did he expect her to do? She had no choice. The pain seized her again, and she toppled over, clutching her heart.

And then he was there, pulling her into his arms, stroking her long hair. “Just breathe.”

Ratna shut her eyes. Slowly, the tightness relented. She clutched his wrist.

“What do I do, Mahesa?”

“You’re the daughter of the War King. You faced every duty life threw at you with your head high. You, who went to Kasusthali, to live beneath the sea with our enemies. And you did it all bravely. Am I right?”

Was he? She clutched his arm. But she had faced it all, had never backed away from duty to her family or her people. Ratna sat up. She was the daughter of Rahu. She grabbed her baju and slipped it over her shoulders. Black and gold, just like her father’s. Mahesa tossed over her sarong, then retied his own.

“Send Tanjung away. Malin was right about that. He’s wiser than you give him credit for.”

Maybe. Was he right about other things? Maybe she should have listened to him when she had the chance, but he’d crossed the line now, and she no longer could.

Ratna rubbed her face. “Tanjung has been here for me. Acted like a mother to me. How can I send her away, cast her out?”

Mahesa shrugged and grinned. “So you never had to carry out difficult duties, before? Didn’t you throw all of House Hasta out of their own home to give the witches a place?”

Shit. How had she done that? She hadn’t even looked into why Ketu had ordered Sangkuriang executed. And now that she’d had the man killed, it was too late to do anything for him. But if she recalled his family, wouldn’t they still hate her and forever plot against House Soma for the hardship and shame it had wrought upon them?

Ratna paused at the wash bin to splash some water on her face, then walked out into the palace. The Hill Palace her family had stolen from House Shravana so many years ago. Because that’s what House Soma did. Take whatever it wanted.

She left the Hill Palace with Mahesa in tow. Whatever had happened in the past, she couldn’t change. But maybe she needed to fix what she could, while she could. Did she even want to be Ketu’s heir? Wasn’t this man, pretending to be her uncle, just plunging the Skyfall Isles into greater chaos with his war with Malin? And maybe Ratna would be happier with a simple life with Mahesa and Revati.

Ratna paused before the Garden Palace—Palace Hasta—hands on her hips, staring up at the window. Mahesa pulled her arm away from her side and slipped his hand into hers. He was right; she had to do this.

She could walk away from Bukit, as Chandi had done. But that wasn’t who she was. The corruption and decadence and lunacy here, she had a duty to root out. Because, however her family came to power, they were the ones in power.

“To hold a throne is to serve those who kneel before you,” Kakudmi had once said, on a rare occasion he deigned to notice her. Bastard was clever, she had to give him that. And he had loved Revati, so she couldn’t hate him. Not quite.

She nodded at Mahesa and he opened the gates. The path to the palace seemed longer this time. Had she never noticed just how much those overgrown paths closed in around her as she trod forward?

A slave opened the front door as she approached. So they had seen her. Very well, it made no difference.

Mahesa followed her up the stairs, but paused behind her as she opened the door to Tanjung’s chamber. The older witch sat by the window, where she’d have had a clear view of Ratna’s approach to the palace.

“Hello, Ratna.”

Ratna half bowed. “Tanjung, there are things we need to discuss.”

The woman rose and drifted toward her. “What things, my dear?”

Well. “I think it would be best if we returned this house to its owners. Sangkuriang has paid for his mistake with his life. It’s enough. Perhaps you should head north, do some reconnaissance on the Houses in the highlands.”

Tanjung crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re casting me out? Just like Malin, eh? The moment you grow nervous you turn on those who uphold you.” She spun on Mahesa. “The moment this boy returns. What did you say to her, child? Sweet lies to open her heart? Or her legs?”

Ratna recoiled, and Mahesa backed away.

“You can’t trust men, child,” Tanjung said to her. “I thought I taught you that. Send the boy away, and all is forgotten.”

Ratna grabbed Mahesa’s wrist and pulled him up to her side. “No. I love this man, and I’ll marry him.”

Mahesa twisted to stare at her, his jaw half open. She watched him from the corner of her eye, but tried to focus on Tanjung.

“I don’t know whether my mother was right or wrong, but I’m not going to become her. You should leave Bukit, Tanjung. Malin was right.” About too many things.

The woman stalked closer and glared at her. Her sudden slap caught Ratna off guard. The blow almost knocked her down, would have, if Mahesa hadn’t caught her. The sharp sting in her cheek stunned her only a moment. She rose up and pulled Mahesa back when he started for the woman.

“And you, boy,” Tanjung said to him, before Ratna could speak, “will regret interfering with me.” The woman headed for the door.

“You’re speaking to my future husband, Tanjung.”

The woman’s glare could have withered the moon orchids in the garden below. Tanjung stormed out of the palace, taking her fellow witches with her.

Had they done the right thing? Ratna had just cast out the woman who had tried to help her find Revati. The one person who might have understood what the book contained.

“There’s one more thing you need to cast out of Bukit,” Mahesa said, as though he’d known her mind had gone to the book.

Ratna sighed. He really left her no choice. “I’ll take care of it.” She couldn’t lose Mahesa, and he was right. Wasn’t he? Because, without doubt, this pursuit had changed her. They’d have to find Revati another way. “Go and tell the people House Hasta is now welcome back in Bukit.” Undo the mistakes, one at a time.

Ratna followed Mahesa out of Palace Hasta, and left him to return to the Hill Palace. The book remained where she had left it, on her floor.

Book in hand, she wandered the hills toward the cliff above Bukit. If she cast the thing into the sea, the Queen of the South Sea would take it where she willed. Perhaps her mother’s book would fall into the depths of the ocean, lost for all time.

Stories said her mother had died by the sea, as well.

Malin had carried her body home in his arms, along with Simhika’s. Ratna’s and Chandi’s mothers had died beneath Solar blades, because of this book.

Then let it be gone. She walked down the path to the sea, careful of her footing on the sandy ground. Down the beach, people worked in the harbor, a new ship arrived from somewhere. Puradvipa, perhaps, with word or orders from Ketu.

Her supposed uncle still tried to hold the temple against Malin’s forces. But his only defense against the Macan Gadungan seemed to be to unleash cyclones against Puradvipa, until the island must have been beaten to the breaking point.

No one in the harbor would notice her, most likely. She waded into the warm, sapphire waters of the South Sea, up to her knees.

She would cast the book out and be done with it. The tides would carry it away.

As they had carried away her daughter.

Was she ready to give up hope of ever seeing Revati again? Because that’s what casting the book away would mean. Because, if she failed to find her with Mahesa’s help, this book was the last recourse.

“Chandra?” she said. Could the Moon God even hear, now, in daytime? Or did he sleep? Did he care? “Please, help me.”

She clutched the book to her chest. Of course, he didn’t answer. And if she cast this away …

No.

Her wet sandals held sand as she trod back across the beach to the cliff. It made the trek back up the path even more treacherous, but she had time.

Years and years ago, after their mothers had died, Chandi had shown Ratna a hollow tree up on this cliff. Their secret hiding place. At the base, near the roots, the opening was just wide enough for her to slide the book inside.

She wouldn’t use it. Not if she had any other choice.

Head high, she walked back to Bukit. All would be well. Just breathe.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN

Malayadvipa made a convenient staging ground for an assault on Swarnadvipa. Still, the local people spoke the Skyfall tongue with a dialect that grated on Malin’s ears.

His Moon Scion allies had dwindled because of their losses at Puradvipa. Only a handful of Houses, those that owed him, followed Malin to begin with. Now, too many had fallen into an ambush they thought they’d planned. Malin’s agent in Bukit had fallen silent. If Sangkuriang had betrayed him, Malin would kill the man.

A half dozen of his remaining Moon Scions stood in the hut, looking over a map of the Skyfall Isles. Once he might have doubted them. But Ketu and Ratna had made it clear all their lives were forfeit. It meant these men had no choice but to see this through.

So seven people crowded in a hut meant for three or four. The breeze through the open window kept the place from stifling them, but not by much.

Pohaci stuck her head in the door. “He’s arrived.”

Everyone looked up.

“This is a mistake,” someone said.

The last Moon Scion they awaited had declared for no one. Not much remained of his once-mighty House, but the man had taken over a pirate cabal. And that made him valuable.

Rangguwani slipped into the hut a moment later. The man was perhaps thirty, clean-shaven. He wore his golden baju unbuttoned, exposing his muscular physique. Malin scoffed. Wouldn’t impress his allies any more than it did him.

“Captain. Welcome to our war council.”

Rangguwani bowed. “The Macan Gadungan who betrayed his House. And Moon Scions who betrayed their own people. What do you want of me?”

Malin’s allies murmured at the disrespect Rangguwani showed them. Pohaci moved to block the doorway. Malin called her off with a slight shake of his head.

“We want you to help us build the new Lunar Empire. We want your ships to help us assault Swarnadvipa. We want you to stand for something.”

“And we want you to decide soon,” Pohaci said behind him.

The man jerked, clearly unaware she stood so close. Malin tried not to smile at Pohaci. She fingered the ekor pari wrapped around her waist.

“I came here in good faith, to negotiate.”

Malin spread his hands. “You are a guest. I have not threatened you. Yet.”

Rangguwani took a step toward Malin. “And why would I want to join the man who ripped out my little brother’s throat?”

Malin cracked his neck. He’d known this would come up. “Anusapati was a lunatic. You know what had to happen.”

“So you say. And that accusation not only cost him his life, it brought House Kshuparaka into ignominy and financial ruin.”

“You seem to be doing well enough at the moment,” one of the Moon Scions said.

Rangguwani held up his hand. “Be that as it may, I won’t join you. Your war with Ketu is not my problem. I have other aims. You asked me to hear you out, and I have.”

Malin met and held his gaze. “And will you join Ketu?”

Rangguwani shook his head. “The man’s not much better than Rahu. A religious zealot makes a poor king. And the destruction he’s been causing helps no one. I’d not shed a tear if you killed him. But that doesn’t mean I’ll become another of your pawns. I wouldn’t be sorry to see you die, either.”

The Moon Scions bristled again. The man had nerve, Malin had to give him that.

“Give us a ship,” Malin said. “If Ketu wins, he’ll never know where we got it. But if we win and you refuse, we’ll remember that. One ship, and we’ll let you be on your way.”

The captain looked from one face to the next. “So be it. One ship. It’ll be sent here tomorrow.”

Malin waved for Pohaci to let the man leave. The captain fixed his gaze on Malin for a long moment before departing.

After returning to the map, Malin pointed at the northern edge of Swarnadvipa. “We’ll cross the Strait of Malacca in two days’ time.”

“We should move right for Bukit.”

The other Moon Scions seemed to agree, but Malin shook his head. “We’ll capture the northern ports first. Each of you will sack one. Gain a foothold.”

“They’ll know we’re coming for Bukit,” Pohaci said.

“Yes. They’d know we’re coming anyway. Now, they’ll have time for fear to work its way through them. Fear of the Macan Gadungan. Fear of the Buaya Jadian. While the Moon Scions capture the port towns, Pohaci, you send your people to scuttle more of the ships in Bukit. We don’t know if Ketu is there, but we want to make sure he can’t escape by sea. Either way, we have to take Bukit. And Ketu dares not turn his cyclones on Swarnadvipa. To do so would turn every Lunar in the Isles against him.”

When no one argued, he dismissed them.

Pohaci lingered behind, leaning against the wall, watching him. Always so still.

“You object to your part in the plan?” Malin asked.

“No.” She slid from her perch and glided toward him. “But I don’t want to go myself. I want to remain with you. Fight by your side.”

She stood so close he could feel her warm breath on his skin. Her face, eyes so much like Chandi. Even the hair, though Pohaci’s was shorter in the front, only just past her ears.

“As long as your people can do the job on their own, I don’t see any reason for you to go.”

She grabbed his shoulders. “I want you, Malin. I know you have your preoccupations. Maybe someone else is on your mind. Maybe it’s the weight of your destiny. Doesn’t matter to me.”

His shoulders tingled where she squeezed them. Images of ripping off her sarong ran through his mind. Throwing her onto his bed. Soft face and eyes like Chandi. Silky black hair. And she smelled exotic.

Malin cracked his neck. Focus. “We have no idea what would happen if you got pregnant.” Jadian sometimes took human mates. Such a child was almost always taken by the same kind of spirit. But if a weretiger and werecrocodile had a child, which would it be? If both spirits could take the child, the result could tear it to pieces.

She shook her head, once. “We don’t even know if that could happen. We can’t live in fear. Enough things have been denied to us already. We shouldn’t deny ourselves the things we want.”

Malin sighed and kissed her on the forehead. “Go get some rest, Pohaci.” He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore.

Between Pohaci and the war, he doubted he’d find any rest tonight.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWELVE

For a phase they had all stood, watching Landorundun paint Glyphs on the deck of the Queen of the South Sea.

“I don’t think we should be doing this, Ben,” Chandi said.

Ben was still grinning. From the sounds that had come from his and Landorundun’s cabin last night, Chandi could guess why. “Ah, Chandi. The witch told her what to do, right? Trust Landi, she knows what she’s doing.” He elbowed her a bit. “And she likes to be in charge.”

Chandi shook her head. She was more afraid it would work than it wouldn’t. Yesterday, Ben had declared this was the place where he’d seen the mermaids. And so, somewhere north of the Spice Islands, they waited while the Guardswoman prepared a spell to summon Nyai Loro Kidul.

Chandi should never have agreed to this. She’d thought to spend a month or so to find the spirit. It had been over five months. And where was Naresh? What if harm had come to him in her absence?

The sky was clear, at least, and the sea calm. After so long aboard the ship, its lull no longer bothered Chandi. While she couldn’t see why anyone would choose this life, she could handle it. Some days, she even helped with the fishing nets. Though she’d sure love something different for dinner once in a while.

A few of the crew made jokes about Landorundun’s art project. But most stood around, seeming as nervous as Chandi felt. Earth was for people. Kahyangan was for the ancestors. Best not to mix the two.

Landorundun rose from her painting, admired it a moment. “Nyai Loro Kidul,” she said.

No. This was wrong. Chandi ran to the Guardswoman’s side. “Please, Landorundun, let this go. Let’s go home.”

Could she still save things with Naresh? Should she? Well, she’d have to try.

Landorundun put her hand on Chandi’s shoulder. “You can call me Landi.”

The dhow bucked. The impact beneath the ship flung Chandi to the deck. Waves crashed over the rails. Chandi slid across the deck and collided with a coiled rope.

“Nyai Loro Kidul!” Landi shouted. “I summon you to our aid.”

Nothing happened. Chandi dared to breathe.

“Dewi Kadita!” Landi shouted, using what Ben claimed was her mortal name.

The waves grew with each passing moment. Chandi struggled to regain her feet as the ship rocked. “Landi, stop!”

The Guardswoman had never lost her balance. Her long, shimmering hair swam in the wind behind her. “Dewi Kadita! I summon you.”

Something pulled on the dhow. The ship listed to port, then started to turn in an arc.

“Surya’s angry welts,” Bendurana said.

Ben must spend phases lying awake at night thinking these lines up. She appreciated creative profanity, sure, but he tried to make it an art.

Chandi hurried to his side. “What’s happening?”

The Serendibian pointed to the center of the arc they were caught in. “Maelstrom.”

Chandi stumbled to the rail. The sea swirled in a vortex, sucking water down. She hadn’t thought these whirlpools got large enough to threaten a dhow. The crew shouted, terror awash on their faces. Chandi knew the feeling. Five hundred feet across, at least, and growing. The dhow lurched further, its masts leaning toward the inside of the maelstrom.

“Nyai Loro Kidul!” Landi’s voice was almost lost in the roar of the maelstrom.

Chandi hurried toward the Guardswoman. Ben grabbed her arm before she got there. “Too late to change course now, my dear! Enjoy the ride.”

The maelstrom exploded upward in a pillar of water. The force of it hurled the Queen of the South Sea through the air.

The ship crashed back into the ocean, the impact flinging Chandi’s feet out from under her. She drew her Blessings as she neared the rail, shifted her gravity to it. Other crew were not so lucky. At least one went over the side.

The geyser of water held in the air. Its overflow spilled onto the dhow, showering it like rain. Chandi regained her feet, drenched.

Landorundun had caught Bendurana. Must have Sun Strode to do so. She kissed him. “I’m sorry, my love,” she said. “This is the only way. When it’s finished, we’ll work it out.”

Landi Strode to the bow. “Nyai Loro Kidul! I offer you this vessel.”

“What?” Ben said, looking at Chandi. “My ship?”

Chandi prayed that’s what it meant.

And then Landi Sun Strode out over the ocean and disappeared beneath the waves. The geyser receded.

“Landi!” Ben shouted.

Chandi ran after him, met him at the rail.

“Where is she?” Ben shouted. “What did she do? Where are the mermaids?”

“I don’t think the mermaids were what you thought…”

A wave surged up along the rail, sending Chandi and Ben stumbling backward.

And there was Landi, supporting herself on the rail with crossed arms, still wearing her now-soaked cerulean baju. Her eyes almost sparkled, like the sea at dawn. She looked from Chandi to Ben, then back at Chandi.

As Chandi approached, she saw. Landorundun’s legs had become an aquamarine fish tail.

“The man who ravaged my sea with cyclones,” she said, her voice raspy. “Where is he?”

Ben dashed to his wife and tried to pull her into an embrace. She pushed him away and pulled herself over the rail, then flopped onto the deck. As the water ran off her, she shut her eyes. Like a Glamour falling, the tail became legs.

Chandi grabbed a tarp and threw it over Landorundun. Ben knelt beside his wife. “My dear, radiant as always. But you seem to have changed your, uh, style a bit.”

Landi looked him up and down, with no clear emotion on her face. “The host is sleeping. I have some of her memories. I need time to sort through them.”

Ben tried to embrace Landi, but she pushed him away. “I remember you, sailor.”

“Landi?” he said. Then he rose. “Surya’s big mouth, it’s really Nyai Loro Kidul? But you’re … different than I remember.”

“Different host.”

Chandi edged toward Landi, or whatever it was. “Please tell me this is temporary.” Why had Landi done this? They hadn’t even discussed what the witch had told her. If Chandi had only paid more attention when Malin tried to teach her Maitian, maybe she could have stopped this.

“The host was aware of the consequences. She knew the price for this power and leapt at it willingly. I’ll retain the body as long as it serves my needs. Without it, I could not redress the problem. A man pretends to be a god and ravages the seas. This is not acceptable.” Loro Kidul turned her gaze to the Glyph painted on the deck, then to the sea. She reached a hand toward the waters, and a thin wave shot up and over the deck.

The force of it knocked Chandi and the crew prone. Swept everyone but Loro Kidul toward the rail. Washed most of the paint away, too.

“Landi,” Ben said, his voice breaking. It might have just been seawater running down his face. Chandi didn’t look too closely.

She pulled him away from the spirit. “Nyai Loro Kidul? Is that what we call you?” The thing in Landi nodded. “The Astral Temple allows my father to control the weather and the heavens. We know he can create cyclones and eclipses. Chandra knows what else. We must take the temple from him.”

Loro Kidul stared at the ocean again, then the dhow hurtled forward, waves carrying it with the wind. “Your father will soon face the wrath of the seas.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN

“Ah, my lady,” Ben said, tugging at Landi’s baju, clearly trying to smile. “My Queen.”

The Queen of the South Sea looked at the Serendibian with what Chandi hoped was amusement. “You may address me as Loro, for the moment.”

“Well, Loro, I like you very much. I mean you saved my life, you’re trying to save the Skyfall Isles. Makes you a hero in my book. But I know my wife’s in there somewhere. Come on, admit it, you can tell me.”

For a heartbeat, Chandi thought she saw Landorundun’s smile, but it passed so quickly, she could have imagined it. Loro looked down at his hand tugging on her shirt until he released it.

Was Landorundun still in there? The spirit claimed she was, just sleeping. She claimed she’d return the body. But Ben had seen her living in the open ocean as a mermaid before, which meant she’d kept at least one host in the past.

Sweet Chandra, what had they unleashed? Wasn’t it the madness of Kahyangan that had cost her and Ratna their mothers? And now Chandi had made the same mistake. They thought to use a deity for their own ends, but the goddess controlled Landi like a puppet.

Ben sauntered over to her and shrugged. “She likes me. Landi’s still in there. I can feel her.”

Chandi nodded and patted him on the arm. Chandra let him be right.

“So, shouldn’t we stop to get Naresh? I mean, having a sea goddess is an advantage. Obviously. But another Arun Guard couldn’t hurt.”

“I don’t know, Ben.” Chandi leaned on the rail, arms crossed before her. She hadn’t seen her husband in five months. She could almost feel his arms around her abdomen, holding her tight. But the last words he’d said to her rang in her ears. He said she’d lied to him for over a year. And she had.

How could she go back and face him now, without finishing this first? Wouldn’t it be worse if he just forgave her, pretended it never happened? Because it would mean she was wrong about everything. No. She had to take care of her father her way, or she’d always see her husband as the man who murdered her last blood relative.

And there were other reasons.

“If we brought Naresh, he would assassinate my father.”

Ben shrugged. “Ah, Chandi, what do you think Loro is going to do to him?

Chandi shuddered. No. “I can get through to her. I want to bring him down from power, not end his life.”

Ben leaned his hip on the rail beside her. “You know the Macan Gadungan credo, right? Protect and avenge?”

“My father’s not Macan Gadungan.”

Ben chuckled. “And thank Surya’s lucky dice for that. Otherwise, I guess you’d get all furry at night, and Naresh would feel so uncomfortable.”

Chandi rolled her eyes.

“But I imagine Rahu gave them that credo, that need, for a reason. Protect is obvious.” Ben spread his hands. “The man wanted bodyguards. Good for him. If I were a lunatic bent on world domination, I’d want some guards, too. But the avenge part, that’s interesting. Lunars must have already been pretty good at holding a grudge for that to be one of only two tenets of the weretiger credo.”

“You’re saying if we defeat him, take away the temple, even leave him some place, he still won’t live his life in peace. He’ll keep fighting.”

“Ah, Chandi, only you can tell us that. He’s your father. What will he do?”

Hunt them to the edge of the South Sea and beyond, probably. Chandi pushed off the rail and paced around the deck. “No matter what, we have to confront him first. If he won’t see reason…”

If he wouldn’t listen even to her, then they could imprison him, leave him to live his life on an empty island in prayer. Anything. But how could she allow his murder?

Ben shrugged and grinned. “Well, my lady, duty calls.” He strolled back over to Loro, who stood on the bow, close enough for Chandi to hear.

“So, Loro, you want to let my wife come out and talk for a bit? Stretch her verbal legs, so to speak? Even an accomplished rider has to step off the horse now and then.”

The Queen of the South Sea actually did smile at him then, though it didn’t quite look like an expression Landi had ever worn. It was her, but a little off. “It wouldn’t make it easier on you.”

“It might.”

The spirit looked back at the sea. “You named this ship after me.”

“Well, yes. You can’t blame a boy for loving the beauty that saved his life, now can you? Speaking of which, you are in my wife’s body. We usually participate in certain activities after dinner. Might be best if you allow her to keep the routine. We wouldn’t want her to suffer from pent-up frustration. Purely for her sake, you understand. Unless, of course, you can handle the wifely routine yourself.”

Oh sweet Chandra. Chandi hurried toward them, praying the goddess wasn’t going to smite her friend.

But the woman just laughed. “Tempting, mortal. I don’t get to participate in … activities as often as I might. But then, there are certain risks, if the host became pregnant. You might not like the end result.”

Ben shrugged. “I generally enjoy both the process and the end result of activities.”

“Bendurana,” Chandi said. “Maybe we should take a walk.”

“My lady,” he turned to face her, “didn’t notice you there. I’m sorry, can’t include you in this conversation. It’d make your husband testy. You know how he gets.” Ben waved his arms about. “All, ‘I’m Arun Guard, fear me,’ and some such.” He thrust his chest out and did an imitation of Naresh’s limp, pacing around the deck.

Chandi shook her head, trying not to smile. Naresh had said almost just that, the day the Ignis attacked Cenrana. And a very small part of her did fear him, didn’t it? Was that it? Not that she feared he’d harm her, but feared the destruction he was capable of.

But then, he was also the man that had called the birds for her.

“Bad for all of us,” Ben said. “Best leave me to it.”

She grabbed him and pulled him away from Loro.

“That’s not your wife. Not right now. There is something inside her, something from … somewhere else. We know very little about it, except that it’s angry with my father and has agreed to help us for the time being. We may have made a mistake, but we’re stuck with it for now. Please, Ben, do not push her over the edge.”

Ben patted her cheek. “Landi’s still in there, Chandi. And I’m going to pull her to the surface, whatever it takes. If that means my cutting wit, my manly wiles, or my prowess steering the rudder, so be it.”

“Your … what?” Chandi shook her head. Rangda take this Serendibian.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN

Chills wracked Naresh, and he stumbled against the teahouse wall. The fever just wouldn’t burn out. Yesterday, he’d not gotten out of bed. For all that his leg had healed, now every joint in his body hurt, and his head throbbed at any sound.

Had to eat. Had to try to keep something down, this time.

The door gave way before him when he tried to step through. Whispers. Darkness. Someone caught him as he fell.

The old aches of a fallen empire ravaging the weak of heart … Naresh tried to shake his head clear of the fog, but clouds veiled his thoughts. Semar was carrying him.

Darkness. Warm. Hot, burning, dry and wet and sweaty and cold. The Shrine of Sacred Flame? Surya preserve him.

“Drink this,” Semar said, handing him a teacup.

The cup trembled in his hands, spilling hot liquid over his legs. It should have hurt more, but he couldn’t focus on the pain.

Sweet warmth filled him.

He slept.

Dark things filled his dreams. Delusions of Kahyangan, perhaps, of a great tree. Djambo Baros, his mother’s voice said. The Tree of Life. Some say it houses the Wheel of Life, turning out souls again and again, for the chance to find themselves.

His mother. “Are you here? In Kahyangan? Can you hear me?”

“Where are you?” It was her voice, but he couldn’t see her face. “Who are you?”

“I’m Naresh, your son. Please, mother. I’m lost, I need you.”

“You are lost. Who are you?”

Naresh fell to his knees. Everything was darkness, but he felt sand on the ground. An island. Empty. “I don’t know, anymore.”

“Learn.”

Flames rose in the distance, giving light. They danced and ran, and spread. Waves of heat washed over his face. Closer and closer the fires swarmed, calling him into their embrace.

Naresh opened his eyes, and saw the flames. The fire pit, in the Shrine.

“What …” His voice rasped like he’d been coughing. “What did you give me?”

Semar knelt beside him, and used a wet cloth to wipe the sweat from Naresh’s brow. “The Tianxians call it qinghao. Leaves, made into tea. It’ll help with the malaria.”

Malaria. The mosquitoes along the river.

“Come back to me whenever you feel the fever rising. Don’t let it get that high again, Naresh.”

His joints creaked when he sat up. The pain in his head had diminished, though he still wobbled when he tried to stand.

For a day, he rested, taking soup. In the morning, he found Semar. The priest had already made him tea, as if he knew Naresh was coming. Actually, at the rate Naresh moved through the town today, Semar probably did have warning.

The tea was a little sweet. Best not to take chances.

“You saved my life,” he said. His throat still hurt.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Semar disappeared back into the Shrine.

Well, if he had work to do, so did Naresh. He found Lembu Ampal helping the Ignis build a new loghouse. The Guardsman had cut his hair short, and reduced his beard to a mustache and a shadow under his chin.

“You want something, Pak Naresh?” the big man said, when he approached.

Naresh sank to the ground and motioned the other Guardsman to do the same. “I heard Semar released you months ago. Why didn’t you come to Daha?” Lembu Ampal said nothing. “Lang said the time of the Arun Guard has passed, unless we bow before Kertajaya. Bastard called us relics. Relics.”

Lembu Ampal looked away at the river. “Maybe we are.”

“No.” Naresh reached over to grab the big man and look into his eyes. “No. We are the last hope for our people. We must hold the line against the Lunar Empire. The Macan Gadungan will come in the night, and we must guard against them.”

Lembu Ampal pulled away, fingering the silver medallion he wore.

“We need to show Semar just how invaluable we are. In the meantime, we have to stay afloat.”

Lembu Ampal grunted.

Naresh sighed, and fiddled with a long blade of grass for a moment. Maybe he’d hallucinated his mother’s voice. Had to be. Still, she’d said he didn’t know himself. Only one person did, really. “I miss Chandi.” She’d seen this growing in him, long before he did.

Lembu Ampal turned to stare at him. “I miss my wife, too,” he said at last.

Naresh started. He hadn’t known the man was married. “Where is she?”

“Kasusthali.” The big man turned back to the sea. “With our daughter. And our parents. My two brothers. And most of the rest of the Arun Guard.”

Naresh couldn’t speak, couldn’t even swallow.

“Everyone I ever knew drowned. We are relics.”

Naresh remained sitting, long after Lembu Ampal had left. A phase, perhaps, before shouts rose from the village.

Naresh climbed to his feet and Strode back into town. A spectacle had gathered around a young Igni boy, perhaps fifteen. In the midst of a circle of Ignis stood a long pit filled with burning coals.

He’d heard of Ignis trying to prove themselves by walking over hot coals, but these were actually on fire. The flames rose almost half a foot.

Semar stood at the far end of the burning coals, holding a lit brazier between his hands. The blue-eyed priest nodded at the boy.

Naresh Strode next to the boy and grabbed him. “What in Rangda’s frozen underworld are you people doing to this child?”

Many of the Ignis started. Semar nodded at him. Someone laughed.

Lang. “Why do you think we’re called Firewalkers, Pak Naresh?” the man said. “The sacred flame purifies the worthy to draw in the burning powers of Kahyangan.”

Naresh looked at Semar, then back at Lang. Kahyangan. The Spirit World. Even Firewalkers came back to that? Or perhaps it was all more religious nonsense.

“If it’s safe, then let me do it instead of this boy. Don’t risk a child.”

“It’s my choice,” the boy said, and struggled free. Naresh almost fell over from it.

Semar fixed him with his gaze. “You’ve yet to prove yourself, Naresh.”

Dammit. He pointed at Lang. “You think this man makes a more worthy student? Blades or fists, I can take him any day.”

Lang shuffled closer, hand on his keris. Except maybe today. Too late to back down now.

“You’ve forgotten yourself, Naresh,” Semar said. “The measure of worth is not in strength of arm or skill with a blade. It never was. Those are just means to an end. What matters are the people you touch, the lives you change and are changed by.”

So be it. Naresh backed away from the boy and tried to ignore Lang’s smug grin.

At his first step through the fire, the boy grunted. By his third step, he screamed. Soon, Naresh caught the nauseatingly sweet smell of burning flesh. But the boy kept going. He never took his gaze from the brazier in Semar’s hand, even as he almost fell.

And in the end, when he collapsed in front of Semar, Lang was there to catch him. The flames on both the boy’s feet and in the pit dwindled and died at once. When the boy looked up, and Lang lifted him in his arms, those flames had appeared in his eyes.

For a moment.

Then the young Igni passed out.

“Bring him to the Shrine,” Semar said. “Worry not, Naresh. The child will be well, though he’ll bear these scars as a mark of his passage.”

But even after Semar had taken the child away, the air still stank of scorched flesh. Naresh didn’t realize he’d clenched his hands until the pain reached him.

Semar spoke of people like they mattered, but he let his people walk through fire for him. Literally walk through fire, endure agony to become Firewalkers.

But then, he had endured agony and tribulations to become Arun Guard. And so had Lembu Ampal. Maybe Semar’s words weren’t for Naresh, or weren’t only for him.

The big Guardsman had not come to watch the ceremony. Naresh found the man alone, in the small house the Ignis had given him.

“You’ve forgotten yourself,” he said when Lembu Ampal looked up, repeating the fire priest’s words. He had to slump down to the floor. Semar’s tea helped, but Naresh’s legs still wobbled. “You fell in war. That doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you a hero. You are Arun Guard. You and I and Landorundun are the last of our kind. Protectors of the Solar Emperor. The emperor is gone, so now we protect what remains of his empire.”

Lembu Ampal glanced at him, but only fingered the silver medallion.

“Your wife gave you that? Honor her faith in you. Honor the faith of your parents and your child by being Arun Guard again. We cannot bring them back, brother. But you can live in a way that would make them proud. This …” Naresh waved at the dark Igni house. “This is not it.”

Lembu Ampal took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can.”

And here he had no reason to do so. The man couldn’t return to serve Kertajaya, had no care for Semar or the Ignis. He needed something bigger, something greater than himself to rise above his malaise.

“I could never live with myself if I abandoned the people of Suladvipa to Ketu or Malin or Kertajaya,” Naresh said.

Lembu Ampal nodded, but didn’t look up from his silver medallion.

Fair enough. The man needed purpose. Naresh would give it to him. “Have you heard of the Spice King?”

“Someone trying to unite the Spice Isles, a new power rising.”

Naresh scooted closer and put his hand over the medallion. For a moment, when Lembu Ampal looked up, he glared at Naresh. Then he just met his gaze.

“Find him. Make an ally of him. And we will stand together against the Lunars. The Ignis may have cracked the domes, brother, but they didn’t bring the war. We and the Lunars did that. Ketu did it. Help us end it. There is no one else I can trust with this.”

It was true enough, even if he had chosen Lembu Ampal as much for the big man’s sake as for the mission. With Chandi, Ben, and Landi away, Naresh was short on people he could rely on.

Lembu Ampal looked Naresh in the eyes, as if trying to read how serious he was. “I’ll do it,” he said at last.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN

The callers at the Hill Palace never ended. House Hasta had returned, and Ratna hoped the boons and bounties she bestowed on them bought forgiveness. Thank Chandra their little daughter had survived the rainforest. Perhaps it wasn’t a leader’s duty to make all her subjects happy, but she couldn’t afford to have a powerful House plotting behind her back, either.

Not if she wanted to take the Lunar Empire from Ketu. And in the end, she had to do so. The man she’d called uncle had grown out of control. If he had listened to Malin, this civil war would never have happened. Malin must have tried to plead his case once more. She knew him.

One woman bemoaned her two sons, lost at sea.

“We don’t know what happened to that ship,” Ratna said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything without knowing where they are.”

Except she could guess. The Buaya Jadian had overrun more than one vessel. Caught unprepared, even Moon Scions might struggle against a sudden assault by werecrocodiles. Rumors claimed the Buaya Jadian came in the dead of night, rose up from the sea, and took entire crews back down into the depths. Some claimed most bodies were never found because the werecrocodiles ate their victims.

Ratna shuddered. As if Macan Gadungan were not dangerous enough. At least they didn’t often swim up to ships at sea and slaughter entire crews.

“Give her something hot to drink,” she whispered to her advisor. “Make sure she doesn’t harm herself.” Or anyone else. The woman looked half-crazed.

But then, Ratna could understand what a lost child did to the mind.

Revati was alive. Beyond doubt. She had to be.

At last, she dismissed the final callers. She couldn’t right all the wrongs in one day. Many, like the poor mother, she couldn’t really help at all.

Lost your sons? Here, have some tea and a bag of rice.

What was she supposed to do for the woman? No gifts, no payment, no condolences would ever amount to even one breath of a child’s life.

And in the end, that’s why her father had been wrong to start the Fourth War. And why Ketu was wrong to continue the Fifth War. The Solars were dead, their empire gone. Now House Soma had managed to tear apart the Lunar Empire, as well. Two empires that had lasted twelve hundred years. Brought low in a few decades by Ketu and Rahu, pretenders to House Soma.

And somehow, Ratna had been too caught up in loyalty to her family to see the arrogance of it all. At least until she too had lost someone irreplaceable.

When the door opened, she looked up, expecting a slave to have brought her tea. Instead Mahesa walked into her chamber.

Thank Chandra she hadn’t lost him in these wars, as well.

He dropped something heavy, and it struck the floor with a thud. The book.

Shit.

“Mahesa, I—”

He knelt in front of her, across the table. “I came up to the cliff, sometimes, with you two. I saw your hiding places. I thought it might have been a good place to stuff your favorite flowers. Jasmine, right? But I found that space already occupied.”

Ratna sighed. “If we can’t find my daughter, I have to have it. I have to have the hope of one last place to turn.”

He rose, shaking his head. “If you won’t cast it aside, you may as well store it here. Be done with it, or don’t pretend you are.”

“You’d understand, if she were your daughter,” Ratna shouted at him as he left.

Mahesa paused in the doorway, but didn’t turn back to her before he disappeared into the hall.

Rangda damn it all. Ratna grabbed the book and flung it against the wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why hadn’t she just thrown it into the sea?

But the answer was easy. Because she was that old woman, begging her queen to return her lost child. Even if that queen was Rangda Demon Queen?

Yes. Even then.

Ratna shuddered and walked over to her mother’s book against the palace wall.

Had this cost her mother’s life? Damn Kala and damn the Solars and damn Rangda. They’d taken so many people from her.

Ratna couldn’t remember her mother’s face. She stroked her hair with her brush. Who was her mother, really? Calon of House Arang. Married into House Soma.

Had Queen Kenya known who her mother was? Or at least her reputation?

Ratna brushed past the servants bringing her tea. “I’ll take it in the records room.”

But she barely touched the tea as she tore through the papers. House Arang. Kenya’s records of Simhika indicated an honored daughter, stained somewhat by her friendship with her cousin Calon, who rumors called a witch.

A witch before she met Tanjung. So the other woman must have only helped Calon harness that power. But was that all she ever wanted? Power? Had she lost her life, divided her family pursuing that?

If Calon had really lost her life for practicing black magic, if she had wrought such horrors the Arun Guard came after her, had her fate been just? Because if Ratna used her mother’s book, she’d have to call on those same spirits.

The things Tanjung told her rang true, but incomplete. And the only person who had really known Calon for all those years, the only one left alive, was Malin.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTEEN

Given his Blessings and weretiger strength, the Moon Scions in Bukit had no chance against Malin. One dove to attack his legs. Malin’s kick caught the man in the jaw, flipped him in midair.

Beside him, Pohaci cracked another soldier on the head with her ekor pari. She was quite skilled with the rope whip—stingray tail the Solars called it, for its razor edge would slice through flesh with ease.

Malin watched as another warrior tried to attack her with a keris. She sidestepped, whipped the ekor pari in an arc that ripped open the man’s face. He doubled over, clutching his head, screaming. In an instant Pohaci stepped in and clubbed her fist on the back of his neck.

Malin smirked, stepped in on another foe. The man’s ribs cracked under his right hook. At last, Malin understood why Chandi never controlled herself. The rush, the vigor that filled him with the Blessings. So easy to think it really was the blessing of Chandra.

Someone tried to sneak up behind him. Malin spun and caught the man’s wrist as he swung a club. He squeezed until he felt bones crunch. The screaming man slumped to the ground when Malin released him.

Some of the Macan Gadungan had assumed tiger form for this. Doing so would terrify their prey, but Malin preferred to take this victory in full control of himself. His Moon Blessings were more than enough. Glorious and seductive.

Pohaci turned to the side, then took off running after some prey. Had to admire her enthusiasm.

Malin paused to knock a soldier senseless with a slap. A Moon Scion lunged for Pohaci with a keris. The ekor pari cracked, opening the man’s weapon hand. The Moon Scion staggered back, clutching his hand.

“Stop,” Malin said.

Pohaci froze in an instant. Only her wrist moved, as she traced her stingray tail in a spiraling arc.

The Moon Scion—Little Mahesa—had positioned himself between Pohaci and Ratna. Rahu’s daughter glared at Malin, a satchel clutched to her breast as if it could protect her, a keris knife pressed against it.

Malin sneered at the child’s attempt at defiance. “Aren’t you going to welcome me home?”

“How could you do this to Bukit, Malin? We trusted you. I trusted you, I … How many of your own people have you killed tonight? Chandi should have killed you in the arena. You’ve betrayed your empire, your king, and your homeland.”

Malin bared his teeth and the girl shrank away. Mahesa raised his good hand in a tiger claw form. Malin could smell them on each other. Lovers?

Malin couldn’t stop his chuckle. “Would you like to see a real tiger claw, boy? Put your hand down. I won’t harm Ratna for her petty words. In fact, I’m going to give her the chance to join me in the new Lunar Empire.”

She was like family, after all. Ketu deserved death, for certain, but he needed to reconcile where possible. This war had hurt the empire enough already.

“Join you? New Lunar Empire?” Ratna said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d call you a lunatic.”

Malin tried not to cringe. As a Moon Scion, lunacy had become a possibility.

“Ketu and you are both mad,” Ratna said. “And he plans to annihilate all the Jadian. You’ve just doomed any hope I had of dissuading him.”

“Then join me.”

Ratna scoffed. “After this slaughter? How could I trust you? You think anyone can trust you after you’ve sacked your own city?”

A growl rose in Malin’s throat, but he held Pohaci back when she moved for Ratna. “You forget all I’ve done for you, child. I’ve protected you every day of your life. I’ve watched over you, taught you, guided you. You offer me little thanks and no reward for my service.”

“Reward? Where were you when the Stranger took Revati? Why didn’t you protect my daughter?”

Malin leaned against the wall of a house. He still couldn’t say if letting Kala take her was the right thing. If Ratna knew he’d stood by and let it happen she’d claw his eyes out.

Pohaci shifted toward them. He saw her muscles tense, so subtle Ratna would never catch it. “She’s reckless, foolish. Kill them both.”

Malin stared at the pair for a while. Easier to kill them. Cleaner to do it and be done with it. No good would come from letting her go.

Still.

He’d held Ratna’s hand as she took her first steps. He’d carried her on his back over the mountains. He stood by as she married Kakudmi, knowing what it would cost her.

“Well?” Ratna said. “Going to murder us, Malin? Like you allowed my father to be murdered?”

Malin growled. “Allowed it?” He advanced on her, knocking Mahesa aside when he tried to interfere. “Child, I cut his head off myself.”

Ratna’s whole body trembled as she stumbled backward.

“And you can tell Ketu I’m coming for him. His reign over the Lunars is ending. Bukit is mine. Soon the Temple will be, as well. If you have any sense left in that skull of yours, you’ll stay out of my way.”

“I want no more to do with him than I do you. You’re a monster, Malin. And I almost believed in you …”

Pohaci pulled Mahesa to his feet by his hair. “You’re letting them go?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

Malin rounded on her. “Release him. Maybe they can find a boat your people didn’t scuttle. They take their fate in their own hands.”

Pohaci shoved Mahesa toward Ratna.

Malin watched Pohaci. “Was he one of the ones who beat you?”

She shook her head. Good. Malin would have let her cut him to pieces for it. Better he didn’t have to hurt the boy. Mahesa had never been guilty of much more than following Ratna like a puppy.

Malin even liked him. For a Moon Scion.

He watched as Ratna and Mahesa scrambled away from Bukit, toward the beaches. Maybe they would make it. If not, well, he’d offered her his protection.

Ratna had always been stubborn.

“Come,” he said to Pohaci. “I want the defenders routed before sunrise.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN

“This way,” Mahesa said.

Ratna scrambled behind him, trying to keep low. The weeds and swamp grass tickled her legs. She tried not to look down. Didn’t want to know what might crawl near her feet.

The mountain road and the cliff path down to the beach were clogged with soldiers, so Mahesa led her through the wetlands. Buaya Jadian territory. Ratna felt herself on the verge of a heart attack.

“Another path,” she said for probably the fourth time. “There’s got to be another path.”

“This is fastest.” His voice was low. He cradled his right hand against his chest. He said he was fine, but the pain in his eyes said otherwise. Blood still ran down his arm.

Vicious crocodile bitch. And Malin. Two days ago she’d wanted to reconcile. Malin had said so many true things, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t an animal. He’d cut off her father’s head? She fought the urge to vomit again.

She’d only gone a few steps before the mental picture overcame her. She dropped, her knees embedded in the mud, and heaved.

Then Mahesa was there, rubbing her back. “We have to keep going, Ratna. We can’t let anyone find us.”

He pulled her to her feet. Muck dripped from her satchel. Ratna wanted to scream. If the book got wet, it was all for nothing. Thank Chandra Malin didn’t bother searching it. Mahesa ushered her through the wetlands.

A shadow moved in the water. Ratna yelped. Hand to her chest, she turned. A crocodile? Almost invisible in the murk. It could be an eye.

Mahesa followed her gaze. He yanked her arm and ran. Ratna drew her Moon Blessings. They might be weak, but she could still run faster than a normal person.

Chandra let it be a real crocodile.

Every time she glanced over her shoulder she saw nothing. But would she?

Mahesa pulled them to a stop at the edge of the wetlands. “Can you operate a jukung?”

“A little bit.” Malin had made her learn. He’d made her learn many things. Actually, he taught her almost everything. And then betrayed her.

Mahesa nodded. With his left hand he pointed at a dhow fleeing the harbor.

“We need to catch that. It’s one of ours. I know the captain.”

Ratna nodded. There were men fighting on the beach. Several jukungs stood on the water’s edge. “That one.” She pointed to one of Malin’s. A man still waited in the boat.

“Too difficult to take a boat from them.”

“Didn’t you hear Malin say he had our boats scuttled?”

Mahesa sighed.

“You distract him,” she said. She grabbed a fallen tree branch, thick as her arm.

Mahesa picked up another and moved away from her, before rushing the boat. He held the branch awkwardly in his left hand. The traitor on the boat sneered at the sight and moved in on Mahesa.

Deep breaths. She could do this. Chandi could do it. So could Ratna.

Crouching, she advanced, rising to her full height only when she was directly behind the traitor. She drew her Potency Blessing as hard as she could and ran.

Mahesa fell back as the man advanced with his keris. Once, twice, her lover parried the knife. Then he tripped backwards, landed on the sand.

The traitor readied his keris for a lunge. Ratna hadn’t expected the sickening crunch when her club connected with his skull. Hadn’t expected so much blood to cover her weapon. Blood and gray goop.

With a gasp, she realized what it was, tossing the stick away. She was going to vomit again.

Mahesa grabbed her, hauled her into the jukung. “Sail. Now.” He shoved the boat into the sea.

Others ran toward them, but the jukung already drifted out into the water. Mahesa kept pushing.

“Get in!” Ratna shouted at him.

She dared not take her hands away from her work to help him. But the master climber didn’t seem to need her help, even with one hand lamed. Mahesa hissed and swung his hand in the air like the sea had burned him.

“Hurry,” he said. He waved his arms, trying to signal the dhow.

It had stopped fleeing. Maybe the crew saw them. Ratna brought the jukung as close alongside the ship as she dared.

The sailors above threw lines down to them.

Ratna had to draw her Blessings again to climb the rope. She heaved herself over the rail and fell to the deck, panting.

Mahesa landed beside her. Men pulled them both to their feet.

“I need to see your captain,” she said.

“This ship’s captain is dead,” a man said, advancing on her.

Only then did she notice a handful of men at the stern, below the poop deck. Disarmed, guarded by men with swords.

“Trust Malin to send all those rich merchant vessels fleeing with their cargo. Lucky I was here to help take it off their hands.” The pirate nodded at her. “Welcome, Ratna.”

She recognized the man now. Rangguwani. Once lord of House Kshuparaka. Now the leader of a pirate cabal.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEEN

The pirates eyed Ratna, but made no move toward her. She still hadn’t quite gotten over the shock of seeing Rangguwani embrace Mahesa.

“We should retire to my cabin,” the pirate said, when they had transferred from the stolen dhow to Rannguwani’s own ship.

The satchel had grown heavy on Ratna’s shoulder, but she dared not let it go. Not with the way those pirates watched her. “How long have you two known each other?”

“We met at Astral Shore,” Mahesa said. He turned to Rangguwani. “I heard you turned pirate. Wasn’t sure I believed it.”

The man nodded, then opened the door to the cabin. A little too neat for a pirate’s cabin. Charts pinned to the wall, lockers stowed—even his berth was in order. Shouldn’t pirates be messy?

“After Chandi betrayed my brother and Malin killed him as a lunatic, my House fell on hard times. Very hard. Stupid as it sounds, people start to wonder if lunacy runs in the family. As if we don’t all know what causes it. Not that I’m convinced Anusapati was a lunatic.”

Ratna leaned against the door. “He was.” Chandi hadn’t said much of the encounter, but she’d said enough.

“Some say your father was a lunatic, too.”

Ratna pushed away from the wall, standing right beneath Rangguwani’s nose, hands on her hips. “My father was murdered by Malin. The bastard betrayed us all.”

Rangguwani was smiling, damn him. “So I heard.”

“He did let us live,” Mahesa said. “That’s something.”

Rangguwani sat on his desk, folded his arms across his chest. “And what will you do with it? Run back to Ketu? A zealot, possibly a lunatic himself. A fool hurling cyclones like javelins. Try to fight Malin by yourselves? The Macan Gadungan would destroy you.”

Mahesa shrugged. “What do you suggest?”

“Join me. Help us unite the Lunars. Ketu is a fool and Malin is a monster. Or perhaps the other way around. But you, the War King’s daughter, you could give us all a new future. Bring peace back to the Moon Scions and Macan Gadungan. Maybe even restore peace with the Solars.”

Right. Peace with the Solars who allowed Kala to take Revati. Peace with the Macan Gadungan who slaughtered the people of Bukit. “No. I’m done with this. All I want is to find my daughter. Let politics attend to itself. We need to make it somewhere safe, away from the eyes of Malin’s forces.” She hesitated. “And Ketu’s. Let them kill each other, I don’t care.”

Mahesa’s hand found hers. “Please, Ratna, listen to Rangguwani. This isn’t going to go away just because you want it to. If we don’t make peace, it’ll just go on and on.”

She jerked her hand away. “Let it. They took Revati away from me. And no one cared. No one.”

“I care,” Mahesa said.

“Then do something about it.”

The boy sighed, then nodded. “Maybe Puradvipa. Malin’s forces were mostly driven out. I don’t think Ketu’s will be looking for us. I know a place they wouldn’t find us, anyway.”

Rangguwani rose from the desk, drifted toward the window. “You’re a selfish child. So caught up in your problems you don’t see the world burn around you. Maybe you don’t see all three dynasties rotting under their own corruption. Maybe you don’t care.”

How dare he? Ratna snatched a book off Rangguwani’s desk and chucked it at the hull beside him. “What makes you think you know me? What makes you think you can understand the pain of a mother who lost her daughter?”

She backed away from his glare. Perhaps antagonizing the pirate on his own ship was a bad idea.

“What I understand is that thousands of mothers have lost children because of the actions of your father. I held out the vain hope you were a better person than he was, that you might try, in some small way, to make up for the evil Rahu unleashed.”

“No! I’m done trying to clean up Ketu’s and Malin’s mess. Bukit is burning! The Isles are burning, and no one is looking for my daughter. Well I will.”

Mahesa sighed and stepped between them. He looked over at Ratna a moment, watched her face. She shook her head at him, then he turned back to the pirate. “Please, Rangguwani, take us to Puradvipa.”

“Why should I do anything for you?”

“Friendship. Plus, you’d spite Malin the chance to recapture us.”

“I thought you said he let you live?”

Mahesa grinned.

Rangguwani shook his head, his eyes sad. “As you wish. There’s always profit around Puradvipa.” He turned to Ratna. “But you will regret this.”

Ratna sneered. They didn’t understand. Politics, wars, all of it was ash. Ratna had tried to save the Lunar Empire from tearing itself apart at the seams, and still, everyone seemed determined to shred her work. And why not, it was the chaos that had lost her Revati in the first place. Well, let the chaos attend to itself. She’d do anything to find her daughter.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN

Few defenders remained free in Bukit. Some had escaped into the rainforest or the wetlands. Many of those would fall prey to the Macan Gadungan or the Buaya Jadian. Malaria, starvation, or quicksand would claim others.

Malin didn’t concern himself with the handful that might survive all that. They would be too few to pose a threat any time soon.

Most of the rest had surrendered. Only a few had holed up in the Hill Palace. Rahu’s palace. Ketu’s palace. Or Kenya’s before them.

“We can move in any time,” Pohaci said. “Or did you want to lead the way?”

This place had housed monsters that had destroyed the Lunar Empire. Rahu had started the Fourth War, breaking centuries of peace. He’d forced them into the Fifth War, too. He’d created the Jadian, but instead of granting them glory for their nature, he’d made them virtual slaves.

And this place had housed it all. How had Malin ever found this place comfortable? Or even tolerable?

“Burn it.”

“It’s the finest palace in Bukit,” she said. “We should seize it.”

“Kasusthali was the greatest architectural achievement in the Skyfall Isles. It still burned. This place is just a reminder of what was. We’ll build something better. Burn it.”

Pohaci shrugged. “As you wish.”

She and several of the Macan Gadungan set torches at the base of the palace, threw them in windows, on the roof. It was the dry season. It didn’t take long for the blaze to light up the night sky.

Some fled the burning building. Those that surrendered were taken to the others of their kind.

He hoped Ratna hadn’t tried to sneak back inside. The thought surprised him. He still didn’t want her dead. And she had been stubborn enough to try to dig in here, resist the inevitable change he brought.

“It’s done,” Pohaci said. “Bukit is ours.”

Malin nodded.

He turned his back on the dwindling blaze and headed for the throng of Moon Scions and their soldiers. Prisoners. What on Chandra’s dark side would he do with hundreds of prisoners?

“People of Bukit,” he said. He did not raise his voice, but it carried through the night. All others fell silent.

He gazed over his captured foes. Smartest to kill them. But he couldn’t build his new world like that. The hatred, the resentment, the blood would never end. They would cry for vengeance as fiercely as any Macan Gadungan. Demand it from him.

He knew he’d never win all of these people to his cause. Still, if he won even a small portion, it would be a start. He was not Rahu. He was not Ketu.

“Civilians will resume their normal lives.” Rahu had tried to make Malin a monster. But Malin was a man. Not a beast. “The warriors among you may swear loyalty to me. Those that will not do so will be imprisoned until Ketu has been dealt with and the threat to our new Lunar Empire is eliminated. Until all have seen that we have built something to last.”

“Malin,” Pohaci said. She indicated one of the Moon Scions with her gaze. “That one threw me in the hole. Him and three others. After they broke my arm beating me with a toyak.”

Malin glanced at the girl at his side. She might look a bit like Chandi, but she wasn’t Chandi. Hatred, bloodlust burned through her eyes. Oh yes, the Macan Gadungan understood vengeance. It was in their training, in their very souls.

It might cost him. But Malin would not deny her.

He pointed at the man she indicated. “Bring him.”

Two of his Macan Gadungan grabbed the man by his shoulders. Dragged him forward despite his struggles. They forced the man to his knees before Malin.

“Moon Scions have a tradition of duels,” he said. “One on one. Tradition gets broken from time to time. Sometimes it needs to be broken.” He’d broken it when he saved Chandi from Anusapati, not far from where the man now knelt. “Four Moon Scions attacking one unarmed woman is more than breaking tradition. It’s a situation requiring redress. What better way to redress than to let the woman face her attackers one on one?”

He looked at Pohaci. She nodded, then retrieved a toyak from the pile of weapons they had disarmed from these men. She tossed it at the man’s feet.

Her ekor pari arced through the air in a hypnotic spiral. The edges of the rope whip caught the firelight.

The Moon Scion looked at her, then at the toyak. He sneered.

When he didn’t move to take it, the ekor pari slashed off part of his earlobe. “Fight me,” Pohaci said. “Or die from a thousand stings.”

The man grabbed the club. With his Blessings, he was fast. Maybe faster than her. She fell back under his assault. But with each step she cracked her stingray tail, opening gashes along the Moon Scion’s arms and legs.

His rage made him careless. He overextended. The ekor pari tore a red streak across his cheek. Wailing, he dropped the toyak and fell, hands clutching his face.

Eyes on Pohaci, Malin extended a hand toward the fallen man.

“Take him to the Bowels. I believe there’s a vacant hole a werecrocodile once occupied.”

Malin nodded to his Macan Gadungan. The weretigers dragged the man away. Pohaci’s superhuman constitution allowed her to survive that cesspit. The Moon Scion’s wounds would surely fester in there, leaving him an awful death.

“Next.”

Pohaci indicated the next man. Not even a Moon Scion, as far as Malin knew.

“Please,” the soldier begged. “I was only following Rahu’s orders.”

Malin nodded. “Don’t worry. The Macan Gadungan are only following mine.”

He watched Pohaci visit her justice on each of the four men who had beaten her and left her to die. In a way, he felt for them. He had followed Rahu’s orders, too. Done things he wished he hadn’t. But then, he’d had to pay for his mistakes, too.

Pohaci found him, later, sitting on his porch, watching the sunrise. The Hill Palace had burned to embers. His people had watched to make sure the fire couldn’t spread.

“Am I a monster?” she asked.

Malin studied her sweet face, so incongruent with the woman who had savaged those men.

“We are what they have made us. No, I don’t think either of us is a monster.”

But Ratna thought him a monster. He had sacked his own city. He had burned and slaughtered and allowed Pohaci her vengeance.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “You’ll still have these questions tomorrow.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY

In a dozen years, Ratna doubted she could identify all the animals they encountered in the rainforest. Probably couldn’t identify the animals making all those sounds, either. Frogs, insects, macaques, and Chandra-knew-what-else chirped, chattered, and buzzed day and night.

“How much farther?” she asked again.

“I’m not sure,” Mahesa said. “I only came here the one time. Empu Bahula hid his refuge deep so no one would find it. Including us. Of course, that means we’ll be safe there, too.”

“If we find it.”

“I found it once.”

A trio of parrots watched her as she passed under the branch they perched on. Annoying as the rainforest was, she could see the beauty Malin found in it.

Damn the tiger. She didn’t want to think of him. “Will Empu Bahula be there waiting for us?” Mahesa only grunted. “Did you kill him?” His father had killed Ratna’s mother. She wouldn’t shed any tears for another dead Solar.

Mahesa paused at a stream. He pointed upstream, at a waterfall, grinning like an idiot.

Ratna knelt to refill her waterskin and wash her face. “Well?” she said when she rose.

The boy knelt where she had been. “He won’t be returning.” He too washed his face, and flung water over his wily hair. “You remember the waterfall by that lake?”

How could she forget? Little Mahesa had convinced Chandi to jump over the fall, at least a thirty-foot drop. He’d jumped himself, as soon as she’d surfaced.

“Come on, come on,” they’d called to her. Waved her to them, as they swam in the lake.

She called them fools, said they were lucky they hadn’t broken their necks. The truth was, looking over the fall with her legs trembling, she’d panicked.

“You know, you were right, it was foolish,” Chandi had said later.

Mahesa had grinned and nodded.

That they’d tried to spare her feelings when she had seen the joy on their faces almost made it harder. Why hadn’t she jumped? Now, eight years later, falling in a lake didn’t seem so terrible.

Ratna had let fear stop her too many times. Never again. She would never back away from the cliff again. Maybe taking Mahesa to her bed was the beginning of a new Ratna.

“What happened when you came here before?”

Mahesa hefted his satchel and continued onward. Ratna had to hustle to catch up, then she slipped her hand into his good one.

“He wasn’t going to just give me the book. He warned me, even, how dangerous it was. The fear in his eyes, when he knew what I’d come for …”

So Mahesa had killed Empu Baradah’s son to get it back. She squeezed his hand. It was easy to say she didn’t care. Easy.

“I think something terrible must have happened, all those years ago,” Mahesa said, later. “Malin said your mother released a leyak from the underworld.”

So the Macan Gadungan claimed. “I’m not doing anything with leyaks.”

The sun had almost set when they came to the glade. The house didn’t look like much, but it would be better than sleeping in the rainforest again. Stilts raised it about six feet in the air, like a house on lowland Swarnadvipa. Vines had overgrown the stilts and a congregation of butterflies had settled on the roof, covering the otherwise simple design in a rainbow canopy.

The wooden ladder leading up to the porch creaked under her weight as she climbed. She brushed aside a sheet covering the doorway, sending clouds of dust into the air. She had to wave her hand in front of her face and stifle a cough. Several chests and footlockers sat against one wall. The main room housed a low table and not much else.

“Why would the Ministry force one of their people to live like this?”

Mahesa shrugged. “Not sure they forced him at all. I cracked two chests before I found the book. The place held all kinds of odd things. There was a treatise on the gods of El-Hind and Serendib. They follow ours, but a lot of others, too.”

Ratna didn’t care what the Serendibians did. The only one she’d met had been that captain who had brought her to Kasusthali. Whatever his name was. Charming enough, but of no consequence.

She blew the dust from the table and opened her book on it.

Mahesa sighed. “I’ll fix us something to eat.”

Ratna nodded without looking up. She’d had precious little time to peruse the book in the rainforest. Wouldn’t have wanted to risk it getting wet, even had she had the time.

She flipped through the pages, noting the strange Glyphs that covered many of them. She tried to memorize a few, but they wouldn’t settle in her mind. They’d be there, while she looked at them. But if she tried to bring one to mind moments later, some aspect of it would be off.

A spirit is most attuned to its own name, her mother had written. Though many spirits may take little interest in our realm, the sound of their name quickly draws their attention.

“I found some bananas.”

Ratna jerked at Mahesa’s voice. Hadn’t he just left?

“I can try to hunt for some meat tomorrow. I wanted to find more than this, but it’s already getting dark.”

Ratna glanced at the fading light outside. No wonder her eyes hurt, after staring at the book for so long. Her head, too.

“I’m not hungry.” She knew she should be, she’d walked all day with nothing but fruit and nuts and water. But the idea of food left her stomach unsettled. She waved away the banana he tried to offer her.

The book called to her. Revati was in that book. Her daughter’s location. She rummaged in the bedroom until she found a candle. With that lit, she resumed her study of the book.

“Ratna,” Mahesa said, “we’ve been friends a long time.”

She grunted. Her mother’s hand spoke of the underworld, of the power of the ancestor spirits sent there. The dead know the secrets of life, and the secrets of beyond. Almost any question has an answer, if one knows how to ask it, and of which spirit to inquire.

“What I mean is, we know each other well. Very well, given what happened in Bukit. I mean, what we did. That night. So I was wondering if you had given thought to our future. We could have a future, you know.”

Ratna glanced up from the book at him. “Mahesa, can we talk about this later?”

She turned back to the pages. The ghosts of the underworld had knowledge that transcended mortal understanding. Almost any question has an answer.

Ratna kept reading.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-ONE

Nineteen ships landed on Astral Shore. Almost as many as had come to take the Temple from the Solars five years ago. Malin’s navy had left the wreckage of Ketu’s in its wake. It seemed the priest didn’t have precise enough control to risk throwing a cyclone up around his own ships.

Malin waved his army onward. The Macan Gadungan surged forward, charging Ketu’s soldiers. Ketu’s Moon Scions walked among those soldiers, but Malin’s own Moon Scions would hunt them down.

Pohaci whipped her ekor pari in an arc, but his raised hand held her and the other Buaya Jadian back. “Check the wreckage of the ships. Make sure there are no survivors. Then keep watch to ensure none of his forces escape this day.”

She bowed and turned back to the sea.

Malin drew his toyaks and waded into the fray. He didn’t need Moon Blessings for this. He swept the clubs in rapid arcs, darting past the defenses of one foe after another.

One soldier fell with a crushed temple, another with broken ribs. A female rushed him, wielding an ekor pari. She was fast, too fast. He rolled under her attack, but it still tore open a gash on his back.

Malin growled. Moon Scion. Now he drew his Potency Blessing. The woman tried to open his throat with her rope whip. Malin knocked it aside with one toyak and crushed her windpipe with the other. He moved so fast she probably never realized what killed her.

The humans fell before him like insects. Not even Moon Scions could stand before him for long. By the time his forces had breached the gates, he must have killed a hundred men or more.

Ketu’s forces hurled seligi from atop the crenellated wall that surrounded the Temple. Malin knocked one of the javelins aside with a toyak. The attacker gaped at him.

Malin looked the man in the eyes. Then he drew his Gliding Blessing and shifted his gravity to the wall. Ran up it. All the phases of practicing were worth it, if only for the look on the defender’s faces.

He grabbed one of the defenders and tossed him off the wall. The others struggled to ready keris knives. They didn’t last long.

With the defenders on the wall dead, Malin leapt back down into the courtyard. Many small temples composed the Astral Temple interior, but Ketu would hide in the underground. Malin ran for the pillars. He’d left his fellows behind, but it didn’t matter.

No one could stand up to him now.

The staff that connected with his abdomen sent him hurtling end over end. Malin hit the ground hard and slid into one of the metal bowls. He staggered back to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. Malin had no idea what had happened to his toyaks.

The man that had stepped from behind a pillar might have broken his ribs. Breathing hurt. Moon Scion, with that strength. Five others stepped from behind pillars.

Including Ketu. The man looked ragged, unwashed, with circles under his eyes Malin had never seen. Perhaps using this place as he had took its toll.

“The traitorous tiger returns,” Ketu said. “It’s too late to beg forgiveness.”

Malin climbed from the bowl. “Couldn’t have said that better myself.” He lunged at the priest.

Ketu blocked each of his attacks. Malin couldn’t forget Ketu was a master of Silat. The priest tried to grab him, but Malin twisted free. Took a step back. Enough to see Ketu rub his arms. Good. His strength still hurt the priest.

At a nod from Ketu, the other Moon Scions swarmed Malin.

Malin caught the arm of the first attacker, spun him around. With a jerk, he yanked the man’s arm from its socket. His fist broke the nose of another attacker.

A third attacker, a woman, cracked him in his hurt ribs with a toyak. Malin dropped to his knees.

He roared.

He caught someone’s foot as they kicked at his head. A sweep of his hand shattered the man’s knee.

The woman swung at him again. Malin drew his Blessings as hard as he could, tried to dodge. Her blow landed on his left shoulder. Black spots flashed in front of his eyes. Broken shoulder. Couldn’t let the Blessing go. He grabbed her by the throat and flung her through the air. She collided with a pillar and lay still.

Ketu and his final ally circled around Malin. Ketu was empty-handed, though the other Moon Scion had a keris knife.

Malin rose back to his full height. His left arm hung useless at his side. Some of his ribs had started to heal. Itched, deep inside. He twitched his jaw. “Afraid yet, priest?”

“Anyone fears a rabid animal. Doesn’t mean they respect it.” Ketu glanced at his ally, then they both rushed Malin.

Malin leapt at a pillar, shifted his gravity to it for a moment, then kicked off. He landed with his knees on the Moon Scion’s shoulders. His weight bore the man down. He twisted his waist, snapped the fool’s neck.

Ketu’s back kick caught Malin in the face. Sent him sprawling. He lost his Blessing. Searing agony shot through him. His broken shoulder, broken ribs, broken nose. Consciousness began to slip away. Malin grasped at his Blessing, but it kept slipping. Concentrate.

Someone roared. Fighting.

Malin drew his Blessings in time to see Ketu kill a Macan Gadungan with a punch to the throat. Gasping, Malin struggled to regain his feet.

“I’ll enjoy putting you down, tiger,” Ketu said.

Malin snarled, staggered toward the priest. He couldn’t draw his Blessings any harder than he already had. Ketu probably couldn’t either.

Ketu jabbed at Malin’s jaw. Malin caught Ketu’s forearm on his own. Before the priest could react he slid his arm forward and grabbed Ketu’s shoulder. Yanked the priest down into Malin’s rising knee.

Ketu stumbled backward and fell. The priest swung his feet back under him. But then there were Macan Gadungan surrounding them.

“You’ve lost, priest,” Malin said.

Ketu lowered his hands and rose from his fighting stance.

Malin glanced at the dead weretiger. His arrogance had cost that life. He could have made the assault at night. Instead, he’d listened to his Moon Scion allies, who didn’t want to fight when they couldn’t see. He’d thought his new power meant nothing could stand against him.

“How much of it did you take, Malin?” Ketu said. “How much to become like us?”

What did it matter if anyone heard now? “One vial. It’s all we had.”

Ketu snorted. “An entire vial? You’re a fool. Even Chandi only had half a vial. Chandra knows what that will do to you. Perhaps you’re already a lunatic.”

Malin’s shoulder was trying to reset itself. The pain made spots swim in front of his eyes. “What am I to do with you, priest?”

He couldn’t kill Chandi’s father. He could almost taste the man’s blood. But Chandi would never forgive him for that. No matter how much the man deserved it. Maybe Ketu would never take his daughter back. Still, while he lived, Chandi had hope.

“Do with me?” Ketu snickered, then pointed at the gathered Macan Gadungan. Five men and women staring at Malin like he’d claimed to be Chandra himself. “What are you going to do with them? Didn’t tell them about your little secret? But they start to understand now, don’t they?”

“Be silent.”

“Or what?”

Malin stalked toward the priest. “If you want to see your daughter again, you’ll do what I say from this moment on. I want to know everything about this place. Everything. And I want you to order your people to follow me.”

“I have no daughter,” Ketu said. “I care nothing for your wants. Chandra will smite you for betraying his chosen children. I will laugh when he wipes your cursed bloodline from the earth, tiger.”

Malin snarled. Then he ripped out the man’s throat.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-TWO

The house in the rainforest had grown comfortable enough, over the last six days. Mahesa hunted for them, which left Ratna free to spend her days learning the secrets of her mother’s book. All the power of Rangda’s underworld lay at her fingertips.

And she was ready to use it.

“Ratna,” Mahesa said, “we don’t know what will happen if you do this.”

There wasn’t space in the little house, so she’d cleared away the grass, and made deep grooves in the ground. “I’m not backing away from the cliff this time.” Ratna dropped another stone into the grooves.

When it was done, when she had her daughter back, he’d understand.

“What cliff?” He hesitated. “Are you talking about the waterfall? Ratna, that was years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore. You can’t risk contacting the Spirit Realm over a stupid childhood stunt.”

She dropped another stone into place. “I’m going to have my family again soon, Mahesa.”

“I hope you find Revati, too. I just don’t think this is the way. You have no idea what you’re calling from Kahyangan.”

Ratna kissed him. “Trust me. I do know what I’m calling. I’m reuniting my family. Not just Revati. I can bring back my father.” Chandra-willing, maybe even her mother, in time.

Mahesa stood there gaping at her, eyes big as the moon. Ratna smirked. He’d never thought she had that kind of power. No one had believed in her before now—she hadn’t believed in herself. Now he knew she would be every bit the witch her mother was. More. She would not back away from any cliff.

Mahesa sputtered for a moment. “You’re serious. You want to violate the laws of gods and men? Your father was a lunatic. Even if you could bring him back, you shouldn’t. And I have to believe you can’t do it. I pray to Chandra with all my heart you can’t do it.”

Ratna glared at him. “Ketu and Chandi called him a lunatic. That’s all. He’ll be fine when he wakes up.”

“Wakes up? You sound like a lunatic yourself.”

Ratna threw up her hands. “If you don’t want to help just go. Go!”

She returned to her stones. Almost finished.

It was complex, she would grant that. She couldn’t just call up her father’s soul like any spirit. He wouldn’t hear her, and she didn’t have a Glyph for his soul. But she could call other spirits to reach him. Her mother had given her names of death spirits.

Mahesa had trudged off into the rainforest. Ratna climbed the ladder onto the porch to survey her work. She’d needed a circle of Glyphs for this. Plans and contingencies before cracking the gate to the underworld. Mahesa might think her foolish, but only because he didn’t see the depth of her planning. She’d call enough spirits at once, bind them to her will as her mother had done.

Of course her father’s body was gone. With the kind of power the book offered, she was sure she could command the spirits to fashion a new one for him.

The chant was simple enough, mostly just calling the spirits’ names. Ratna dropped the last stone in place and began the litany. She’d run it through her mind so many times she wouldn’t forget a syllable, even if she didn’t understand every word. Her mother had written in an old tongue, perhaps one the spirits understood better.

Mahesa sat nearby, watching her from a rock. Good that he had returned. He should see her moment of triumph.

She finished her litany. Nothing happened. Ratna glanced around, then began to repeat it. Halfway through, she thought she saw a stone tremble. Soon another, and another.

All the stones shook. Mahesa jumped from his perch. Had to focus. Ratna continued, repeating the words again and again.

“Spirits, bring me my father! Bring me the soul of Rahu!”

Mahesa rose and turned in a slow circle, gaping at the trembling stones.

She shoved him away. “Spirits, send me the soul of Rahu!”

Something washed over them. A faint gray mist out of the ground, perhaps, she wasn’t sure. It came fast, a pressure that rose from her feet to her head. Her ears popped. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she fell backward.

Mahesa fell to his knees. For a moment, he knelt there, shuddering. A tear ran down his face when he looked up at her. With a grimace, he rose, wiped his face. Looked in her eyes.

“Oh, daughter,” he said, his voice dry.

Ratna reached for him. “Father?” No. No, this wasn’t right. She couldn’t lose Mahesa. They had to make a new body. They must have that much power.

He took her hand. “My child, I wish I could save you. But you have opened the door yourself.” Her father stepped closer, brushed her cheek with his hand. “There’s nothing I can do for you against her power. You should not have breached her domain, not even for me.”

“What?”

Ratna gasped before he could answer. Pressure built in her abdomen. A spasm wracked her body. Something was inside her. She tried to scream but no sound came out.

Cold. It slithered inside her, wrapped around her heart. Hateful, so hateful. And ancient beyond imagining. It coiled up her spine, clouded her mind.

Her body wouldn’t answer her. She wailed. She raged. All she was started to slip away.

Her father spoke with Mahesa’s voice. “My Queen.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE

They passed the wreckage of at least a dozen ships on the way to Astral Shore. Chandi stood on the bow of the Queen of the South Sea, hand shielding her eyes from the sun. At least ten ships remained guarding the Astral Temple.

Her father wasn’t taking any chances.

“That’s a lot of ships,” Bendurana said. “Do we have a plan for this?”

“Yes,” Loro Kidul said. “We need to be closer, first.”

Chandi swore. Of course they did. “From the look of it, those ships are coming to meet us, anyway.”

Time to end this. Chandi didn’t know what she’d say to her father when she found him. But she knew he could never be allowed back in this Temple.

“Where is it?” she asked. “The Temple.”

Loro Kidul pointed to the cliffs above the beach. Chandi couldn’t see anything from here. The Queen drifted to the rail before Chandi could ask more.

“What are you going to do?” Ben said.

In the distance, the waters began to swirl. Chandi’s stomach lurched. She’d seen that before. Knew what it felt like to be caught in it.

The maelstrom formed just past the lead dhow. Larger than the one she’d seen before—hundreds of feet across. The dhow lost its forward momentum. The whirlpool caught one ship and then another, began to drag them in an arc.

Chandi grasped the rail. The sailor’s screams carried even over the distance, even over the roar of the maelstrom itself.

This was what they’d come to do. She forced herself to watch as six ships collided and were dragged into the sea.

“The Macan Gadungan are on shore,” Loro Kidul said. “How many can you fight?”

Chandi shrugged. Was Malin here? “Assuming you can use Landi’s skills? We could probably face ten or more. With the whole crew, maybe two or three times that.” Though against thirty weretigers, they’d lose a lot of people.

Loro Kidul turned back to the shore. She hefted her hands upward, as though pushing against something. Ben’s ship lurched, seemed to slide backward down a wave.

Chandi ran back to the bow. The tide had receded away from the shore. One ship, one that had fled the maelstrom to Astral Shore, had foundered.

“Gods save us,” Bendurana said.

Chandi glanced at him. “Ben, that wasn’t very creative.” She followed his gaze back to the sea.

The fleeing tide had swollen into a wave far offshore. Coming very fast.

“Get us out of here!” Ben shouted at his crew. “Hard starboard!”

Chandi gripped the rail until her hands hurt. The wave kept getting bigger and bigger. It surged forward like an ever-rising tide. Thirty feet high, or more. Emong, the wave of the tides.

Loro Kidul had angled it well, or she somehow preserved their own ship. The surging tide tossed the Queen of the South Sea about until Chandi had to wrap her arms around the gunwale. She screamed until her throat turned raw.

Chandra!

The dhows that had survived the maelstrom were less fortunate. The emong swept right over them. It carried them across the shore, smashed the ships themselves over the Macan Gadungan.

The wave at last broke against the cliffs, and then retreated. Chandi didn’t know how long it took Bendurana to regain control of the ship. She didn’t remember closing her eyes, but she didn’t open them again until the seas settled.

Loro leaned heavily on the rail. Landi’s shimmering hair hung about her face.

Ben stumbled over to his wife. “Ah, my love. I guess this means I’m no longer the greatest power on this ship, huh?”

Chandi stumbled across the deck. Her arms trembled and her throat hurt. No time to rest. She had to act while the Macan Gadungan were broken by the emong.

She climbed into one of the boats and waved the crew to join her. They had to press the advantage while they could. The boat dropped down in the sea, tossed about by the now receding tide.

“Sweet Chandra,” Chandi said when they had rowed the boats ashore. Timber and debris covered the beach. Not enough, though. Most of the wreckage, most of the bodies, had been swept back out to sea with the retreating tide.

Loro Kidul Strode to the cliffs. Chandi and the others hurried to catch up.

“They probably know we’re here,” Bendurana said. He turned about, taking in the wreckage.

Chandi stared at him. “Yes, Ben. I expect they do.”

Uncertainty covered the faces of the men and women they found outside the Temple. The temple guardians’ weapons trembled in their hands.

Chandi drew her toyaks. It was almost finished. One of the guardians on the wall hurled a seligi at her. Chandi dodged. Loro Kidul Strode to the wall and cut down the attacker.

Chandi charged a man at the front. Her toyak crushed his skull. She swept the feet from under another, then turned her sweep into a back kick. Her kick connected with the chest of a third man and hurtled him away.

One man advanced on Ben, his face grim. Bendurana fell back under the man’s assault. With that speed, he had to be a Moon Scion, or at least a weretiger.

Chandi drew her Blessings. An aerial cartwheel carried her over another attacker. She landed behind the man on Ben. Her toyaks crashed into both of his knees with sickening crunches. A swift blow to head silenced his screams.

The others fled or surrendered within moments. Loro Kidul had already killed most of the defenders on the wall. Regret boiled in Chandi’s stomach. These were her own people they had just massacred. The emong had so traumatized them, they’d never had a chance.

Chandi marveled at the endless string of temples inside the compound. Loro Kidul headed for the pillars at the heart of the complex, and the circular bowls they rimmed. One bowl had an opening down into an underground chamber. A ladder led down to another level with another set of pillars, and then down to a third level. Thirty-three pillars. Odd.

A Moon Scion tried to fight Loro Kidul on the lowest level. She Strode behind him and killed him in an instant.

Another ran for a side room. Chandi drew her Blessings and chased. She bolted through the door just before he threw it closed.

The man swung at her. Chandi dropped to the ground and kicked her legs together. She caught the man between them, sent him sprawling. She leapt to her feet and kicked him in the face as he tried to rise. His head jerked back and he lay still.

The room was metal, though not a metal she could identify. A variety of jars lined shelves around it. But the vials on the table drew her attention. Two vials. She open one and smelled it, though its look of glittering moonlight told her what it was. Amrita.

Chandi tucked both vials into her sarong. Her father had been busy. A vat of something bubbled and steamed in the corner. A metal rod extended from the ceiling, stirring the liquid in the vat. Was this how they brewed the Amrita?

Maybe she should destroy it all. But Chandi had no idea what she was looking at. There were books on the shelves, but she had no time to study the priests’ secrets.

The door opened, and Ben and Loro entered. Ben had his arm around her waist, grinning. The expression she gave him seemed caught between irritation and amusement, but she made no move to force him away.

Chandi knelt by the unconscious Moon Scion on the floor. He had fallen on top of some carvings. She pulled his body into the main room to reveal them. Nine circles, each carved with strange Glyphs inside an inner ring, all arranged in a greater circle.

“What is this?”

Loro Kidul glanced down. “The Nine Spheres of Creation.”

Meaning?

But Loro had already headed back into the main room. The same strange metal composed these walls, but here, levers and dials abounded. What in Chandra’s name was this place?

Blue crystals that reminded her of Kasusthali sat in the center of the room. Naresh had shown her the wonders of that city when she first came there. The Radiant Queen—not his mother, but one long before her—had actually grown the city under the sea. Were these crystals related?

Loro raised her hand over the unconscious man. Drops of water fell from it, landing on his face, until he stirred.

Chandi knelt beside him. “Where’s my father? Where’s Ketu?”

The man rubbed his head. “Malin killed him when we took the Temple.”

Not possible. No, she’d misheard him. She shut her eyes. Because her father was her only living blood relative.

Someone had a hand on her shoulder. “Chandi,” Ben said.

They’d taken the Temple. But they were too late.

She kept her eyes closed. “Where’s Malin?” He had betrayed her. Broken his promise to support her father—murdered him. The tiger had gone beyond all redemption. She could find Naresh and let him have Malin.

Except that Chandi wanted the tiger for herself.

“Returned to Bukit,” the man on the floor said.

She opened her eyes, turned to Loro Kidul. She should ask the spirit to release Landi. They’d taken the Temple. But the spirit had drifted over to another sealed door. She was looking at the strange sigils carved into the metal above it. Unlike any language Chandi had ever seen.

“Can you read it?” Ben asked.

Loro nodded, once. “All worlds tremble in the wake of the Lord of Time.”

“What does it mean?” he asked.

Chandi rose and approached. “It doesn’t matter. It’s time we ended this. Help me find Malin.”

“Ah, Chandi,” Ben said, shaking his head. “My dear, it is finished. We’ve taken the Temple, we’ve defeated Malin’s encampment here. Rejoice.” He elbowed Landi. “Right? Time for some celebration. So, you know, I’d like my wife back. You can return her before or after we celebrate, Loro.”

The spirit stared at him.

“Malin may know how to use this place as a weapon, just as my father did.”

Loro Kidul turned to look in her eyes. “Then kill these people. And I will help you get your vengeance, child.”

The Moon Scion on the floor drew a sharp breath. Bendurana sighed.

Chandi gritted her teeth. And she nodded.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR

The Macan Gadungan had not taken it well when Malin refused them the Amrita. He’d sworn those that had heard Ketu to secrecy. Tried to explain his reasons. But Malin understood the smoldering fury within them.

He was losing control of his own people.

“You heal even faster than other Jadian,” Pohaci had said on the dhow back to Bukit.

Maybe he did. The Amrita? Malin had wanted to tell his people the full truth about it. Doing so might break the Moon Scion hold on the Lunars forever. It might also incite his people to riot, drive them to try to become the next Moon Scions themselves. Malin had done so. Perhaps he had no right to deny it to others. Still, the idea of lunatic weretigers rampaging across the Skyfall Isles did not sit well with him.

Pohaci, though, he could trust. She said nothing as he told her of the lies the Moon Scions had told. Perhaps they could already fall no lower in her eyes. She only grunted when he admitted that Chandi had granted him the last vial. That he had taken it.

A delegation already awaited his arrival in Bukit. With the Hill Palace destroyed, and his own house too small, Malin had no choice but to meet at Indu Palace, down on the beach.

“They say you saw my son,” Mahesa’s father, Gantangan, said, while Malin waited for the gathered Moon Scions and Jadian to sit in the courtyard. “Does he live?”

Malin stared at the Moon Scion before answering. “Mahesa refused to join our alliance. I released him. I think he stole a boat with Ratna. After that, I neither know nor care.” And it was almost true.

“So we’re just assuming the werecrocodiles didn’t kill him?”

Pohaci spoke without stirring. “The Buaya Jadian didn’t kill the boy.”

“And we’re supposed to trust you? Do you not lie, steal, and murder as a calling?”

Malin couldn’t hold back his snarl, which sent several Moon Scions scampering backward. Rangda take them. “Pohaci is one of us. She helped overthrow Ketu. Some of you are alive today because of her courage.”

“Being an assassin is not courage,” a Moon Scion said.

“Let’s get to the real question, here,” Sunten said. The Macan Gadungan folded his arms. “Are you our new War King, Malin?”

At that, several Moon Scions murmured, cursing under their breath, unaware or uncaring that Malin could catch every word.

Chandra help him. Malin cracked his neck. “The war is over. The Solars are broken, Ketu is dead. We need no War King.”

Gantangan rose. “So be it. We return to the way things were before the Fourth War. Each House, lord of its own domain.”

“No.” Malin stood. “The Lunars are no longer going to be ruled by the Moon Scions alone. We all fought together, we rule together.”

“If you think we’re taking orders from Macan Gadungan or Buaya Jadian—” one Scion began.

“I think you’re done giving orders!” Malin slapped a tree, sending splinters flying.

Mahesa’s father took a step toward him. “You really did it, didn’t you? You killed Ketu without giving a thought toward how you were going to administer this new Lunar Empire.”

Had he? Two steps brought him face-to-face with the man. He grabbed him by the baju and lifted him off his feet. “Maybe what we need is not a War King. Maybe we need a Lunar Emperor after all.”

Murmurs ran through the assembly. Murmurs that Ketu had said the same thing. Malin dropped the Moon Scion.

“Perhaps what we need is a council to govern the empire,” Pohaci said.

Sunten chuckled. “You don’t really think the Moon Scions and the Jadian are just going to sit around and get along, do you?”

More Scions bristled. Several rose to their feet.

“Enough,” Malin said. “I’ll entertain suggestions. Emperor or council, we will discuss this tomorrow afternoon. Sleep.”

Malin pushed his way out of the courtyard before anyone could object. Rangda take politicians.

Maybe he never understood the burdens Ratna bore. She used to climb the cliff to think. Malin hated sitting and thinking.

He took the path back up from the beach and sat watching the harbor. Chandra’s face had risen in the sky when he heard someone climbing up after him. Few people took this path. It was faster than traveling through the hills, but the slope was treacherous and narrow.

Pohaci crested the ridge, then sat down beside him.

“I should have kept Ratna here. Tried harder to make her understand.”

“She has too much of her father in her,” Pohaci said. “She wasn’t going to understand.”

“They’re right. I have no idea what to do next.”

“Can you be emperor?”

Malin scratched his arms. The tiger wanted out tonight. The moon called to it. “I don’t think so.”

“Then why not leave it all behind? What do we care for the Moon Scions? We can take Bangdvipa and leave them all.”

Malin slapped his knee. “No! We’re not leaving. For more than two decades we served them. Strength rules the Lunars, always has. It’s time we got what they owe us.”

Pohaci shrugged. “So establish a council. One member of each remaining House, plus two members from each of the Jadian bloodlines.”

“That’s a lot more Moon Scions than Jadian.”

She twisted to look at him, just a bit. “That’s the point. They’re more likely to swallow such an offering.”

Malin grunted. Clever.

After a long time, Pohaci spoke again. “I don’t remember much before I became Buaya Jadian. It’s my whole life, really.”

He looked over at her. “Calon liked to take them young for the Buaya Jadian. I didn’t realize she took any so young they wouldn’t remember.”

“I remember flashes. I think we had a nice house. They said my parents died in Rahu’s war. With no one left to care for me, I was the ideal candidate.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “We all had our reasons for joining. I never understood what it meant until after.”

“Reasons?” She stopped, looked up into his eyes. “I didn’t join. The witch, Calon, came and tied me down. She drew marks on my naked body in blood, crocodile blood, maybe. I didn’t understand her words. Then I felt it crawling up through my soul. I felt it taking over my body, felt myself lost to the beast forced inside me by the War King’s wife.”

Malin caught himself snarling. Almost a shame Rahu was dead. Malin would like to kill him again. Forcing the transformation on someone …

“Did Ketu know about this?”

Pohaci shook her head. “I don’t know. I never knew him. Only Rahu and Calon, before she died.” She blinked, then, and turned to him, trembling. “Now you know my secrets, too. My whole life, I’ve been nothing but this slave.”

Malin wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “The Buaya Jadian are free now. You can go wherever you wish.”

She leaned back against him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE

Malin’s stomach grumbled. He should take his evening meal before returning to Indu Palace, but it was best to get this over with. The arrogant Moon Scions had summoned him. Malin was done being summoned. House Soma had treated him this way for years, but every last member of that House had fled Swarnadvipa or died.

The palace doors stood open, inviting him in. Fitting. He glared at a guard until the man averted his gaze, then stepped through and wound his way back to the courtyard.

A dozen Moon Scions had gathered. Those who had fought for him, those who’d fought for Ketu, now all stood in a cluster watching him. As if he was now the enemy.

“Where are the Buaya Jadian representatives?” he said. “Where are the other Macan Gadungan?”

Gantangan spoke. “You seem to speak for the Jadian, so we summoned only you.”

Malin glared at each lord and Moon Scion in turn. “This was to be a meeting to discuss the new Lunar council.”

“We have already voted against that plan. We will return to Moon Scion jurisdiction of the empire, as before Rahu’s rise.”

Malin cracked his neck. Nonsense. “So you’re telling me the Moon Scions voted to place themselves in charge.” He bared his teeth at one who opened his mouth. “The Lunar Empire is in shambles,” he said. “We have to consolidate. We have to find those who will join us now that Ketu is dead.”

“That’s part of the problem,” one Moon Scion said. “Ketu had a lot of support. The stories about you ripping out his throat with your bare hands have spread. No one trusts you, Malin. You’re violent, chaotic.”

“So was Ketu. So was Rahu.”

A woman scoffed. “And you killed them for it. Maybe it’s time you stepped down. Rumor is someone declared himself the Ratu Adil on Suladvipa. Maybe we should join them.”

Others murmured approval. They spoke of making alliance with Solars or Ignis. They whined about how he’d left Macan Gadungan and Moon Scions in joint custody of the Astral Temple. They complained that he’d allowed Buaya Jadian to remain there, to carry authority, even.

As though Pohaci and her people hadn’t helped form this alliance. As though their efforts hadn’t helped bring down Ketu.

It shouldn’t surprise him. Rahu’s war had united the Houses, but only after he’d destroyed those who opposed him.

Malin growled. It started low in his stomach, and the Moon Scions continued their yammering until the growl rose into his chest. “Silence!”

Several stood with their mouths agape. Perhaps no one had ever spoken to them thus. Perhaps someone should have.

“We have an alliance, an arrangement. Moon Scion arrogance created the last civil war. And here you aim to repeat Ketu’s mistakes.”

Gantangan stepped forward, though Malin could smell the fear radiating off him. “Not at all. The Jadian are free to leave. We’ll even cede you Bangdvipa. You need not remain part of the Lunar Empire. The children of the Moon God grant you liberty. Take it.”

Huh. Pohaci had said the same thing. Malin looked around at each face, then edged closer to the man. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Malin shoved him. Hard enough the man flew backward into his peers and sent several of them tumbling to the ground. “We are Lunars! Most of the Jadian were born on Swarnadvipa, born into the Empire. We didn’t fight to escape it, we fought to join it.” Someone tried to speak, but Malin just shouted louder. “Children of the Moon God? Even now you perpetuate these lies? Form the council, or all Lunars will know the secrets you keep from them.”

Several of the Moon Scions look at each other, murmured.

“Yes, I’m talking about the Amrita.”

One woman gasped. A couple of men raised their hands into fighting stances. The spirit shifted under his skin, itching to get out. Of course, he probably couldn’t actually defeat them all.

“Get over your arrogance and grant us our due, or all the Skyfall Isles will know the truth you’re so eager to hide.” He leaned toward the woman whose mouth still hung open. “I’ve tasted it. Sweet. I’m sure other Lunars would like a taste. Maybe even some Ignis … or Solars?”

Mahesa’s father rose. “You wouldn’t dare …”

“Let’s not find out.” Malin spun on his heel, but shouted over his shoulder. “I expect everyone here tomorrow night for our council elections.”

Maybe his grand dreams of equality were foolish idealism. Maybe he should declare himself emperor.

Instead of ending the problem, Ketu’s death had illuminated the cracks in Malin’s alliance. He’d not meant to kill the man. Ketu had a special talent for infuriating Malin. But then, Malin never controlled his temper well.

If this all fell apart around him, he had no one else to blame. Malin brushed past the startled guards at the door and stalked down the beach.

He’d been a fool. Thrown together these people on promises and his dreams of vengeance. He had vengeance now. It all left a foul taste in his mouth.

But what was the point of second-guessing himself? He’d made his choices.

Choices that would forever separate him from Chandi and Ratna, the two people he’d cared for most. Even if they lived, he’d probably never see them again. Neither would forgive him for what he’d done, regardless.

He caught himself snarling at nothing in particular. For a long time, he walked up and down the beach. He had to leave Chandi and Ratna behind. He’d likely never see either again, and if he did, it wouldn’t be pleasant. No. Too much had gone.

Time to move forward.

At last he slipped into the Buaya Jadian communal house. He’d given them the choice to move into proper Bukit, but most remained here. Chose not to face the fear and persecution.

Pohaci lay there, nestled among the congregation of her kind. Malin watched her for a moment before he knelt beside her. As usual, she wore only one button on her baju done up. He put his hand on her neck.

One of her eyes popped open. The only movement she made, but he could feel the sudden rise in her pulse. Smell her excitement.

Damn all consequences.

He reached his hand under her, and another arm under her legs. She slipped her arm around his neck, her eyes never leaving his face. He lifted her up, carried her from the house.

She hardly blinked as he carried her along the beach, or up the cliff path to Bukit. Malin shouldered his way into his house.

As they passed the threshold, Pohaci leaned up into him. Her lips pressed on his, her teeth. The salty taste of her mouth filled him. She nuzzled her neck against his, ripped open her baju with one hand.

Malin couldn’t catch his breath. He tossed Pohaci onto his bed.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SIX

“If it makes you so unhappy, we could leave this all behind,” Pohaci said. “You and me.”

Malin tossed papers back on the table. “Run away? I’ve tried that. Won’t get us anywhere.”

“I was trying to help.”

“Well, you’re not helping,” he said. “Flippant suggestions about abandoning all I’ve worked for are not a help.”

Pohaci narrowed her eyes. “All we’ve worked for, Malin.”

Malin grunted.

“Is that it? You don’t need me anymore?”

He spun on her. “I never said that. You’re a very useful ally. One of my best.”

“Useful?” She scowled. “Useful. Very well, Malin. I’m yours to use. I can never repay the debt I owe you.”

Malin leaned over the table. “I don’t have time for this.” The damn girl could see he was busy. He had to prepare for tonight’s elections. Given the chance, he’d see her represent the Buaya Jadian.

But he didn’t have time to figure her out.

After a stiff bow, Pohaci left him alone in his house, stalking out into the night.

Between the Fifth War and the civil war among the Lunars, it was hard to know which lords of which Houses still lived, beyond the ones in Bukit. But if he declared the council without including the other Houses, it could stir up more unrest.

Malin cracked his neck and tried to ease the tension in his shoulders. Reports should have come from the Astral Temple this morning. The last thing he needed was more trouble there. He had at most a phase before he had to meet the Moon Scions and settle the fate of the Lunar Empire. Not enough time to deal with the Temple.

And what in Rangda’s name was that racket outside? He tried to focus on the papers, at least until the scent of smoke reached him, stung his sinuses. Smoke from his house. Malin growled, rushed out onto his porch. His roof was on fire.

Moon Scions stood about, torches and weapons in hand. “You had your chance to listen to us, Malin,” Gantangan said. “We can’t let you make good on those threats. Not at any cost.”

Malin had liked this house. He ripped open his baju. “Very stupid to do this at night.”

They seemed confident the six of them could take him. Malin felt the tiger spirit surge up through him as he changed. Refreshing pain as his muscles shifted position. Glorious fur sprouted across his body. As the tiger, he kicked away his sarong.

Malin circled his attackers. His bravado must have set them on edge. Good. In this state, it was harder to control the influence of the tiger spirit on his mind. Malin no longer cared. Let the beast take him.

He drew his Potency Blessing and leapt on Mahesa’s father. Bore him down and clenched his jaws around the Moon Scion’s throat and bit down until the man’s thrashing stopped. The others rushed him.

Malin released his victim, dug his claws through the man’s chest as he leapt away. The Moon Scion did not rise.

A woman lunged at him with a keris. He took the blow on his foreleg. His claws disemboweled her.

A third cracked his back leg with a toyak. Malin drew his Blessing harder to blot out the pain. It didn’t matter. With his natural healing augmented by the Amrita, he seemed able to recover from broken bones in a phase.

He leapt onto another Moon Scion and raked his claws along the man. The Moon Scion fell, screaming, clutching his ravaged face and chest.

The last three tried to run. Malin closed the distance to the first in an instant. Brought the man down in the street and sunk his teeth into the man’s throat. When the Moon Scion had gone still, Malin dashed off after the two last traitors.

The man made it to the cliffs.

“Please. I surrender.”

Malin tore him down, then moved on to the final one. She didn’t plead for her life. He took a lash from her ekor pari across the face before he killed her.

He walked back to Bukit naked and bloody. The night market crowd had gathered to collect the bodies. They stared at him.

He couldn’t miss their revulsion or horror.

His house was well ablaze by now. He snatched his sarong off the porch. Everything he owned burned.

Damned Moon Scions.

So now he’d lost all his possessions and most of his allies. Malin had launched a civil war among the Lunar Empire. The revolution he’d started had grown beyond him. If he didn’t put an end to this, the Lunar Empire would join the Solar Empire in oblivion. If it wasn’t already too late.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SEVEN

They’d reach Swarnadvipa before long. The thought of killing Malin had soured her stomach. She had to conjure up images of her dead father to steel her resolve. Of course, she hadn’t seen the body. They said Malin had performed all the funeral services for her father to guide his soul back to the Wheel of Life.

So be it. She’d do the same for him. She had to hold on to her rage. If she let it go, after ordering all those people executed … Chandi had killed before. Somehow, ordering so many to die was different. Her stomach wouldn’t settle.

What would Naresh think? She’d chided him for even considering such slaughter.

She climbed the poop deck to stand beside Bendurana. The Queen of the South Sea made good time, though Loro Kidul no longer helped it along. Perhaps she saved her strength. Either way, the wind favored them.

Naresh was right. She never should have given Malin the Amrita. And Chandra, why had she left him like that? Had she let her anger cost her something she couldn’t replace? No. Never. He’d forgive her. He had to.

He had to.

“Ah, Chandi,” Ben said, “your fans have arrived.” He pointed to another ship on an intercept course.

“Should we evade them?” she asked.

He shrugged. “With Loro on our side? If they mean us harm I pray for their souls.”

The spirit holding Landorundun stood at the bow, watching the horizon.

The other dhow drew up alongside them. It made no aggressive move, so Chandi hurried to the rail.

She almost tripped over her feet when she saw the woman on the opposite ship. “Ratna? Is that you?”

Her cousin turned to face her, her eyes cold. “Chandi.” Ratna’s smile made the hair on Chandi’s neck rise. Her cousin leaned on the rail, flashing her teeth.

“Ratna.” Chandi waved her over. “Please. I’ve missed you, cousin.”

Ratna snickered. “The host wishes to speak.” A shudder ran through her, and then another. Ratna looked up, gasped. “Chandi! I made a mistake, you don’t know—”

Ratna shuddered again, then laughed. Her cousin rocked with laughter, grinning. For a moment, her eyes glowed.

Chandi tried to speak, but couldn’t find words.

Loro Kidul was beside her then. “That is not your cousin.”

Chandi reached toward her cousin. “Ratna? Can you hear me?” She glanced at Loro, whose face had turned dark as the stormy sea, then back at Ratna. It was impossible … Not her, too. “Fight it, Ratna. I know you’re in there. Come to me and we’ll drive out whatever’s inside you.”

Ratna’s laugh tickled Chandi’s spine like ice.

“There’s only one help for her,” Loro Kidul said. The woman Sun Strode onto the opposite ship.

“Stop!” Chandi shouted as Loro Kidul thrust her keris at Ratna.

Ratna flicked her wrist and the keris hurtled out of Loro Kidul’s hand. The Queen Strode away, back to their ship. Ratna flicked her wrist again and the dhow leapt like a Fire-Lance had struck it.

The deck exploded where Loro Kidul appeared. Splinters shot in all directions. Water and debris rained down around them as Chandi and the crew dove to the deck. One unlucky crewman wasn’t fast enough. A two-foot plank rammed through his torso and hurled him from the ship.

“Landi!” Ben shouted, running to the rail.

The blast must have thrown Landorundun off the ship, too.

The sky turned dark over them. Lightning flashed and thunder roared.

Chandi pulled herself to her feet. “Ratna, stop!”

A crewman shot a gandewa at her cousin. Ratna twisted aside from the arrow and raised her hand to the sky. A bolt of lightning screeched down onto the crewman. The crash ripped all sound from Chandi’s ears and the force of the impact sent her flying, falling.

Sinking. Saltwater filled her mouth and lungs. She reflexively gasped for air, the water burning her insides. Which way was up? The waters swirled around her, spun her about.

Strong arms wrapped around her ribs and pulled her toward the surface. Water spewed from her lungs as her rescuer squeezed. Coughing, she just caught sight of Loro—a mermaid again—before she dove back under the waves.

The wild seas tossed her into the hull. The impact dazed her, but only for a moment. She drew her Blessings to shift her gravity to the hull and ran up it.

Chandi hefted herself up over the gunwale, and rose to her feet. Her cousin stood a few feet away, smiling at her. This wasn’t the Queen of the South Sea.

“Ratna!”

“Ratna is gone,” the spirit said.

Chandi started for her, then the seas jerked. Lances of water shot out and pummeled Ratna and her crew. Loro rose atop a geyser and landed back on the Queen of the South Sea.

Ratna only laughed and started walking toward Landi. “Yes, little spirit, tell them who I am.”

Boards and debris flew from the waters and ripped off both ships, forming a bridge in the air between the two dhows.

Landi stood beside Ben, human again, tying her sarong. “Queen of the Underworld.”

Chandi started for her cousin again. Ratna turned and blew her a kiss. And then one of the dead crewmen grabbed Chandi’s foot.

The corpse—it had to be with the neck broken back like that—rose, holding her leg with one hand and reaching for her shoulder with another.

“Nirrti, please, release us,” Ben shouted, clutching to Loro’s arm.

Ratna laughed again and trod across the hovering bridge. “In these lands, it’s Rangda, Serendibian.”

Chandi balked. Rangda? As in … Rangda Demon Queen? She shook herself. Blessings drawn, she elbowed the corpse in the face. It spun around, its skull issuing a sickening crack, but didn’t release her leg. Chandi stomped on its wrist twice before it let her go.

Rangda stopped in the middle of the bridge and raised one hand, then let it fall like a hammer. The Queen of the South Sea’s mast ruptured, shot down through the deck, through the hull itself. A geyser of seawater erupted from beneath it. “I’ll enjoy watching you all die.”

Sweet Chandra.

The blast knocked Ben and Landi to the deck and tossed many other crewmen over the side.

Rangda glanced over her shoulder as Chandi ran for her. “Back for you later, cousin.”

Chandi leapt onto the bridge and dashed at Rangda. Her cousin turned to face her, grinning, and shrugged. Seawater drenched the planks and boards, making her every step slip.

As Chandi neared the Demon Queen, she let herself slide right off the edge of the bridge and shifted her gravity to the underside. Chandra let this work. She held it just long enough to continue her slide, then flipped back around to topside behind Rangda.

She scissored her legs together and sent Rangda tumbling to the boards. The bridge began to crumble beneath them.

Chandi did a back handspring to right herself, bouncing off the falling boards, then another to land on the Queen of the South Sea. It was sinking fast.

She ran to Ben and Loro. Ben had a piece of plank through his leg. Loro leaned in and kissed him while she pulled it out.

As Chandi knelt beside her, Loro grabbed her hand. “Save him.”

“Landi?” Was it her?

She nodded once. “We’re both here. And we have to stop this.”

Rangda stood on a board, levitating in the air, then stepped off onto the Queen of the South Sea. Her laughter rippled through Chandi’s mind like the screech of bats.

And then Landi was standing beside Rangda. The Demon Queen swung at her. Landi ducked and slammed her palm into Rangda’s face. Twice more, she pounded Rangda, before the Demon Queen slumped.

Then her backhand caught Landi across the face and sent her flying into the wall of the poop deck. Wood splintered from the impact.

Chandi pulled a toyak and hurled it at Ratna. The club spun end-over-end to her face, then stopped in midair. It hovered a moment, then launched back at her. Chandi dove to the deck as the weapon Malin had given her flew out to sea.

Landi rose, blood pouring from her nose and mouth, and stumbled forward. “Save my husband, Chandi.”

“No! Stop!”

Ben reached for her, but she Strode right up to Rangda. The instant they collided, she Strode again, carrying the Demon Queen back to the other ship.

Ben stumbled to the rail, Chandi on his heels.

Rangda pounded into Landi, her blows reducing the Guardswoman’s face to a bloody mess. The woman stumbled, but Rangda caught her by the throat, lifting her up with one hand. Landi struggled, kicking her, punching her arms and face. Rangda reeled under Landi’s blows, but continued to squeeze.

“They’re not for you.” Loro’s voice, Landi’s voice, seemed to echo up from the depths. The waves rose with it, pulling the ships apart.

Landi’s body stopped struggling, but still the waves surged higher. Something seemed to flow down through Landorundun and gush into the sea.

Then that power exploded.

An emong rose between the two ships, hurtling the remains of the Queen of the South Sea away as the wave crashed down upon Rangda’s ship.

The wave flung the Queen of the South Sea like a toy. It lilted so far Chandi was sure it would capsize. Her feet skidded and slipped across the near-vertical deck. She snatched the rigging as she fell. Ben flew by her. Chandi grabbed his arm, drew her Potency Blessing to support them both. Agony shot through her shoulder as Ben’s weight almost yanked it out of its socket.

The sea washed over them, blinded her.

Chandra save us, she prayed.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-EIGHT

Running Pohaci off had been foolish. Malin had caught her scent from time to time, but she hadn’t come into his presence in the last two days. But Malin had too many problems to track her down right now.

Problems like the Moon Scion before him. The man didn’t tremble, but Malin could smell his fear.

“I’m not going to bite you,” he said.

The Moon Scion bowed. “Of course not. It’s just that the others, they refused to come.”

Malin scowled. He’d demanded the lords of the remaining Houses attend him. Precious little remained of his alliance. Damn Moon Scions crumbled as soon as they weren’t the ones in control.

“Everyone knows about how you … disposed of your last advisors. No one wants to take up their roles. There’s rumor a new Moon Scion may win their loyalty.”

Malin grabbed the man by the baju. “Those men betrayed me. Don’t repeat their mistake. Get out there, and bring me the Moon Scions.”

For a moment, the man’s eyes flashed. Fear must have won out. The man nodded.

Malin slumped when the Moon Scion left. This was it then. He’d lost them. All his allies had turned on him. With their common enemy gone, now they’d grasp for their own power.

Malin kicked his table. A fool to think he could hold these people together. The Solars all but gone, Rahu and Ketu gone. And now the Lunar Empire would dissolve right back into civil war.

His people were free now. Easier to just leave. Wander the rainforest. Let it all go. The spirit within growled. It tried to creep up through his veins, rising behind his eyes.

So easy to let it. Let it take him. Run the wilds, hunt and kill. Destroy those who had wronged him one after another. Be free.

Malin rose, stalked from the house he’d taken from a dead Moon Scion. Too big a place for him, a palace really. All these affectations of civilization were posturing. Men could live in houses three times the size they needed. Prove themselves better, somehow.

The night market held nothing to interest him tonight. He drifted from stall to stall. Needed to find something to care about. Even fresh rendang failed to entice him.

He missed Chandi. Even Ratna. Funny, he could see either of them walk up to him now. Forgive it all. Take the throne and save Swarnadvipa. He walked the path to the cliff where they used to watch the sea. Somehow, he’d lost both charges he’d sworn to protect. And what had it gained him?

He’d cast aside his friendship with Bendurana for vengeance on Empu Baradah. Malin stared out over the sea, as the girls had done. Bendurana would be out there, somewhere. Once, Malin too had been a sailor.

He’d cast aside Chandi and Ratna for vengeance on Rahu and Ketu. So easy to blame the tiger spirit inside him. Its never-ending lust for revenge.

From the edge of the cliff he could see the beach, but not the wetlands. Maybe Pohaci was down there somewhere. His last friend, if he hadn’t forever driven her away. And she’d almost worshipped him since he saved her. Strange, now, to think her face used to remind him of Chandi. Now he could close his eyes and see Pohaci only as herself.

If he walked the path down the cliff face, he could reach the wetlands. He wanted to take that path. Once he started down it, he knew he could see it through. Find her.

So lost in thought, he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until they drew near. “Malin.”

Malin snarled at the interruption, turned to face the man. His chest tightened in surprise at the figure. “Mahesa?”

The boy approached. The spirit in Malin recoiled in a way he’d never felt. But Mahesa’s walk had changed. More confident, an edge of danger. Good for him.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Malin said. “Have you come to join me? Is Ratna with you?”

Malin could use all the allies he could find. And if Mahesa brought Ratna back with him, even better. Malin would give a lot to put their past behind them, to be family. The girl just needed to accept he was no longer a servant.

Mahesa tapped one finger against his lip. “I’ve come to take what’s mine, tiger.” He dropped into a fighting stance.

A crowd had gathered on the path to Bukit. To watch a duel.

Malin laughed. “You? Little Mahesa plans to challenge me for leadership of the Lunars? Boy, I haven’t declared myself War King. Did Ratna put you up to this?”

“I promised you I’d have revenge, beast.”

Malin dropped into his own fighting stance. “Revenge for what? Sparing your life?”

Mahesa circled him, his form perfect. Malin kept his hands up, fingers curled, as he turned with Mahesa. The boy launched a fast jab. Malin parried. Mahesa moved faster, his cross caught Malin in the jaw. Mahesa’s other hand slipped from Malin’s parry, slapped him in the temple.

Staggered, Malin couldn’t react. Both Mahesa’s palms caught him in the chest, sending him flying backward.

Malin hit the ground on his back. Couldn’t breathe. With each gasp he tried to pull air back into his lungs. He’d never seen the boy move that fast. Had seen very few Moon Scions that could hit that hard. Not even Chandi.

Malin drew his Potency Blessing. Enough of this. He rolled to his feet.

Mahesa charged him, swept at his legs. Malin blocked the kick with his leg. Launched a series of blows. Mahesa blocked each. Escaped every grab Malin made.

The boy caught Malin’s wrist. Yanked Malin right into the incoming elbow.

Malin retreated up the cliff, spitting blood. He’d only felt that kind of strength once. Rahu, who’d been addicted to the Amrita.

“Took more of the Amrita, did you?”

Mahesa continued to advance. “Ironic accusation, beast.”

“Since when did you start calling me beast, Mahesa?”

Mahesa extended a hand to his side. “Did you think death would deny me my revenge?” A tree trembled. The shaking intensified until the trunk splintered. Shards of wood like spears broke away from it.

Malin gaped. He drew his Blessing harder, flung himself to the ground. The spears flew past him faster than any seligi.

“I’ve come to reclaim my throne. I am beyond death. I will rule the Lunar Empire until the end of time.”

Impossible. “Rahu?” Malin scrambled to his feet, launched himself at the man.

Rahu caught his wrist, spun it around behind his back. “You will suffer eternal torment for your betrayal, Malin.”

Malin jerked his elbow into Rahu’s face. The man—ghost—staggered backward. “Cutting off your head not enough to keep you in the underworld? I’ll find something worse.”

Rahu moved like lightning, launched countless attacks. Malin parried each, just as Rahu blocked his. A Moon Scion weretiger, now he could finally match the man’s speed and strength.

Again and again they traded blows.

Malin blocked on the inside, turned the block into a jab. It caught Rahu on the chin. The instant it slowed him was all Malin needed. He wrapped his arm around Rahu’s. Yanked him into his headbutt.

His other fist pounded into Rahu’s ribs.

Rahu’s knee caught him in the abdomen. Malin tried to block the pain. Kept pummeling Mahesa’s body.

Something slammed into Malin’s shoulders, hurtled him away. He skidded along the ground, the rocks raking gashes along his face and arms.

Malin tried to push himself up, but his body wouldn’t respond. Gasping, he forced himself to roll over.

Rahu stood there, in Mahesa’s body, blood gushing from his broken nose. One hand grasped his ribs. Malin had probably broken three or four. The other hand reached into the sky. A palm tree floated there, dirt falling from its dangling roots.

Malin’s legs trembled as he rose. Had the man hit him with a Chandra-damned tree? He was lucky his back wasn’t broken.

Rahu glared at him. Shouted something inarticulate. The tree hurtled through the air, spinning in a horizontal arc.

Malin tried to dive under it. It came too fast.

The thing caught him in the abdomen. Pain blinded him, but he held his Blessing. Had to hold it. He felt himself flying through the air.

Falling off the cliff.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-NINE

“Kertajaya tried to press his claim as Ratu Adil,” Semar said.

Naresh nodded. Of course he would. And Naresh was running out of time to decide what to do about it. Lang had returned to rejoin his uncle. With the power of the Firewalkers behind him, Kertajaya might really do it, conquer the Isles.

“He has at least two challengers after the title, though. The Spice King to the east, and a Lunar. Currently laying siege to Daha.”

Naresh stumbled as they walked along the riverbank. A man in a wide-brimmed hat paddled a canoe past them, casting a wary glance their way. His passing sent ripples through the otherwise calm river.

Semar paused until Naresh caught up.

“Malin? Ketu?” Naresh’s breath came short. He didn’t need the tea to keep the fever down anymore, but his strength returned slowly. Of course, the thing about malaria was that it could recur any time.

Semar shook his head and continued their trek upriver. “There was a Moon Scion lord, head of his House. His little brother went lunatic and was slain for it. This lord lost not only his brother, but his wealth and prestige, as well. Driven to the edge of poverty, cast out from Bukit, he turned to piracy. He might have made a mediocre pirate but for his tendency to draw men to his banner. When he spoke, people listened. In that way, you have something in common.”

Naresh snorted. He was nothing like this Lunar. So a former pirate was willing to challenge Kertajaya. “But the real question here is what you will do, Semar. If you allow Lang to call enough Firewalkers to aid Kertajaya, how can this Lunar hope to defeat him?”

“We have a long way to go today. Save your strength. It will be worth it.”

Naresh scratched his head. Hiking through the mountains would help him regain his stamina, but it wasn’t exactly his idea of fun. His leg hurt. “You haven’t even told me what you need to show me out here.”

“Very observant.”

Damn priest. Naresh trudged on after the man. “So who is this Lunar?”

“His name is Rangguwani. He was the lord of House Kshuparaka. He remains the lord in name, though that House has fallen out of favor.”

Kshuparaka. Why did that sound familiar? Semar stared at him, as if daring him to ask. Fine.

“Just tell me what I’m missing, priest.”

Semar smiled, and ushered him further into the highlands. “Some things take more than words.”

Surya’s glare!

No wonder Chandi hated the man. Still, she’d have loved this trek. She’d often spoken of hiking in the mountains of Swarnadvipa, in her childhood.

“Were I to explain everything,” Semar said, “it would mean less than if you came to understand on your own.”

Wherever they were going, it would have been easier to Stride them both there and be done with it. Well, the exercise was good for him.

Semar climbed a rock ledge, then extended a hand to help Naresh up. The ledge was slick, slippery. Naresh could have Strode atop it, but Semar easily hefted him up. The priest was stronger than he looked.

From a distance, the sound of rushing water reached him. Naresh looked around. Mist rose over the mountains ahead.

“You never answered my question. This Rangguwani is attacking Daha. Will you allow your people to aid Lang and Kertajaya?”

“Should I?” Semar continued on, upriver.

The sound of the water grew more intense as they drew near. Wet mist breezed over his face and tingled his nose. Ahead, Semar pointed to another rock outcropping, at least twenty feet high.

“You could take us there the easy way, or we can climb.”

The man was testing him. Naresh blew out a breath. Chandi had once said it was the climb itself that mattered. Fine. His leg raged with jolts of fire every time he pressed it against the rock. Moss covered the handholds, making them slimy and slippery. Ten feet up, his hand gave way, and he started to slip down.

Semar caught his elbow and helped him back to the rock. He hadn’t even realized the priest had climbed up behind him.

At last, Naresh crested the rock and pulled himself over. He bent and reached a hand to Semar, then helped the Igni up as well.

From here, he had a perfect view of a string of waterfalls that ran along the opposite bank of the river, falling from the cliffs. Forty feet high, maybe higher, though spread thin over a large area. Greenery overhung the waterfall and rose above it in the mountains beyond.

“It’s beautiful.”

Semar nodded. “Up here, the river is a torrent. Tossed and changed and churned and refreshed, all by the force of the weight falling on it. But downstream, after flowing around many bends, it’s calm. At ease once again, at least until it reaches the sea.”

The combination of sweat and mist left Naresh drenched, and his hands were slimy with the moss. He had no desire to unravel whatever Semar was trying to tell him. But this place. Despite the sound of pouring water, the chirping birds, the buzzing insects, it felt still. Safe, clean.

Yes. Chandi would have loved it.

“I’m worried about my wife.”

“You will see her again.”

Naresh rubbed the water from his face, then realized he’d just wiped the moss grit on his forehead. Semar sounded so certain, Naresh could almost make himself believe. He had to believe.

So many things she’d tried to tell him, and he hadn’t heard her. If Semar was right, then by Surya, he’d listen next time. And maybe she had had to go. Just so long as she came back to him.

Empu Baradah was his father. But in the end, he was a good man, and he’d loved Naresh’s mother. So … Maybe it didn’t matter Naresh was their bastard son. And maybe, in Chandi’s place, maybe he’d have kept it secret, too. Or, if not, at least he could see why she would.

“If we are to move past the war and chaos,” Semar said, “the Skyfall Isles will need a leader. When that leader comes, first there will be more change, but eventually we can hope for calm.”

So. “If it comes to choosing between the two, much as it pains me, I’d have to go with the Lunar.” Anything had to be better than following Kertajaya, a man that had betrayed his own family. Kertajaya had tried to have Ken Arok killed.

Because Semar was right. The separate dynasties were not enough, anymore. Too much had fallen. And that meant they needed this Ratu Adil, insane as the idea sounded.

“Are you certain those are your only choices?” the fire priest asked.

“I don’t know.” But Naresh was no leader himself, if that’s what Semar was still implying. He couldn’t unite the Solars, much less the other dynasties. He was a warrior. He brought death and chaos, not unity.

He turned to Semar. “Is Rangguwani a good man?”

“He is a bold man. In a crisis, sometimes boldness is all that matters.”

For half a phase or so they sat. Then Semar rose. “Change is painful, Naresh. But necessary. It’s the flow of life. Without the cycle, you find only stagnation and decay.”

Or corruption.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY

The sun warmed Chandi, despite the tide washing over her legs and soaking her sarong. She lay on a beach. Sand caked her face, her arms. It had crept in under her clothes, rubbed her skin raw.

Breathing hurt. She spit out grit. Had to sit up. Her muscles gave out after a brief effort. Instead, she managed to roll over onto her back. Her dirty hair stuck to her face.

From this position she could see Bendurana beside her. The Serendibian lay face down. Please don’t be dead. Chandi struggled to him, rolled him over. The exercise reminded her of the rope burns on her right hand, from clutching the rigging.

The captain’s breath was shallow, but he did breathe.

“Wake up, Ben.” Her voice sounded raspy, even in her own ears. She shook him with her left hand. “Please.”

Her muscles felt like water. Had she really held Ben with one hand during the emong? At more than six foot tall, the Serendibian had to be almost twice her weight.

What if using her Blessings that much had driven her lunatic? Would she know it?

Chandi continued to shake Bendurana. He gasped, then grunted. He opened his eyes, shut them again.

“Ben, do I seem crazy to you?”

The captain grunted again. “Always.”

Chandi bit her lip. Well, she did do some crazy things. Even lunatics ebbed and flowed. Maybe now was a sane period. Or maybe she was fine. Maybe the lunacy really did flush out of your system like a drug. Chandi smiled at the thought.

Had she been a lunatic when she fled from Naresh? No. This time, she had only herself to blame for her mistakes. And she had made plenty.

“All right, time to get up.” She found her own advice hard to follow.

Ben opened his eyes. “We have to find Landi. She must be here somewhere.”

Chandi had to draw her Blessings to block the pain enough to sit. She pulled Bendurana up beside her, then rose, lifting both of them to their feet.

Landi. And Ratna, sweet Chandra. Her cousin. What could have led Rangda to take her cousin? Maybe she’d never know. Landi … She had saved them with the emong. The broken goddess had done one last thing for then.

“I’m sorry, Ben …”

He shook his head, his wet locks flinging drops of water about. “No. No, she was the Queen of the South Sea. She’s not going to drown.”

“They’re both dead, Ben.” Ratna was dead. Landi was gone. Chandi’s throat rasped. She’d found her cousin again, but it wasn’t her. “That was… That was an emong she dropped on them. Whatever spirits were in them, human bodies couldn’t survive that.”

Ben shook his head again, then collapsed against her. He trembled, and she had to keep her Blessings just to support his weight. She wrapped her arms around him. Strong. Be strong for him, now.

Chandra, how would she react if she’d lost Naresh? Gods above, she’d been so stupid.

A low moan rumbled inside Ben’s chest. She felt it as much as heard it.

She rubbed his back for a long time before she spoke. “Ben … We need water. Food. Shelter. We need to know where we are.”

His voice choked, came out as a rasp. “Probably Malayadvipa. It was closest.” She held him for a time. “She’s really gone?”

What could she say to that?

She wanted to cry but her eyes were too dehydrated. Maybe that was best. She had to be strong now, for Ben. For both of them. If only Naresh were here.

And that was it, wasn’t it? No matter what had gone on between them, she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Only he understood her. And to see Ben now, broken… How could she have been such a fool to leave Naresh like that? No matter what happened, he was her husband.

“Did you ever notice how her hair shimmered in light?” Ben pulled away from her and stared out over the sea. “Even candlelight. Even on our wedding night.”

Chandi tried to speak, but the sound caught in her throat. “Beautiful,” she managed at last. The most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. And so torn, almost broken. And maybe made stronger for it all.

“She hadn’t wanted to be a warrior. She was going to be a musician, a flutist. Even after joining the Guard, she practiced all the time. Sometimes at night, in Cenrana, she’d go up into the hills to play. Sometimes I’d sit nearby and just listen, even if she didn’t know I was there.”

Another dry sob wracked through her. Ratna had liked to climb the cliff at night, and watch the moon and stars and sea. They’d dreamed of the men they would marry. And now she was gone forever. Chandra, please bring her soul peace.

They had to get away from here. If she’d lost Naresh, she’d have died. And she couldn’t let that happen to Ben. Chandi forced herself to rise, then pulled Bendurana away from the sea.

After a few paces, he stopped walking. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere,” she said. “We can’t stay here. I’ll find some coconuts first. We can think clearer with food and drink.”

Ben grunted. “There’ll be fishing villages along the shore. Probably either direction.”

“Good. We’ll travel south. If we’re in Malayadvipa it’ll take us toward Swarnadvipa. We have to get back to the Skyfall Isles.”

The Serendibian hesitated before he spoke. “No. We should go north, toward Au Lac. There’s nothing left for us in the Isles.”

Chandi stopped and stared at him. “How about Naresh? You want to run? Our home is in chaos, war is everywhere, Malin is still out there, and you want to run away?”

“Seems like a damn good reason to run, to me.”

Well, true. But she’d never leave Naresh. And he was right, they did owe their people loyalty. And all the children of the Skyfall Isles were their people, now.

“Ben, I know how hard it is to lose someone you love. Trust me, I do. But Landi and Loro saved us. They killed Rangda Demon Queen. I can’t imagine anyone giving more than that.”

Ben still hesitated. She knew that lost feeling.

“I don’t know why you ran from Serendib. I just know you feel you can’t go home again. We ran from our troubles in Yawadvipa and hid in Cenrana. You want to run again? You want to run forever? You told me you’d found your place among us. Now’s when you have to prove it. Are you going to make Landi’s sacrifice count for something? What are you going to stand for?”

The Serendibian scowled. He looked at his feet, at the trees, at the sea. Everywhere but at her. Then he sighed. “There should be a city to the south.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE

A haze clouded Malin’s memories. He couldn’t separate reality from his fevered dreams. He was pretty sure he was lying on a mat in a hut, somewhere. And Rahu—he prayed that had been a dream. Unlikely as that seemed.

Someone had bandaged his ribs. His bones felt like they had knitted back together, but his whole body remained tender. Malin poked at the bandages. It stung. Perhaps his ordeal had tested the limits of even his healing.

Pohaci slipped through the door and knelt beside his mat. “Thank Chandra you’re awake.” She put her hand on his cheek. As though nothing had gone wrong between them.

If only he could fix all his relationships by being almost killed by a ghost. “I thought maybe I’d lost you.”

She stared into his eyes. “By acting like an ass and forgetting I’m a woman, not just Buaya Jadian? No. You haven’t lost me.”

Ugh. Maybe almost dying wasn’t quite enough. “What happened?”

“From below, it looked like someone threw a tree at you. You fell into the South Sea. I shifted, carried you across the Strait of Malacca. Didn’t know if anywhere in Swarnadvipa would be safe.”

“We’re back in Malayadvipa?”

“This village kept us safe once,” she said.

“The others, our former allies, they know about it.”

Pohaci shook her head. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Malin grabbed the hand she still had on his face, held it. “You saved my life.”

Pohaci smiled. Her hair tickled his face when she leaned over to kiss him. “We’re even.”

Malin nodded, pushed her off him so he could sit. He cracked his neck. A few more phases, at least, before he’d be back to full strength. He took a deep breath. Even when his health returned, what was he supposed to do?

The lunatic War King back from the dead, reclaiming his Empire. Easier to return to Mait. But Malin had made the Skyfall Isles his home. He wouldn’t run. And he owed Rahu vengeance.

“Come,” he said. Everything would look better after some food.

Instead of following, Pohaci threw her arms around him. He stifled a grunt from the pain her embrace caused. Her werecrocodile strength made it worse. She released him after a moment. “Sorry. Glad you’re alive.”

“Me too.”

He took her by the hand and led her into the village. It had changed, a little. Evidence of destruction was subtle, but he could see where debris had been cleared, buildings rebuilt. Malayadvipan fishermen were returning with the day’s catch. None paid him much mind.

“What happened here?”

Pohaci turned, taking in the village. “Emong.”

But Ketu was dead. Malin’s people would never, could never have used the Temple like this. Malin sighed and looked around the village.

He must have been hallucinating from his ordeal. That looked a lot like Chandi running toward him, screaming.

The girl collided with him, bore him down. “Bastard!” Her fist collided with his bruised ribs before he could react.

Pohaci grabbed Chandi, yanked her to her feet. And then Chandi had Pohaci by the wrist. She twisted, flipped the werecrocodile vertically. Pohaci slammed upside-down into the doorframe and fell to the ground.

“You killed my father!”

Malin pulled himself back to his feet. He blocked her incoming punch. Tried to catch her arm. She turned out of it, snapped her palm into his mouth. Her knee found his ribs.

Malin fell, clutching his sides at the pain.

The blows ceased. Malin looked up. Bendurana, of all people, was hauling Chandi away.

“He deserves to die,” Chandi said, though some of the fight had gone out of her.

“Probably,” the Serendibian said. “But we should at least hear him out first.”

Malin scrambled over to Pohaci. The back of the werecrocodile’s head was bleeding. Messy, but her nature would let her heal.

With Pohaci cradled in his arms, Malin rose, panting at the added pain in his ribs. He carried her back inside and laid her on the mat he’d slept on.

Someone spun him around by the shoulder. Chandi’s slap caught him off-guard, and stung more than he’d have thought. Just like her to use her Blessings on that.

“Give me a reason to let you live, Malin.”

Malin rubbed his cheek. “Rahu has returned.”

To his surprise, she didn’t laugh. Just exchanged a look with Bendurana.

“Why not?” the Serendibian said. “It’s been such a nice week so far.”

Malin cleared his throat. “Rahu has taken possession of Mahesa. I don’t know what happened to Ratna.” Or how the fool girl had gotten the boy into this, since Mahesa would never have fallen into it on his own.

Chandi looked away and plopped down on the floor.

“She’s dead,” Bendurana said, then joined Chandi on the ground.

Chandi turned back to face him, her face trembling. “Little Mahesa?” Her mouth hung open, like she wanted to beg him to tell her it wasn’t true. “Not him, too? Ratna and Landi … And now.” Chandi’s lip trembled until she bit it.

Malin wanted to tell her that it would be well. But it wouldn’t. Ratna and Mahesa dead. And Landorundun, Bendurana’s lover.

“How?” she said at last.

“I don’t know.”

Pohaci stirred on the mat. “Come on. It’s not really that complicated. Ratna’s mother was the most feared witch in the Isles. Probably spent more time worshipping Rangda than Chandra. Killing Calon was the best thing the Solars ever did.”

Chandi rose, her hands balled in fists. “Killing my mother at the same time?”

“Simhika chose her friends poorly,” Pohaci said.

Chandi glared at her, then turned on Malin. “Who is this woman? She speaks like she knows me or my family.”

Malin looked into Chandi’s eyes, turned to Pohaci. She watched him, one eyebrow raised. Malin nodded. “My lover.”

A grin rose across Pohaci’s face.

“Oh.” Chandi’s voice was small.

Felt good to say it. Chandi had her husband, and he had Pohaci. “Where is Naresh?” he said. Strange that he’d let his wife come to a foreign land alone.

Chandi shook her head when he looked at her. “None of your business. I’m still deciding whether to kill you for what you’ve done, Malin.”

“Ah, Chandi,” Bendurana said, “If Rahu is back, we’re going to need Malin. We cannot face him with just the two of us.”

Malin appreciated the sentiment, but the captain’s voice lacked confidence. This was not the man he’d known.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-TWO

Malin’s wounds had healed well, so hauling fishing nets with Bendurana provided a welcome distraction. A day’s labor for the local fishermen meant they provided food and shelter. Shame that wasn’t all Malin needed right now.

The peace here, the blue sea and sky, green jungle covering the hills … He could stay here. Except Rahu would still come, and Malin could never leave the Jadian to the lunatic’s mercy.

Pohaci and Chandi had gone out gathering local news. Not together. Every time they looked at one another, they seemed ready to launch into an argument, if not a battle. Malin sighed. Nice to have Chandi back.

“I’m sorry for what happened to Landorundun,” he said.

Bendurana nodded, but didn’t look up from his nets.

“I’m sure she believed in what she was doing.” Damn, he was no good at this sort of thing. “Ratna was … stubborn.” He still couldn’t believe it when they said Rangda had possessed the girl. “If I’d known what she was doing, I’d have stopped her. None of this would have happened.”

Bendurana’s glance told him how obvious such a statement was.

Malin grunted. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been. I don’t blame you. But I know you. Know things Chandi probably doesn’t. I know how you handle adversity. Tell me, captain, can we count on you? Are you going to turn and run again?”

Bendurana shook his head, turned his back on Malin.

So be it. Malin turned to go.

“You of all people shouldn’t judge me, Malin.”

Perhaps not. Bendurana had lost his wife. Malin knew how that felt. His own wife had died the day Bendurana saved him from the sea so many years ago. But with all he’d lost, all the harm he’d caused, Malin was grateful to be alive.

“Ben,” he said after several moments. “Do your people believe in the Wheel of Life?”

Bendurana grunted.

“There’s a story I heard among the Jadian, about the Wheel of Life. Details aren’t important.” Malin dragged in the net, now thick with fish, and hurled it up on the beach. “What matters is this. We live and we die. But that’s not the end. Souls are connected. If that connection is strong enough, even death can’t part them for long. The Wheel of Life turns us out from the underworld when our debts there are paid. Reborn, we have another chance.”

“Ah, Malin.” Ben shook his head and dropped the net. The handful of fish he’d caught flopped around, until a few escaped and swam back out to sea. “Then what’s the point of continuing this life?”

Damn. Not what he meant. “Some say the better you live this life, the better your next will be. More important question—what would Landorundun want for you? If Rahu came back from the underworld, we know her soul must be there, watching you. What will you show her? What will you do with your life? She could be listening to this very conservation. What would you say to her?”

Ben shook his head. He looked away, then watched the sea. “I guess … I’m … sorry I failed to save you. I’m sorry I failed …”

Malin grabbed Ben’s net and threw it on the beach, then clapped a hand on the Serendibian’s shoulder. “You didn’t fail her. She died a hero. She died so you and Chandi could live. Now show her that her sacrifice was worth something. Because, if you truly love her, your soul will face hers again. You want to do so with pride.”

Ben smiled, or half-smiled, and wiped a tear from his eye. Malin looked away. “You’re starting to sound like a certain fire priest I once knew. Maybe you missed your calling, my friend.”

Friend? Malin clapped his shoulder again. “Not likely.”

He grabbed both nets and dragged them down to the fishermen. Good work. Honest work. He hadn’t killed anyone in days.

In the evening, Pohaci built a small cooking fire. Malin scooped her up in his arms. Drank in the salty taste of her tongue as he kissed her.

“What happened to you?” she said.

“Life is short. Who knows how much time we have.” This time around.

He sat down by the fire and stuck a fish on a spit. A good supplement for the bread. Dry, tasteless bread. Malin forced down a few bites. Best to stick with the fish.

Chandi and Ben came to sit by the fire, too, so Malin put another fish on the spit.

“They say three kings fight for the title of Ratu Adil of the Skyfall Isles,” Chandi said. “Rumor has spread of the rise of a new War King among the Lunars, too.”

Pohaci nodded. “I swam the Strait. They’re already flocking to Rahu’s banner in the north. Some don’t believe it’s him. Others say the Moon God returned his Voice from beyond the grave to finish his work.”

Malin spit out a bone and licked his fingers. “We can’t fight Rahu. Even Chandi and I together are not a match for him. If anything, he’s more powerful now.”

“If he fell in with Rangda, perhaps she gave him power,” Chandi said. “Now he’s got whatever power he had, and that of the underworld. Still, if we catch him unawares, we could kill him.” She hesitated. “It means killing Mahesa, doesn’t it?”

“The boy’s dead already,” Pohaci said. “And it’s not just you two. There are four of us.”

Malin and Chandi both glanced at Bendurana. “Bendurana’s an experienced fighter,” Chandi said. “But he’s injured,” she glanced at his leg, “and not a Moon Scion. You did take the Amrita, didn’t you Malin?”

“Yes.” Malin turned to Pohaci. “And love, skilled as you are, I’m not sure you could help. Rahu was almost invincible before. Back from the underworld, he’s godlike. I only ever saw one person with power like his.” Malin hesitated. Stupid to even think it.

Chandi narrowed her eyes. She sat across the fire, where she wouldn’t be able to see him clearly. Still, Malin’s eyes revealed every detail of her face. “Who?”

“Kala.”

“And where is the Stranger?”

“Gone.” Gone to wherever he came from. Maybe the same place Rahu came from. “Beyond our reach. The Astral Temple sent him … somewhere.”

Everyone paused and stared at him. Well, it had. Malin took another bite of fish. Damn, still hungry. He rose to grab another from the pile and stick it on the spit.

“We need Naresh,” Chandi said, when Malin returned.

Malin scowled. Of course she’d want the Guardsman. For that matter, they could use a whole army. But Naresh would not have fond memories of their last meeting, and Malin had promised not to kill him. Difficult, if the Guardsman attacked him.

Ben stood and paced around the fire. “Chandi’s right. We need Naresh. The Arun Guard, whatever remains of them, are the most powerful fighting force the Isles have ever known. Even if Naresh is all that’s left, his power could turn the tide. We cannot underestimate our opponent this time.” Chandi started to speak, but Ben raised a hand to forestall her. “Don’t tell me I can’t fight. I was a soldier, I’ve been in war before. And this is my fight. Now.”

Malin nodded at the Serendibian. “It sounds as if we need passage to Suladvipa, before we try to retake Bukit.”

He rose and Pohaci took his arm. She began to pull him away.

Chandi grabbed him before he got far. “We’re not done, Malin. You and I are going to discuss my father when all this is finished.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE

In Pottala, the Firewalkers trained every evening. Not the same ones each day, Naresh noticed.

“Power is temptation,” Semar said. “They have to balance the need for experience with the pull of that power on their minds.”

Naresh leaned against the Shrine of Sacred Flame, behind the priest as he tended the brazier. “You mean Firewalkers go lunatic, like Moon Scions?”

“Any power can corrupt, so the parallel exists, even if the specific affliction varies.” Semar didn’t look back at him, instead dropping handfuls of grain into the fire. Spirals of smoke rose from it. The priest did this often at the central fire pit, but Naresh rarely saw him tend the brazier himself.

“How about your power? You lead all these people, command all their Firewalking. You’re a priest in a name, but a king in effect. Does your power tempt you?”

Semar turned back to face him, and locked him with his crystal blue gaze. “What do you think, Naresh?”

“You’re not easy to read. What do you want, Semar? Not simple power, I can see that much. You helped destroy the Solar Empire so the Skyfall Isles could become the legacy left to the Lunars and Ignis. But you’ve not helped either rise to dominance. Two steps forward, one step back. Where does it lead?”

Semar had been dragging his sandal around in the dirt. Naresh glanced down. A rough circle. Semar followed his gaze. “Where does it lead?”

Naresh sighed and rubbed his temples. At least Semar had made no further attempt to get Naresh to become a king, if that’s what he was suggesting before. For Surya’s sake, Bendurana would probably do a better job.

An Igni boy ran over to Semar. “There’s a dhow sailing up the river!”

Odd. The river was deep enough, but dhows rarely came this far inland.

Naresh started for the river without even waiting for Semar. A couple of Sun Strides put him at the bank. Sure enough, in the distance, he could see the signature lateen sails. It drew closer, revealing the figurehead. It resembled the dragon maw of a Warak Ngendog, and it blended into a painting stretching the length of the ship, depicting a massive crocodile-like creature. The Jin Laut. Naresh had assumed it went down with the rest of the ships at Kasusthali.

Naresh Sun Strode onto the ship. Shouts went up the moment he appeared. One sailor dropped his winch, fell to the deck. Others drew weapons. One sailor—Tianxian by the look—drew a strange curved sword.

Lembu Ampal appeared beside him before any of the crew made a move. “Bold, Pak Naresh. We were coming to find you.”

Naresh clapped the big man on the arm. “You’ve returned, brother.”

“With the Spice King.”

Another man approached. Naresh stifled a groan. “Pak Tohjaya? We thought you were dead. Weren’t you at Kasusthali?”

“Obviously not.” The man glared at him. His hair was longer than Naresh’s, hung down past his cheekbones. A week’s stubble covered his face.

Naresh couldn’t blame Tohjaya for his anger. He had cost the man a place in the Arun Guard. Had embarrassed him in doing so, too. The recollection made him grimace. “What are you doing here?”

“Given that you just Strode onto my ship—without permission—I think I should ask you that question, Pak Naresh. Hope I like the answer.”

Lembu Ampal cast a wary glance at Tohjaya.

“Your ship?” Naresh said. “Since when?”

“Over a year. You haven’t answered my question.”

Lembu Ampal shifted. “Pak Naresh, may I present the Spice King, lord of the Spice Islands. I told him of Kertajaya’s claim to Ratu Adil.”

“And I’ve come to challenge it.” Tohjaya slipped his keris free from its sheath. Naresh’s hand drifted to his own keris. “Do you know what this is? It’s the keris of Ken Arok. Fabled blade the great Solar Emperor used to subdue his foes.” Tohjaya held the blade forward for him to examine.

Naresh did so. Excellent work, with elaborate designs etched into the metal. It undulated, though not as much as a Lunar keris knife. The union of fire and water, they called those waves. And this blade was a work of art. “I thought it was lost at Astral Shore. That a Lunar had taken it from Ken Arok, killed him with it.”

“Anusapati did. But he died. And now I have it. What remains of Ken Arok’s empire, Pak Naresh?”

Naresh shook his head. Ken Arok was a great leader in the Fourth War. He’d subdued Kertajaya, turned enemies to allies, and crushed those who wouldn’t follow him. He might have brought down the whole Lunar Empire. They’d thought no one could defeat him, said his keris was blessed by Surya himself, through the Radiant Queen.

“You have no answer because nothing remains of the empire,” Tohjaya said. “Except this sword. But I’ve been to Tianxia. I have several Fire-Lances. I have the claim and the power. All I need is the Arun Guard.”

Naresh folded his arms over his chest and looked around at the mostly bedraggled crew. One ship. “Rumors say Rangguwani has almost defeated Kertajaya, despite Lang and several Firewalkers fighting against them.”

Tohjaya hefted the keris up to his face. “Neither of those pretenders is the Ratu Adil. I am. And if you want my help, you’ll support my claim to the throne. With this keris, I’ll reunite the dynasties, restore the Pact, and rule the Skyfall Isles.”

And all Naresh had to do was help put a bully on the throne. He clenched his fists at his side. Now he remembered why he hated the man.

He could refuse. Maybe he could even kill Tohjaya, though Lembu Ampal might stop him. Naresh wasn’t sure he could beat Lembu Ampal when he had so little sunlight and the other Guardsman did. Even if he killed Tohjaya, though, what would he have accomplished?

Every potential leader, he had turned away from. Because none of them were worthy. Maybe all those who were worthy were dead. Maybe Kakudmi could have done it. Maybe Ken Arok. Instead, he was left with Rangguwani or Tohjaya, scrambling for the throne while the house burned around them.

Maybe Tohjaya could take the throne from Rangguwani. Between the Jin Laut and that keris, he could unite what remained of the Solars. But the man deserved a throne even less than the Lunar pirate.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FOUR

Pottala village was beyond the next ridge. Chandi had no desire to see the place again, but all of Pohaci’s spying said Naresh had fled there when Kertajaya declared himself Ratu Adil. Unbelievable that he would take shelter with Semar, of all people.

“Well, can we just walk in?” Pohaci said.

“Perhaps we should make a more dramatic entrance,” Bendurana said. “You know, add some flair.”

Malin just snarled and started over the hill. Chandi followed the tiger. Her former mentor, former friend, grabbed the first Igni he came upon. The man tried to threaten Malin with a keris. Malin twisted his wrist enough to make him drop it, but Chandi didn’t hear any bones break. “Take us to Naresh. Now.” He shoved the man forward toward the village.

The Igni scampered forward, shouting about intruders.

“Well,” Ben said. “I guess a herald is kind of a dramatic entrance.”

Soon, Ignis surrounded them on three sides. Chandi bit her lip when she saw Naresh among them. Hair still wild about his face, eyes tired. Until they saw her.

“Chandi!” He stood by Semar’s side, but Sun Strode beside her in an instant.

Naresh. Oh, sweet Chandra. She took a step toward him. “I … ”

He didn’t say anything. But his eyes did. Then he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his embrace. He held her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Chandi pulled herself closer still.

Malin cleared his throat. Naresh released her, then gaped at the tiger. He looked back at Chandi a moment, then lunged at the Macan Gadungan, keris in hand.

Malin caught his wrist and shoved him away.

“Naresh, stop!” Chandi said. “Please. There are things you don’t understand.”

Her husband fell back, and took all of them in. “What things? Where’s Landi?”

“Rahu’s ghost took possession of a Lunar,” Ben said. “He tried to kill Malin. And Rangda possessed Ratna. Landi … She saved us.”

Naresh snorted. “There’s no such thing as Rangda. She’s a folktale to entertain people. And ghosts don’t possess people.”

“It’s true.” Chandi took a step toward her husband and clasped his hand. “We found Nyai Loro Kidul. She took Landi. Please, Naresh. We need you. I need you.” She tried to pull him back to her.

For just a moment, he hesitated. Had he not forgiven her? And then he wrapped his arms around her again. “Chandi,” he whispered in her ear. “My moon and stars …” After a moment—too brief—he pushed her out to arm’s length. “Landi’s … dead?” He clenched his jaw, his eyes begging her to deny it.

Would that she could.

“Touching,” Malin said. “But Rahu is still out there. We need to stop him before things get worse. He could already control Swarnadvipa by now.”

“Let me handle this, Malin.” Chandi pulled Naresh aside. “Help us, Naresh. I need you… Always.”

He wrapped his fingers in hers. Thank Chandra. He’d forgiven all?

“And you’re stuck with me, always,” he said.

She could feel herself trembling and wiped away a tear forming in her eye. Not now. Not yet. “Why are you with Semar?”

“He’s not exactly what you thought. He knows things.”

She brushed his hair from his eyes. Deep, like dark amber. She’d missed the way he looked at her. “He’s using you, the same as he used me.”

“Maybe.” Naresh shrugged. “You trust Malin?”

“Chandra! He murdered my father. But what choice do we have?”

Naresh nodded and led her through the Igni village. “Semar is the same way.”

Well, maybe he had a point. She followed him as he led her toward the river. If she didn’t clear things with him, it would always hang over them. “Maybe you were right. Maybe we need the violence to face what’s coming. I never imagined what would happen … I’ve lost Landi and Ratna both.”

Naresh stopped and turned to face her. “Or maybe darkness is growing in me, and you tried to pull me out of it. Rage, destruction, chaos wants to flow from me, sometimes.”

Chandi put her finger to his lips. “Doesn’t matter. We’re together now.” She slipped her arms around his back, laid her head on his chest. “If you still want me, nothing else matters.”

Naresh pushed her away, held her by the shoulders. “Of course I still want you. You’re my wife. We should never have parted at all, certainly not like that. But you were right, what matters is what we do from here.”

Chandi nodded. “I have something for you, too.” She pulled a ceramic vial of Amrita from her sarong.

Naresh uncorked it, sniffed it, and held it for a moment. Then he recorked it and handed it back.

“Take it,” she said. “Rahu is freed from the underworld. We’ll need every edge.”

“The one thing we know about this is that it drove Rahu lunatic. It nearly did the same to you. That rage, that darkness inside me, it’s still there. The last thing we can afford to do is feed it with something that induces lunacy.”

“Naresh, I can’t take more. It would leave me as addicted to it as Rahu. I’d be a lunatic for sure. Malin, too. We could give it to Ben, but—”

“No.” Naresh clasped her hands around the vial. “All these secrets of the gods should have stayed secret. Semar all but told me the Lunars broke the Pact because of this, though I didn’t understand at the time. Too many have bled for this. We’ll stop Rahu without it. We’ll send him screaming back to the underworld. We’ve lost enough already.”

“Then we have to go to Bukit. That’s where Rahu attacked Malin, so he may still be there.”

Naresh nodded, and continued on to the river. His limp was almost gone, but he seemed a little weakened. A dhow floated there, anchored, its hull painted like a Warak Ngendog. A slight chill tingled her shoulders at the sight of the monstrous creature.

Naresh took her and the world shifted. She stumbled a little, finding herself suddenly on the dhow’s deck.

Tohjaya scoffed when Naresh demanded the man take them to Swarnadvipa. “And why in Rangda’s frozen underworld,” he said—making Chandi cringe at his choice of words, “would I abandon Suladvipa to Rangguwani and let him claim the throne here?”

“Because you know your best chance at becoming, and remaining, Ratu Adil is by eliminating the Lunar War King. You build up your reputation, win the support of his opponents. Intimidate Rangguwani by doing what he couldn’t. And because my support of your claim depends on your support of my mission.”

The Solar folded his arms and scowled, first at Naresh, then at Chandi. “So be it. I will fight Rahu for you. Then you will fight Rangguwani for me.”

Rangguwani. Anusapti’s brother sought the throne of Suladvipa even as they argued here? The man always had ambition, but this went beyond anything she’d imagined.

Claiming the capital might end the Fifth War, at last. But once that was finished, had Naresh just committed them to yet another battle?

It didn’t matter. They were together again. He Strode them back to shore and turned to say something to her.

Chandi leapt into his arms. He tried to catch her, but they both tumbled to the ground. He grunted, but seemed fine. So she kissed him.

They lay in the tall grasses outside Pottala. Again and again, she kissed him. Home was where you made it.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FIVE

The Macan Gadungan ambushed them before they reached Bukit. Even in human form, the weretigers tore through their ranks. Tohjaya’s sailors were easy prey.

At least until the Macan Gadungan saw Malin. He walked among them, cowing them with his gaze. One tried to sneak up behind him. Malin grabbed the weretiger and flung him into a tree. The boy—Sunten—groaned.

“Get up,” Malin said.

Chandi had a toyak in hand—not one of the ones he’d given her—but didn’t use it. She just gaped at what he’d done.

“And you,” Malin shouted at Naresh as he cut down another Macan Gadungan. “Stop killing my people!”

Sunten rose, stumbling a little, then faced Malin.

“Join us, or flee,” Malin said. “We are taking Bukit.”

They exchanged glances. A moment’s hesitation, then the boy bowed.

Pohaci would do the same with the Buaya Jadian. She was a hero to them. The girl that stood up to Rahu and lived to tell of it.

Tohjaya trudged through the bodies, Lembu Ampal following close behind, as usual. “Let’s get this over with.”

Malin ignored him. At least two dozen of the men they brought were dead or wounded. They hadn’t yet reached the main army.

“If you’re so eager, we’d be happy for you to lead the charge,” Naresh said to Tohjaya.

Malin smirked as the Solar and his bodyguard stormed past. “Unwise to antagonize the captain of our ship.”

Naresh glowered at him. “I’m famous throughout the Solar Empire for the unwise things I do. Especially antagonizing pompous macaques.” The Guardsman headed on after the Spice King, limping a little.

Bastard.

The saddle roofs of Bukit came into view as they neared the city.

“What happened to the Hill Palace?” Chandi said.

“I burned it down.”

Rather than face the blank look on her face, Malin rushed into the fray. Rahu’s front lines charged at them, each hurling a seligi as he drew into range. Malin dodged. Others weren’t so lucky. And then Naresh and Lembu Ampal Sun Strode among the enemy.

The defenders stumbled over themselves in shock. Naresh broke arms and legs, killing only when hard-pressed. Malin had only meant not to kill the Macan Gadungan. Oh, well. Chandi ran to his aid, also fighting to disable.

A woman was moving fast, very fast. Moon Scion without doubt. She closed on Ben.

He parried her keris attacks on his curved sword once, twice, falling back under her speed. The Serendibian stumbled, fell.

Malin barreled right into her. They tumbled against the ground, rocks biting at his skin. Malin caught her shoulders, came out on top. He smashed her head against the dirt.

Chandi pulled Ben to his feet. “You all right?”

He nodded. Then pointed to Naresh.

Three Moon Scions were on him. Naresh caught the kick of one while dodging the keris thrust of another. Naresh slammed his fist into the kicker’s knee, then reversed his momentum to impale the one that tried to stab him.

He didn’t have time to free his sword before the third swung at him. Naresh Strode behind him. Must have hit him in the kidney from the way the man dropped.

He paused only to retrieve his keris, then was on to other foes. Well. The man had just taken down three Moon Scions. Malin couldn’t have done it faster himself.

Defenders swarmed Chandi. Her toyaks struck high and low, breaking shins and collarbones. Malin stepped in to her aid, using his own clubs against the Lunars.

Others were coming. Reinforcements. Chandi grabbed Ben and ran to meet the newcomers. Fair enough. Malin could handle this pack.

Chandi had squared off against an attacker, when Pohaci shouted. “Stop!” Pohaci ran over, pulling the man aside. “She’s with us.”

Malin finished off his last foe, then trotted to Pohaci. Seemed fine. “Where’s Rahu?”

“My people said he left for the Astral Temple a few days ago.”

“We can’t let him hold the Temple,” Malin said. “Ketu was bad enough.”

Chandi glared at him, but Malin ignored it. Girl had to face who her father had been.

“Malin’s right,” Naresh said. “Much as I hate ever saying those words. We have to get to the Astral Temple. I don’t want to imagine how much havoc someone like Rahu could cause with it.”

“Forget it,” Tohjaya said. “We’ve captured Bukit. Next it’s Daha. It’s time to take down Rangguwani. He’s had too much time to consolidate his power already. The only place the Jin Laut is going is Suladvipa.”

Naresh clenched his fists. “We need that ship, Pak Tohjaya. We need the Fire-Lances to overcome whatever navy Rahu took with him.”

“Probably a fair number of ships, by the look of it,” Pohaci said.

Tohjaya folded his arms across his chest, looked down his nose at them all. He said nothing.

Malin shoved the man to the ground. In an instant, his bodyguard stood between them.

But it was Bendurana who spoke. “Ah, Tohjaya. You try to hold the sea in your hands. The tighter your grasp, the more slips through. I’ve lost the Queen, or I’d make the trip. If we don’t go, you may find the Isles not worth ruling.”

Malin glanced back at Ben. Good to see some fire.

Tohjaya threw up his hands. “Fine. But I keep the Temple. I will hold it as my seat of power. What finer throne for the Ratu Adil?”

Naresh snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

“That’s the price.”

Malin shook his head. “It’s not his to give.”

“Will you acknowledge me as king, Macan Gadungan? As the Ratu Adil?”

Maybe he should just kill the upstart. Rangguwani would make a better king. Pohaci’s hand rested on Malin’s.

Naresh stepped closer to Tohjaya. Lembu Ampal kept trying to shift to keep himself between Tohjaya and both Naresh and Malin. Naresh just spoke around the big Guardsman. “You can keep it, provided you never try to play god with it. But that’s it, Tohjaya. We take the temple and all debts are settled between us.”

Malin glared at the Solar. Let them say what they wanted. The Temple was not a piece to trade in their games.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SIX

The Jin Laut had caught the first of Rahu’s ships alone, in the open. Their Fire-Lance had torn the ship to pieces before her crew knew what had happened. But here, before the Astral Temple, Chandi’s enemies had gathered. Rahu had seven ships to their one.

“Even with the Tianxian Fire-Lances,” Ben said, “we’ll be hard pressed to fight so many at once.”

Tohjaya waved him off. “Nonsense. They’ve got nothing to stand against our power. Doesn’t matter how many ships they have.”

The three of them stood on the poop deck, with Lembu Ampal nearby. Chandi glanced down at her husband, standing at the bow, watching the ships. Deadly as the Sun Brand might make him, he couldn’t take down the entire crew of a dhow, much less seven.

“Take us alongside their ships,” Tohjaya ordered. “We’ll blow through them.”

Ben shifted from foot to foot. “Ah, Tohjaya, not a good idea. Better if we use our superior range.”

Their captain ignored Ben. Chandi braced herself as the Fire-Lances unleashed their volley. Their shots tore through the lead ship. The deafening roars of the Fire-Lance drowned out the Lunars’ screams. But she could see they screamed as they leapt over the side of their sinking ship. Dozens of bodies fell into the water, some moving, some not.

“Reload,” Tohjaya said.

But it seemed to take time to ready that black powder.

Rahu’s other ships drew alongside the Jin Laut. Their crews had gandewas. Chandi cursed.

A shadow passed over the dhow, just before a rain of arrows pummeled the deck. Chandi drew her Potency Blessing and flung herself against the rail. So many, impossible to dodge. One grazed her skin. She drew herself into a ball, arms protecting her head.

Thunk. Thunk. The last of the arrows impacted the dhow.

Men were screaming from one of Rahu’s ships. Naresh and Lembu Ampal were among them. Cutting archers to pieces.

Let him be safe. Chandra, protect her love. Actually, Naresh was probably safer on that ship than on the Jin Laut.

Another of Rahu’s ships drew up, prepared to board the Jin Laut on the opposite side. Chandi raced over, readied herself.

“Reload the damn Fire-Lances!” Tohjaya shouted.

“We need to maneuver,” Ben said. “This isn’t working. Separate them, take them down a few at time.”

Tohjaya shoved the Serendibian. “I’m in command here.”

Chandi spun him around by the shoulder. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Let Bendurana take command and we might get out of this alive.”

Tohjaya jerked free of her hand and turned away from her. “I know how to handle my own ship.”

Chandi drew her Blessing and slammed her arm into the back of his neck. “Bendurana’s in command now,” she said to the crew at large.

No one objected.

“Bring us around to port,” Ben said. “We need to line up the other Fire-Lances.”

Naresh appeared on the deck beside her. He was covered in blood, at least some which looked to be his. One ship was ablaze. She jerked her head at the burning ship and Naresh nodded.

So he had taken down a whole ship?

Ben was shouting orders at the crew, trying to break away from Rahu’s dhows, but making little headway. More arrows were falling on the deck. Too many of the Jin Laut’s crew lay dead already.

“We’re not going to make it,” Chandi said. She cursed under her breath. “Take me over to one ship. We’ll buy Ben time.”

Naresh shook his head. He looked down for a moment. When he looked up, his eyes glowed like small suns. “We want to scare them off? I have a better idea.”

“Naresh, what …” She lost her voice.

He was hovering off the ground, slightly. Light poured from his eyes and open mouth. She’d seen something like that before. Seen Aji Bidara glowing like the sun as she destroyed the Lunar fleet.

A shadow passed under the Jin Laut, moving toward Rahu’s lead ship. Waves battered both ships as something massive surged out of the water.

Sleek, water shimmering on its blue skin, it leapt more than halfway out of the water. She’d heard of such whales. But this creature, it could be a hundred feet long.

In near silence, in agonizing slowness it fell. Cacophony replaced silence as its enormous weight crashed sideways into the dhow. The ship crunched in on itself like it had been struck down by Chandra himself. And then only driftwood remained.

People were screaming. Chandi realized she’d tried to scream herself. She sounded more like a child who couldn’t catch her breath.

Naresh slumped to the deck, landed on hands and knees.

“Are the Fire-Lances ready?” Bendurana asked. Chandi glanced at him. His expression was as blank as the rest of the crew’s. Someone said they were ready. “Then bring us about.”

Chandi almost didn’t register it as the Fire-Lances splintered another ship. Naresh still sat on his hands and knees. He hissed in pain when she touched his shoulder. Thin puffs of smoke wafted off the Sun Brand.

“Naresh?” She had to stop herself from trying to touch him again.

He nodded, trembling.

One of Rahu’s ships had drawn up beside them. Chandi had to admire their determination. Or their fear of Rahu.

Pohaci and Malin waded among the boarding party. The werecrocodile’s ekor pari opened wicked gashes on the unfortunate Lunars. Malin grabbed one and hurled him back across the gulf between ships. The man struck the mast of his own dhow.

Chandi leapt from the poop deck and joined them. Her toyaks darted in and out in wide circles. Bones shattered under her blows.

A calmness took her. These men knew what Rahu was, and chose to follow him anyway. For once, she had no doubt about what side she was on.

The Fire-Lances roared again, this time on the starboard side. Another of Rahu’s ships began to sink.

The Fire-Lances pounded again and again. And when the smoke cleared, the last of Rahu’s ships was fleeing in the distance.

How many had they killed? How many of her people destroyed?

But no matter what, there would be at least one more.

Rahu would die today.

“Ben,” she said. “Take us to Astral Shore.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SEVEN

Malin hated this place. If he lived two hundred years, he’d never walk on Astral Shore without the hair on his neck rising. Too much blood had washed these sands. Too many ghosts wandered these shores. Never sent on to the underworld. Never returned to the Wheel of Life.

Rahu’s forces had gathered beneath the cliff. They didn’t attack. After Naresh’s display on the seas, Malin couldn’t blame them. But the former War King himself would be in the Temple. They had to deal with these defenders to reach him.

Naresh had stripped off his baju, charging the Sun Brand.

“Can we wait until nightfall?” Pohaci said.

No. “He has too many Jadian on his side. Our edge in shifting would be overwhelmed by those who still serve him.” Malin turned to Lembu Ampal. “Do you have enough sunlight to carry all of us atop the cliff?”

“Maybe. I’ve never tried to take more than one other person.”

Chandi nodded. “All right. Take me and Naresh and Malin. We’ll finish this.”

“This is my fight, too,” Ben said.

“And you’re not leaving me,” Pohaci added, slipping her arm around Malin.

Damn. Malin cracked his neck. Best get this over with. “Take us halfway, then. We’ll climb.”

Chandi stopped them. “I’m sorry, Ben. Your fight was at sea. We couldn’t have done it without you. But what we’re going into … Even if your leg was well, the rest of us have abilities beyond normal humans.”

Malin grunted. “He knows. He wants to die in that one last heroic stand.”

Chandi and Naresh both gaped at Ben. No doubt they could see he was right. The Serendibian looked away.

“You’ve already made a heroic stand, Ben,” Naresh said. “Leave it to us now. Take the ship, and make sure Tohjaya doesn’t try to leave us behind.”

The captain sighed. “Ah, Naresh. Always trying to upstage my dashing entrances.” He threw up his hands. “Very well.” Then he looked to Malin.

He nodded at the captain. “You’re doing what she would want.”

When Pohaci took his hand he could feel her pulse race through it. Lembu Ampal wanted to get as close to the cliff as possible, so Malin led them away from the shore. Into the rainforest. Rahu’s army remained focused on the other Jadian Malin had brought with him.

Just as well. His people wouldn’t attack unless the enemy tried something. If they did nothing but stall Rahu’s army, it would be a victory.

Malin couldn’t take any pleasure in the forest’s fresh smells or vigor. Beneath the cliff, he pointed at a rock most of the way up. “Take us there. Save some sunlight. We’ll climb the rest of the way.”

“Grab hold of me,” the Guardsman said. He put a hand each on Chandi and Naresh’s shoulders. Malin and Pohaci clasped the Guardsman. Malin’s stomach lurched as the world shifted. They were clutched together, on the rock above the battlefield.

Malin had spotted this place before, but never climbed it. He tested the first handhold. Then he began to pull himself up. At least thirty feet to the top, but it wouldn’t take them long.

The others seemed less certain of their climbing ability. Despite her strength and agility, even Pohaci seemed uneasy. He should have refused to bring her. Rahu would kill the girl. Probably the others, too, though Malin cared nothing for the two Guardsmen.

He reached out to Pohaci and pulled her the rest of the way onto the cliff. The gates behind them stood open. No other Moon Scions raced toward them.

Malin kissed Pohaci, savoring the taste of her.

“Finished?” Naresh said as he passed them.

Chandi ran up behind Naresh, spun him around, and kissed him too.

“Are you?” Malin said.

He walked through the archway to the complex, the others in tow. A pair of Moon Scions intercepted them. Malin killed his in a heartbeat. Blades clanged, and then Naresh had dropped the other.

In the distance, Mahesa walked out from amidst the pillars. He looked like the boy Malin had known. But only Rahu remained.

“You impress me, Malin,” Rahu said. “I wouldn’t have thought even you could live through that fall.”

Malin stalked forward, waving the others to both sides. “I’m going to rip your heart out.”

Rahu scoffed. A rock flew into his hand. Malin threw himself flat as the rock launched itself at him.

Lembu Ampal Sun Strode behind Rahu. The Guardsman thrust his keris at the War King. Rahu twisted out of the way, but it looked like the blade nicked him.

Malin leapt to his feet and ran at the pair. Rahu swept Lembu Ampal’s feet from under him. He punched down at the Guardsman as the man fell. Lembu Ampal vanished from midair just before the crushing blow connected.

He appeared some distance away, lying on the ground.

The others ran at Rahu, too. The War King reached a hand toward a temple, and the capstone flew free. Ten feet on a side, at least. The massive rock hurtled through the air at Pohaci. Chandi dove into the girl and skidded them both under the projectile. Shards of rock flew from the ground where it struck.

Malin collided with Rahu, burying his keris in the man’s abdomen. Rahu rolled with it, flung Malin off him. Malin tried to draw his Blessing to shift his gravity, but he wasn’t fast enough with that one. He collided with a pillar and fell to the ground, stunned.

Rahu jerked the keris free from his stomach. Hadn’t hit anything critical. He’d have expected the bastard to at least feel the pain, though. The keris flew from his hand at Naresh, who was charging forward in an awkward stumble.

The Solar appeared behind Rahu.

The War King spun to strike him. Naresh turned the blow and slammed his palm into Rahu’s face. He ducked Rahu’s counterstrike. Lembu Ampal had risen, and Strode behind Rahu.

The War King was turning even as the Solar appeared. His fist slammed into Lembu Ampal’s chest. The Solar flew through the air, colliding with a temple some thirty feet away.

Probably dead.

Malin rose. Maybe Rahu could use his strange power to enhance his blows. Best not let him get a direct hit, then.

Downing Lembu Ampal had cost Rahu, though. Naresh landed a hook that must have ruptured Rahu’s spleen. Rahu stumbled, then vanished.

Shit. Sun Stride?

Naresh lifted off the ground and flew, end over end, and collided with another pillar.

Glamour. Bastard was invisible. Malin sniffed the air. Had to be here somewhere. Close. He spun around. Catch the scent, dammit.

Pohaci gasped as something yanked her off the ground by her hair. She swung the ekor pari wildly, which drove Chandi back when the girl tried to help her.

Malin roared and charged Rahu. Pohaci’s stingray tail slashed him, and blood flew through the air. Rahu appeared, just before he slammed her into the ground.

Malin leapt through the air and landed on Rahu, screaming. He pounded his fists into the man. Pohaci. Pohaci!

Rahu grabbed his wrists and spit blood at him. “Don’t even know who she is, do you?” He flung Malin upward, but Malin flipped back and landed on his feet.

Like Rahu knew anything about Pohaci. Malin rushed toward the War King again.

And then Chandi’s running kick sent Rahu tumbling into one of the metal bowls in the ground.

The ground trembled, then the paved stones exploded beneath their feet. Shards of rock tore hot lances of flame through his skin and clothes, but Malin ran on. He grabbed Pohaci and flung her inside one of the temples, praying she’d forgive him for it. Had to keep Rahu from exploding anything else under her.

Time for the bastard to pay.

A whimper from behind. Malin turned back. Chandi fell to her knees. A shard of rock had pierced her abdomen. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek.

No.

Malin took two steps toward her.

Rahu was climbing out of the bowl. Naresh rose and appeared beside him. Then atop a pillar. He held Rahu by his baju. Then he let go. The War King must have fallen thirty feet from the pillar, plus another ten to the base of the bowl.

A sound like a gong echoed through the Astral Temple as the War King impacted.

Malin looked up at Naresh. The look on his face said he was out of sunlight, and jumping off the pillar would break both his legs.

Instead, Malin ran to Chandi and put a hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t die. He wouldn’t allow it.

The girl looked up at him. “End this.” Her voice was a whisper.

Rahu climbed out of the bowl. The way his leg dragged behind him, it had to be broken. “I’ve already beaten you once,” Rahu said. But one hand was trying in vain to staunch the blood seeping from his stomach.

“You’d be surprised how much Chandi can teach about the Blessings.”

Rahu glowered at him. Raised both hands into a fighting stance. Which meant the blood flowed more freely. Good. Even he would fall if he lost enough blood.

Malin leapt at Rahu. His weight bore the man down. He pounded his fist into the man’s wound. The War King staggered, but only a moment. He grabbed Malin and hurled him into the ground.

After the jarring impact, it was all Malin could do to hold his Blessings. Drop them, even a moment, and he was lost. Rahu’s kick flung him several paces through the air.

Malin landed back in the same bowl Rahu had fallen in before. He rose, chuckling.

“Something amuses you, beast?” Rahu jumped down into the bowl with him.

Malin feinted like he intended to leap out of bowl. Rahu shifted to block his escape. Malin’s palm caught the War King in the throat.

“I killed your supposed brother in this very spot,” Malin said.

Rahu gasped, clutching his throat, flailing his arms. He slammed his hands through the air, like he was slapping a drum. An invisible fist pounded into Malin, flattened him against the bowl.

By the time he’d regained his feet, the War King had lost his. Rahu sat on his knees, trying to suck in air through his crushed windpipe. His face turned purple.

Every step Malin took sent lances of pain through his body. His hook turned Mahesa’s boyish face into a bloody mess. Malin hoped only Rahu could feel this. Hoped Mahesa was dead already. He hefted the War King up to pound him again.

Rahu’s keris bit through Malin’s hip. The pain caught him so off-guard, he lost his Blessings. Malin fell, darkness closing in on him.

His mind retreated from the injuries his body had suffered. But he couldn’t lose himself. Not yet. He shook his head clear. Bit his tongue to focus his mind. There, he caught his Blessings.

Rahu lay in the bowl, twitching.

Malin crawled to the body. He smashed his former master across the face twice more. Until the body lay still. A bloody pulp.

Back to the underworld, bastard.

Malin tried to crawl from the bowl, but his legs wouldn’t work. The wound in his hip turned his attempts to stand into agony. It felt like Rahu had chipped the bone.

Something cold passed through him. Malin continued to crawl. Had to focus on holding his Blessings. Had to stay awake until his body could heal.

The tiger spirit inside him drew back, receded into the depths of his soul. Coldness, freezing hatred was crawling its way up through him. Just the lost blood from his hip. He was going into shock. He’d heal.

Couldn’t get out.

Go down, something said. Yes, into the depths. He could heal there. He started to climb down the ladder, but couldn’t support his weight. He fell to the next level. The impact knocked the wind from him.

Then something seized his chest. Clasped around his heart. Malin shrieked, tore at his skin. The slithering, alien darkness moved up his spine.

His hands stopped responding.

Couldn’t catch his breath. Couldn’t move. Shadows moved before his mind. Something was in him.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-EIGHT

Daha looked better than it had. Rangguwani had dedicated a great deal of resources to rebuilding the city. Chandi wanted to think of it as home, but she just couldn’t.

Naresh waited in the harbor, not wanting to risk the king’s wrath. Anusapati’s brother now called himself the Ratu Adil. Chandi would have laughed, if she hadn’t thought it would drive her to tears. Rangguwani probably made a better Ratu Adil than Tohjaya would.

Kertajaya and Lang had fought against Rangguwani, but without the support of the Firewalkers, Daha had fallen in days. Some said Lang was dead. No one knew if Kertajaya lived.

Bendurana said nothing as they walked through the city. They couldn’t avoid their business here any longer, but she planned to be gone from this place as soon as they were done. Nothing held them here anymore.

Her memories of Puradvipa were hazy from lost blood. Some things she remembered. Mahesa was dead, that she knew for sure.

“Take the Amrita!” Naresh had shouted at her from somewhere above.

No. Addiction. Lunacy. Chills swept her and she toppled over.

“Please, Chandi!”

She wouldn’t lose her mind again. Better to die sane.

“Don’t leave me. I swear to Surya I’ll jump down there and feed it to you myself.”

Everything sounded underwater. Someone lifted her head. Had Naresh really jumped down? Would it break his legs? Pohaci? The woman pulled the cork from the vial. Had the vial. How did she have …?

“Just a sip. He wouldn’t want you lunatic. Or dead.”

Milky, sweet. And darkness. Chandra’s sweet smile embraced her. Was she dead? She saw endless stars.

And then Naresh was there. Night had fallen, and he held her. His eyes were red.

“He’s not down there,” Pohaci said, climbing up the ladder. “Only strange devices. Something that looked like a massive astrolabe. I don’t know what else.”

For a day and a night, they’d searched for Malin. The weretiger was just gone. Chandi had combed the depths of the temple herself. In the once-closed room, she found the astrolabe Pohaci had spoken of. At least thirty feet tall.

When that failed, they’d searched the rest of the complex. Lembu Ampal didn’t wake for over a day, but he lived. His voice seemed sluggish. Naresh said he had a concussion, but should recover. Maybe Arun Guard training covered first aid.

What choice had they had? After two days, they’d left Puradvipa. But not Pohaci. The Buaya Jadian swore she would search the entire island. And not Lembu Ampal, who remained with Tohjaya.

Tohjaya would make war for the crown sooner or later. The man still had the Jin Laut, and the Astral Temple. At least he seemed too much a fool to make full use of either.

The two vials of Amrita tucked in her sarong weighed her down like an anchor. Her thumb ran over the cork, before she realized what she was doing.

Such sweet milk. And she was stronger than ever before. She should have died. Instead, after a sip, she’d slept, and awoken almost fully healed. Just one more sip, and her Blessings would be as strong as Malin’s.

She jerked her hand away. Chandra help her.

Chandi couldn’t say whether she hoped Malin had survived or not. He’d murdered her father. But then, he’d killed Rahu and saved them all.

Poor Mahesa. Probably the greatest victim of all.

Bendurana stopped outside Hainuwele’s house. There, above a burgeoning garden, hung an emerald bottle. Water rained down from the small holes in it, showering the garden. Chandi couldn’t imagine what miracle it’d taken for the bottle to survive the cyclone.

She pointed to it, and Ben smiled, though not his usual grin. “You want me to go on alone?” she asked, at last.

The Serendibian drew her into a sudden embrace, his chest trembling. “No. I’ll face this myself. Alone. Ah, Chandi, thank you for coming this far with me. She was the best of us, wasn’t she?”

Chandi nodded. Bendurana took several deep breaths, hands on his knees, before climbing the ladder. Hainuwele and her parents needed to know about Landorundun. The First of the Arun Guard had died a hero. She’d sacrificed herself to the cause. Chandi didn’t know if she’d have had the courage to do that.

If the Wheel of Life was kind, Landorundun and Bendurana would have another chance. At least, she hoped they would.

She stood there, biting her lip, a long time.

“You’re not responsible for all that happened.”

She turned at the voice. Somehow, seeing Semar here didn’t surprise her.

“Are you with Rangguwani?”

“We have an understanding. He was the best alternative of the three choices, for the moment.”

“You wanted a different choice?”

“Always.”

She knew she should still want to beat the man senseless. Maybe more so now than ever. But a profound exhaustion of spirit had settled over her. When she realized she clutched the vial again, she sighed.

“What do you want, priest?”

Semar laughed, his blue eyes seeing something beyond her. “The perfect future. But right now, I want only words with you.”

She shrugged, started back down toward the harbor. “Then speak.”

Semar followed after her. “You accomplished something amazing, bringing Naresh and Malin and the others together.”

“Naresh is the great leader, not me.”

“He could be, if he accepted it. But you have the heart that guides him. Without you, I fear he’d be lost in darkness.”

Perhaps. Was it her fault he’d grown so dark? If she had stayed closer, could she have spared him that? Whatever the answer to that, she loved him still. “He is what he needs to be.”

“I hope you remember those words in the days to come.”

Chandi glanced back at the priest. “Why the interest in my husband?”

Semar fixed her with that gaze of his. “The Astral Temple remains. Whether or not its current holder can use its power doesn’t remove the threat. For twelve hundred years the dynasties fought for control of it, not knowing its power. What will happen now, do you think, given the whole world has learned what it can do? Stories of it will reach even Tianxia before the year is out.”

Did he mean wherever she ran, she’d not escape this? It didn’t matter, since she wasn’t going anywhere.

In the harbor, she heard the murmurs as people looked up at Naresh. Some had fallen to their knees, to welcome him home. They showered adoration at the son of the Radiant Queen. The new First of the Arun Guard.

“Will you bow before Rangguwani, now?” She asked him, later as they sat alone beneath the moon.

He nodded. “We have to make a home with what’s left to us. I’ll not let Tohjaya destroy it.”

Nor would he take up the mantle to hold them together, not willingly. And maybe Semar was right again. Maybe he would have no choice.

Chandi had heard the names the Solars had called Naresh by the harbor. They called him the Whale Lord.

They called him the Radiant Prince.

PART ONE

1197 After Pact, The Dry Season

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-NINE

Some historians believe that once, before the breaking of the Pact, a single king had ruled all the Isles. A Just King, a Ratu Adil, who had united the people against a nameless great threat. Naresh had spent his years in the Academy disdaining such folklore. And yet, now he found himself in service to a man claiming that very title.

Naresh leaned against a shanty in the outskirts of Daha, the shadows of its eaves offering respite from the late afternoon sun. The Igni shifted from foot to foot under his gaze, glancing over his shoulder every few moments, as if afraid to be seen with Naresh. Ironic. This slim, scruffy man was undoubtedly a criminal—a smuggler, perhaps—and he feared to be seen with Naresh, rather than the other way around. Naresh was Arun Guard. Protectors of the royal family of the Solar Empire.

Not that the Solar Empire existed any longer. It had fallen into ruin when the Ignis revolted. After so much struggle, even the Lunar Empire had collapsed, leaving only warring Houses in the wake of Malin’s civil war. So maybe Rangguwani was right. Maybe now they did need a Ratu Adil to unite the three dynasties. Alone, civilizations that had endured for twelve hundred years had floundered. Perhaps together they could survive.

The alternative was unthinkable.

And Rangguwani, the Lunar prince, now ruler of the so-called Skyfall Empire, had ordered Naresh to find Kertajaya. Reports still lingered of Suladvipa’s fallen king moving about the island, trying to stir up resistance. He wouldn’t remain here in the slums—he was both too proud and too intelligent for that—but men like the Igni smuggler heard things.

Naresh tossed a pouch of heavy pearls to the shifting man. The Igni caught it, glanced around the corner, and slid it open with one finger. His eyes widened, and he snapped the pouch shut again. “I’m not the first person you’ve … hired … on this task.”

Well. Naresh clenched his fists. He should have known word would get around. It wouldn’t matter, as long as it didn’t get back to Kertajaya. He pushed off the wall and edged nearer the Igni. “No.” He stopped inches away from the man and stared down into his eyes. “But if Kertajaya hears of it, I’ll make sure all of you regret it.” Naresh continued when the man gave a slight nod. “We have an understanding.”

The Igni’s eyes darted down to the pouch, then back to Naresh’s, before he offered a firmer nod.

Naresh Sun Strode atop the building across the way. Overly dramatic, perhaps, but it didn’t hurt to remind these people who they were dealing with. The Sun Stride allowed him to travel instantly to any location he could see—to the common man, an Arun Guard would seem to have the power to be anywhere, anytime. The sharp intake of breath and scurrying feet in the alley below told him all he needed to hear.

Naresh walked along the roof, his footing a little unsure on its steep incline. His bad leg didn’t hurt as much these days, but it was less steady than he’d like. It remained a present from Malin he still needed to repay. Perhaps he’d never do so now, though, with the weretiger missing for so long. Half a year had passed since Malin had killed Rahu—again—and disappeared. The rains had passed and the dry season had returned, and, if anyone had seen the weretiger, no word of it reached Daha. And maybe that was for the best. Circumstance had forced Naresh to fight alongside the Macan Gadungan, and if he’d let go of his rage for this moment, maybe he should let it go for good. Provided he didn’t have to see Malin again.

From the peak of the saddle roof he could see another alley, just off Market Street. He Strode down to it, then mingled into the crowd. Vendors hawked their wares here, dripping sweat but either not caring or, more likely, not fortunate enough to have any other option. And despite the midday heat, hundreds shoved their way through the marketplace, claiming chickens, mangos, rugs, and so many other goods. Market Street ran all the way to the heart of the city, near the Iron Palace. The wealthy lived there, so that’s where one went to find the sweetest fruits, the finest imports, or the latest fashions. Chandi spent a lot of time wandering that market—the Palace Market, locals called it, though it was several blocks from the Iron Palace itself. His wife didn’t buy much, but she loved to bargain hunt. The retainer Rangguwani paid him meant she didn’t need a bargain, but she seemed to like one anyway.

Naresh slipped through the crowd, pushing through only when it became too tightly packed. The whispers started then. “The Radiant Prince …” At first, he only saw a few people stepping out of his way, staring as he drifted past. But their reactions drew even more attention. “The Whale Lord …”

Surya’s glare. Naresh had taken to wearing plain black bajus, like the locals of Daha. He even wore full sleeves to cover the Sun Brand tattoo on his back and upper arms. And now these people seemed to recognize his face, too.

“They say he commands the seas …”

He knew where it went from here, and it was past time he left. Naresh hurried his step, almost stumbling when an old woman dropped to her knees in front of him. Dammit. He tried to help her up, but others soon joined her. “My prince,” the woman murmured at his touch.

Naresh released her and stepped back. “I’m not …” He grimaced, hoping this wouldn’t get back to Rangguwani. Though he never said it, Rangguwani didn’t appreciate how his supposed subjects fawned over Naresh. How could he? But then, Naresh probably liked it even less.

By now, dozens of citizens knelt in the street, asking his blessings. And for what? Naresh was a soldier, not a priest or a king. He had no special rapport with Surya, even though his mother had been the last Radiant Queen.

He didn’t have time for this. Chandi was waiting. He Sun Strode past the crowd, atop the roof of another building. In the distance, a cheer erupted. Naresh swore again, spotted the first empty alley he could, then Strode once more. He’d probably used up more than half the sunlight he had stored in the Sun Brand on this little errand. And wearing a sleeved baju, he couldn’t soak up any to recharge it.

The choice to make Daha his home had seemed logical at the time. But it had begun to feel like he was a fugitive, hiding his every step.

He scratched his head then flipped his hair out of his eyes. It was too late to think such things now. He’d thrown his lot in here, and, indeed, the refugees from Cenrana had made this their home, too. He’d asked Chandi if she wanted to move closer to the Iron Palace, but she preferred to remain in the home they had first taken together in Daha. Not as nice as the one they’d built for themselves in Cenrana, but it had memories to it.

As soon as he reached the palace square he turned about, searching for his wife. Probably wandered off to browse the market again, despite how short time was. But since he was the one who’d come late, he couldn’t blame her.

He jerked when arms slipped around his ribs from behind, a sudden instinct to snap his elbows behind him barely suppressed. It had to be her, of course. And yet, his fists had clenched so hard they hurt. It wasn’t real. That violence wasn’t the real Naresh.

Chandi laid her head on his shoulder and blew in his ear. “I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

Naresh turned to face her, careful not to break the circle of her arms. “Not if the Wheel of Life brought me through a hundred lifetimes.” He kissed her soft, warm lips, and drank in the scent of her hair. She’d grown it out a little over the last half year. Now she’d tucked white jasmine behind her ear, obviously aware of how it set off her stark black hair. And of the effect it had on him. Naresh ran his finger along her jaw. “We have to go. Rangguwani expects me there as honor guard.”

Chandi leaned against him, embracing him tighter. She almost seemed to tremble.

“Are you well?” he asked.

She grunted, then released him.

Naresh studied her eyes a moment. A shadow lurked under them, but maybe she was just tired. As soon as this was done, he’d bring her home and they’d get something to eat. A good meal and a good night’s sleep and she’d be herself again.

He hurried toward the Iron Palace. The gate guards waved him and Chandi through the moment they saw him, though they forced the long stream of others entering the palace grounds to wait in line.

Those massive iron-wrought gates stood open, allowing the wealthy and important citizens in for Rangguwani’s play. He’d ordered a stage constructed in the courtyard, beyond the fishpond. That pond stretched for nearly a quarter mile and teemed with fish and frogs.

Kertajaya’s palace had stood as a testament to his power, a majestic fortress closed to his people. The king and his retinue could come to the pond to seek Kebatinan, but most of Daha couldn’t even see the pond over the palace’s fifteen foot wall. Since the Lunar had taken it as his own seat of government, things had changed. Somewhat. Rangguwani left the palace gates open most days, though Naresh doubted the guards would let the underclasses through. Still, new benches now sat under the palm trees, and people lounged about the pond, awaiting the show.

Chandi’s hand was definitely shaking in his own. Well, she hadn’t been here often. Perhaps it was just nerves. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and guided her to a seat in front of the stage. The seats had been arranged under the palm trees, with a tarp providing shade. Servants created a warm breeze by waving giant palm leaves, though Naresh doubted it did much good. Chandi wore a pink kemban that accentuated her curves and left her arms bare, but she was sweating almost as much as he was in his full sleeve baju.

Naresh motioned to a servant who brought him a goblet of water. “Drink this,” he said to Chandi. After she’d done so, she smiled, though it seemed forced.

“Any leads?” she asked, handing him back the goblet.

Naresh took a sip himself. “Not yet. If Kertajaya lives, he’ll have to show himself sooner or later. His chance to act against Rangguwani—if he still plans to—is fading fast.” As was Tohjaya’s. The so-called Spice King still held the Astral Temple, and still commanded the support of the Spice Islands. But Rangguwani had almost total claim over the great Isles, so if Tohjaya didn’t act soon, he’d find his power swept out from under him. Which worked for Naresh. Tohjaya was a fool, a bully, and a terrible king.

Soon, the seats had filled. Perhaps Rangguwani had chosen the Solar art form as a means of unification. If so, it was clever. The man embraced the traditions of the land he lived in, showing the people he was not just a Lunar king, he was their king.

Silence fell as the sun set and the Wayang began. The large wooden stage stood perhaps eight feet off the ground, so anyone in the seats below had a good view. The puppeteers had hung a white screen across the stage, overshadowed by plush curtains. A moment later, the artists lit the torches behind the screen, casting it in a faint yellow glow.

A shadow puppet rose from the base of the stage. In his Academy days, Naresh had seen students making these leather puppets. They would spend phases, sometimes days, getting every feature just right. He had painted one with Landi. “Why paint it? You can only see it in silhouette,” he’d said. “We’ll see it,” she said. “We’ll know the love and care and dreams we poured into it. If what we create is not worth our time, why do it at all?”

And he had been in love with her, back then. It had taken a long time before he could look back at those memories without pain. Maybe Chandi had been the balm to heal that wound … But Landorundun’s death … Naresh hadn’t seen it coming. She was so strong. Sometimes, in the distance, he’d hear a flute, and just for a moment, forget it wasn’t her. If she had remained at the Academy, become the musician she was destined to be, she wouldn’t have died fighting Rangda Demon Queen.

Naresh wasn’t still in love with Landi. He hadn’t been for a long time. But maybe he loved her as a person, after a fashion. Something had been ripped away from him that day, and he hadn’t even been there to see it. Landi had died saving Chandi and Ben. Naresh could never repay her for saving his wife.

Bendurana hadn’t been the same, of course. Naresh had tried to talk to the man before he left, but the truth was, if he lost Chandi, he’d have been even worse off. So any platitudes he could offer would sound hollow in his own throat.

Chandi leaned in. “What is it?”

Naresh shook his head and turned back to the puppet. The elaborate headdress meant this was a king.

The drums started, lightly at first, then deeper. For a time, the shadow king pranced around the stage, mimicking Silat punches with his stick-like arms. A puppet sun passed overhead, and still this king trained in his Silat.

At last the drums fell to a gentle rumble in the background, and the narrator spoke. “Long ago, before recorded history, peace reigned among the dynasties. Surya, Chandra, and Agni entrusted the Astral Temple to the people of these Isles, their chosen heirs. And the Pact held our three dynasties together.”

Other puppets entered the stage and seemed to clasp arms with each other and the shadow king. “These were the days of Aji Saka, a humble man, destined to become a great king. None remember the place of his birth. Some say Puradvipa, others claim right here on Suladvipa. On one thing, stories agree. He was a man of respect, but not a descendant of kings in any dynasty.”

Naresh folded his arms. Had Rangguwani uncovered some more detailed story of the Ratu Adil? Probably, he’d just ordered the artists to make up the details. Chandi leaned forward, arms on her knees, staring intently at the puppets.

“And at this time, all were divided,” the narrator said. “For though there was peace, there was not unity of leadership.”

The puppets danced about the stage, congregating in three different groups. Aji Saka pranced from one group to the next, as if unsure of his place.

“And in this disunity King Dewata, lord of the werecrocodiles, arose, intent to claim the Isles as his own. For alone, no dynasty could stand against his power, or that of his people.”

From the corners, near the base of the screen, half human, half crocodile shadows crept up. They slunk towards all three groups in silence, while the dynasties continued their pointless dances. And then the werecrocodiles struck, dragging people down one by one. Some tried to fight, mimicking Silat, but most fell quickly.

Naresh snickered. As far as he knew the Buaya Jadian hadn’t even existed until a few decades ago. Rahu had created both Jadian bloodlines, Chandi had said. The Harimau Jadian, or weretigers, who became the Macan Gadungan, and the Buaya Jadian—werecrocodiles who served as spies and assassins. But the Buaya Jadian had refused Rangguwani’s attempts to bring them into the fold of his Skyfall Empire. Perhaps they would have accepted, if Pohaci had urged it. But she had left to find Malin, and unless she had found him and gone to unknown lands with her lover, sought him still.

And so Rangguwani had vilified the werecrocodiles. Not those living now, of course, for he must still hope to draw them in, as he had drawn in some of the Macan Gadungan. No, he merely painted them as that great, nebulous common evil defeated by the Ratu Adil of the past. Clever. A not-so-subtle reminder the Ratu Adil overshadowed the Jadian.

The puppetry continued as expected: Aji Saka went to each dynasty and earned their trust. He himself stood face to face with the massive crocodile, Dewata.

“Dewata was no ordinary werecrocodile,” the narrator said. “He was the fabled white crocodile, and he had in him the blood of a dragon, one of the great legends of Old Tianxia.”

Naresh rolled his eyes.

“All through the night Aji Saka battled Dewata. From the jungles to the clifftop. And as the sun began to rise, draining Dewata’s moon-given powers, Aji Saka cast him from the cliff of the Astral Temple, into the sea far below. Dewata fell screaming his foul curses, but none heeded him. For Saka’s alliance soon overcame the werecrocodiles, driving them into hiding for centuries.”

The shadow puppets hefted Aji Saka into the air and carried him to a shadow throne. “And thus the Ratu Adil was born.”

The drums rumbled, and the shadow puppets danced around the mock throne hall, until at last the torches went out and screen turned dark.

Naresh stretched while the audience clapped. Those lacking Academy educations might accept the tale without question. But Naresh knew Rangguwani too well, by now. He’d have no problem creating legends to suit his needs—all the man cared for was power. And he tolerated no rival.

The Lunar had been asking him to find Kertajaya for months, and had grown increasingly abrupt with Naresh’s continued failure. Maybe if Rangguwani had the Buaya Jadian with him, they could have found the man. It was what they did, after all.

As the crowd rose, Naresh glanced at Chandi. She still had her arms on her knees, but now her head was bowed. He rubbed her back until she stirred. “Chandi?”

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “Let’s go home.”

Naresh nodded and helped her up, cradling her in his arms. Something had happened to her, and he’d missed it. But he’d never let her face anything alone. Whatever was happening with his wife, he was going to find out.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY

Cradled in her husband’s arms, Chandi feigned sleep. It was easier than trying to explain. What had she done? She was such a fool. Just one more sip, one more sip would soothe the burning ache running through her skull. At least for a few days.

Why was he carrying her home? She’d stumbled, hadn’t she? She snuggled deeper against his chest. So warm, so strong. And he needed her. She couldn’t let him down. Not again. Never again.

Sweet Chandra, why had she taken the Amrita again? Gods, she’d sworn it would be the last time. But now, a week without it was driving her beyond the edge. She bit her lip. Pain to cut through the lunacy. Was she a lunatic? She wasn’t using her Blessings as much … was she? Would she know? But they were becoming stronger. They seemed stronger.

Rahu had killed her at the Astral Temple. Rahu, wearing poor Little Mahesa’s body. Chandi had felt herself growing cold, felt her life seeping out through the wound in her stomach. Funny, she didn’t remember that much fear. But Pohaci had … The werecrocodile had pulled one of the vials of Amrita from Chandi’s sarong, had made her drink. Damn her. It saved her life, but wasn’t death better than lunacy? But then, she would have lost Naresh.

“Shh,” he said, squeezing her tighter.

She was crying against him, wasn’t she? She had to get control. Just one sip and she’d be well. She’d control this. By Chandra, she wouldn’t let this thing win. She’d come through too much to be with Naresh. She’d turned her back on her father, on her people, on Malin, on everything she’d known. Because all of it paled in the fire of love. She’d thought she loved Anusapati, but that love seemed a mere cook fire next to the blazing sun that was Naresh.

So did she owe Pohaci? Drinking that Amrita had both saved and destroyed her life. She was still going to die, wasn’t she? Except now she would die a lunatic. A madwoman, grasping at the strands of grandeur, just as Rahu had done. And maybe it was worth it, just for a few more months with Naresh.

She felt a slight shift, a change in the air. Had Naresh Sun Strode? Chandi cracked her eyes to see him shouldering open the door to their little house. Obviously he hadn’t been able to carry her in his arms and climb a ladder. How many girls had husbands who could instantly transport them upstairs? Not a bad way to travel.

Naresh set her down on the cot, but she let her arms linger around his neck, then pulled him down beside her. She tried to speak, but her throat was so dry. Naresh put a finger on her lips and rose. He drifted over to a barrel of water, filled a goblet, and offered it to her.

After a few sips, she looked up at him. He had sat on the edge of the shelf in the back of the hut, beside her cot, and was staring at her. Had his eyes grown more serious over the last couple of years? Darker?

“Tell me what’s going on, love,” he said, his face a mask of worry.

Chandi shook her head. How could she tell him this? Would he ever look at her the same, if he knew she’d trod—and knowingly trod—down the same path as Rahu? Chandra had granted her the mercy to escape lunacy once …

Cold sweat trickled down her back. She had to get a grip. Just a drop would be enough, just so she could think clearly. She had to make the pieces of her life fit together the way she knew they should.

Naresh scooted closer and put a hand on her forehead. “You’re feverish.” He hesitated, and looked away for a moment. “Chandi, I’m worried you might have caught malaria. Have you been out in the wetlands recently? Where do you go while I work at the palace?”

Chandi snickered and pulled his hand from her head so she could clasp it close to her heart. “It’s not malaria.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

Chandi tried to pull him down beside her, but he resisted, staring right into her eyes, as though he could pull all her secrets out that way. Maybe he could. Damn, he was doing it, wasn’t he? “I was given Amrita as a child to help me survive malaria. I think that makes me very resistant to it.”

“You are sick, and we need to know what it is so we can treat it.”

Oh, yes, she was sick. Tormented by her own weaknesses and the failings of her mind. Why had she let it come to this? Hadn’t she learned her lesson on the price? Chandi shut her eyes to staunch the building tears and ground her jaw. Pohaci had done this to her. She’d taken the choice from her. The Amrita gave her no choice. She would always crave it. If she was honest, she found a reason to use her Blessings every day, and she craved Amrita even more than them.

Maybe she wanted to be able to heft the goods she bought up the ladder without waiting for help from Naresh. Maybe she wanted to pass unseen through unsavory areas, collecting rumors for her husband. Or maybe, some nights, she just wanted to feel the wind as she ran faster than a human could dream. Faster than she’d ever run, either.

Always a reason.

Warm blood seeped into her mouth. She’d bit her lip too hard. Naresh sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed her face, turning her toward him. “What’s happening, Chandi? Please, don’t shut me out.”

Chandi trembled as she grabbed his face in her own hands, too. Those eyes could hold her. They could keep her safe. Protect her. If he never left again … But he had to. And she’d be left alone with those damn vials calling to her.

She tried to swallow, but it caught in her throat. No matter. She pulled the vials from her sarong, earning a frown from Naresh. The frown deepened when she offered them to him.

“I already told you, I’m not taking that. I won’t turn my back on Surya. Nothing good ever came from the Amrita, Chandi.” His face softened. “Nothing excepting saving your life.”

She pushed the vials toward him. “Please, Naresh, please take them while I still have the strength to offer. It’s not for you. I’ve been … After Pohaci gave me more, I … I want it so much. Too much.”

His mouth hung open a bit, but his hands closed around hers, his rough fingers stroking the backs of her hands before he took the vials. “One of these is heavier than the other.”

Chandi closed her eyes before she nodded. How could she stand to see the disappointment that must paint his face? “I tried to stop myself, Naresh. I swear, I tried.”

“Why? It’s been half a year. Why did it take you so long to come to me?”

Chandi chanced a peek at him. Hurt, confusion, doubt. Not things she ever wanted to see on his features. “I lasted a month after the Astral Temple. I don’t know, I just couldn’t stop myself anymore. It kept calling me. Every moment, screaming at me, Naresh.”

He rose and took a step back. “And you waited this long to tell me?”

“But I did tell you!” She rose and tried to step after him, but stumbled over her legs and fell to her knees. Had she become this weak? “Please, try to understand what this does to your mind.”

“I do understand,” he said, tucking the vials into his sarong. “What I don’t understand is why my wife couldn’t tell me what was happening to her sooner. I thought I had earned more trust than that.”

That wasn’t fair. Was it? Rangda damn … Chandi’s breath caught. She’d thought she’d trained herself to stop thinking that. None of them would ever think of Rangda the same way again. “Just keep it somewhere I can’t find it.”

“Maybe it should be destroyed.”

Chandi almost sprang to her feet. “No! This is Chandra’s legacy. This might be the last Amrita in the world. You can’t destroy something like that—”

“The secret of the Sun Brand has been lost. Maybe all these secrets of the Astral Temple should fade into myth.”

Chandi shook her head. “No. Besides, someday we might need this.”

Naresh glowered at her, then grunted. “You already need it too much.” He spun on his heel and fled out the front door.

Chandi sank back down on the cot. That had not gone the way she planned.

Another shiver ran through her.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-ONE

Mountains, bogs, and rainforests covered much of Puradvipa. The heart of the island had rarely, if ever, heard a human voice. And Pohaci had trod across it all. Malin was not here.

Perhaps that was how she found herself climbing the slopes that led up to the Astral Temple. She hadn’t fought at Astral Shore—few of the Buaya Jadian had—so this place didn’t hold the old nightmares for her it did for the Macan Gadungan. But still, after so much blood had been shed here for so little gain, she could almost feel the angry ghosts crying out for vengeance. Souls trapped between the human world and Kahyangan, the Spirit Realm. Never sent on, never returned to the Wheel of Life to be born again.

But this was the place she’d lost Malin. She’d sworn never to fail him, but she’d let Rahu defeat her. The man—or ghost, she supposed—was a demon, and Pohaci prayed Malin had sent it back to Rangda’s frozen underworld.

She took each step with care, avoiding the dry leaves and twigs that would announce her presence. Even when she crested the rise, to crouch at the edge of the rainforest, none of the Solar guards noticed her. They smelled relaxed, bored even. A wide archway led through the white crenellated wall that surrounded the Astral Temple—really, it was a complex of temples arranged in a mandala. The concentric circles were supposed to represent the shape of the universe, or something. Probably nonsense.

For a phase, she sat watching the guards. Few came here, though Tohjaya, the Spice King, had supposedly named this the seat of his kingdom. Fool. He thought the prestige of holding the Temple outweighed what he gave up in abandoning the Spice Islands that supported him. But sooner or later, someone would come and take this place away from him.

At last, as the sun set, she rose from her crouch. As Buaya Jadian her muscles didn’t cramp even if she remained motionless for phases. Others found that stillness unnatural. But werecrocodiles knew the key to success was timing. Act before the prey was in position, and you give it time to escape. Wait until the right moment, until your targets have all but forgotten you, and you could seize them unawares.

She slipped forward toward the guards, hands out to her sides to show she bore no weapon. Of course, she did have a weapon. The ekor pari wrapped around her waist would look like a rope belt without close inspection, but she could open a man’s throat with the bladed whip. The oblivious Solars still didn’t notice her until she was almost right on top of them.

“Surya’s welts!” one shouted as she stepped in front of him. Both men stumbled to ready arbirs. Pointless really, since if she’d meant them harm, they’d have been dead before they even reached for the polearms.

“I’m here to see Tohjaya.”

The guards looked at each other before the second one spoke. “Do you have an appointment?”

Pohaci turned her head to the side, as if taking in the surroundings. The Astral Temple sat atop a plateau, surrounded by rainforest on three sides and a treacherous cliff on the fourth. Beneath the cliff lay Astral Shore, the beaches said to house the ghosts of the Fourth War. “Where would I have made an appointment? Forgive me if I missed the intricacies of Solar politics, I was under the impression this was a religious monument.”

The guard still had the damn arbir pointed at her. “You can’t see the Spice King without an appointment.”

Pohaci sighed. “I would imagine the Spice King doesn’t need an appointment to see whomever he wishes to see?”

“Of course not.”

“In that case, tell him he must come to see me out here. This way we can avoid any appointment-setting difficulties and still accomplish the task.”

The guard who spoke raised an eyebrow. “What the … You want me to tell the king to come out here to meet his subject? Who are you?”

“I’m Pohaci.” She inched her fingers toward the grip of her ekor pari so slowly they wouldn’t notice her moving at all. “He might just remember me as the Buaya Jadian.”

“The what?”

She leaned in close to his face. “The werecrocodile.” The man stepped back so quickly he stumbled to the ground, dropping his weapon. Pohaci laughed. “Just take me to him.”

The guards still hesitated. She could incapacitate them, but if Tohjaya found out, it might hurt her cause. A great deal.

At last the speaker called to other soldiers inside the gate, and a half dozen men came to escort her inside. A large man on either side grabbed each of her arms and almost dragged her forward.

Just like those bastards who put her in the hole. Something was shifting inside her. Cold, dark. And very, very angry. The crocodile spirit coiled against her heart and lungs, straining against the confines of her human flesh. The sun had set. She could let it out. Of course, these men would kill her before she’d even finished transforming. Her nature made her stronger than a human man, but she could never overpower six.

She had to stay calm, to remember why she was here. Malin wasn’t just the man who had freed her from that hole. He was the one who had freed her from herself. Pohaci hadn’t trusted anyone outside her own people, if even them, since she was a child. How could she, after what Rahu and Calon had done to her? But Malin had never judged. Only accepted, only understood. And she loved him for it.

The men dragged her up the steps of one of the temples. Carvings of bidadaris, dragons, and all manner of divine creatures lined the walls inside. Part of the roof had fallen in, allowing a crisscross of moonbeams to illuminate the central hall. Once the temple might have been for worship, but Tohjaya had turned the place into a throne room. Evenly spaced braziers burned along the walls, but instead of the extra light elevating the place, it turned it ominous.

Tohjaya sat on a throne carved to look like a coiled dragon. In the back of the room, he was cast in shadows, but her eyes allowed her to see him clearly. One arm rested on the dragon’s head, the other on its tail. The thing even had rubies for eyes. And sadly, his over-embroidered purple silk robe managed to out-do the throne for ostentatiousness. Peacocks, dragons, and tigers all decorated that robe.

Beside the throne, that big Arun Guardsman, Lembu Ampal stood, arms crossed, face expressionless. Dangerous man.

The men deposited Pohaci a few dozen feet from the throne. They took a step away from her, but only one step, except for a single soldier who went to whisper into the Spice King’s ear.

The king waved the man off a moment later. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

Pohaci surveyed the room, taking in each detail as she spoke, from the extra guards hiding in the shadows, to the concubine who must think herself unseen behind the throne. “The average person has average intelligence, merely by definition of the terms. If the people around you all seem to have less than average intelligence, perhaps it’s not them.”

Tohjaya cocked his head a moment, then rose and clapped his hands. “At last someone understands me. So few people realize the burden of superior intellect, or the duty of leadership it demands.”

Pohaci was quite certain that wasn’t what she’d meant. “Yes, my lord. I seek your aid. Malin has been missing since the day he slew Rahu. It would mean a great deal to me to find him. And who would know this island better than its king?”

Tohjaya walked toward her. In an instant, Lembu Ampal stood beside him, mirroring his every step. If she had come here to harm the Spice King, the Guardsman would have been trouble. Something to remember. Always best to be prepared for allies to become enemies.

“If I had such knowledge, why would I give it to you? What have you done for me, werecrocodile?”

Besides help secure the Astral Temple from Rahu? She shrugged. “I have talents that have served several lords well. Perhaps you may find the Buaya Jadian useful allies.” And terrible enemies.

Tohjaya glanced at Lembu Ampal, who shrugged. The king waved away his guards. When they had gone, the man pulled his keris. Long bladed, like a Solar keris sword, but undulating like a Lunar keris knife. Pohaci jerked back, her hand on the grip of her ekor pari. Just like that, Lembu Ampal fell into a fighting stance, his own keris sword in hand.

But the Spice King brushed him aside, smirking. “Know what this is, Lunar? Of course you don’t. This is the sacred keris of Ken Arok, once great emperor of the Solar Empire. The very weapon your people used to murder the man, now in my hands. And with this blade we will still Rangguwani’s heart, and secure my position as Ratu Adil. And you werecrocodiles are assassins. Aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Assassins, spies. Whatever the Moon Scions had needed. It was what they were trained for. Pohaci wasn’t proud of the lives she’d taken, but she wasn’t exactly ashamed either. She’d done what it took to survive. And Rangguwani, Lord of House Kshuparaka, had ordered more than one of those assassination jobs. The man was ruthless, clever, and probably a much better leader than Tohjaya.

But then, what did she care about that? The Moon Scions had oppressed her people, forced her to become a monster. A certain irony presented itself here, and if Chandra offered her such circumstances, she could hardly refuse. A slight smile cracked her lips, and she didn’t fight it.

“Go with Lembu Ampal and end the pretender to the throne,” Tohjaya said, sheathing the sword, then turning to the Guardsman. He handed Lembu Ampal the blade, and the big man took it with obvious reverence.

“Return with his head and I’ll tell you where my spies said Malin went.”

Pohaci bowed.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-TWO

Much as he disliked dealing with criminals, Naresh had to admit they had their uses. A scrawled note—unsigned, of course, though it must have come from the Igni smuggler—had found its way under the bowl of karedok Naresh had ordered for the lingsir kulon meal. A simple rumor of where Lang had last been seen, but if it was true, Lang would lead Naresh to Kertajaya. The former king had named Lang his heir, after all.

Naresh glanced down at the note again, then wiped his lips. He rose without finishing the meal. Somehow, he couldn’t focus on it anymore. Karedok was nothing but a collection of vegetables: cabbage, legumes, and so forth. But with the spicy peanut dressing, it made for a fair midday meal. Even Chandi liked it. Sometimes she joined him here, at the teahouse near the palace where he usually took repast. He’d worked out an arrangement with the owner to keep the locals from fawning over him. It gave him one of his few sanctuaries in Daha, outside of the palace and his own home.

His wife hadn’t come today. She hadn’t come at all in the week since she’d begged him to hide the Amrita. Much as he longed to spend every moment by her side, maybe she had to fight her way through this on her own. It had taken a lot for her to come to him, he knew that. He would not lose her to lunacy. He wouldn’t allow it. She’d fought so hard to make it so far, and Naresh would never allow her to fall. Never.

If he finished this task for Rangguwani, if he found Kertajaya, maybe he’d take leave from the king’s service. Perhaps he could take Chandi somewhere. Maybe if they got out, alone on the sea, she could find herself. She seemed better already … but damn, she spent so much time in the house these days.

He paid for the meal and left the teahouse, drifting through Daha, sticking to the alleys to avoid notice of the public. The eaves of the roofs gave him shade against the beating sun of the dry season, but these back allies were always clogged with dust, and Naresh fought the urge to cover his mouth. He had to pass through much of the city, back to the Cenrana District. The Igni’s note told him Lang had been seen with Hainuwele, so Naresh headed toward her house. Landorundun had lived there, with her parents. Naresh stood underneath one of the raised houses and sighed. He hadn’t come here since she died except for once, to pay his respects to Lambe Susu and Solokang, her parents. The place felt too empty without that haunting flute song.

Hainuwele was there now, and her garden had grown. Once, Landi’s sister had tended only a handful of vegetables behind the house Kertajaya had given her family. Now, the cucumbers, basil plants, cabbage, and gourds had taken over all the space between her house and the next. She’d even managed to find room to plant flowers not only on her balcony, but on those of the neighbors. Over the garden, she’d hung a green bottle that sprayed water from small holes.

From behind a stilt, Naresh waited, watching the woman. She wore a blue baju, and she had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, as Landi had done when working. Hainuwele was pretty, very pretty he supposed, but she had a rigidness to her features her younger sister had lacked. Surya, what was he doing? Dwelling on the dead would bring him no solace. Landorundun had been given her first three Selamatan. The last, the hundredth day anniversary of her death, was the only one he saw. He’d stood in the pouring rain throughout the rituals, not really hearing them. One more Selamatan remained, on the thousandth day anniversary. And then her soul would truly return to the Wheel of Life. She would be born again, live again, and Surya-willing, love again. Perhaps he’d even see her once more. But then, if he didn’t know it was her, would it matter?

Naresh shook his head. When had he begun to believe all this religious doctrine? His mother would be proud. Maybe Landi would be proud of him, too. He hoped so.

Hainuwele was humming. Surya, that was Landi’s song. Naresh rubbed his palms together. He didn’t need to hear this right now. But despite himself, he shut his eyes and swayed to the song. And then, at last, it stopped.

“I’ve brought the greatest flower for the flower of my love,” Lang’s voice said.

Naresh grimaced. What a line.

“Puradvipan orchid, from deep within the rainforest.” Lang handed Hainuwele a pot with a brilliant pink flower in it. “Your garden seemed incomplete without it.”

Hainuwele took the pot with obvious reverence and immediately began planting the flower in her garden. She flashed Lang a too-sweet smile over her shoulder while she worked. Whatever she said, Naresh didn’t catch it.

Unbelievable as it sounded, Lang was dirty. If his baju wasn’t already black, it may as well have been from grime. When the man knelt beside Hainuwele, Naresh slipped out from behind the stilt and made his way over.

Hainuwele looked at him first, gracing him with a smile that quickly turned to doubt when she glanced at Lang. The man looked at her, then turned to Naresh.

“You!” he said, pointing a finger right at Naresh’s chest.

“Where’s Pak Kertajaya?”

Lang jammed his finger into Naresh. “Why should I tell you anything, traitor?”

Naresh grabbed the man’s finger and twisted his wrist. Lang yelped in pain, turning with Naresh to avoid having his finger break. Naresh pulled the man’s arm behind his back, then leaned in close to Lang’s face. “Because refusing would hurt.”

“Pak Naresh, please,” Hainuwele said.

Naresh glanced at her, then shoved Lang to the ground. “Start talking, Pak Lang.”

Lang rose, rubbing his wrist. “I have nothing to say to you, unless you’ve decided to bow before the rightful ruler of this island. Otherwise, you’re a traitor serving a Lunar over your own people.”

The man had begun pointing at Naresh again. Naresh looked down at his finger, then back up at Lang’s eyes. The man dropped his hand to his side.

“You will tell me, Lang.”

The man glanced around, perhaps seeking a flame. There were none. Lang swung for Naresh, but Naresh caught his arm in the crook of his elbow and twisted, pulling Lang around again. He landed a hook to the man’s ribs. Lang stumbled, gasping and clutching his ribs before coming back up to a fighting stance.

The Firewalker jerked a keris sword free, holding it out in front of Naresh.

So be it. Naresh drew his own blade.

Lang took a step toward him, looked down at the garden, then moved into the shadows beneath the house. Naresh joined him. If Lang wanted to spare Hainuwele’s plants, let him. The Firewalker lunged at him, leading with savage offense. Overreaching. The man was good, but he thought to overcome Naresh through sheer surprise and ferocity. Not likely. Naresh gave ground, letting Lang tire himself.

Some part of him was aware of Hainuwele shouting for them to stop. But it was a distant part. A part buried beneath the tide of reactions, instincts. Parry, evade, counter. Their blades rang after each exchange. Harder and harder Lang pushed, seeking an opening he would never find.

At last, Naresh parried Lang’s thrust on the outside and slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. Before Lang could recover, Naresh slashed open the man’s weapon arm. The keris fell from Lang’s grasp.

Hainuwele’s shriek almost drowned out Lang’s own scream. She threw herself in front of the Firewalker. Naresh glared at him over her head. Lang looked up a moment, blood dribbling down his split lip.

“Go!” she shouted at Naresh. She knelt by Lang, frantically trying to wrap the man’s wound with torn fabric from his shirt. “Just go, Pak Naresh, please.”

Naresh shook his head. Damn. He couldn’t well beat the man into submission with Hainuwele like this. And, in truth, he had no desire to be the man who got what he wanted that way. That violence was always so close to him now … But there were other ways. He cleaned his blade, not taking his eyes from Lang, then sheathed his sword. “Rangguwani won’t let a challenge remain. As long as you’re here, you’re a threat.”

He slipped into the shadows, away from Landi’s old house. His own home was nearby, but he didn’t head there, not yet. Instead he found himself drawn to the shore. Naresh walked down the beach, close enough so the water over his sandals tickled his toes.

Empu Baradah had told him once that the rhythm of the tides mirrored the rhythm of the universe. He was right, of course. Lunars claimed Chandra controlled the tides, and, be that as it may, they still followed an endless flow. In and out, like a breath. You could fight them, or you could be carried away by them, but you couldn’t ignore them. Whether in acceptance or defiance, the flows shaped the lives of all.

And for a long time, those flows had been pulling him down the path Chandi had called darkness. Violence. The same instinct he’d barely reigned in with Lang. Naresh had thought turning to Rangguwani, the supposed Ratu Adil, could change that course for him. But now, those tides had drawn him back in. And maybe he’d never be free of them.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-THREE

Chandi sat on the balcony, head leaning against the rail when her husband returned. His movements almost reminded her of the Macan Gadungan now, the way he stalked through the alleys with absolute confidence, yet still shunned the light of the main roads. Or rather, shunned the crowds that forever seemed to plague him these days.

She jerked at the sudden hand on her shoulder. “Naresh,” she said without turning, “I prefer you don’t Stride behind me like that.”

Her husband slipped his hands under her arms and pulled her to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders without turning her around. Chandi sighed and leaned back against his chest. “Are you feeling any better?” he said after a moment.

She sighed. She wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t. “I’m working on it.”

Naresh held her tighter a moment. “I have something you can help me with.”

Chandi smirked. “You mean something to get me out of the house.”

Naresh ran his fingers along her jawline, sending tingles all the way to her shoulders. “There’s that … and your talents are more suited for the task at hand than mine. My way would require me to take measures I’d rather not take. Yet.”

What did that mean? She turned in his arms, looking up into his dark eyes. Something was going on behind them, something she couldn’t quite see. And Chandi did not like that at all. A slight tremor shook her. She’d worked too hard to hold on to Naresh to let him suffer his darkness alone.

“Whatever talents I have are always at your disposal, husband,” she said, running a hand down his chest. They hadn’t been together since she’d told him about the Amrita. Chandi felt her pulse quicken at the thought. And the shivers had calmed. For the most part.

Naresh took her hand in his own, stroking her fingers. His eyes darted down to her hand for a moment, then back to her face. He grimaced as though discarding some idea. “I wish we could … But I need you to follow Lang, and unfortunately it needs to be now. He might lead us back to Kertajaya, but not if he knows someone is trailing him. I want to put an end to this.”

Oh. Chandi bit her lip, then shrugged. “So now my spying and sneaking are useful to you, huh?”

Naresh favored her with an overwrought grimace, and Chandi smirked. He hugged her, then guided her toward the ladder. “He’s with Hainuwele. You need to hurry.” He lightly slapped her backside.

And he’d pay for that later. Chandi scampered down the ladder, sent a mock glare at her husband, and hurried toward Hainuwele’s house. Odd that Lang still pursued the girl. Odder that Hainuwele allowed it. Once, Lang was heir to the throne of Suladvipa. He was Kertajaya’s cousin, which made him the king’s closest living kin. And when Kertajaya claimed to be the Ratu Adil, Lang had been a very important man. Now, though, Kertajaya was a fugitive hiding from the man who had usurped his throne. Which meant his heir could expect a short life with a violent end. What did she hope to gain by allowing this courtship? Or could Landi’s sister really care for the boor?

Chandi sighed. Stranger things had happened, she supposed. In fact, she wished she hadn’t seen nearly as many strange things as she had. She shivered, despite the heat, but shrugged it off. She was in control of her life. She was in control. Not the Amrita.

Lang was climbing down the ladder from Hainuwele’s house when she neared. Chandi threw herself behind a stilt and crouched in the shadows. Too close, and too easy for him to spot her. She needed an edge.

She Glamoured herself to shift her skin and clothes to match the stilt, then turned to watch Lang as he hit the ground running. Before she could react, he fled almost right past her. At this distance, he should have noticed her. He didn’t even slow.

Chandi glanced down at her skin and saw only the ground beneath her feet.

What on Chandra’s dark side?

She shut her eyes, shook her head, and opened them. Nothing had changed. She hadn’t just altered her clothes’ color, she’d somehow allowed her entire body to match the surroundings almost perfectly. When she moved she could see a slight shimmer. In bright light, someone might notice her, if they were close and knew to look for her. But she was almost invisible. Just like … Just like Rahu had done at the Astral Temple.

And it had taken almost no effort. The Glamour was the most difficult of her Blessings. Drawing it at all, even changing her hair color, was like trying to wrestle a sun bear. It left her exhausted, sweaty, and mildly euphoric to have succeeded in any degree. But not this time. Except for the euphoria.

Chandi stepped out into the light. Lang had already disappeared around the corner. She drew her Blessings to increase her speed, then took off after him. She dashed down one alley and another before she spotted him, heading down to the shore. Excellent. He’d never escape her like that.

He continued on, past the wet rice terraces and into the hills. Here, there was enough high grass, enough trees she could go undetected without the Glamour, couldn’t she? But why take the chance? This was important to Naresh. Of course it was. He needed to find Kertajaya so they could return to normal lives.

Chandi knelt in the tall grasses. Oh, sweet Chandra, what was she thinking? Was she really making excuses to use her Blessings? Again? She dropped the Blessing and its loss hit her like falling into an icy stream. Before she knew it, she’d drawn it again, and her skin had become as green as the grass around her. It was better … Easier.

No. No, damn it. She had to beat this. Deep breaths. She released the Blessing again. The loss was less this time, just a piece missing from her heart.

She crept forward. Lang had disappeared over the rise.

Chandi followed, crawling on her stomach. This hill was almost tall enough to call a mountain. Atop it, a gaping hole opened up in the ground. A canopy of leaves shaded the hole, and you’d have to be close to notice it at all, though it was almost two dozen feet across. A man climbed down a rope hanging from the lip. He looked up at her. Lang.

Chandi had thrown herself prone and drawn the Glamour before she even knew what she was doing. She peered at him. No way he could see her, right? He was looking up, but not at her. Then he turned back to his descent. Chandra, that had to be thirty feet down or more. Had Kertajaya really made that climb? What a hiding place. She crawled up to the lip and looked down.

Someone lit a torch down the hole and slipped into a tunnel she couldn’t see. She forced herself to drop the Glamour again. That had to be enough for Naresh. Though she could climb down there—shift her gravity to the cave ceiling, and run down the wall. It wouldn’t be hard.

She bit her lip. Chandra help her.

She had to get back to Naresh. She had to get away from this place.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FOUR

Naresh peered down the hole in the mountain, unable to make much out in the twilight. “Still hard to believe proud Kertajaya is hiding in a cave.”

Chandi leaned against his shoulder. “So let’s go dig him out.”

He turned to her. “You’re staying here. It’s dangerous, and I don’t want you to have to use your Blessings. I’ll go in alone and bring them out.”

Chandi raised an eyebrow and tapped the toyaks tucked into the back of her sarong. “I can fight without my Blessings.”

“I don’t want you involved in this mess, Chandi.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then you shouldn’t have involved me.”

He hesitated. But with what she’d told him of the Amrita addiction, he shouldn’t give her any excuse to rely on her Blessings. “No. Too dangerous.”

“And that’s why I’m going with you. You ought to know me better than this by now.” She grabbed the rope and began climbing down hand over hand.

He’d tried. With a sigh, Naresh Sun Strode to the base of the pit. Almost immediately, a shout went up. A pair of ragged-looking guards charged him, one with a spear, one with a keris.

Naresh sidestepped the spearman as he lunged, slammed his elbow into the man’s face, and swept his legs out from under him. No time to draw his own blade. The swordsman swung at his head. Naresh ducked and punched the man in the gut, then smashed his palm against the guard’s face.

Chandi dropped down beside him. She turned around once, taking in the fallen guards, then folded her arms. “You might still need my help.”

Naresh chuckled and drew his keris, then proceeded down the tunnel. The place was a natural cave, probably carved long ago by a now-dry river. By the smell and the piles of refuse, people had lived here for a while.

Flickering light illuminated the tunnel, emanating from torch sconces bolted to the walls at regular intervals. The tunnel wound around two bends, descending ever deeper. He had to watch his step. The floor was slick. He glanced up. Water still dripped from the stalactites, albeit very slowly. In the torchlight, the stone had a faint brown-green hue that seemed to sparkle.

“It’s beautiful,” Chandi said.

And it was, though Naresh had no time to appreciate it with his wife at the moment. He tried not to grimace as her voice echoed through the tunnel. A few more paces and the passage opened into a wide cavern with a lake at its heart. The lake rested in a depression, probably a fifteen-foot drop down to it. Across the lake, a half dozen men had gathered, sitting down for a meal.

Naresh started to edge around the lake toward the men when one shouted, pointing at him. So be it.

He glanced back. Chandi was nowhere to be seen. Good, let her stay hidden.

He Sun Strode amongst the men, kicking one in the chest as the soldier rose. The man staggered backward and fell into the depression, flailing his arms for the instant before he hit the water with a splash. In the confusion, Naresh Strode beside another and slammed the man’s head against a stalagmite. Two down.

One man rushed him with a keris sword while another fled down a tunnel. Naresh parried the clumsy attack, then opened the man’s thighs with his own cut. The howling man fell, but he’d live.

Naresh made short work of the remaining two men, careful not to kill them. Where had Chandi gone?

A sizzling sound made him turn toward the tunnel. The man who had fled stood there now, Lang beside him. Flames leapt along Lang’s hands, encircling his entire body. A stream of fire leapt from that vortex and bolted for Naresh.

He Strode to the side. The flames impacted a stalagmite behind where he’d stood, exploding over the cavern. Lang’s own men screamed, caught in the blaze.

“I bet I have more fire than you have sunlight at this point,” Lang said.

Time would tell.

Naresh Strode again when Lang launched another volley of flame. Chandi seemed to appear from nowhere right behind Lang, almost as if she’d Sun Strode herself. She was on the ground, sweeping her leg in a wide arc. She caught Lang’s ankles and the man tumbled to the ground. The flames flickered out. Lang reached toward a torch with his good hand—the other now bandaged from where Naresh had cut him—but Chandi stomped on his fingers.

His sunlight was running low, Naresh was sure, but he Strode over to his wife. Not that she seemed to need it. She parried the last man’s keris with one toyak and broke his ribs with the other. The man joined Lang on the ground, both moaning.

Chandi looked at Naresh, then down at the two men she’d disabled, then back up at Naresh. She shrugged.

Naresh tried not to smile. Of course he knew she could take care of herself. It wasn’t the point.

“How did you get around behind them like that?”

Chandi glanced down the tunnel. “I … I’m just good at sneaking around. It’s why you brought me, remember?” She spoke without looking at him.

After a moment watching his wife, Naresh turned to Lang and hefted the man up. “Take us to Kertajaya and you can avoid getting any other parts of your body damaged.” Lang looked like he was about to snarl something at him, but Naresh had had more than enough of the man. “Pak Lang, I will kill you if you force me to.”

Lang stared into Naresh’s eyes, then jerked his head down the tunnel. Naresh pushed the man ahead of him, careful to keep him within striking distance. If he so much as stretched toward one of the torches on the wall, by Surya he’d run him through.

But Lang just led them into another cavern, this one decorated with a few cushions on the floor. Kertajaya sat on some of those cushions, his face drawn. Maybe it was the shadows, but the circles under the former king’s eyes had grown deep.

“Why, Pak Naresh?” the king asked. “Why assault my men here?”

The dirty baju Kertajaya wore might once have been a regal yellow, but now it was torn and bloodstained. It was almost enough for Naresh to take pity on the man. Almost. “Because you refused to flee the island. Because Pak Rangguwani demands it, to ensure the security of his rule. Because he’s right, and for the Isles to recover, we need stability, not more civil war.” Naresh knelt down, level with the man. “Or maybe this is justice, long delayed, for your crimes against Ken Arok.”

Kertajaya’s eyes went wide for a moment. Then he laughed. Not the response Naresh had expected. “Justice? For Ken Arok? Do you even know who the man really was, Naresh? Did you really know him?”

“I know he was one of the greatest leaders the Solar Empire ever had.” Ken Arok, Kakudmi’s father, had guided the Solar Empire through the Fourth War, despite Rahu’s surprise attack. He’d brought prosperity despite the hardships of war. And he’d pardoned Kertajaya, his treacherous cousin, for trying to seize the throne. Which made him more forgiving than Naresh would have been.

Kertajaya rubbed his face. “You know Ken Arok had a famous keris, right?”

“He was murdered with it.”

Chandi came and sat beside him, her hand on his shoulder. Lang collapsed by Kertajaya, clutching his broken fingers.

“Yes,” Kertajaya said, “he was murdered with it by a Lunar. But how did he get this sacred sword in the first place?” When Naresh didn’t answer, the king continued. “The blade was forged by Mpu Gandring.”

Naresh frowned. The last Radiant Queen before his mother. She’d been assassinated, which had led his mother to take up the mantle.

“The stories I heard, and I believe them, were that Ken Arok wanted a symbol, and thus demanded the finest blade ever forged. A symbol of mastery over the Skyfall Isles. And Mpu Gandring did it. I don’t know what she did, what powers of Surya she may have invested in that blade, but they said with it Ken Arok became a god on the battlefield.”

Naresh shrugged. “And his attendant Kebo Ijo stole the keris and murdered Mpu Gandring with it. He tried to start a coup, but died in the attempt. I remember.” Eleven years ago, that murder had changed his life. It had changed his mother forever.

“That’s what history claims,” Kertajaya said, “but it’s not exactly what happened. You didn’t know what kind of man my cousin really was. He loaned that sword to Kebo Ijo, knowing the fool would brag of it to all his friends. And when Kebo Ijo had fallen asleep after a night of revelry, Ken Arok stole the keris back and used it to assassinate the greatest barrier to his complete rule of the Isles. Not a Lunar, but the Radiant Queen, the only person who might challenge the power of the Solar Emperor. She had time and again been a barrier to his plans. Of course, by then, everyone knew Kebo Ijo had the keris, so when they found it in Mpu Gandring’s body what would they think?”

No. More lies. The man tried to twist the truth however it suited him. Ken Arok was the hero of the Fourth War. “Why should I believe this? Why didn’t you prove this at the time?”

“How could I prove it? I’d heard the stories, but everyone I spoke to who might have known the truth kept winding up dead. I confronted Ken Arok, but he denied it. So what could I do? The man had murdered the Radiant Queen. I resolved to take the throne from him. But my forces couldn’t stand against the Arun Guard. Empu Baradah slaughtered so many. So when Ken Arok offered peace, like a coward I took it. I took the throne of Suladvipa as payment for my silence. If you want to blame me, blame me for that weakness, not for betraying Ken Arok.”

If this was true … If Ken Arok had really murdered Mpu Gandring with that keris … Surya! If that had never happened, Naresh’s mother would still be alive. And Ken Arok, the great leader of the Solar Empire had been a murderer. But Kertajaya could say anything to get what he wanted. If he was the kind of man to turn on his cousin, what would a few lies cost his honor? Nothing.

Kertajaya’s smirk, those damn mocking eyes, were almost enough to make Naresh haul the man to his feet and drag him before Rangguwani. “You need more convincing, Naresh?” the king said. “Find the sword of Ken Arok. The blade undulates like a Lunar keris knife, and along that path, on one side, Mpu Gandring etched the faint form of a dragon. For the blade was said to hold the power and fury and glory of the sea.”

The blade might have such an etching. Naresh had never heard that, had never even noticed it when Tohjaya showed him the blade, but even if it did, anyone could have told Kertajaya of it. It didn’t prove that his story was true … But it was a start.

Naresh glanced at Chandi.

“You know Rangguwani would probably kill them,” she said. “This seems like a Solar thing, so I don’t want to tell you what to do … but it’ll be too late to change your mind if you hand them over.”

Which could be the whole point of Kertajaya’s tale. Maybe he had spent his days down here, thinking up some plausible rationale he could feed to his opponents. Naresh wouldn’t put it past the man to try to justify his betrayal. But then, if it was true, maybe Kertajaya was the rightful heir to the Solar throne. If such a throne even existed anymore. Because, really, the Solar and Lunar Empires had both fallen. All that remained was Rangguwani’s Skyfall Empire.

Naresh rose, pulling Chandi to her feet. “So be it, Pak Kertajaya. I won’t hand you over to Rangguwani. Not yet. But if I hear even a rumor of you trying to start war again, I will hunt you down. For the first time in a long time the Skyfall Isles have a chance at peace. And that’s worth more than your life.”

Naresh stormed out, still holding Chandi’s hand.

“Peace only endures under the right leader,” Kertajaya shouted after him.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-FIVE

The gates of the Iron Palace stood open. Maybe Pohaci could even walk right through, but the guards would surely notice Lembu Ampal. And his keris. Tohjaya wanted Rangguwani assassinated with that keris. But the symbol it represented made the task harder than it would have been otherwise.

“I could Stride us up to the front door,” Lembu Ampal said. They stood around the bend of the wide wall surrounding the palace, out of sight of any guards.

Perhaps the big man wanted to die fighting an army of guards that, if rumors held true, included Macan Gadungan. Pohaci had no desire to do so, though; all she wanted was to find Malin. “We wait for nightfall.”

“You have done this many times?”

Pohaci turned her head to look at the big Solar. She’d done it enough. “Let’s go.”

Lembu Ampal shrugged and followed her. She led him to a teahouse, eager to pass the time until the sun set. The teahouse had a fishpond in the center, filled with carp. Probably nicer than most such places in Daha. A serving girl led them to a table sectioned off by bamboo walls, then poured them each a cup of tea. She must think they were here as a couple. Odd thought, a Lunar and Solar in a romance—even given Chandi’s love of that Guardsman.

“We have fresh satay or rendang,” the girl said.

Pohaci turned to her. “You have rendang?” The Solars were cooking Lunar dishes now?

The girl nodded, smiling like a child. “It’s been popular since Pak Rangguwani came. You know, with all the Lunars living here these days.”

So Rangguwani had really begun to succeed in merging the dynasties. It probably wouldn’t last much beyond his death.

“Bring it.”

Lembu Ampal watched the girl but said nothing.

Pohaci leaned back against the bamboo wall and regarded the big man. “I’m sure she’d be flattered to know an Arun Guard was so interested. Perhaps you should mention it to her.”

He sighed, rubbing that silver medallion he kept beneath his shirt. “A few more years, and my daughter might have looked like that girl.”

The man had lost his child? It explained a few things, she supposed. “How long ago did she die?”

“At Kasusthali.”

A few months shy of three years, then. “Sorry for your loss.”

“They say werecrocodiles were there, dragging down the survivors of the Solar navy.”

She’d heard that, too. “I was imprisoned at the time. Rahu threw me in a dank hole to die.” After that, she couldn’t trust any king. Not Tohjaya, and certainly not Rangguwani. Malin had saved her. He was all she needed.

The Guardsman said nothing else, but he seemed to enjoy the beef rendang when the girl brought it. Pohaci pretended not to notice how studiously Lembu Ampal avoided looking at the girl this time. The cook needed practice, but the rendang was a fair imitation. They even got the spices right, mostly.

Pohaci wiped her mouth when she finished. “Your family knows you loved them. They’ve returned to the Wheel of Life, now, while you remain. You owe it to their memories to live again.”

Lembu Ampal sighed. “Pak Naresh once said something similar.”

Pohaci hadn’t gotten to know the other Guardsman well, but Naresh did seem intelligent. Brash, arrogant, and dangerous. But intelligent, too.

“Rumors say Rangguwani has warriors from all three dynasties guarding him,” Lembu Ampal said, clearly changing the subject. If he didn’t want to speak of his family, it was no loss to her. And she’d heard about Rangguwani’s forces. Jadian, Firewalkers, Solars. Not a combination she relished facing. “How did he do that?”

Pohaci shook her head. Rangguwani had a way of swaying people, of making them think he had their best interests at heart. But she’d done too much of his dirty work to believe he valued the lives of the masses.

Neither of them spoke again until the sun had set. “It’s time,” Pohaci said at last.

They left the teahouse and wandered the perimeter of the wall. The Guardsman seemed content to allow her to lead, which worked fine for her. She was the one who knew what she was doing. “Can you Stride us past this wall?”

“Only at the gate. I have to see where we’re going.”

Pohaci turned in place, taking in the city, then pointed to a three-story building. A guesthouse, perhaps. “Take us to the roof.”

The Guardsman put a hand on her shoulder, then the world shifted. She felt her feet sliding along an incline and had to adjust her balance. Just like that, she was on the saddle roof, clutching its peak for support. She’d never get used to the Sun Stride. Lembu Ampal had done this with her before, when they fought Rahu—it didn’t get easier.

She pointed down into the palace garden. “You can see the yard from here.”

Things shifted again, and Pohaci fell from the sudden change in her balance, landing on soft grass. The crocodile inside her grumbled, trying to crawl its way out and destroy the source of her discomfort. But she needed the Guardsman. She was not the monster they put inside her.

Pohaci pushed herself up and stalked to the palace itself. The front was undoubtedly still guarded, but if they could sneak through the kitchens without raising an alarm, their odds of reaching Rangguwani—and getting out again—improved. Pohaci crept along the edge of the house toward a backdoor, grimacing with each of the Guardsman’s heavy footfalls. When she reached the door she tried it and found it unlocked. Good. The kitchen staff would still need to throw out the waste, she supposed.

She slipped inside the door, followed by Lembu Ampal. A handful of servants busied themselves cleaning the cooking pit or storing the night’s leftovers. One man, sitting on a stool and eating a leg of duck, sniffed and turned toward them, eyes narrowed.

She knew him. Sunten. Damn Macan Gadungan.

He leapt from the stool and stalked closer, drawing everyone’s attention to them. So much for subtlety. “Buaya Jadian. Here.”

“Malin made all Jadian brothers and sisters,” Pohaci said. “Don’t interfere with us, Sunten.”

He tilted his head to the side as if considering it. “I wish I could, but Rangguwani has given us a place here. Why have you come?”

Pohaci motioned Lembu Ampal to stillness. Fighting Sunten would bring half the palace here, and she didn’t really have anything against the weretiger. “I have a message to deliver. Why did you help us break free of the Moon Scions, only to enslave yourself to one here?”

Sunten recoiled, scrunching up his face. “We’re not slaves here, we’re honored warriors.” He shook his head once, as though trying to dislodge the idea. “Come with me to see him. Bring the Buaya Jadian into the fold, let them join the Skyfall Empire. It’s Pohaci, right? Wouldn’t Malin want you to claim your rightful places?”

“Do you know where he is?”

Sunten shook his head. “But whatever you’re here for, only trouble lies down that road. Join us or become obsolete.”

She turned to glance at Lembu Ampal. The man could Stride over and take down Sunten in an instant, but the other kitchen staff would surely raise an alarm. Maybe their best shot at Rangguwani was to let his own people bring them to meet him. Assuming Lembu Ampal had enough sunlight left to get them out of this place when it was done.

Pohaci turned her gaze back to Sunten and nodded. The weretiger ordered one of the kitchen staff to ferry a message, then waved to Pohaci and Lembu Ampal to follow him. He led them into a sitting room lined with giant round cushions. “Wait here.”

Lembu Ampal paced around the room, examining the paintings on the wall. Dead Solar kings, most likely. Pohaci had just gotten comfortable on a blue velvet cushion when guards arrived. If Sunten had betrayed them, she’d skin the tiger. Of course, she planned to betray him, so perhaps she deserved no better. She rose, eying each of the men. They clutched arbirs tightly, but didn’t level the polearms at her.

After a few moments, Naresh entered the room. Shock washed over his face and was replaced in an instant with a set jaw.

“Pak Naresh,” Lembu Ampal said, almost stumbling as he trod toward the other Guardsman. “I didn’t realize you were … You truly serve here?”

Naresh looked away a moment, almost like he was looking past them. Pohaci glowered. She hadn’t counted on him being here, and Lembu Ampal might not be willing to challenge him.

“Better than Tohjaya,” Naresh said at last. “You think he deserves your loyalty?”

Lembu Ampal fidgeted with a medallion around his neck. “I’ve given it to him. I’ve sworn—”

“What?” Naresh said. “To follow a man who can’t tell friend from foe? Who trods on the weak to make himself feel strong? Think about who he was in the Academy. The boy made it his business to harass and abuse anyone he could, including …” Naresh twitched his jaw for a moment. “Including Landorundun.”

Lembu Ampal shut his eyes a moment, then turned back to Naresh. “Did this Lunar really unite the three dynasties?”

“So it would appear,” Naresh said.

Pohaci could almost smell the doubt on Lembu Ampal. Chandra’s surging tides. Solars! “Are you going to do what we came here for, or not?” She didn’t relish fighting Naresh—she’d seen that one in battle, and only a fool would go against him if she could avoid it—but she had to find Malin.

Lembu Ampal opened his mouth, but Naresh spoke first. “And what did you come for, Jadian?”

Jadian. So the Solar spoke to her with enough respect to not call her werecrocodile. “Do you know where Malin is?”

Naresh shook his head.

Lembu Ampal sighed and looked down. “I think I should meet with Pak Rangguwani in the morning.”

Pohaci threw up her arms and plopped down on the pillows piled about the room. At least they were comfortable. Not that she needed pillows, of course. She was Buaya Jadian. She could sleep just as well on a warm beach or rock. But this plush fabric did feel nice on her skin.

“I’ll arrange quarters,” Naresh said. “Neither of you are to leave those quarters until I come for you in the morning. Understood?”

The big man nodded and Pohaci sneered. This was not going according to plan, at all. After Naresh left, Lembu Ampal sat in front of her. He didn’t speak. Fine, let him linger in silence. Jadian lived longer than normal humans anyway. She had more time to spend than he did.

“Tohjaya is …” he began, then stopped as if unsure what he wanted to say.

“An idiot?” Pohaci offered. “A spoiled child? Contemptuous?”

Lembu Ampal frowned. “He was a king, almost an Arun Guard himself. I’d known him …”

Pohaci watched him without moving. “Spare me the justifications for why you followed him. There are always reasons, and maybe yours were good. I don’t care. All I want is to find the man I love. Tohjaya has that knowledge.”

“So do I. I was always at Tohjaya’s side, but he wouldn’t have wanted me to tell you …”

She sat up slowly, leaning in toward the big man. “And now?”

“I think … I’m staying here. Rangguwani seems the better king, the one who could really unite the dynasties. Even Naresh is with him. When I meet him tomorrow—”

Pohaci leapt to her feet, pulling the man up by his baju. Shock passed over his face. Clearly no one had ever manhandled him like this. “Where is Malin?” The crocodile was so close to the surface. She could feel her vision start to shift, feel her muscles tremble in anticipation of the change.

“Tohjaya’s spies said he was seen in Malayadvipa. In the court of the Witch-Queen.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SIX

Chandi couldn’t say whether her husband had made the right choice in sparing Kertajaya and Lang. It was good to see mercy in him, without doubt. But those two would probably stir up trouble again. At least she aimed to make sure that, if it happened, she was there to help him, to protect him from those mistakes.

Of course that meant spending her afternoons spying on Hainuwele from the roof of her own house. Her Blessings let her shift her gravity to the wall, so getting up to the roof was easy. And if anyone looked up at her—unlikely given the tight layout of the houses—she could always use the Glamour.

Sure enough, on the third afternoon after his encounter with Naresh, Lang came stalking into Hainuwele’s garden again, carrying a lamp, oddly enough, though daylight remained. Hainuwele rose slowly to meet him, as if afraid she dreamed. Did she love the man? Lang didn’t seem worthy of such affections, but then, Chandi didn’t think much of Hainuwele, either. So they were perfect for each other. Chandi smiled.

Something shifted in the shadows beneath one of the houses. Someone else was here. How had she missed this? First a single form rose from those shadows, stalking closer to the oblivious lovers. Sunten. She’d heard the young Macan Gadungan had fallen into Rangguwani’s service.

Chandi could shout and warn them, but not without giving herself away. And should she, anyway? She owed Lang no loyalty.

A pair of soldiers followed Sunten, flanking Lang. His head jerked up and he rose, drawing his keris sword.

“If you come along quietly—” Sunten started to say.

Lang flung the lantern at him. The weretiger ducked, but flames exploded out from the lantern, forcing Sunten to throw himself to the ground. Both soldiers rushed Lang. He engaged one. Hainuwele threw herself at the other’s back, trying to pull him away from her lover.

Chandi rose.

Then it happened so fast. The soldier Hainuwele clung to twisted in her grasp, trying to throw her off, and fell on her. When he rose, his keris had gone through her chest.

Landi’s sister convulsed. Landi’s sister. Chandi drew her Blessings to shift her gravity and ran down the house. She jumped to the ground and smashed her fist into the soldier’s face. When he fell, Chandi stood before Hainuwele, who looked up at her with eyes like a mountain lake. She trembled once more and then was still.

Lang had killed the other soldier. He dropped to his knees next to Hainuwele, wailing. Sunten stalked closer, keris knife in hand. Lang seemed completely unaware of him.

Chandi interposed herself between them. “Leave now, Macan Gadungan.”

“I have my orders, Chandi.”

“You’ve done enough.”

He tried to move past her. She drew her Blessings and grasped his wrist, then spun, flinging him against a stilt so hard the house shuddered. Sunten lay still in the dirt.

Chandra, Hainuwele was … Chandi turned back to her. Lang had his head down on her chest. How had this happened so fast? Had she really considered not helping at all? Her hesitation had cost a life.

After a moment, Chandi went to Lang, but he didn’t seem to notice her. He lifted Hainuwele’s corpse in his arms, then carried her away. Chandi followed, but he never turned to look back at her. He walked past the rice fields and back into the hills as if returning to his cave. For a long time he walked, seeming heedless of the weight of the body in his arms. Perhaps he was strong, or perhaps grief had denied him the ability to notice.

And Chandi had let this happen. Landorundun had given her life to save Chandi, and this was how she repaid her? By letting a thug ram a keris through her sister’s heart.

When Lang reached the edge of the cave, he laid Hainuwele’s body down as though she merely slept, then climbed down the rope.

Was he going to just leave her there? Chandi drew her Glamour and snuck closer. Should she do something?

The rope began to sway as Lang climbed back up. Chandi slunk away and hid behind a tree. Lang had brought a shovel from below, and began to dig a hole in the hillside. His face was so hard, Chandi almost wanted to go and help him, but she dared not reveal herself.

She watched as he dug and dug. He panted, and stopped to wipe his brow, but mostly just smeared dirt over his face. And then it was done, and he coughed.

“Haini,” he murmured. He lowered Hainuwele’s body down into the hole, as though setting her into a bed. “Surya guide your way back to the Wheel of Life,” he said. For a time Lang stood still, then at last he began to pile dirt onto her. As the last pile fell, his calm broke, and he wept. That, Chandi couldn’t bring herself to watch.

She shook herself and returned to Daha. The woman had been alive a phase ago. Alive, in love, vibrant. And her life was snuffed out in a heartbeat. It felt like it had all passed in a dream.

She returned to her home, and sat on the porch, seeing nothing. Ice seemed to build in her chest and wouldn’t release her. She didn’t realize she was crying until Naresh wrapped her in his arms. “What happened?”

First she buried her face in his chest. He was warm, solid. And alive. How quickly any of those things could change.

“Chandi?”

“Rangguwani sent his men after Lang, Naresh.” She kept her face nuzzled against him, tightening her arms around his waist. “Hainuwele got in the way … She … I wanted to stop it, but it just happened so fast.”

Naresh guided her into the house and sat her down on the mat. His jaw was tight, and a shadow passed over his eyes. “He shouldn’t have done this. I told him Kertajaya would no longer be a threat. Rangguwani shouldn’t have sent his men. This will divide the people.”

“I think it was an accident,” she said, “but still. They came for a fight, and they found one. He sent the Macan Gadungan. I guess so they could track Lang.”

Naresh rubbed away her tears, though his hand shook a bit. “I have to go see Solokang. And then Rangguwani. He may not have meant for this to happen, but if he sent the Macan Gadungan he had to know it could come to bloodshed.”

Solokang. Sweet Chandra, Landi’s parents had just lost another child. And Chandi hadn’t even stopped to tell them. She’d let Lang carry his beloved off to be buried in the hills where he lived.

Her husband kissed the top of her head before departing.

If she’d come down off the roof the moment she saw Sunten, if she’d tried to help right away, could she have stopped this? Yes, she could have. She could have easily faced down both guards, especially with her Blessings. Chandra, she’d let Hainuwele die for her hesitation.

She’d failed Landi, after all the woman had done for her.

And she should have acted. Her improved Blessings made her unstoppable, if only she used them. The Amrita had made her a true Moon Scion, a living god among these people. And she had done nothing.

Shivers wracked her. She was torturing herself, wasn’t she? She needed to get control. Naresh would need her now. Just a sip of it and she’d be fine again. She’d be able to help Naresh, then. She just wasn’t thinking clearly, that’s why she failed. She needed the Amrita to clear her thoughts.

Chandi tossed aside the clothes Naresh had piled on his footlocker. She flung open the lid. Sketches and useless junk. Where had he hidden it?

She scrambled over to their sleeping area and threw aside the mats. Nothing.

Frantic, she flung aside the dresser, sending it crashing to the floor. It had to be here. He wouldn’t have thrown out the Amrita. It was the blood of gods, it was her blood. He couldn’t have destroyed it. It had to be close.

Chandi punched through the floor. She stared at the hole. Had she been drawing her Blessings and not even known it? Her hand hurt, a little. She forced herself to drop the Blessings.

What was she allowing herself to become? But she already knew the answer. She was becoming what Rahu had been.

Chandi crawled to the balcony and vomited over the side.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SEVEN

Naresh often rose before the sun and let its first rays charge the Sun Brand, but he rarely found himself in the Iron Palace this early. Still, Lembu Ampal’s return was a boon. The man had made a mistake joining Tohjaya, and it was good to have him back. The two of them were the last of the Arun Guard, after all.

Few courtiers walked the halls at this phase. It was for the best, since Naresh had little to say to such men. Politicians with too much time and, often, too little honor. Rangguwani had collected the oddest assortment of followers, sycophants, and even a few idealists. A united Skyfall Empire sounded wonderful, of course, but working side-by-side with Macan Gadungan and Firewalkers was like keeping a crocodile as a guard dog. Sure, it’d scare away the criminals, but it could bite your hand off, too.

Lembu Ampal had been given quarters in the palace, on the second floor of the eastern wing. Naresh rapped on his door. The man would probably be up already. He was Arun Guard, and even if the Solar Empire had fallen, the habit of rising at dawn would linger.

After a moment, the big man cracked open the bamboo door. He bowed when he saw Naresh, then stepped aside to allow him to enter. Rangguwani had provided adequate guest chambers—a large bed, a washbasin, and a small table. The highlight was the massive window, though, and Lembu Ampal had thrown open the shutters, letting in the morning sun.

The big man waved at the table. “Sit. I’ll order tea.”

Naresh did so, sitting cross-legged. He closed his eyes when Lembu Ampal departed, letting the sun warm his face. Really, Rangguwani had done well by the Guardsman with this room. He probably would have given Naresh similar quarters, had he been willing to move into the palace.

He opened his eyes at the sound of the big man flopping down on the other side of the table. “Are you settling in here?”

The Guardsman nodded.

Well, he was never very verbose. Naresh sighed and glanced back out the window. “Pak Lembu Ampal, I want to ask you something.”

“Brother, you’d do me honor by calling me Lem.”

“All right, Lem … You spent a lot of time with Tohjaya.”

Again, Lem just nodded. Not that Naresh blamed him. He wasn’t sure he’d have much to say about such a long stretch serving Tohjaya either. At least nothing polite.

“How close a look did you get at his keris? The one that belonged to Ken Arok?”

Kertajaya could have heard of its design from anyone, but, if that much was true, it meant Naresh had to at least consider what else the former king might have been honest about.

Lem rose and retrieved a bundle from beside his bed. He unrolled a sackcloth, to reveal a wavy keris sword. The hilt was well-carved, with ivory trim. Naresh had seen it before. He reached for it, and Lem released it. Slowly, Naresh slid it from the sheath. He’d seen the elaborate designs etched in the metal, too, when Tohjaya had shown him this blade. But he hadn’t paid enough attention before. The long serpent that ran the length of the blade on one side did look like a dragon. Four legs, and those wavy lines might be whiskers like a tiger. Rumor said the Tianxians worshipped these water monsters, but the closest most Skyfall natives came to finding dragons were the Warak Ngendogs. In his Academy days, he’d read the legends that Tianxian dragons could control the sea or the sky, like spirits of Kahyangan.

“He gave this to you?” A blade bearing the sign of a dragon. A hint Kertajaya spoke the truth … And it would only make things more complicated.

“He wanted me to assassinate Rangguwani with it.”

Naresh found his grip tightening on the blade. Tohjaya would send assassins here? So the bastard thought to disrupt the fragile peace. Perhaps Naresh should pay him a visit, show him the error of his ways. And bury this keris in his heart.

“I will present the sword to Rangguwani this morning,” Lem said. “A sign of my allegiance.”

Naresh sheathed the blade and handed it back to Lem. They sat in silence a moment, then a servant entered with a tray of tea and eggs souffléd with coconut milk. Naresh had eaten with Chandi, so he merely sipped the tea while the big man ate.

Chandi had made nasi goring, Naresh’s favorite breakfast. She’d seemed to have developed a taste for the rice curry herself. Perhaps she’d woken early and cooked for him to distract him from the hole in the middle of their floor. Or maybe she thought he wouldn’t notice, with the rug pulled over it. Much as he wanted to deny it, in his heart he knew she’d been looking for the Amrita. He’d kept the vials on his person, fearing this very thing. If she would only share what she was going through with him, maybe he could help her. Or maybe he couldn’t. Some things a person had to fight through on his or her own. Naresh understood this better than most.

“Do you think Rangguwani—a Lunar—deserves the sword?” Naresh asked when Lem had finished eating.

The man frowned over his tea. “You serve him.” Perhaps. Naresh followed Rangguwani, for good or ill. Lem studied Naresh’s face. “You’re the one who insisted I leave Tohjaya. I cannot follow a king with half my heart, Pak Naresh.”

Surya, that was the thing. Naresh had believed in Kakudmi—whatever mistakes the man had made, whatever weaknesses he’d harbored, he was a good man. Naresh had trusted him. But none of the three who claimed the throne of Ratu Adil had earned his trust. Rangguwani deserved respect, perhaps for succeeding in bringing together such disparate forces. But if Kertajaya spoke the truth, Naresh had misjudged him from the start. Without doubt the man was clever, conniving even. And yet, maybe he was the rightful heir to the Solar throne. If he hadn’t betrayed Ken Arok, or rather hadn’t betrayed him without cause, perhaps Naresh should have supported him back when he first demanded it. And if he had, maybe Kertajaya would still rule this palace. By not turning in Kertajaya, by even starting to believe him, Naresh had failed Rangguwani. He offered token service to a king he didn’t believe in.

“You delve deeply. Almost seems like you seek Kebatinan in my chambers.”

Naresh looked up at Lem. “Sorry.”

Lem nodded and looked out at the sun. “Where did this sword send you, Pak Naresh?”

Far away, it seemed. “It’s possible I’ve misjudged a great many people.”

“Haven’t we all?” The big man shrugged. “It’s almost time. The king will arrive in the great hall soon.” He wrapped the sword back in its bundle.

“So you think it’s better to make a choice and see it through, no matter the consequences?”

Lem sighed. “I don’t know. I realized I made a mistake in Tohjaya. I’m hoping Rangguwani is the better choice … Because I don’t think I can play the game of shifting allegiances anymore. There is no honor in it.”

Find a side and see it through. It sounded like duty, but life was no longer so simple.

They rose together and walked through the palace, Lem carrying the sacred keris under his arm. The great hall was on the first floor—or rather the first and second, as the high ceiling allowed—in the center of the palace. It had seemed arrogant when Kertajaya sat on the throne at the back of this hall. But somehow, after Rangguwani had filled this hall with warriors and courtiers of three dynasties, it no longer felt like an affectation. It felt like a statement.

Naresh took his place beside the throne. Rangguwani liked the symbol of the Arun Guard watching over him, perhaps even more than he liked actually having a protector. But he needed one. The man could fight, of course—he was a Moon Scion—but Naresh had stopped two assassins in the past four months.

Lembu Ampal knelt before the throne, offering the wrapped bundle up to Rangguwani with both hands.

“What is this, Guardsman?”

“Pak Rangguwani, I give you the sacred sword of Ken Arok.”

Rangguwani glanced at Naresh with a gleam in his eye, a hunger. Even so, Naresh nodded. Lem would never harm Rangguwani like this. The king rose from the throne and walked toward Lem. Rangguwani wore a golden headdress, and a great golden cape-like harness, but no shirt. Naresh had to admit, it did make him look regal. And pompous.

The king took the bundle and unwrapped it, tossing the cloth aside. He drew the sword and held it up for inspection. “This blade was used to assassinate Ken Arok?”

Lem nodded.

“How did it come into your possession? I thought my … I thought Anusapati had taken this?”

“The sword was given to me by Pak Tohjaya, the Spice King. I do not know how he retrieved it. We all thought it lost after Astral Shore. He sent me here with this, intending I should assassinate you with it.”

A murmur ran through the hall. Several guards reached for weapons, and a woman somewhere gasped. Naresh Strode beside the king. Lem wouldn’t attack, but Naresh needed to assure the crowd he watched over their lord. Rangguwani just frowned. “And why didn’t you?”

“Because I felt you more worthy of my service.”

Lem might be a man of few words, but he picked the right ones.

Rangguwani smirked, then returned to his throne. He inspected the sword a moment more, the hint of a grin on his face, and his eyes wide. “Tohjaya sent you to murder me with this? It seems only fitting we return the favor. Naresh, take the sword. Use it to eliminate the so-called Spice King.”

Naresh hadn’t returned to stand beside the king. Now he turned to look the man in the eyes. “I …” Earlier this morning he’d considered doing just that. It had seemed only natural. Tohjaya was a fool, a bully, and had no problem employing assassins himself. He had almost no honor. But … Naresh did.

He shook his head. Suddenly, murder didn’t seem like a good idea. “I’m not an assassin. I’m Arun Guard.”

Again, the damn crowd murmured. Let them.

“You are in my employ, Guardsman,” Rangguwani said. “You are a soldier working for the Ratu Adil, and I am giving you a mission.”

Naresh could not, would not, become this. Maybe he’d spent too long as his own master. If Kakudmi had ordered him to assassinate another king, he might have agreed. But then, Kakudmi never would. And maybe that was the point.

“I am not an assassin,” Naresh repeated. He looked in Rangguwani’s eyes. There was no way the king was letting this go. Clever as he was, he never should have voiced such a command in a hall full of people. Maybe that was his cleverness at play—thinking Naresh could never refuse in front of such an audience. But it swung both ways, for Rangguwani could not now back down. And Naresh would not cave. He would not. Which left him only one recourse. “Pak Rangguwani … With regret, I feel I must resign my post.”

Naresh turned and walked toward the entrance.

“Naresh!” Rangguwani shouted, pounding his fist on his throne. “You are in my service until I release you!”

Silence had fallen over the hall. Naresh turned to face the king. “Did you think ordering me in this hall would force my hand? Congratulations, you have. I will not do this thing. You claim to rule Solars, but you know so little of our honor. I won’t assassinate a king, not because he deserves better, but because we do. Perhaps Pak Lembu Ampal will remain with you. If so, I don’t suggest you try to task him with this mission either. Even if he would agree, you shouldn’t send away your only Arun Guard at such a time. For myself, I’m a free man, not a slave. And I choose to walk away. Trying to keep a protector in your service against his will offers little benefit, my lord.”

Naresh bowed and walked out. Rangguwani did not order his men to stop him, for which Naresh was grateful. He had no desire to hurt anyone. Funny, he’d walked out on Kertajaya’s service from this same hall. Albeit with more violence.

Still, Rangguwani’s pride had been insulted today, and Daha might not be the best place for Naresh or Chandi. He hurried toward their home. As soon as someone in the crowd spotted him, the whispers started again. Some woman fell to her knees before him, begging his blessing for her children.

Naresh Sun Strode away.

Chandi was at home when he arrived, thank Surya. He Strode up to the house, then embraced her. “We need to leave Daha. We’ll take the jukung out and find a dhow at the nearest port.”

“What?” She pushed him back to look in his face. A sheen of sweat covered her. His heart clenched, but there was nothing he could do about it. “Why?”

Naresh shook his head. “You trust me?”

“Of course I trust you. What kind of question is that?” She frowned, but joined him when he started hurriedly packing their things.

They’d take only what they most needed. This wasn’t the first time they’d had to leave a home behind. With luck, one day they would return for the rest.

“But where are we going?” Chandi asked as she carried the last armful down the ladder.

“Ben’s still in Kutai, right? Maybe it’s time we check in on him.”

And Puradvipa would put them beyond Rangguwani’s reach.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-EIGHT

Rangguwani had paid Naresh well, so he’d been able to book passage on a dhow for Kutai. The Hyang, it was called, the old name for the spirits of Kahyangan. Chandi shuddered at the reminder. Whatever Ratna had done had released something from the Spirit Realm. Something terrible that never should have been allowed to walk the Earth. Why did the spirits harbor such hatred for mankind? And why would people honor them by naming ships after them?

She ran a hand along Naresh’s forehead, swabbing it with a cloth. So hot. They’d been at sea for almost two days, and he’d grown worse and worse. It would take another day for them to reach Kutai, but maybe there she could get him some help. Sweat poured off her husband, and he seemed hot one minute, then freezing the next. Right now, he lay wrapped in a blanket, but he’d probably toss it aside again soon.

Chandra, what was wrong with him? She’d never seen him so sick. It was like watching him slip away, and there was nothing she could do. Her heart felt like it would give out, just wither away.

“Please.” Her voice shook, and she bit her lip. “What’s happening, Naresh?” She kissed him on the forehead. “Sweet Chandra, you’re really burning. Naresh? Can you hear me?”

Why wasn’t he answering? The fever would cook his brain. She had to do something, but what?

“Chandi …”

She clutched his hand. Thank Chandra! With her other hand she passed him a goblet of water. He rose enough to drink, but his hands shook so much she had to hold the goblet for him.

“I had malaria before,” he managed to say. “Recurrence.”

“Malaria?” She shook her head. “You told me. But you were better. You said Semar cured you.” Had the Igni lied? It couldn’t be malaria. Malaria could kill him, so it couldn’t be that. Because she would not let him go. Not ever.

She laid her head on his chest and shuddered. “Love, you’ll be fine. You have to be fine. I can’t lose you.”

He jerked upright, covering his mouth and gagging. Shit, he was going to lose it. Chandi lifted him under his arms, helping him to a porthole. He retched, but it seemed like water. He hadn’t eaten all day.

Oh, Naresh. She rubbed his back. “You’re just seasick, right? It’s not malaria.”

He shook his head a little and lay back down. She clutched his hand. He was so strong … She’d never thought to see him like this. He’d called her his moon and stars. And he was her sunlight. “Naresh …” She’d do anything, anything to save him. Chandra, he’d become her life. “Naresh, if you have malaria … you need to take the Amrita.” They both needed it. It was all they needed to be whole. One more sip and she’d be strong enough. “It’ll cure you. It cured me when I was a child. Where is it? I’ll get it for you. Just take a big swig of one vial, and this will go away. I never got malaria again, you know?” She rubbed his shoulder and leaned close. One sip for each of them, and they’d both be well. His malaria would fade and not recur, and the pain in her mind and body and soul would be gone. “Just tell me where to find it, love.”

Naresh tried to sit, tried to push her back, but she had to help him. “You can’t be serious. You want to use … my condition as an excuse to get that … that toxin again?”

Chandi shook her head and bit her lip. “No, I …” That’s not what she meant. Oh, Chandra, it was exactly what she meant!

No! She was trying to help him. She had to save her husband. “That’s what you think?” She backed away. “That this is about me?”

“Is it?”

She continued to back away until she ran into another berth. “No … I mean … I don’t think so. No! Naresh, I’m trying to help you.”

Naresh scowled and lay back. “You’ll turn me into an addict, too.”

“Not with one dose.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “You have to trust me.” She was trying to … to help. She’d never do anything to hurt him. She’d die for him if she had to.

“Sometimes you make it hard.”

Hard to trust her? And why not? She’d betrayed him repeatedly in Kasusthali, lied to him in Cenrana. She trembled, looking down at her sandals. She failed him, she’d failed everyone. And now she was trying to poison herself and use him as an excuse to do it. Chandra, he was right about everything. What kind of person was she? She ran from the forecastle, up the companionway to the deck.

“Chandi,” Naresh called after her, his voice barely a whisper.

A sob wracked her chest. She was going lunatic again. It was like a snake, slithering through her mind. Threatening to take her. Moments of stark clarity made the rising madness all the more painful. Would it be easier to just let go? Let it take her away?

The Amrita ate away at her mind and soul, one piece at a time. She never should have given it to him. Never should have told him. She should have just taken it all and been done with it.

She was a monster, and she failed her husband. She wailed and pounded her fists into the gunwale, splintering it. Had she been drawing her Blessings? She couldn’t even tell anymore. She started to sob again, but bile rose in her throat and she vomited over the side.

One of the crewmen inquired after her, but she waved him away.

She needed no sympathy. She was the villain of this story. The anchor that would drag Naresh into the abyss. In his darkest moment, he could be dying of malaria, and she was here feeling sorry for herself.

Because he didn’t trust her!

Hadn’t she earned his trust? Hadn’t she done enough when she’d fought Malin for him?

She’d worked so damn hard to win him over. She’d joined him in Solar lands and become whatever he needed. She’d listened to the whispers and abuse and distrust the Suladvipans showered on “the Lunar.” And it was all for him.

And now he’d turned his back on her.

And she deserved it.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-NINE

“I do trust you,” Naresh whispered into the back of Chandi’s hair. Even when he’d been strong enough to rise, she’d been out of sight until now, as Kutai drew into view. The girl could make herself damn hard to find when she wanted. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off and scurried over to the other side of the dhow.

Naresh blew out a long breath and steadied himself against the rail. The fever had receded, but not broken, and every movement was an effort.

He watched Chandi, unable to look away, unable to make himself go to her. In his delirium, he’d seen the world burning. All he loved slipped away in a wake of destruction. Naresh didn’t want to explain where his mind had gotten those images. Just focus on the sea.

Within a phase, the Hyang pulled into port at Kutai. The city had been infamous in Kasusthali—a port of call for all kinds of unsavory types. In theory, it was a free city that welcomed all comers, including members of any dynasty. In reality, the city was under Lunar control. The Solar Empire had considered the situation too complex to be worth interfering in, at least while preoccupied with threat from Rahu. Now, with the fall of both the Solar and Lunar Empires, Surya only knew who really ruled here.

But Bendurana had decided to make a new life here—not surprising the man had spent time in Kutai—and Naresh supposed the place would do as well for him and Chandi. She blessedly didn’t rush down the gangway the moment the ship was tied off, but waited for him. Not that he couldn’t manage down the gangway himself, of course.

Still, Chandi let him take her arm to steady himself as they trod down into the city. Her face was a mask—so empty it felt like someone had knifed him. The smell of sea salt mixed with chickens, frying fish, and unwashed masses assaulted him as they wound through the harbor.

“Where do we find Ben?” he asked.

Chandi shrugged. “His last letter said he was staying at a local guesthouse called the Lost Dugong.” Her voice seemed so empty, though her eyes darted into every alley they passed.

“What is it?” Naresh asked at last. “What are you looking for?”

Chandi didn’t answer, just pulled him along faster. The buildings here resembled those on Suladvipa, packed tightly together and with large roofs. Across the alleys, one roof almost touched the next. Near the harbor a long winding road formed a market district crowded with vendors and customers. His wife wound her way past all of them, clearly wary.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“No.” She pushed aside a man who drew too near. Had he just tried to swipe her pouch?

Someone shoved a spiced satay stick in Naresh’s face. The meat smelled off, just a bit. Not chicken. He glanced past the vendor into the stall. The man had dead rats strung up on a line near a covered grill. Naresh’s stomach churned again. He hadn’t vomited yet today, and he aimed to keep it that way.

“This place is …” he began.

“You’re the one who wanted to come here. You thought we could disappear in this city? I imagine there’s a reason why no government looks too deeply here.”

Ben lived here. Besides, they had made this plan together, even if it was his idea. His breath had become ragged. Plodding through the city at this pace, in his condition, was wearing on him. He’d have to stop soon, or risk passing out.

“Ben said the guesthouse was near the market,” Chandi said. “Wait here, and I’ll ask around for it.” She slipped away into the crowd before he could even protest.

Naresh glanced back at the rat vendor, who flashed him a wide grin. The man’s teeth—the ones he still had—were yellow, tarnished with black spots. With a grunt, Naresh turned away. At least the crowds here didn’t throw themselves at his feet begging for blessings. It was better to be ignored than worshipped.

He grabbed a passing man, an Igni by the sacred flame on his baju. “I’m looking for a Serendibian, a tall man with his hair woven into locks.”

The man shook his head and shrugged, before scurrying off.

Naresh tried twice more, at vendors, but they seemed disinclined to discuss anything other than their wares. One sold Tianxian tea leaves. “Good for the health,” the man said.

For a moment, Naresh stared at the man. Semar had said the qinghao he used to make that tea—the tea that had eased the malaria—had come from Tianxia. But none of this man’s selections seemed to match that herb.

A hand brushed his shoulder, and he jerked to see Chandi. “I found it,” she said, and pulled him along, supporting him on her arm. She took a side street so narrow they had to press together to walk side-by-side, then turned down a back alley. A scruffy-looking dog slunk away as they entered the dusty alley, a place that stank of rotting food and old urine. Down the road, almost obscured by the hanging roof, hung a faded sign painted with a sea cow. The Lost Dugong. Alone, apart from their herds, such animals didn’t last long. Maybe that was the point the owner had—if he had any point at all. Maybe the man just liked sea cows.

His wife’s arm stiffened a little when she looked at the place, but she trudged forward nevertheless and shouldered open the door. The guesthouse opened into a lobby with several low dining tables. An aroma of fish curry thick with coriander permeated the entire room, and Naresh could have sworn Chandi stifled a gag.

Inside, an old woman in a faded green baju waddled over to them. “Rooms are a heavy pearl a week. Meals are extra.” The woman’s skin sagged, and she had the plumpness of someone who loved to eat.

Naresh nodded and paid her. “We’re looking for a friend.”

“Probably in the wrong city, then.”

Surya, he was too sick to deal with this. “A Serendibian. Tall, well-built.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, but otherwise remained still as a statue.

Chandi pushed him further inside. “Go sit down. I’ll take care of everything.”

Naresh glowered a moment, but did as his wife asked. He knelt at one of the tables, though the cushions were not half as comfortable as he’d have liked. He rested his head in his hands, but snuck a glance at his wife. She passed the old woman something, and they whispered for a moment.

Then Chandi came and sat beside Naresh. “He’ll be here this evening. We’ve got a room upstairs. You can rest there a few phases.”

A bit of sleep would help. His eyes had gone so dry, and his head felt like ultop. “I need to go out and get something. A Tianxian herb that might help me.”

“Fine.”

Naresh suppressed a sigh. Chandi could be the warmest person he’d ever known. Most of the time. He rose, but she grabbed his wrist before he walked away.

“Naresh, wait. Malin told me, even before the Lunar fall, this city was all but ruled by the Luhur.”

Naresh knelt beside her, his leg throbbing from the effort. “Luhur?”

She leaned closer to him. “A cabal, a union of several pirate cabals, in fact. The local House lord condones, or at least ignores, their dealings.”

More local color. This place was seeming less and less like somewhere he wanted to settle in. He kissed Chandi on the cheek, and she rose.

“I’m coming with you.”

Oh, thank Surya. They left the guesthouse, and she supported his weight until he got his feet under him.

For a phase they walked the market, asking after Tianxian herbs. Maybe if he’d spent more time with Chandi in the markets of Daha, the one here would have been less confusing. Kasusthali market might have appeared chaotic at the time, but compared to this it ran like a disciplined battalion. Chandi didn’t seem bothered by the place, though he could almost feel her anger seeping off her skin. She kept him from falling, but she said nothing other than to ask locals after the herb.

Naresh was almost ready to give up, when a man sitting on a three-foot high crate waved him over. The man was older than Naresh, probably in his forties, with long, matted hair that overhung his eyes. A week’s beard completed the effect.

“What do you want?” Naresh asked.

The man leaned back on the crate. “Well, boy, I was going to ask you the same. You’ve been wandering around the market, clearly not from this place. Which is nothing new. Strangers come here all the time. But you … people notice you. So what do you want with Tianxian goods, eh?” Now that Naresh was closer, it was easy to see the man wore numerous finger rings and even an earring. Despite his rough appearance, he had the look of one well-fed and healthy.

Chandi hung back, watching them from the shadows with glazed-over eyes.

Naresh leaned on the crate, as much to support himself as to intimidate the man, though he hoped that wouldn’t be obvious. “You’re Luhur, right?”

The man burst out laughing. “Chandra’s hidden whore, boy! You are bold, aren’t you? You really him, then? The Arun Guard from Suladvipa, the one people call Whale Lord?”

Oh, Surya, not this again. Naresh stood, trying to keep from swaying. “If I was, I wouldn’t be looking to announce it to the public.”

The man shrugged and stepped off the crate, fingering the hilt of a keris knife at his side. “Might be too late for that one.”

Naresh rested his hand over his own sword. “What do you want, Luhur? You still haven’t told me that.”

The man flashed a grin, or rather, bared his teeth. “Asamanja’s the name. And maybe I like having an Arun Guard owe me. Or maybe I just want to make sure you go on your way without causing trouble. Some might think it best to simply remove the threat, but I’ve seen your kind fight. I’d rather have a friend than an enemy.”

Naresh relaxed his fingers off his sword. The man was probably a pirate, but such things were no longer Naresh’s problem. And if they ruled the city, he certainly hadn’t come here to interfere. “All right, Pak Asa—”

The man held up a hand. “I’m not Pak anything, boy. I’m a Lunar, through and through, so don’t go throwing around that Solar title nonsense with me.”

Title nonsense? The titles were signs of respect. If the thug didn’t want respect, fair enough. Naresh would be happy not to feign it. “I’m looking for an imported Tianxian herb. Qinghao.”

Asamanja shrugged. “You can find just about anything in this city.” He beckoned and Naresh and Chandi followed him, winding through a maze of alleyways. Probably the man took him this way to ensure he couldn’t find his way back on his own. Or maybe this was just the only way. Kutai didn’t seem built with logic, so much as grown, one building shoved up next to another, wherever someone could fit it.

Eventually, they reached an exit back onto the main road. On the corner of the alley, a shop sat, marked only by a sign in Tianxian. Naresh knew only a few of the strange characters in that language, but he thought this one was for medicine. So maybe the pirate hadn’t misled him.

He looked back, but the man had slipped off into the back alleys. Fair enough. Chandi scowled at Asamanja, then pushed open the door for Naresh.

Inside was dark, and cramped, the shelves stuffed with jars. A few, he could guess the contents. Oils, salts, even a few spices. Most, he couldn’t tell what the strange liquids, powders, and herbs were. The whole shop smelled foreign, from the Tianxian peppercorns to the old man behind the counter with that long thin mustache.

“You need medicine,” the old man said. “Best medicine here.”

Naresh leaned on the counter, and the old man abruptly reached out and felt his forehead. Naresh was too shocked, and too tired, to stop him.

“Fever,” the man said.

“Malaria. I need qinghao.”

The man grunted and grabbed a small clay jar from the shelves behind him, then offered it Naresh. “Best medicine. Buy lot. Mix in tea.”

Naresh opened the jar and sniffed the powder. It smelled the same as what Semar had made those teas from. He handed the man a heavy pearl and left with the jar. He couldn’t say he’d ever been so eager to go make tea in his life.

His feet almost slipped out from under him when he exited, and then Chandi was there, holding him up again. She led him back down the main street, back to the guesthouse.

When they entered, he spotted Ben at a table. The Serendibian laughed, then jumped to his feet and sauntered over to embrace him. Naresh cradled the jar in one hand, using the other to return the embrace.

“And Chandi, my dear,” Ben said. “I must need a hug from you, too. Yes, I think I do need one.”

She sighed, but did give him a quick hug.

“Quite a place you’ve chosen for yourself, Ben,” Naresh said.

Ben shrugged. “Ah, Naresh. It’s a place.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY

After two weeks in Kutai, Naresh couldn’t say the city felt like home, but it had at least begun to feel sane. Or rather, it had its own unique brand of sanity. Never in his life would he have thought he’d have dealings with criminals, but the Luhur had proved cooperative enough, even helpful, so long as he had money to pay. And of course, as long as he stayed out of their business.

The tea had done its work, and Naresh could move about with strength and a clear head, at last.

Asamanja had put him in touch with the one-eyed man sitting in the corner of the guesthouse this evening. Finder, the man called himself. Not much of a name, but rumor held he knew his work. Etchings covered his eyepatch, marks that looked like swirls.

Naresh sank down at the table across from him. Neither of them spoke until a serving girl had dropped off two teas and left.

Finder took a sip of his tea, licked his lips, then set the cup down. “You wanted to know about those close to Kertajaya.”

Naresh nodded. Kutai might not be the best place to find answers, but the former king had left him with too many doubts. The man had told the truth about Ken Arok’s keris, so if any more of the story had been true … well, he needed to know. If Kertajaya was a legitimate heir to the Solar throne, Naresh owed him loyalty.

And everyone said this was the place you could find anything. Even information long buried.

“He had a lot of concubines back then, harem girls.” Finder sipped the tea again, and again licked his lips. “One lives here now.” The man stared at Naresh, his eye narrowed.

Always about the money. Naresh slid a bag of pearls over at Finder.

The man snatched the purse off the table and jiggled it. A moment later, he slid a piece of paper to Naresh, then leaned in. “They said to tell you … you need work, we can provide.”

Naresh snorted and rose. He’d work for the Luhur when the sun burned cold and fish walked out of the sea. He glanced at the paper as he walked down the hall to his room. If the address was correct, this woman lived in the northern districts of the city, the slums locals called the Coils because of its winding layout. The Luhur had their palaces in the southeastern district, and the market and harbor lay in the southwest. The north, though, Naresh had avoided. One of the first warnings he’d received here was that if you weren’t a local, you could get lost in the Coils and never find your way out.

Chandi was in their room, lying on the cot, curled in a little ball. The poor girl had gone through fits of sweating and trembling as bad as any he’d had with malaria, but she seemed to be pulling through it. Maybe the Amrita was almost out of her system, now.

They had a small tea stove in the corner, so Naresh lit the burner to boil some tea—thank Surya he didn’t need the qinghao anymore, but Chandi looked like she could use something hot. He sat down beside her, resting his hand on her hip while he waited for the tea to boil.

She stirred, rolling over to look up at him, then pulled him down toward her, wrapping her arms around his neck. It had been days after they came to Kutai before she forgave him, but when she had, she’d tried so hard to take care of him, despite her own weakness. She’d woken every day and made him qinghao tea.

“I made something for you this morning,” he said. He extricated himself from her embrace, then reached over to show her his sketchpad. He’d spent more than a phase getting the lines of their old house in Cenrana just right. It wasn’t just the house—it was her tree. It had to be perfect. But the look on her face was worth it. She ran her fingers along the sketch of the rope he’d hung in their tree, then glanced back at him, eyes glistening.

“Naresh …”

He kissed her, gently massaging her lips with his own, until the boiling water insisted on his attention. Too bad. He rose and poured the tea into two cups. It was a Tianxian blend, supposed to promote good health. At least that’s what the market vendor had told him.

Chandi cradled the cup in both hands, as though savoring the warmth.

Naresh brushed her hair away from her face. She did seem a little clammy. “I have to go out a bit. There’s something I have to do.”

Chandi’s body went rigid, and she clutched his hand, boring into him with her eyes. “You always think you have to do things. What’s more important than our life together?”

What a question. It could have only one answer. “Nothing. Nothing is more important than that.” Once, he might have said duty, or honor. But time devours all things, even preconceptions about the meaning of life. And she had to know she was the most important part of his life. “But there are a few things that need tending so we can enjoy that life. I need answers about something.”

“And when you get them?”

Yes, there was that. If Kertajaya had spoken the truth, perhaps Naresh would need to return to the man. Even help him overthrow Rangguwani. Surya, if so, he should have stood up to the Lunar in the first place. Supporting Kertajaya now would destroy the fragile peace Rangguwani was building. Did it matter what foundation that peace was built on?

It had to. To build something that would last, you still needed honor. Otherwise, the foundations would crumble. Maybe not soon, maybe not until after Rangguwani’s death. But an empire built on lies would inevitably cave in on itself. It would have to.

“Rest, my moon. I’ll be back soon.” He stroked her hair, then rose, leaving his half-full teacup by the cot.

In truth, he would have welcomed her assistance to navigate the Coils. Chandi had a better knack for such things, but there was no way Naresh could take her out in her condition. He’d heard her crying in the middle of the night. One morning, he’d woken to see she scored the floor with her nails. He couldn’t lie to himself. His wife was not well. Lunars might have already put her down as a lunatic, but Naresh wouldn’t give up on her. She was still in there, and when this mess with Kertajaya was done, he’d find a way to pull her through her darkness. As she had pulled him through his own.

Few street signs marked the tangled mess of streets here. Many of the roads curved in spirals, looping back over themselves so he couldn’t tell if he traveled in circles, or even how large the district was. The buildings were packed so closely together almost the entire street was overshadowed by the eaves of the roofs, which would have made it shaded even in daylight. Now, nearing twilight, everything was cast in darkness. Only the flickering lights of candles and torches from the buildings gave him enough illumination to navigate, if wandering the back streets could even be called navigating.

Something squished under his sandal. Foulness he hoped was food someone had tossed out.

There were people here, in the streets, watching him, too. Most wore dirty sarongs and dusty bajus. Many of the men went without shirts at all, as did a few women. Some beckoned to him from alleys. He passed by quickly. Twice he paused to ask directions from local children. For a silver coin, both were happy to help him through this maze, though the second took him on such a circuitous route Naresh suspected the boy was trying to confuse him on purpose. Job security, he supposed.

At last, the boy pointed at a door. The building looked no different than any others. Mud-splattered, dusty brown walls. Cracked shingles on the roof that probably leaked in the rainy season. No one in Kasusthali had lived like this. Even in Daha, he didn’t think it ever got quite so bad.

Sighing, Naresh pounded his fist against the door. After a moment, a woman opened it. She had a pretty round face, a bit older than Chandi, and long brown hair. Her gray baju was only half laced. She looked him up and down, then shook her head. “No clients today. It’s my night off.”

Naresh found his fists clenched. So that was what she thought. Shouldn’t surprise him, he supposed, that a concubine would fall into this line of work. “I’m not here for that. Are you Dewi Kadita?”

She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Naresh.” She still didn’t move. Best tell her everything then. “I’m Arun Guard.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Arun Guard have better ways to find companionship than crawling around the Coils.” She started to shut the door.

Naresh pushed it in, sending her stumbling back into the room. He unbuttoned the top button of his baju, and the woman opened her mouth, sneering. The sneer fell away when he pushed his baju back enough to reveal the Sun Brand tattoo.

“I … I thought you wore cerulean uniforms?”

He motioned for her to sit in front of her tea table, then shut her door. “It would attract too much attention these days.” And, Surya, was he tired of being hailed as some kind of savior everywhere he went. It was kind of refreshing, actually, to meet someone who didn’t know him.

“Can you really Sun Stride?”

He watched her for a moment, then Strode over to the table. Dewi gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth.

“You were in Kertajaya’s harems?”

She shrugged. “I don’t make that common knowledge.”

“How did you find yourself here?”

“It’s a long story. But as long as there’s life, there’s hope it’ll get better, right?”

Indeed. He leaned over the table, and slipped her a heavy pearl.

She took it, eyes almost smiling. Almost. “So you do want …”

He shook his head. “I want information. I’ve heard stories about why Kertajaya turned on Ken Arok. I want to know the truth from someone who was close to him.”

“I wasn’t. He never even used me … but my mother was a favorite of his.”

“Did she speak of it? Anything?”

The girl shrugged, fingering the pearl. “I think … Kertajaya had felt justified. He claimed Ken Arok was a murderer, a blasphemer. I guess the king liked to talk in bed. To bemoan his failures.”

That was too close to what Kertajaya had said to be coincidence. So unless he’d been perpetuating the same lie for years, and so thoroughly he told the lie to one of his harem girls … Surya, Ken Arok had really murdered a Radiant Queen. And he’d used his supposedly sacred keris to do it. The same one Lembu Ampal had just given to Rangguwani. The keris the Lunar would try to unite the Skyfall Isles under.

Naresh groaned. “Surya, please tell me Ben has a ship,” he mumbled. He was going to have to go back to Suladvipa.

“What?” Dewi asked.

“Nothing.” Naresh rose. “I have to go, I have to get back.”

She almost leapt up as he did. “Did you say Ben?”

“Why?”

“As in Bendurana? The Serendibian?”

Naresh folded his arms and watched the girl. She was practically buzzing around. She half tripped over the tea table as she reached for him.

“You have to take me to him.”

With a sigh, he nodded. He didn’t know what Ben had to do with a Puradvipan prostitute, but at least she could help him escape the Coils.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-ONE

Dewi Kadita knew the city, and with her help, Naresh had found his way back to the Lost Dugong quickly. The little guesthouse had become home, in a sense. At least, seeing it filled Naresh with a measure of relief after spending half the evening wandering the Coils. Perhaps the Luhur didn’t care about the poverty of the lower classes, or perhaps they encouraged it as a means of control.

When he opened the door to the guesthouse, most of the tenants had already retired for the evening. The owner kept the tables open late, for night owls. Like Ben, apparently, since he sat at one, sipping tea and eating curry.

“Ben?” Dewi’s voice came out as a squeak, and she tripped over her own feet as she rushed toward him.

Naresh caught her to keep her from falling face-first on the floor.

Ben looked up, curry dribbling down his chin. His mouth fell open. After a moment, he swallowed, slurped up the curry, and rose. “Ah, my lady,” his voice trembled at first, then grew steady. “Still shimmering like a flower on the sea. But with considerably nicer legs, I might add.”

Dewi pulled from Naresh’s grasp and threw her arms around Ben. “Surya … I gave it up, Ben.”

“What do you mean?”

“She let me go, after I was healed. Nyai Loro Kidul released me. I gave up the power for you!”

Wait, what? Naresh took a step toward them, trying to calm his face.

“She let me go so I could find you, but after Kasusthali drowned … I didn’t even know where to look. I tried searching the Isles, but I had no money.” Tears were falling from her face now. “I had no money, and I wound up here. And I … I had to survive. Surya, you know I tried! Oh, Ben.” Naresh couldn’t make out the rest of the words, muffled as they were against Ben’s chest.

In fact, Ben probably couldn’t make them out, either. He just cooed, spouting his usual nonsense and stroking her hair. “Ah, my dear. You know, fate’s been unkind to us. I need time …”

She pushed away from his chest, looking up at him. “What?”

Naresh shook his head. “I’ll leave you alone, Ben.” He wanted to say something more, but nothing came to mind, so he just walked down the hall toward the room he shared with Chandi.

Inside, she was asleep, although not peacefully. She tossed about the bed, grinding her teeth. He sank down beside his wife, stroking her jaw until it relaxed. “Sleep, my sweet moon.”

Poor Ben. If this was some old lover, her timing was terrible. Landorundun had been gone less than a year, and now this woman showed up, throwing herself at Bendurana. And claiming Nyai Loro Kidul had released her. The Queen of the South Sea.

Ben claimed, once, the goddess had saved him from a storm at sea. Then that same goddess had possessed Landi. Had the same thing happened to this girl? Surya, what were the odds of a man falling in love with two women, both of whom wound up possessed by the same spirit? Not so long ago, Naresh would have dismissed the idea of possession from Kahyangan as nonsense. It was hard to do so now. He’d seen the ghost of Rahu possess that boy, Mahesa. And Chandi swore Rangda Demon Queen herself had taken over her cousin Ratna.

So Kahyangan must exist. And it would be better for all concerned if the spirits would stay there. Earth had enough problems on its own.

Some time later, a soft knock sounded on his door. Naresh rose and opened it to a worn-looking Ben. He glanced at Chandi, who now seemed comfortably asleep, then followed Ben back out into the hall. It was dark. The old woman had closed the tables for the evening, and Naresh could barely see his own feet.

Ben stumbled over to a table and lit a lamp, then sat.

“What happened?” Naresh said, joining the Serendibian.

“Ah, Naresh, a bigger mess than a pair of mating elephants in the hold would make, is what.”

Naresh leaned back on his arms. He’d seen a lot of messes in their lives.

“Before I came to the Solars, I served with some Lunar pirates. Real bastard, that captain. About as much fun to be around as a tiger with a toothache. Anyway, we found this girl. Sick. They were going to kill her, but I saved her. Had to play hero, you know.”

Naresh rolled his eyes. He knew.

“She let the spirit take her. Saved her life. I thought we could never be together. I moved on, became a private captain. And then I met Landorundun. She was … luminous. Ah, Naresh, she was beautiful as the sunrise, wasn’t she? I’d never seen her like. You call me a scoundrel, but she stole my heart before she even knew me. Pretty underhanded, huh?”

“I doubt it was her intention.” Naresh had known Landi a long time. She stole hearts for certain, but she rarely meant to.

“Maybe not at first. But she plucked it out of my chest, tied a ribbon on it, and kept it in a box, just the same.”

Right.

“I guess I never understood the difference between Loro and Dewi, not until Loro took over Landi. But I never stopped to think what happened to Dewi. Gods above, I was a fool. And I don’t make such a claim lightly. You know, I’ve known a great many fools in my time. Some of monumental proportions. You yourself can sometimes … Well, never mind. Of course, if Loro wasn’t in Dewi anymore, back when she took Landi … it meant her old host was free, right?”

Naresh sighed. Ben seemed awfully fond of this woman. “She’s a prostitute.”

Ben waved his hand. “Ah, Naresh, she had to live. She grew up in a harem. What skills did you think she’d have?”

“You want her?” Naresh supposed Ben was entitled to any happiness he could find, however he found it, even with such a woman.

“I … How can I? All I see right now is Landi.”

Naresh reached across the table to clap Ben on the shoulder. “I wish I could tell you what to do, but I’m no expert. Follow your heart.” It’s what Chandi would have said. She was usually right about such things.

“And if I did choose her? Wouldn’t that be betraying Landi?”

Naresh sighed. Landorundun was the most tragic of all, perhaps. Whatever she’d sought out of life, it seemed she’d never found it. Or, perhaps, she’d found it for just a moment, with Bendurana. “I think she’d want you to be happy. If all we’ve seen of Kahyangan is real, then maybe she watches you from there, awaiting her return to the Wheel of Life. But you have to live in this life. Your next one will attend to itself.”

“I just don’t know anything anymore,” Ben said.

Naresh nodded. “I know the feeling.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-TWO

The world burned. Naresh reached a hand toward his wife, but flames swept over all the Isles. Blistering heat seared his skin. And in the midst of the conflagration, armies still clashed, oblivious to the death knell of the Earth around them.

Naresh started awake at the sound of a crash. Chandi was there, rifling through the dresser. Through his drawer.

“What are you…?” He rubbed his face. Surya, what a dream. He could still smell charred flesh in his sinuses. Nauseatingly sweet.

Chandi dashed over and knelt at his side. “Where is it? I just need a little bit, Naresh. I’ll be better after a little.”

The Amrita. Naresh glanced down at his side. The weight was still there, tucked into his sarong.

“It’s on you? This whole time?” Damn, she’d seen his motion.

Naresh sat all the way up and scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Chandi, I was up late with Ben last night. Some things happened. I need you to be calm for a little while.”

His wife leaned over him, hands on his shoulders. “I’m calm. Don’t worry, Naresh. I’m calm. I just need a sip … I can’t … It’s burning inside me, calling for it.”

Naresh took her hands from his shoulders and wrapped her in his embrace. “Shh. You’ll be all right. Breathe.” He rocked her back and forth. Her heartbeat against his chest was fast, erratic, and her hair was matted with sweat.

“Please,” she said. “Please, it’s eating me up inside. Please.”

“Calm, my moon. Breathe.”

Her fingers ran along his side, reaching for his sarong.

Naresh caught her wrist and pulled it away. “Chandi, no. Stop.”

She shoved him back on the cot. Hard. “Just give it to me!”

Naresh scrambled to his feet, with difficulty considering Chandi had launched herself on top of him. “Chandi, stop. Now.”

“Give it to me! It’s mine! You want it for yourself? Is that it?” She shoved him against the wall so hard it knocked the wind out of him.

Staggered, he tried to fend her off with no breath in his lungs.

“You think you can keep it all?” she shouted. “It’s mine, I’m Chandra’s Scion!”

He tried to speak, but still couldn’t get enough air. Chandi hurled him to the ground. He Sun Strode as she leapt for him, reaching the other side of their now-too-small room. Naresh rose, gasping.

Chandi launched herself at him, snarling. Naresh Strode again and his wife slammed into the wall.

“Love, stop!” he shouted at her.

She rushed him again, swinging at him with a right hook. Naresh blocked the blow, and the next several. He tried to hold her still, but she caught his arm and twisted him around.

“Chandi!”

She jerked his right arm, the one Malin had dislocated, and something popped out of place again. Naresh screamed. Red haze filled his vision and his knees threatened to give out. Chandi shoved him back against the wall and yanked the bundle from his sarong.

She held the Amrita reverently for a moment, before moving to unwrap it. Naresh tried to blink away the pain. If she drank that, he’d lose her forever. Assuming he hadn’t already.

He roared at her, and, as expected, she glanced at him. He Sun Strode behind her, and she spun. Her reactions ruled her. Before he even oriented himself, he Strode again, back in front of her and slammed his fist into her jaw. Chandi fell like a rock, landing on her backside. After a heartbeat, she looked up at him, utter shock on her face. Blood trailed down her busted lip.

Surya! Naresh had hit his wife. In the face. The horror of her expression was probably matched by his own.

She’d dropped the bundle.

Naresh Strode to it, grabbed it, and Strode away before she recovered. But she was still sitting on the floor. He had to get this away from her. No matter what it took, he had to keep the Amrita from Chandi. This was destroying her. He dove through the window, bursting through the shutters and landing in the street.

In the moment it took him to recover, Chandi had rushed to the window. “Naresh!”

Naresh glanced at her. Then he Strode to the roof of a building, then to another, and another. He had to get so far she could never track him.

Two more Strides, and he was down in an alley. He fell to his knees. He had hit his wife.

He had hit his wife.

And, Surya, she’d dislocated his shoulder. On purpose. She’d known that was the weakened one. Naresh stumbled to his feet and braced himself against a building. Damn but this was going to hurt. He roared as he slammed it back into place, then slipped back to his knees.

His breath came in gasps. For a moment, the pain overwhelmed everything else. Not long enough. It didn’t keep his thoughts at bay long enough. Chandi had attacked him. It had happened before, when she’d gone lunatic after Rahu’s murder. But this was different somehow. It wasn’t rage, even. This Amrita had poisoned her to everything else, blinded her until she saw nothing but it.

Maybe Pohaci hadn’t saved her with that second dose. Maybe she had only prolonged his wife’s death. Created a slow, terrible spiral.

No. No. He wouldn’t allow it. He’d get this away from her. He could pour it into the sea, destroy it. He stumbled back to his feet. And if he did so, if he cast aside an elixir that could save someone from fatal wounds, was that not almost the same as condemning someone to death?

He clenched his fists, though agony shot through the right one.

But whatever he did, he couldn’t go back. Not now. She’d attacked him. And he’d hit his wife.

Naresh wandered, not sure where he was going. Phases, perhaps, he walked the alleys. He had no shirt, so he dared not wander the main streets. The Sun Brand glittered with stored sunlight. Such a thing had attracted attention in Kasusthali. Here, it would become the talk of the city.

And then Chandi would find him.

Surya, her face would probably swell from that blow. She’d be lucky if she hadn’t lost any teeth, for that matter. She’d warned him darkness was growing in him. And she was right. Faced with adversity, he’d resorted to brutally efficient violence, even against the person he loved best in the world. It’s what he did. The most direct path to ensure a foe can no longer stand against you. And now he’d taken that path with Chandi.

He slumped down in another alley. The pain had faded from his shoulder, though it still felt tender. Naresh looked around the shadowed street. It was midmorning by now. This place didn’t look like the Coils, so he must be somewhere off the market district.

Naresh leaned his head into his left hand. Surya, please say he hadn’t broken her jaw. No, she’d spoken after that, hadn’t she? He glanced around the alley. There was a gutter to carry away the rain. If he poured the Amrita into it, it would be gone. Gone as the temptation for his wife. And gone forever the last hope of the desperate. Because her arguments for keeping it were good, despite the risk. It could save lives. And it could damn well destroy them, too.

“They said you were in these parts,” a voice said.

Naresh looked up. Asamanja.

“Boy, you look like you had a rough night. Put on quite a show this morning, too, Striding around rooftops in the marketplace. Made the people nervous.”

Naresh narrowed his eyes. He cared how the Luhur felt about as much as he cared about politics in Au Lac.

“See, an Arun Guard starts attracting that much attention, people talk. They worry it means change in Kutai.” Asamanja was fingering his keris knife. “We like things the way they are.”

With a sigh, Naresh rose. “I need a shirt.”

Asamanja fell back a step, but nodded. “Yes, boy, you need a shirt.”

“You’re worried I’m disrupting your perfect city? Fine, get me on a ship out of here.”

Asamanja’s hand left his knife. “Going where?”

Naresh shut his eyes a moment. “It doesn’t matter.”

PART TWO

1197 AP, The Rainy Season

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-THREE

Sweet Chandra, what had she done? Chandi had been asking herself that same question for almost three weeks. She’d searched Kutai for Naresh. Rumor said he’d left the city. He’d left her. She’d finally lost him for good this time, hadn’t she?

She sank against the cushion in the darkened teahouse. This place, The Sea Dragon, was a Luhur haven, in their palace district. It didn’t open until late in the afternoon, but it stayed open late, and no one bothered her here. Her eyes burned. She didn’t sleep much these days.

Asamanja plopped down on the cushion across from her, depositing another goblet on the table. “Lychee wine from Tianxia,” he said when she glanced at it. “Not as strong as the liquors, but tasty. Hard to find on the Isles, though.”

The liquors. Yes. Last time she’d come here, he’d given her those. Burning fire within. And merciful oblivion.

Chandi grabbed the goblet and took a long swig from it. It burned, too, but was sweet, and had a thick aftertaste. She gasped, then took another sip.

Chandra help her, she’d thought she could control the need for Amrita. And then she’d attacked Naresh. How could she blame him for leaving her after that? She’d yanked his shoulder out of its socket like … like she would a foe on the battlefield. And he was trying to protect her.

She took another sip.

“Expensive drink in these lands.”

Chandi dropped a bag of pearls on the table. Oh, but Naresh had left her all his money. And he had plenty from the work he’d done for Rangguwani. Money she had, for now.

“Bring the baijiu,” she said. The warm Tianxian liquor burned more. It took her mind faster.

By the time Asamanja returned with the steaming glass Chandi had drained the lychee wine. It was enough to give her a slight dizziness, but didn’t remove her mind. It was her failing mind that had cost Chandi her husband, so it would be nothing to lose it. Why should she mind letting go? She’d fought the lunacy for too many years, trying to hold her mind. Why not let these Tianxian poisons carry it away at last?

“Chandi, girl,” Asamanja said. “Parents aside, you’re one of the most powerful Moon Scions in your generation. We could use someone like you. You can live like a queen among the Luhur.”

She snorted. “You want me to be a pirate?”

“You don’t have to leave the city at all. You can join us here. Imagine your own palace, servants awaiting your every pleasure. Bringing you whatever exotic delicacies your pretty heart fancies.”

Why not? How could she hold to any illusion she was better than these criminals? Most of them probably hadn’t tried to hurt their own loved ones. Not that she believed Asamanja even had loved ones.

“You could even be my queen,” the pirate said.

She slapped his hand away when he reached for her. “A queen … maybe. Yours? Not if the moon fell from the sky.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself, girl. But the offer to join us still stands.”

Chandi tried to sip from the empty cup. “Baijiu …” Her voice sounded odd, thick, even to her.

The man rose, and Chandi slumped down on the table. She must have slept, because someone was shaking her awake. Sweet Chandra, her head hurt. Her eyes stung too, even in the dim lamplight.

“Ibu Chandi?”

Ibu? It was the girl who had been fawning over Ben the last few weeks, wasn’t it? Dewi Kadita. Chandi groaned. How had the Solar girl even found her here? Chandi reached for her glass, but someone had removed it.

“What do you want?” Chandi said, slumping back down on the table.

Dewi jerked her up by the cheeks. “What in Rangda’s frozen underworld are you doing to yourself?”

Chandi winced. And what did Dewi care what Chandi did? “I don’t even know you.”

The girl folded her arms and gave her a look that would have shamed her, if Chandi had any shame left. “Your choice. But you do know Ben. I want to know what happened. When was he married? How? You don’t know what I went through with him … He’s … I gave up the power of a goddess to be with him.”

Chandi shook her head. “Forget him.” Love was a bitch, anyway.

“I can’t! You don’t just forget someone you love, no matter how hard you try.”

Chandi winced again. She didn’t owe this woman anything. But … Chandra, she’d known that pain, hadn’t she? “Ben … Dewi, Nyai Loro Kidul was in you, right?”

The girl nodded, a hint of a smirk stretching her face. Strange, she almost seemed to like being possessed. Whatever made her happy.

“She was in someone else, after you … Ben’s wife. Landorundun.” Her voice sounded raw in her own ears. She’d said goodbye to Landi a long time back. Or she thought she had.

“He said he lost someone … wouldn’t speak of it.”

“They married a few months before Loro took her.” But Landi had volunteered for it. “We needed the goddess’s power. But she died.”

Dewi shook her head. “Impossible. Spirits can’t die, not on Earth.”

Was that true? “Maybe …” Chandi’s mouth tasted thick. She needed water. Or more lychee wine. “But the host was crushed … fighting Rangda.”

Dewi cocked her head. “You expect me to believe that?”

Chandi shrugged. “Don’t care.”

Dewi was quiet for a long time. Let her leave. Chandi just wanted to go back to sleep. And this place was good like that. No one would disturb her. Members of the Luhur slept here, sometimes. She’d seen them.

“His losses are terrible … but if she’s dead …” Dewi nodded. “I’m still alive, and while there’s life, there’s hope things will get better. I’ll make them better for him.”

“What makes you think you can?” Despite being older than her, the woman sounded like a child. So innocent.

“Because I can do anything for his love.” She said it so straight, Chandi had to sit up and look her in the eye. Damn, the girl believed every word. “Because love always wins, in the end, and all other forces in life cave before it.” Dewi rose and patted Chandi on the cheek. “Thank you, Ibu Chandi.” She turned back for a moment. “You really should clean yourself up. You look like something a Warak Ngendog stepped on.”

Chandi started, then glanced around the teahouse. Had the girl really just said that? Chandra, she probably did look like a mess. Her mouth tasted awful, too. Asamanja was staring at them as Dewi left. Let him look. That was all he’d ever get from either of them. That girl was so in love she’d never give him a thought …

So in love.

Just like Chandi had been.

Just like … Chandi was.

She rose, her legs unsteady under her. Chandra’s dark side, what was she doing here? Drowning herself in Tianxian poisons? She took a deep breath, then walked from the teahouse as steadily as she could, one slow, painful step at a time. Someone tried to touch her, but she pushed him away.

Naresh had left her. But she wouldn’t let him be gone forever. She would not let him leave. He was her husband. Bound to her in life and death, forever. The fringes of lunacy had driven him from her arms, but she would find him again.

And give him someone he could be proud to love once again. Hot tears ran down her face, but she kept walking. Because how could she blame him for running after what she’d done? What she’d become. She’d turned herself into this. Something a Warak Ngendog had stepped on. Bleh. She’d bought a moment of oblivion from her pain with these poisons? And she never stopped to ask the price.

Every moment, Naresh got one step further away from her. But she could, she would follow him to the ends of the Earth. That girl … she’d said with life was the hope it would get better.

Chandi would get better.

There had to be a way to survive this. There had to.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-FOUR

Rainforest covered much of Malayadvipa, reminding Pohaci of Puradvipa. At least inland. On the coast, especially in the north, the so-called Witch-Queen had established a vast kingdom Pohaci suspected rivaled the heights of the Lunar Empire. This city, called Langyaxiu, lacked the appeal of the wilds. In the harbor, the buildings were cramped together, a mismatched collection of assorted wooden shanties, teahouses, guesthouses, and whorehouses.

She’d spent weeks scouring the rainforest, passing through glens and streams, and stopping to check every city on the way up here. But the truth was, Langyaxiu was the Witch-Queen’s seat of power, and if Malin was in her court, Pohaci would find him here. Of course, why was another question. Malin had even less love for witches than Pohaci did, and Pohaci would rather feed a witch to a Warak Ngendog than talk to her. Witchcraft had forced the crocodile spirit inside her as a child. Forcing her to share her body with another soul seemed little better than spiritual rape to Pohaci, but no one had ever asked her opinion.

The spirit within her shifted, waking. She had to be careful to maintain a delicate balance with the entity. Because she did have to share this body. It hadn’t been hers alone for a long time. You accepted you were Jadian, or it destroyed you. And Pohaci wasn’t the type to surrender and die.

Someone shouted something at her, waving a robe in her face. This far up the peninsula, the people spoke a dialect too different from the Skyfall tongue for her to catch casual conversation. She had been to Malayadvipa once, even before she came with Malin. Rangguwani had sent her on assignment, and she’d picked up the rudiments of the language then. But it seemed the further you traveled up the peninsula, the further that language diverged from her own.

It mattered little, in truth. Soon, she would find Malin and bring him home, whatever it took. If this Witch-Queen was somehow holding him prisoner, Pohaci would kill her.

The houses further inland grew more elaborate. They lacked the saddle roofs common in the Skyfall Isles, in favor of steeply sloping triangular ones. The Witch-Queen's palace, for it had to be hers, featured dome-like caps instead. The entire palace was painted white, except for those domes, which were gilded. It stood four stories tall, towering over the rest of Langyaxiu, and seemed open, with large windows covering most walls.

The wall that surrounded the palace was only about eight feet tall, so it was probably meant to keep common folk out more than real intruders. Meaning the Witch-Queen had plenty of guards to deal with the latter. Pohaci circled it, waiting until evening fell. She’d bought local clothes. A long black baju that reached almost to her knees, and a midnight blue skirt under it. Helpful for blending in with the darkness—except for when climbing a white wall.

When she’d wanted to break into Rangguwani’s palace, she’d had Lembu Ampal Stride them over the wall. She could manage something similar. She looked around until she spotted a house near enough the palace wall. The house’s wide roof stretched to within six feet of the structure. Pohaci could make that jump. She scrambled up the side of the house, then hefted herself onto the roof.

She had to give the crocodile spirit that—her strength did make it easier to scale buildings. A normal person might find it challenging to pull their weight up over the lip of the roof. Pohaci did so with ease. Her heart had begun to race. Deep down, part of her missed this. The sweet thrill of sneaking about unseen, of breaking into dangerous places. The threat of violence, buried just below the surface, ready to explode in an instant. It was primal.

She backed up the slope of the roof, then took off running down it. The crocodile didn’t give her the grace and agility that a tiger spirit gave the Macan Gadungan, but she had enough of her own. She leapt from the edge, flying through the air, and caught the lip of the wall—another steep triangle of shingles.

The shingles scraped her arms as she slid down it, but she caught the top. The Moon Scion ability to shift their gravity must be nice. The roof tore deep gashes in her skin as she pulled herself up. Pohaci crouched atop the wall and glanced at her arms. Dripping blood. And it had torn her new shirt, too. Her Jadian nature meant the cuts would heal soon, but new clothes cost money.

With a mumbled curse about her ruined shirt, she leapt off the wall and into the palace garden. Without rising, she turned her head, surveying the area. A small stream ran through the garden, shaded by palm trees. Guards watched every door, but they hadn’t seen her. To human eyes, this darkness would make her almost invisible in her black clothes. Pausing only to grab a pebble, she scrambled forward, then pressed herself up against the palace itself. The windows were shuttered and seemed locked on the inside.

A pair of guards watched the back door. If Malin wasn’t a prisoner here, he might not appreciate her killing these men, however much easier it would be on her. Instead she flung the pebble at the bushes across from the door. One of the guards exclaimed and walked toward the sound. Pohaci sprang around the corner and leapt onto the other guard, slamming his head against the wall. Probably not fatal.

Even as the first guard spun around at the sound, she leapt up from the fallen man and rushed the other.

“Intrud—” he started to shout.

Pohaci collided with him and bore him down. Twice she punched him in the face and he lay still. Someone probably heard that. She sighed and ran from the scene, back around the corner. A moment later she heard the door open, and others shouting.

At least she had a distraction. She stepped onto the windowsill and pulled herself up onto the arch that framed the top of it. From there she could almost reach the next windowsill on the second level. Almost.

Footsteps fell around the corner. Men were rushing to search the garden. Pohaci jumped up, snaring the sill with her fingers, then pulled herself up onto it. From there, it was up another arch.

She glanced down. Soldiers ran about beneath her, never thinking to look up. Not surprising. No one expected crocodiles to strike from above. She heaved herself up to the third level. From here, she could rise to the roof. The domes of the fourth level were nearby, but she didn’t see any access from those.

She scrambled up the slant of the roof. Then her foot slipped. She fell to hands and knees and slid down the tiles, tearing her skirts. She stifled a scream at the pain. It was only pain. She knew pain. She caught herself at the lip of the roof. And the reason no one expected crocodiles from above … it was a damn stupid place for crocodiles to be. She pushed herself back up and sidled around the side instead, making her way around each corner of the house.

Most of the soldiers were probably searching for her near the downed guards. So her best chance of entry was on the front side. She lowered herself down from the roof, hanging by her hands. The eave was too wide for her to kick her feet and reach the next windowsill. Which meant she’d have to drop and hope to catch the side.

What on Chandra’s dark side was she thinking, climbing up on the roof?

She had to get the momentum just right. With a heft of her legs she sent herself swinging back and forth. Chandra, Moon Scions had life too easy. As she swung forward she released the ledge and flew toward the window. Not far enough. She missed the top of the sill and slammed into the window itself. Her momentum sent her crashing through the shutters.

She landed on her knees and rose, brushing herself off and trying to look like she’d meant to do that. Which was probably for the best, since a crowd was now staring at her. The second and third floors here formed a balcony rimming a wide reception hall, with winding stairs on the side opposite from her.

And down there, in the middle of the hall, stood Malin, mouth in a half sneer.

A woman stepped up next to him. She wore a matching golden sarong and kemban, with her hair up in an elaborate style like a spiderweb. Tassels trailed behind her, golden tassels. It took Pohaci a moment to recognize the woman.

Tanjung.

Tanjung was the Witch-Queen? With Malin? Malin hated Tanjung.

“Welcome to my kingdom, little crocodile,” the woman said.

Malin reached a hand toward her. Pohaci reached toward him, too. Chandra, she’d missed him. And he better have a damn good explanation for—

The floor cracked beneath her. Then it gave out, pitching the third floor balcony right onto the second. Pohaci landed with a thump and lay still, stunned, vaguely aware of Malin and Tanjung ascending the stairs opposite her.

She pushed herself up as Tanjung neared her.

“You should not have come here, crocodile,” the woman said. “Here, in a kingdom I claimed for myself, I need not hide my powers. Need not fear to reveal my nature.”

Pohaci unwound her ekor pari. “You’re a Moon Scion. Such things no longer impress me.”

The woman laughed. “My mother was a bidadari. Have you any idea what happens when a mortal and a spirit have a child?” Pohaci rolled her eyes, using the gesture to watch Malin as he neared. “They used to call us demigods, I hear.”

“What are you doing with her?” Pohaci demanded of Malin.

But Malin just kept walking, sneering at her. The man she loved had never looked at her like that.

“He cast me out of my home, all those years ago. Maybe he thought I’d settle down somewhere in the mountains. But here, I found a people ripe for my rule. A weak king to marry, and a kingdom to claim. Did you know I took Serendib, too? No?”

Pohaci lashed at the woman with the ekor pari. Tanjung moved fast, as fast as she’d seen even Malin move, ducking it. Her fist caught Pohaci in the side. The impact sent her stumbling away, and she scrambled backward, one hand on the floor. Damn, the woman was strong.

Pohaci backed right into Malin, who hefted her to her feet. “Poor little werecrocodile. Still don’t even know who you are, do you?”

“What?”

He shoved her back down.

Tanjung laughed. “I thought maybe I could take the Skyfall Isles, too, through that brat Ratna. I never imagined she’d release my mistress herself.” Then she shrugged. “Well enough, anyway. Once our people finish killing themselves, the Isles will be primed for my return.” She glanced at Malin. “Our return. After all, with the rightful War King at my side, who will question my rule?”

“War King?” Pohaci stumbled to her feet and backed against the wall. She looked at Malin.

“What did you think, Jadian? That you could kill me?” Malin’s voice had changed, grown darker and more sophisticated. “I’m already dead. If you kill the host, I just pass into the nearest vessel. Can you imagine a finer, more deliciously ironic vessel than the very beast that murdered me?”

Pohaci shook her head. “No … Rahu?”

Rahu had taken … Malin. Not him. He couldn’t have him! Chandra above, would she never be free of this lunatic?

Malin smiled and grabbed her by the throat. He squeezed. Strong as she was, his grip was like forged iron. She couldn’t begin to budge it. The only one near to Rahu’s strength was … Malin. Chandra help them all now.

Her love growled, snarled, and flung her at the wall. He doubled over, as if in pain, clutching his head. “The beast actually loves you, doesn’t he?” Malin—Rahu—said through clenched teeth. “It’ll make this all the better.” He took another step toward her, then roared again, and pressed his palms against his eyes. “Run, girl!”

“Rahu?” Tanjung said.

Pohaci dashed at the witch, barreling her down. She leapt up from Tanjung and looked back at Malin. Rahu was unstoppable. She could never fight him, and even if she could, she’d never harm Malin. And she couldn’t even help him—but how could she leave him to this?

He rose back to his proper height and glared at her. He started to reach a hand toward her.

Instinct took over and Pohaci leapt through a window, crashing through the shutter. The impact from falling a story staggered her. She had to move. Now. Stumbling, she ran.

“Stop that woman!” Tanjung roared. Thunder rumbled above. The night had been clear earlier, but the cover of a storm might work in Pohaci’s favor. She glanced over her shoulder. Tanjung was stretching her hand toward the sky from the broken window.

Something cracked above. Pohaci threw herself flat as a blinding flash of blue seared her eyes. She couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in her ears. An explosion had thrown her to the ground and scorched her clothes and skin. Sweet Chandra, had the woman called lightning on her? Was that even possible?

Shadowed images filled her eyes. Pohaci ran as erratically as she could in case Tanjung could manage a second bolt, ripping her singed clothes off as she ran. She dashed past trees and dove into the stream, shifting even as she fell. Changing that fast was agony—more agony than usual. But she needed the crocodile. Her muscles ripped, tore, and shifted. Scales burst from her skin. The pain in her face and neck was always the worst.

She swam down to the bottom of the stream. Go with the current. This stream had to pass under the palace walls somewhere. Water was flowing. Water had to flow somewhere.

Deeper and deeper she swam.

The crocodile spirit threatened to overtake her, to take control. She could let it.

As long as it knew not to surface. As long as it knew to flee.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-FIVE

The Lost Dugong had become the one home Chandi had never wanted. She spent her days in her room, trying to meditate, as her father had done. Even reaching for Kebatinan like a Solar. Nothing quite brought her peace. Only aching muscles from sitting still so long. What she needed was a brawl, a chance to release her aggression.

Because that had gone so well for her in the past.

Or maybe she just needed a sip … No, it was gone. Naresh had taken it away. She could never have it again. She had to control this before she faced him. She had to be able to see him without the temptation. She had to.

She rose and stretched until a loud crack issued from her lower back. As soon as she started walking, her muscles trembled again. By reflex, she drew her Potency Blessing. Breathe. In and out. She worked through several exercises, just basic Silat forms. Why had Chandra graced his chosen children with such two-edged blessings? The Amrita and the Moon Blessings made them like gods—at the price of their very minds. Or really, the price was their lives. Even if lunacy didn’t kill them directly, it destroyed the things worth living for.

As she had driven away Naresh. Chandi dropped the Blessing and toppled to the ground. Now was not the time to cry. She had to get out of this room before she let self-pity and despair overtake her again.

She paused to wash her face, then walked down the hall to the common room. The old woman here could probably get her Tianxian liquors … No. Chandi shook her head. Tea. Pure, clean tea. She had to face her problems with a clear head.

She sank down on the cushion at a secluded table. She in no way chose that table because it afforded her a view of Dewi Kadita and Bendurana sitting and talking. She was definitely not watching them as Dewi reached over and took Ben’s hand. He didn’t pull it away, but he didn’t seem to accept her, either. Maybe she would get through to him.

And would that prove love won out over all things?

But then, Ben had loved Landi, too. And where was she? If she watched from Kahyangan, would she approve of how he lived his life now? Would she want him to court Dewi? Chandi smirked. Knowing Landi, she’d probably break the other woman’s jaw. Or give her a tongue-lashing that hurt just as badly.

Chandi leaned her head on the table. Where was Naresh? Would he come here, looking for her? He had to come back to her sometime. Didn’t he? And if she left to find him first, she might miss his return.

She looked up to see Asamanja had sauntered over to Ben’s table. The Serendibian tried to jump to his feet and pull that curved sword of his—a tulwar, he called it. The pirate caught him with both hands, one on his wrist and one on his chin, and shoved him back down.

“Men like me, they don’t always have long memories. Lots of people come through our lives, right? I wasn’t sure when I spotted the girl … but seeing her with you just seals the deal, doesn’t it? I mean, you got balls like a blue whale, coming into my city, Serendibian.”

Dewi scrambled away from the table on her backside, walking backward like a crab, trembling. A few men had risen, but only to step away from the scene. No one interfered with ranking members of the Luhur. Not in Kutai.

Chandi sighed and rose.

Asamanja pointed at Dewi. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. I’ll have you swabbing my mast before nightfall, girl.” He turned back to Ben. “I warned you to pray you never saw me again, didn’t I?”

Ben rose now, but didn’t try to draw the sword again. “Believe me, I did pray.”

Chandi walked up behind Asamanja. “You should leave.”

He spun on her. “This doesn’t concern you, Chandi. War King’s daughter or not, you don’t come between me and my prey.”

“You think you know who I am. But you don’t.” A hint of a smile crept at the corners of her mouth. This might be better than meditation.

He turned back to Ben, whose hand had returned to his sword. Chandi glanced at Dewi, at the absolute horror on her face. Then she grabbed Asamanja by the shoulder and shoved him aside, drawing gasps from the crowd. The man hesitated a moment, as if shocked himself. Then he swung at her.

Chandi drew her Potency Blessing. The blow almost seemed slow. She caught it on one arm and pounded her other palm into his elbow. He screamed. She flipped him over her shoulder and slammed him down onto the tea table, face first. Chandi looked to Dewi again, who had tears streaming down her face, and to Ben who was trembling a little himself. She stomped on Asamanja’s neck. A loud crack silenced all other noise in the teahouse.

No one spoke. Not Ben, not Dewi, not any of the patrons.

Chandi looked down at the body. She’d chided Naresh for the way he killed his enemies with such ruthlessness. But this man was a pirate, and the terror he inspired in Dewi and Ben told Chandi all she needed to know of their past. Ben had run as a pirate, once, but left that life. Apparently some of it had followed him here.

She walked over to Dewi and helped the girl to her feet.

It was as if some dam had broken at that, and everyone started talking at once. People fled the teahouse, shouting about the Luhur’s wrath descending on them. Others huddled in corners, gossiping. One man offered to buy Chandi dinner.

“Ah, Chandi, you can’t stay here,” Ben said.

Chandi released Dewi, and the girl looked at Ben, then ran to him. He caught her in his arms and held her close, saying nothing. At last he looked up at her, over Dewi’s head. “My dear, you’ve stirred a nest of vipers. Unless you want to wake and find the serpents in your sheets—and believe me, that’s even less fun than it sounds—I suggest you find somewhere else to be.”

Yes. Chandi did have other places to be.

She left the teahouse without bothering to stop in her room. She needed nothing.

Nothing except Naresh.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-SIX

The rains had come again. Naresh Sun Strode from the ship’s deck, not waiting for it to anchor at Daha. Rain washed over him as he appeared there. Rain on the ship, rain the instant he stepped off, without reprieve. The coming of the rainy season meant another half year had passed, but what mattered was the month since Naresh had seen Chandi.

He could have gone back to her. Any time, he could have returned to Kutai. Instead he walked the familiar back streets of Daha, avoiding the Cenrana District. Rumors claimed Semar frequented the city these days. The fire priest had come to some understanding with Rangguwani, and though Naresh was loath to risk discovery by the king, he needed the priest’s wisdom. In an alley, he shook his head, almost laughing as water streamed from his hair. He’d spent so much time with Semar, he’d somehow come to rely on the man. Chandi would be furious.

And that was his real failing. He’d failed her. Or maybe she’d failed him. Surya, he’d tried to help her with her addiction, with her lunacy, and she’d almost killed him. But he’d pledged himself to her forever. So leaving, however good his reasons, even to keep the Amrita from her, was dishonorable at best. And still he couldn’t return.

A sudden roar ripped through the air, like thunder, but just offshore. Another followed, and then another.

In the harbor, a building exploded, sending wooden planks spinning through the air. The retort of Fire-Lances.

Naresh Strode atop the tallest building in sight—a shipyard. Up here, no longer shielded by the buildings, the rain pelted him all the harder. Just beyond the harbor the Jin Laut was closing, leading a fleet against Daha. The few ships Rangguwani had in the harbor were already aflame, and now Tohjaya’s flagship had begun bombarding the shore with his Fire-Lances. By destroying the harbor, he’d cripple Rangguwani.

Naresh shouldn’t care. Rangguwani might be a better king than Tohjaya—undoubtedly he was—but Naresh had already decided not to support him. Still, this attack wasn’t just on Rangguwani. Those Fire-Lances would destroy anything in their path, civilians included. Many of Naresh’s people from Cenrana worked in the harbor, as fishermen, net-makers, cooks. He couldn’t let this continue, even if interfering strengthened Rangguwani.

Naresh focused on the Jin Laut. It was far, but he could make it. He Strode onto the deck. Immediately, men around him shouted. He grabbed the nearest sailor and shoved him over the gunwale. Another charged him with a keris sword. Naresh parried and tripped the man.

Two more crewmen had fallen before Tohjaya squared off against him. “I should have known you’d betray me.”

Naresh clenched his fists, circling the Spice King. “I never served you, so I can’t betray you.”

Tohjaya spat and advanced.

“Stop!”

Naresh spared only a glance over his shoulder. Lembu Ampal had appeared along with Rangguwani. It was the king who had spoken.

“This is my fight, Pak Naresh,” the Lunar said. “I will face him myself, blade to blade.”

So the man had some honor. He’d ordered Naresh to assassinate Tohjaya … now he wanted to face the Spice King himself. Naresh backed away, giving Rangguwani an appraising look.

“Now he’s assaulted my home, my people,” was the only answer the man offered to Naresh’s unspoken question.

Tohjaya smirked, moving in on Rangguwani. “I’ll enjoy finishing you myself.” He looked over at Lembu Ampal. “It seems all the Arun Guard have betrayed me? You will pay for your crimes.”

Rangguwani drew a keris sword. “Recognize this? The sword of Ken Arok will send you to meet him, Tohjaya. The Skyfall Isles are mine. Your blood shall inaugurate my ascension.” The king advanced, his footing on the swaying deck quite sure, but when he attacked, his form was off. The man must have been accustomed to shorter Lunar keris knives. He could fight, but he wasn’t taking enough advantage of his reach.

Three moves, and Tohjaya had scored a gash on Rangguwani’s arm. Naresh swore under his breath. If Rangguwani fell to Tohjaya, the Isles were in for more chaos. But Naresh could never interfere in such a duel.

The pouring rain made the deck slick, and Tohjaya’s feet slid a little as he advanced. He’d spent a lot of time on the sea, but clearly not as much as Rangguwani. Three, four more exchanges, and Rangguwani landed a cut on Tohjaya’s face. The Solar fell back, wiping his cheek.

Rangguwani was breathing hard, shifting his feet in the water sloshing over the deck. He shrugged off his elaborate gold harness, then kicked off his sandals, advancing on Tohjaya bare-chested and bare-footed. Naresh clutched the gunwale to steady himself as the wind picked up. Lem had moved up beside him, but the big man said nothing, only nodded.

Rangguwani rushed toward Tohjaya and leapt in the air at the last moment. He was fast. He had to be using his Blessings to move that fast or leap that high. Rangguwani thrust his sword down at an angle. Tohjaya threw himself to the deck to avoid the blow, skidding along the slick surface, then kicked his legs out at Rangguwani.

The Lunar toppled down atop the Solar. Lightning flashed, casting Rangguwani in silhouette as he rose, pounding a fist into Tohjaya. The Solar reeled. It was all the time the king needed. Roaring, the Lunar drove his keris into the Spice King.

From the sound, Naresh thought the blade might have actually pierced the deck below Tohjaya. The man jerked, spasming once, then lay still. Rangguwani had to plant a foot on the man’s chest in order to yank his blade free. He hefted the blood-covered sword in the air, screaming. “The Isles are mine! I am the true Ratu Adil!” His gaze took in Tohjaya’s stricken crew, then darkened. “You have assaulted my city, killed my people. Your lives are forfeit.”

Naresh interposed himself between Rangguwani and the nearest crewman, a sailor now cowering against the gunwale. “You’re not serious? They followed the orders of their king. You must show them mercy.”

“Would Tohjaya have shown my men mercy?”

No. But then, that wasn’t the point. “Aren’t you claiming to be the better king?”

Rangguwani held the keris before his face, scowling. From this distance, Naresh could see the dragon etching. Blood filled its grooves. “They deserve death for their crimes. I shall grant it.”

Naresh glanced at Tohjaya’s body. The heft of the ship had caused it to drift from where he fell. From where that blade had punched through a body and into the deck. It was an extraordinary sword. A sword Ken Arok had used to murder a Radiant Queen, and Surya-knew how many others. Kebo Ijo had held it and died for it. And Ken Arok had then been murdered with it himself. Then Tohjaya had the sword, tried to rule with, and was in turned murdered by it.

“I think you should throw that sword away,” Naresh said, sounding uncertain even to himself. It sounded almost blasphemous. A Solar warrior wedded his keris, almost as one wedded a wife. It became an extension of the self, of one’s honor. To cast it aside was to disregard all it had done for you. But this blade had brought nothing but evil. “Cast it into the sea.”

“What madness is this?” Rangguwani hefted the sword again, but no longer advanced on the crew. “This is the sword of Ken Arok. It’s a symbol of the Solar Empire.”

“The Solar Empire has fallen. Let it go. That sword has brought more death than you know, Pak Rangguwani.”

“I agree with Pak Naresh,” Lem said, advancing to stand beside Naresh. “My lord … even I felt its power. But this has brought so much death.”

“Make your own rule,” Naresh said.

Rangguwani glared at them both, then looked down at the blood-stained blade. His scowl deepened, and then changed, becoming blank. His eyes went wide and the blade clattered from his hand onto the deck. Lem and Naresh both looked at each other, then Lem bent down to retrieve the blade. For one moment, his face darkened. He looked back at Naresh, then turned and heaved, flinging it far out to sea.

Another flash of lightning lit the sky. And for one instant, in the distance, Naresh saw something rising from the waves. A legend. A serpentine behemoth, long and sinuous, with scales like turquoise and long whiskers flew halfway out of the water and caught the blade in one mighty claw. Or maybe the blade became the dragon, matching its undulating form. Or maybe he had imagined it all, for he’d seen it only in that one flash of lightning.

But then, everyone else on the ship also stood, staring and speechless, watching the churning sea.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-SEVEN

The dragon reclined on the beach, the tide rushing over the better part of her thirty-foot long body. Despite heavy cloud cover, her scales sparkled in the early morning sunlight, while her eyes glittered with a luminance all their own. She had a tuft of bluish hair around her long face, and down her neck, although anything that might have done to soften her features was lost to the horns running from the crest of her head down her back.

Those spines had made riding the dragon through the stormy sea difficult at best. Now, Landorundun knelt in the sand, just beyond the reach of the tide, wringing out her long hair. Every few moments, she snuck a glance at the dragon. Seeing Tioman in all her glory, seeing her without her human guise, still shook Landi, even after so much time in her company.

“I never really …” she began. She wasn’t any good at this kind of thing. “I never really thanked you for saving my life.”

The dragon stretched, fixing Landi with that reptilian gaze, twitching her whiskers. “Thank me? You should thank me,” she snapped, then shook her head. “Just remember your promise.”

Landi rose, but her legs trembled beneath her and she nearly toppled back down to the sands. There was no way she’d allow Tioman to see her tumble like that, so she took a moment to steady herself. “I’m not the kind of woman who backs out of her commitments. When I say I’ll do something, I do it.”

Tioman looked back to the sea, and walked her hind legs forward. Those legs were so far spaced from her front it would be almost comical, if Landi hadn’t seen the incredible grace the dragon had underwater. Tioman passed something from her back claws to the larger ones in the front, inspecting it. That was a keris sword, but it undulated like a Lunar knife. Tioman’s hand engulfed half the sword. Her claws were bigger than Landi’s head.

With a flick of her wrist, the dragon flung the keris at Landi’s feet. It landed in the sand and stuck there, hilt up. “You may need this. A weapon wrought of power, tempered in blood. It is the sword I told you of.” She shrugged, which bobbed her horns like the tusks of a goring boar. If Ben could see this now, even he might find himself speechless. Or maybe not.

Suddenly, Tioman snarled, and her glowing eyes darkened from yellow to red. The dragon-side was taking over again, and Landi fell back a step. “Blood … Dragon souled. I told her how to make it … Years ago. And she betrayed me! Are you going to betray me, too, Solar?” The dragon leaned in, bringing her face dangerously close to Landi’s. “Are you?”

Landi willed herself still, though trembles threatened to overtake her. “I gave you my word.” She wrapped her hand around the hilt and hefted the sword. It had a good weight. Surya, it had been so long since she’d held a keris. She’d wedded the keris, it had become part of her. But she’d lost that sword. She shook her head, trying to sort out the jumble of her memories. The sea spirit had been in her, back then. They’d fought against Rangda. Pain built in her temples, a slow throbbing now, but if she kept digging at her memories, it would build to a crescendo that could leave her incapacitated.

Instead, she inspected the keris. It did indeed bear the etchings of a dragon. It was easy to say the carving could be any dragon, but then, Tioman was the only dragon Landorundun had ever seen. And Ben thought he had the best stories for having seen a mermaid or two.

Back in the Academy, she’d had a class about foreign theology. Tianxians worshipped dragons, as did the people of Au Lac. So Landi had been in the company of foreign gods. She’d even fought one.

Tioman’s eyes faded back to yellow. “Then keep your word. This calls to me,” she said, jerked her head at the keris. With a heave, she tossed up sand as she dove back beneath the sea. The waters were clear enough Landi could see the dragon swim away, at least for a moment. Back to her lonely island. Waiting for her prince.

But Landi did owe her, more than she liked to owe anyone. She would have drowned if the dragon hadn’t found her after … Rangda. She brushed her hair from her face and trudged down the beach. Tioman had said the city was near. If she followed the beach, she’d find Daha sooner or later. And Ben. She had to find him. If nothing else, she was sure of that much.

She glanced again at the Sun Brand. Despite walking in the sunlight for half a phase, it did not glitter. Had the spirit taken that from her when it fled her body? The spirit of the sea had ridden her like a ship … The Queen of the South Sea. Nyai Loro Kidul. The pain started again, this time forming behind her eyes, inviting dizziness in its wake.

Her legs ached, too. She’d spent too much time cramped up and recovering from her injuries. Injuries that should have killed her—would have killed most people. But in regaining her strength, she’d lost her endurance. And something more, if the Sun Brand never recharged. If it had become only a tattoo, empty of its power, was she still Arun Guard at all? Did the power that had once made her like a war god among common soldiers make her Arun Guard, or was it something else? Perhaps she was still Arun Guard, and if so, still First of the Arun Guard. In all her studies, she’d never heard of anyone losing the Sun Brand, but then, she’d never heard of women turning into mermaids, either. At least not in stories she’d taken seriously.

Water fell on her head, and she glanced up at the sky. The rainy season had come again. And she’d only just begun to dry out. Her clothes were torn and ragged, but she couldn’t well remove them and stroll into town naked. Tioman had given her this sword and couldn’t bother getting her new clothes? Of course, Landi had no idea where the dragon had gotten hold of such a blade in the first place.

She ran her fingers along it. This was Ken Arok’s sword, as Tioman had claimed. The glorious keris he’d led the Solar Empire to countless victories with, the representation of the honor and wrath of the greatest emperor in memory. He’d been murdered with it, so everyone had thought it lost. The Arun Guard had speculated, right after the war ended, that Lunars might have the sword, but it never turned up. Some said the sword carried in it the power of Surya himself. Now, Landi knew better. It was not Surya’s power in this blade, but Tioman’s. She had taught Mpu Gandring how to forge it, had infused it with her own blood in the hopes the Solars would win the war. All so that they might be united against the Witch-Queen.

Though her arm had grown tired from carrying the blade, she did feel power. She felt strength beneath the fatigue. The strength to avenge the wrongs done to her. To make herself again worthy of the title of First, even if the Sun Brand was lost to her. And if it was, perhaps she would hunt down whichever spirit was responsible and show them the power of this keris.

And who was responsible? Loro, for possessing her, or Rangda for driving the other spirit out like that? Or maybe they were both dead, already. The memories were leaking through, at last. Being here, it was pulling them free. Landi stumbled, clutching her head.

It had all been like a dream. She’d felt Loro there, crawling through her mind, crawling through her soul, while Landi watched her body doing things on its own. It was power and terror and awe wrapped in a moment, then washed away like … like a dream. It was the only way to think of what had happened to her. What had been done to her, even had she volunteered for it.

In the distance, Daha rose up. But the pain in her head was so great, she hadn’t seen these three men approaching. One caught her as she stumbled again.

“Are you well, my lady?” the man asked. They all wore black-and-crimson bajus, the uniforms of the king of Daha. Kertajaya’s men.

“Take me to King Kertajaya,” she said.

One of the others scoffed. “He’s no king, anymore. And friends of his are not welcome here.”

Landi pushed away from the man holding her, suddenly aware he was looking through the holes in her baju. Leering at her. And Kertajaya was no longer king here?

“Surya!” one of the others behind her said. “She’s Arun Guard, look at that tattoo.”

“It’s not glittering now. She’s out of sunlight.”

“Then we’d best get her inside before she recharges it, huh?” the man who had caught her said. “Rangguwani will want to see her.”

Landi shook her head, backing away and raising the keris. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Who is Rangguwani?”

The man in the front snickered. “Without your Sun Brand you’re just another woman. What do you think you can do, girl? Cooperate and it’ll be easier on you.”

He reached for her.

Landi caught his wrist and swept his legs out from under him. The man toppled to the sand while his companions shouted at her, drawing their own blades. One swung at her. She parried, then turned to back kick the other man. Her foot impacted his chest and sent him sprawling, gasping for air. Another parry, and she twisted around behind her attacker, sliding her keris up through his armpit. The blade sank in easily, and the man dropped in an instant.

“Sweet Chandra,” the man she’d tripped swore, scrambling away from her.

Chandra? The man was a Lunar. Working with two Solars.

And they’d attacked her! She took a step toward the fleeing man, then hesitated, taking in his fallen allies. Two Solars, and she’d just killed one. Killed him for trying to take her to his king. She’d murdered one of her people for doing his job.

What was wrong with her? Had Loro done something to her, stolen her humanity when she fled?

Landi ran from the men on the beach, ran away from the city. She needed to know what was going on before she could face this Rangguwani, or anyone else. She’d never been so quick to kill, never in anger before. Now, it had felt so natural. A rage had taken her, an anger she couldn’t believe was her own.

And what if it wasn’t? She paused, hiding behind a hill. Tioman had said this sword had power. She had claimed it was infused with her soul, and thus with the dragon’s grief and rage. Landi leaned against the rock, panting.

If the sword bore such a curse she should cast it aside. But Tioman had said she would need it, and neither did Landi dare leave this for someone else to find. Besides, she was going to need an edge if she’d lost the Sun Brand.

Because she was going to find Ben, wherever he was. Surya help anyone who got in her way.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-EIGHT

Night had fallen when Naresh Strode into Kertajaya’s cave. The fallen king’s guard started at his approach, leaping up from the rock he’d been sitting on and reaching for an arbir.

“Peace,” Naresh said, hoping this wasn’t one of the men he’d disabled on his last visit. The man’s glower told him he was. “I’m here to see Pak Kertajaya with urgent news.” Still the man hesitated, keeping his arbir out before him. Naresh looked down at the polearm, then back up at the guard. “You know I’m going to get past you either way.”

The man sneered, but lowered the arbir’s head and waved Naresh on with it. From the looks of things, Kertajaya had a few more guards set up down here, but still nothing that would stand against Rangguwani if the man learned of this place. A couple of Macan Gadungan would tear through these narrow confines like a flash flood through a canyon, sweeping away these fledgling defenses with almost no effort.

This time, Naresh found Kertajaya in the underground complex’s makeshift mess hall, a large cavern with a cook fire in the back, and several tarps spread out in place of tables. The man had once eaten in a hearty feast hall, savoring delicacies from around the Skyfall Isles. Now he seemed to make do with boiled vegetables. From the smell, they must have few spices left to season the food with.

Naresh knelt beside Kertajaya, who licked his fingers clean after finishing the mushroom he was eating. “So, Pak Naresh,” the man said. “Can I offer you some of my famous hospitality?”

“Tell me about Dewi Kadita.”

Kertajaya shrugged and picked at a root in his bowl. “The name sounds familiar.” He waved at one of his men—a boy really—and he hurried over with a goblet of water. After a swig, Kertajaya turned back to Naresh. “One of the harem girls, wasn’t it? Pak Naresh, you should have seen that harem. Beautiful women from all over the Isles, beyond even. There was a girl from Au Lac with skin so smooth—”

“I’m not interested in your sexual extravagancies,” Naresh said. “Or the debaucheries of your palace.”

“How dare you?” Kertajaya glanced at his men nearby, who stirred, fingering swords and knives.

Naresh clenched his fists and leaned forward. “You think any man here, or even all of them, could stand against me, Pak Kertajaya? Tell me about Dewi Kadita.”

The king scowled, but waved away his men. “The girl got sick. We sent her away. After that I don’t know.”

Nor did he care, Naresh suspected. But it confirmed her story, and she’d confirmed his.

“Why the interest in a former harem girl?”

Naresh glanced at the bowl. Hungry as he was, even bland vegetables had started to look good. He sat all the way down, folding his legs beneath him. “I suppose I’ll take you up on the offer of hospitality.”

Kertajaya snorted, then waved to the boy again, who ran off to fill another bowl from the cook pot. The boy set it before Naresh. The vegetables—carrots, mushrooms, roots, and tubers—looked hot, if nothing else. Naresh grabbed a carrot, almost burning his fingers, before tossing it in his mouth.

“I have a doubt about Ken Arok,” he said.

“You’ve seen the keris, then?”

“Yes.”

“Can you get it for me? With that sword I could—”

Naresh shook his head. “It’s gone.” And the world was probably better for it. “Rangguwani threw the sword into the sea. After killing the Spice King with it.”

Kertajaya stroked his graying mustache with a faraway look on his face. “So … one contender has fallen.”

“All contenders have fallen. Rangguwani controls the Skyfall Isles. He rules his Skyfall Empire in totality now. You’d be a fool to try to rise against him at this point.”

A shadow fell over the fallen king’s face and he leaned forward. “Watch your tone. I am still the rightful king of this island. And Rangguwani may not have the Isles as secured as you think. Word came this morning of an invasion of Swarnadvipa, the Lunar’s very homeland. I rather expect him to be quite distracted by it. And when he diverts his attention, we have the chance to strike and unite the people under us.”

Well that was news. Naresh set a mushroom back in the bowl. “An invasion from where?” No foreign power had attempted to invade the Skyfall Isles in centuries. Between the Arun Guard and the Moon Scions, foreigners would find these Isles far too difficult to hold.

“Malayadvipa. The Witch-Queen there has been slowly securing the rest of the South Sea for years. It seems now she thinks she can take the Isles.”

Witches. Wonderful. “The Jadian will likely repel the invasion.”

“Yes. Perhaps they will. But Rangguwani will have to act. If not out of loyalty to his homeland, he has to protect the citizens of his empire.”

Naresh sat eating for a moment. Yes, the food was bland. But cold and hungry as he’d been, anything would have been welcome. Even bland mushrooms. “It means Rangguwani is likely to be more receptive to peace entreaties, now, too. If you offer to join him, support him, maybe he’ll make you a subject king.”

Kertajaya sneered. “You mean the way Ken Arok did.”

Yes, that was exactly what Naresh meant, though he didn’t think he’d need to explain that, nor did he bother to answer. Ken Arok had known it was easier to set Kertajaya up as a monarch on another island so he could focus on the Lunars. Maybe Rangguwani would allow Kertajaya to retain some authority here or elsewhere. It was likely the best Naresh could do for him. He did owe him some loyalty, after all, since he was the rightful heir to the Solar Empire. Still, the man was an ass.

“I am the rightful Ratu Adil, I will not bow before this Lunar.”

“As near as I can tell,” Naresh said, “one becomes the Ratu Adil not through right, but through conquest. You failed at that. Maybe I can serve as a mediator between you, try to get him to allow you rulership over another island. The Spice Islands just lost their king, maybe—”

“No. We can strike now, while the man is distracted. He won’t have had time to take the Astral Temple, yet, true?”

Naresh grunted. Tohjaya had just fallen, so Rangguwani had probably not secured the other king’s seat of power yet. Though he’d certainly send someone there. The Astral Temple wasn’t just a weapon, it was a symbol.

“If I took that place as my own, I could rule from there.”

Naresh shook his head. “You might take it, but you couldn’t hold it. You don’t have enough men to defend the Temple against Rangguwani.”

Kertajaya’s smirk, in the dim firelight, made him look like a fiend from Rangda’s underworld. “I have more support than these men hiding here, Pak Naresh. And I have you. Who could stand against the mighty Naresh, the Arun Guard?”

“Rangguwani has an Arun Guard, too.” Lembu Ampal had sworn to serve the man, for good or ill. Naresh doubted the big man would be swayed from it. He’d taken leaving Tohjaya hard enough as it was. Lem just seemed to want someone, anyone to believe in.

“Can you beat him?”

Could he? Maybe. He’d fought Lem in their days as potentials and defeated him. But it didn’t matter, anyway. “You don’t expect me to fight one of my brothers? We two are the last of the Arun Guard. It would take more than your ambition to get me to raise a blade against Lembu Ampal.”

Kertajaya rose and walked down the tunnel, beckoning Naresh to follow. He did, after taking one last bite of carrot. “Why did you come here, Guardsman?” Kertajaya asked as they trod down the tunnel. “Why come to bring me any news, if not for some loyalty to me, to my cause?”

It was a fair question, though Naresh had no good answer. Maybe he was like Lembu Ampal—searching for something to believe in. He’d lost Chandi. He’d left her alone to face her darkness, even as he’d had to fight through his. And he had fought through it. He had to believe he had. It was still there, in him, that terrible urge toward violence. A need to destroy. Maybe Chandi could face her own darkness, maybe she could find herself as he had done, left alone with no choice but to see himself. Of course, Semar had been there to help him. And even now, Naresh thought to run back to the priest, as if the man had all the answers to life.

Perhaps Chandi had done that once, too, in Kasusthali. She’d blamed the Igni for so much, blamed him for the fall of the city and the deaths of a quarter million people. But truth was never so simple, and there was more than enough blame to go around.

“You helped me see through a lie I had believed for years,” Naresh said at last. A lie of the glory of Ken Arok, the supposed great emperor. Because the corruption of the Solar Empire had begun long before. His brilliant, shining empire that had ruled for so many centuries had been rotting from the top down. “I suppose I felt I should at least tell you I believed you.”

Kertajaya paused at a curtain hung across one tunnel, then pushed it aside. It opened up into another cavern, this one filled with women, children, and the elderly.

“Surya’s glare,” Naresh whispered. “What are these people doing here?”

“They had nowhere else to go. Their husbands, fathers, brothers, and daughters are ready to fight for us. They stood against Rangguwani and were defeated. Defeated, but not broken, Naresh. Take us to the Astral Temple, and we won’t just garrison it. We will build a city there, a new capital of a new Skyfall Empire. A proper legacy of the Solar Empire. We have supporters in Puradvipa, just waiting for a rallying cry.”

Some of those families, huddling in the dark, looked like Ignis, based on their dress. Ignis, and Kertajaya had taken them in, sheltered them. But did they need sheltering? If they surrendered to Rangguwani, he would surely spare them. By the blinding sun, he missed the old days, when he needed not question who deserved his loyalty. Rangguwani might be better for the Isles, if only because he was already in control. If Naresh went with Kertajaya, they’d reignite war.

But Kertajaya was right. The man was the heir of the Solar Empire, while Rangguwani was a reformed pirate. And Kertajaya spun a glorious tale.

Naresh watched the children in the cave for a time before he spoke. “I will help you take the Astral Temple,” he said at last.

Surya help them all. They were starting another war.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-NINE

Though some of her earliest memories were of Bangdvipa, Pohaci didn’t regard the island as home, not the way many Jadian did. And yet, returning here, after so many years, did fill her with a strange sense of rightness. She had run through this rainforest as a child, still trying to come to grips with the spirit that Calon had put inside her. She knelt by a stream, running her fingers through its waters. Small crocodiles sunned themselves on the opposite bank, as she had once done. Sometimes, when the training had become too much, Pohaci had come here and become the crocodile, hiding at the bottom of the stream. Underwater the rest of the world fell away and there was this terrifying moment of clarity, when the boundaries of the real world and the Spirit Realm began to blur.

People like Pohaci, all the Jadian, they lived in that liminal place. She was human … almost. The spirit inside her was a kind of possession, but it was different than ordinary possession. This spirit wasn’t just riding her body, it was slowly merging its soul with her own. Or at least, that was how it felt. Sometimes, she couldn’t say where the woman ended and the beast began.

She waded through the stream in the moonlight, unafraid. No Buaya Jadian attacked one of their own. The crocodiles on the other side turned their eyes up at her as she passed, but made no move or sound. As it should have been. Absolute stillness until the moment was right.

That was what she was doing, too. Finding her moment. She needed information. Malin—Rahu—had claimed she didn’t know who she was. And the more she had thought about it over the last few weeks, the more she’d wondered. Before Calon’s men held her down, before Calon forced this spirit into her body, she remembered nothing. She must have been young, of course. After that, they’d brought her and the other new Buaya Jadian here, to train alongside the Macan Gadungan. Pohaci had grown up on this island, but surely the Moon Scions who had ruled this place would have had some kind of records of their charges.

Of course, in her heart she knew pursuing this was just a way to run from the truth. Rahu had taken Malin. Rahu, a demon escaped from Rangda’s underworld, had possessed her beloved. Probably the ghost had suppressed the tiger spirit. Pohaci had never heard of a ghost possessing a Jadian before, but then, the Jadian had only been around a few decades. She couldn’t see both spirits functioning in the same body, not really. Perhaps the tiger was buried, much as Malin himself was buried. But for a moment, he’d reached the surface. He’d tried to spare her. Which meant deep down, Malin was still in there, and she could still get through to him.

Pohaci sighed, climbing the up the rocks. The temple, a monument from ancient times now reinforced with wooden rafters, had become the Moon Scion’s quarters. It stood apart from the island, separated by a land bridge that arched up over the sea.

From the highest rock, she could see guards watching over the temple entrance. So the Moon Scions still held this place, despite Malin’s revolt. Odd the Jadian had never moved against them, but maybe the collapse of the Lunar Empire had left them leaderless. Perhaps they’d been content to dwell in the wilds here, finding a simple life. And she couldn’t blame them for it, though she was going to disrupt it.

Pohaci dropped off the rocks into the sea, then swam around to a secluded cove. The cliffs that surrounded much of the island created a few sheltered beaches where the Buaya Jadian liked to sun themselves. And to avoid any inquisitive Moon Scions eager to force them into training. But when she reached the beach, only a handful of her people rested there. They were in human form now, laying about atop one another. Five of them, where once she would have expected at least a dozen.

They watched her as she approached, though they didn’t move until she stood right over them. “Where are the rest of our people?”

A man sat up. Lengser, the storyteller. He was older than her, one of the oldest of the Buaya Jadian. He’d spoken with authority among them, though never claimed to be a leader himself. “Gone, mostly,” Lengser said. “After Bukit, I came back here for peace. But when most heard the empire had fallen, they dispersed.”

Pohaci surveyed each of the remaining Buaya Jadian in turn. “This is our island. I plan to take it from the Moon Scions. They have no place here, anymore.”

Lengser watched her for a time before sighing. “Pohaci, we don’t want to fight them anymore. They leave us be out here, why can’t we leave them as well?”

“This is our place. They should have left long ago—and there’s something I need from the temple.”

Lengser shut his eyes before speaking. “Very well, Pohaci. You know we’ll follow you.”

Yes. She’d known. Ever since she came back from the Bowels, since Malin had saved her from the Bowels, her people had looked to her as some kind of leader. Chandra alone knew why.

Pohaci turned and waded back into the sea. Her kemban and sarong clung to her as she swam back toward the temple, her people following behind. It would be easiest to discard her clothes, but she might want them once they took the temple. In any event, she’d want her ekor pari. The bladed whip, in the hands of a master, could tear through flesh like a sword.

Near the temple she treaded water, taking in the looks of her people. With a twist of her hand, she had them scaling the rocks alongside her. They would climb up the back of the temple and overtake the Moon Scions before they knew what was happening. The rocks were slick, and not easy to climb, but being a spy meant taking these kinds of routes. And the Moon Scions had made her a spy. They had created the weapon that would destroy themselves.

Atop the cliff, she squeezed out her hair. She’d always kept it only shoulder-length for that reason. So much easier to dry, and she found herself in the water on a regular basis.

Pohaci waited until the rest of her people had climbed up, then she crept around the temple. Crouched in the shadow of the foundations, she could see the guards clearly, but they’d never see her. She nodded at Lengser, who’d crept up beside her. The others must have circled around the other side of the temple. Good. Still, until the right moment. And then overwhelm the foe with speed.

She launched herself forward. Pohaci had a hand on the Moon Scion’s shoulder even as he started to turn at her approach. She punched him in the kidney then shoved him forward. The man plunged over the rocks, screaming as he fell to the sea twenty feet below.

The other guard had a knife in hand and advanced on her. At least until two Buaya Jadian bore him to the ground. One slid a knife into him. Pohaci wouldn’t shed any tears for dead Moon Scions. It wasn’t like she told her people to spare them.

Instead, she hurried inside the temple. Much of the complex had been converted into living quarters, training facilities, and a mess hall for the Moon Scions, though an open atrium still housed a shrine to Chandra. Purbararang was in that shrine, marshaling her soldiers, a half dozen of them, when Pohaci burst in.

Pohaci smiled, baring her teeth. Yes, she was glad the witch was still here. The woman had caused enough trouble in Bukit, even helped Ratna trap Pohaci. “Funny, isn’t it,” Pohaci said, uncoiling her ekor pari as she advanced on the soldiers. “We find ourselves reaping the rewards of our actions, until at last the gods grant us more than our due. Still, all debts must be settled.”

“Kill them!” the witch shouted.

Soldiers rushed toward her people. Pohaci swung the ekor pari in a wide arc, tearing open the face of one soldier and scoring the arm of another. Both fell, screaming. The Buaya Jadian were on them in an instant, pounding them senseless. Another man tried to attack her with a spear. Pohaci flicked her wrist, slashing open his shin, then stepped past the screaming man.

Purbararang used the moment to dash in, trying to impale her with a keris. Pohaci caught the woman’s arm in her own, pulling her forward to lock the blade under her armpit. The witch struggled, but didn’t have Jadian strength. Not quite. “Weak Blessings?” Pohaci said. “I’m sure that must be very frustrating.” She shoved the woman down.

The knife clattered away, and Pohaci cracked her ekor pari right in front of the witch’s face when she reached for the blade. “Be still. You’ll live longer.”

The witch glowered at her, but raised her hands in surrender.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY

As many years as Pohaci had spent on Bangdvipa, she’d never even known this temple had a library. The Moon Scions had kept some areas of the temple to themselves. She was sure they’d have records, but the sheer scale of it left her speechless. The library was thirty feet on a side, and all the walls were covered with scroll racks, books, and ledgers. It would take a lot of time to sort through it all, assuming what she wanted was even here.

A week here, and she’d gathered all the remaining Jadian on the island to her. “This is your island,” she’d told them. “Moon Scions and others may come here only with your permission. Never let anyone master you again.” It was what Malin would have wanted.

A few Moon Scions had survived their assault, so she’d imprisoned them in cells in the back of the temple. Fortunate that her former masters had built those cells. She’d seen them once before, in her youth. In a prank, she’d dyed one of the soldier’s clothes with turmeric. The man had been a brute, a boor who enjoyed mocking young Buaya Jadian, calling them reptiles. He looked rather amusing with his clothes turned bright yellow, but the lord of the island had not seen it that way. She’d spent two nights in one of these cells without food.

Purbararang and her other prisoners received food and water. Pohaci was not like her former masters. Still, cells built to hold Jadian held Moon Scions just as nicely.

Now another day had gone by, and as the afternoon dragged on, her eyes began to hurt from staring at these old records. Pohaci didn’t much care for reading. She didn’t remember even learning how—she’d known, and so been exempted from those classes as a child. Spies had to know how to read, her masters had told her, but they’d been impressed enough with her knowledge to leave her be.

She’d found her name in the records. Pohaci, child of Anjasmara. That was it. Oh, they had records of her training, her accomplishments. The time she’d proved the fastest swimmer in her class, the time she’d taken second place in a Silat tournament. And the record of her being assigned to House Soma. As per the request of War King Rahu. But why would the War King himself request a specific werecrocodile? And if he had wanted her, why did he so often loan her out to House Kshuparaka?

For that matter, who was Anjasmara? There was no record of such a person here, and House Kshuparaka had seemed to keep rather thorough records on all the Jadian they’d trained. Of course, Pohaci knew her parents must have died when she was young, so this Anjasmara had probably never been here.

Pohaci sighed and shut the book. Purbararang was House Kshuparaka. They had run this island, so maybe the girl could tell her more, but so far she’d said little, other than the occasional jibe. Pohaci could probably force it out of her, though she hated doing it. Torture was not only distasteful, it was counterproductive. Beat someone long enough, they’d confess to anything, whether it was true or not, just to make the pain stop.

Best for both of them if the witch cooperated. If not, maybe Pohaci should just send the woman to meet her mistress in Kahyangan.

Pohaci rose and worked her way toward the cells in the back of the temple, beyond the atrium. The sun would set soon, she could see it through the skylight. Maybe tonight she would become the crocodile and dive beneath the waters. Maybe that would cool her mind.

Sooner or later, she was going to have to confront Rahu. Whatever he’d wanted from her when she was younger, now he was in Malin. And for that crime alone she’d send him back to Rangda.

A metallic scent caught her nose as she neared the cells. Blood.

Pohaci dashed around the corner. Purbararang was there, in her cell, hands clutching the bars that ran floor to ceiling. A cage for an animal. And now House Kshuparaka’s own daughter rotted in this cell.

Her arms were bleeding. Pohaci paused to take in the scene. Purbararang had painted Spirit Glyphs on the floor and back wall. Painted them in blood. From the way the witch’s chest rose and fell, it had taken a lot out of her. But when she saw Pohaci, she laughed.

“What have you done, witch?”

The woman snickered. “You’re going to have a visitor very soon, crocodile.”

Pohaci walked over to the cell and kicked between the bars, smashing her foot into Purbararang’s face. “I’ll deal with you later.” The woman lay on the floor, unmoving.

Rangda take all witches. Pohaci ran through the temple, drawing stares, but everything seemed in order. At least until she exited the temple.

There, a man knelt over Lengser’s body, withdrawing a bloody knife. Pohaci bellowed at him, a wordless roar of rage, and he rose. Her wrath died in her throat. That was the man her people had killed when they took the temple, the same guard they knifed in this very spot.

She had to do something, but she froze. Her fingers went for the ekor pari wrapped around her waist, but they were slow, stiff. The man rushed her, slamming his shoulder into her chest. The impact flung her against the temple wall, and she dropped the weapon.

The man advanced, cracking his neck. He snarled like an animal.

Pohaci struggled to rise. “How are you alive?”

The man laughed, the sound gurgling in his throat. His eyes glowed red and he lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders. She jerked against him, but he was strong. Moon Scion strong, or stronger. He flung her out over the land bridge and she landed with a thud.

She pushed herself up again. She could smell the sunset coming. “I’m going to bite your face off,” she said. Any moment now, the cursed sun would be gone, freeing the crocodile within.

The man laughed again, his unnaturally deep voice echoing off the rocks and ringing in her ears. He cracked his neck again, then jerked his head from side to side like a tiger tearing away chunks of flesh. Blood spurted from his neck as skin ripped open.

Pohaci gagged, almost falling over again as she backed away. What in the name of the moon?

The man grinned, his smile too wide. Then his head tore free from his neck, entrails flowing behind. Pohaci retched at the sick plopping sound his organs made as they followed his head away from the body. It screeched, the sound shooting through her mind like an arrow. An arrow shot from the underworld.

A leyak.

Malin had spoken of the one he’d fought years ago, when Pohaci was still a child. The damned, escaping from Rangda’s underworld. Servants of the Demon Queen. And Pohaci had dropped her ekor pari back by the temple.

The head flew around her, shrieking. Its teeth had grown into fangs, dripping some kind of venom. She threw herself flat, barely avoiding the thing as it dove right at her. Blood from its entrails splattered her. In a heartbeat she was up and running, not toward the temple, but away. She needed her people’s help to fight something like this. They had returned to their beaches and dwellings on the island, most wanting little to do with the temple.

Alone, unarmed, she was no match for the demon. And it was a true demon. Malin had warned her to pray she never saw a real demon. Now she knew why. When it shrieked again it took all she had to keep from freezing in place and cowering. Just keep running. The leyak’s entrails snared around her legs, sending her sprawling.

It squeezed so tightly, it felt like her bones would snap. The thing reared its head back like a snake ready to strike. Pohaci punched it in the jaw. That staggered the demon for a moment, so she slapped both her hands closed on its temples, then kicked the loosened entrails off her leg.

She’d taken only a few steps when she noticed another figure at the end of the bridge. “Help me!” she called to the woman.

“Help you?” the woman said. Her voice held same unearthly tenor as the leyak. She walked forward, revealing her face in the moonlight. “You are nothing.”

Pohaci gasped.

One of Ratna’s eyes and a good section of her left cheek were missing, revealing the bone beneath. A red light glimmered in the depths of her empty eye socket. The flesh around the wound looked rotted. Her once beautiful hair hung in limp clumps around her face. But her steps seemed anything but weak or failing.

Sweet Chandra, she truly was Rangda wasn’t she?

Behind the Demon Queen, more otherworldly shrieks echoed from the rainforest. Sometimes screams followed. The leyaks were killing Pohaci’s people, and she could do nothing.

Pohaci leapt from the land bridge, starting her shift in midair. She had only half become the crocodile when she hit the sea, but it was enough. She dove deep. A spear of ice lanced through the water just in front of her, like an icicle from the highest peaks, only ten feet long. Pohaci swam around it. Chandra, please say the leyaks couldn’t follow her here.

She’d swim for the mainland.

And Chandra help them all when Rangda came there.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-ONE

Tracking Bendurana to Kutai might not have proved so difficult, if Landi had been able to enter Daha. As it was, she’d had to trade for new clothes by working in villages, repairing houses. She just couldn’t bring herself to steal clothes. However far she’d fallen, whether she was still Arun Guard or not, she was not a thief. Getting on roofs without the Sun Brand was much more difficult, of course. But having clothes without holes in them would made it easier to get answers, and Ben was distinctive, not only for his darker skin and strange locks, but for his profession. It had taken him to so many places that eventually she’d found people who had known him.

And some of those claimed he was here in Kutai. He’d spoken of the city to her once or twice, so she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, he made it sound like a cesspool of vagrants, pirates, and criminals, so why Ben would want to live here, she couldn’t say. Then again, she probably shouldn’t be surprised by that either. Ben was Ben.

No one questioned her approach into the city, though a few men leered at her. She pretended not to notice. She’d learned a long time ago that confronting every such man would mean spending half her day breaking hands and faces, and she had no time for that.

Instead, she walked through the city, one hand wrapped around the hilt of the keris strapped to her waist, the other in a death-grip on her small pouch of pearls. She’d sweat long and hard in the sun and rain to earn those, and they wouldn’t last long even if no pickpockets got to her. Really, she was lucky for those days on the streets with Chandi, who had tried so hard to teach her discretion. Surya, she’d been innocent of the world back then, though she’d never admit it aloud. Innocent to think she could simply ask a question and get an answer, without others knowing.

Here, people watched her every move. She could feel their eyes upon her, even if she didn’t see them. She made her inquiries as discreet as possible, but somehow, it still seemed people were staring at her, whispering behind her back. Or maybe Chandi had just made her paranoid about such things.

One boy she asked nodded. “I’ve seen a Serendibian,” he said.

“Take me to him.”

The boy looked her up and down, then folded his arms. The child couldn’t have been more than ten, and he was sizing her up?

Landi sighed, and withdrew a small pearl, holding it up before her. “When we find him.”

The boy lifted his chin a moment. “Two. One now, one when we get there.”

Oh really? Two pearls for a guide through the city? But if she found Ben, it’d be worth it. Surya say he had some money, though. Of course, she probably didn’t need to worry. Ben always had money, as long as you didn’t ask where it came from.

With another sigh, Landi handed the boy the first pearl and beckoned him to lead the way. It was hard to imagine any child in Kasusthali behaving this way. Or ever having to. Perhaps the boy had no choice. She hadn’t seen his life, so she couldn’t judge him for fleecing a bit of extra money out of strangers.

Though the morning had been clear, afternoon storms had rolled in not long ago, and now the wide eaves and narrow back streets were all that kept her from becoming drenched. In Kasusthali, rain had been a luxury you watched from the palace windows, enjoying the sound of it hitting crystal panes. Here, it was cold and miserable, as it had been on Suladvipa. Only worse, because she had no home to go to, no warm blankets to wrap herself in.

The boy led her to a guesthouse called the Lost Dugong. An odd name.

Landi gave him another pearl, then opened the door to the guesthouse. An old woman greeted her, her eyes darting briefly to the keris at Landi’s side. “A heavy pearl for a week,” the woman said. “Meals are extra.”

“I’m looking for someone. A Serendibian.”

She shrugged. “Lot of that going around.”

Wonderful. Yet another person in this city who’d be oh-so-helpful without a bribe. And Landi was fast running out of money for bribes. “Just tea, then.” She’d decide later if she needed to stay here. It was no palace, but she’d seen worse.

The old woman nodded, indicating tables in the common room. Landi stepped past her and walked through the room, eyes searching. The afternoon had drawn on, so by now, patrons already sat at the tables, enjoying tea and taking shelter from the rain.

In one corner, Ben sat. It was really him, she’d know that profile anywhere. Landi’s heart sped up, and her legs wobbled. She blew out a breath, trying to steady herself. Ben had his arm around a woman, with long brown hair and a rounded face. Landi watched as the woman leaned over and planted a light kiss on her husband’s cheek. Acid rumbled in the pit of her stomach, and she found herself reaching for the keris. No—it wasn’t the way.

She glared, running her tongue over her teeth. They’d see how friendly that woman was when Landi was through with her. She stalked over to the table, then folded her arms across her chest, looking down at the happy couple.

“Bendurana.”

Her husband froze, almost jerked, then turned to look up at her. “L-Landi?” For a moment he sat there with his jaw hanging open. Even caught in the act, she’d honestly expected Ben to have some retort.

Then he launched himself at her, overturning the table as he threw both arms around her waist. “Landi! How?” His embrace was so tight it hurt, especially when he lifted her off the ground, laughing and spinning her around. His arms were warm and strong and safe. And he was hers… only hers. It was like all that had gone on with Tioman had been a terrible dream, and finally she was awake. “Ah, my love, how? How have the gods restored you to me?”

Landi laughed as he spun her. She definitely did not giggle. Landi never giggled. “Sheer force of will. Put me down.” She spared a glance at the other woman.

The girl’s eyes were wide as she backed away from the table. Her lip trembled like she wanted to cry. Though Landi was looking right at her, her eyes didn’t seem to focus. “Ben,” she mouthed, though no sound came out. So the bitch had really cared for him. Her mistake for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. She actually walked into the door on her way out. By the time Ben even glanced in her direction, the woman had gone.

Landi smiled. Yes, he was still hers.

Ben dropped to his knees before her, clutching her hand, running his fingers over it. “Ah, my lady … Are you real? Have I fallen into some glorious dream of paradise-like afterlife? If so, you need only remove your clothes to complete the paradise, my dear.”

Landi rolled her eyes and pulled him to his feet. “You’re not dreaming.”

Everyone was watching them now. More than one patron seemed to want to know if she’d follow Ben’s request. Not likely.

“It’s a long story,” she said.

Ben nodded. Then he swept her up in his arms and carried her down the hall.

Landi rested her head against his shoulder. And she relaxed, for the first time in as long as she could remember.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-TWO

It shouldn’t have surprised Naresh that Kertajaya had been able to come up with a ship. Finding the old king could muster three ships to move on the Astral Temple, that he hadn’t expected. He stood now on the poop deck of the lead ship, beside the fallen king. Fallen no more, Naresh supposed, if they succeeded in taking the Astral Temple. Kertajaya would again be a contender for Ratu Adil. Surya forgive him for dragging this conflict out.

Lang stood beside him. The man had said little since Naresh had returned. He didn’t seem to sleep much, and barely ate. Perhaps he had truly loved Hainuwele. “What is that?” Lang said, pointing in the distance.

A small fleet of ships guarded Astral Shore, large ones if they were visible from so far off.

“It looks like Tohjaya left behind dhows to protect the Temple,” Naresh said. “As long as they don’t have Tianxian Fire-Lances we can take them.”

Kertajaya walked up to stand beside Naresh at the rail, frowning. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be …”

“Neither are Pak Naresh’s,” Lang said, pointing again. “Those aren’t dhows. They’re Tianxian war junks.”

Naresh leaned against the rail, peering at them. Surya, Lang was right. He’d never seen such ships in person, but he’d learned about them at the Academy. If the Tianxian emperor had sent his warships here, Rangguwani might be the least of Naresh’s worries. Foreign invaders, in the waters of the Skyfall Isles. First the Witch-Queen of Malayadvipa, and now Tianxians.

“Send up the signal flags,” Kertajaya said. “We’ll speak to them first.”

But as they drew nearer, Naresh could see the truth. There were a dozen of these ships, and most likely all of them carried Fire-Lances. Word of the cyclones Ketu had created must have reached Tianxia. After that, the emperor would have no choice but to move on such a target. Perhaps he’d spent his time preparing, or perhaps he’d just waited for the right moment, when Tohjaya was distracted.

Blessedly, the lead Tianxian junk also raised a signal flag and drew up alongside Kertajaya’s dhow. An elderly Tianxian man stared at them from the gunwale. He was near bald, but had a thin gray mustache that ran down past his chin. He wore a blue silk jacket that buttoned on the side and looked like some of the finest work Naresh had ever seen.

The man bowed his head before speaking. “I am Admiral Tua Pek Kong. This land we claim for the Son of Heaven, emperor of all Tianxia and beyond.” His accent was odd, and a bit stilted, but he spoke the Skyfall tongue clearly.

Kertajaya waved Naresh and Lang over to him. “These men could be a great asset. Get them to join us …”

Naresh snorted. “Why would they agree to that?”

“We can at least try to negotiate,” Lang said. “Worst case, I burn their ships down.”

Naresh restrained himself from commenting. Only a fool would consider using Firewalking in this situation. Of course, Lang probably was a fool, so Naresh shouldn’t rule anything out.

“I am King Kertajaya of Suladvipa. I am sending my emissaries to negotiate,” Kertajaya said to the Tianxian.

The man bowed his head again, then gave an order in Tianxian. His sailors soon lowered a massive gangplank that struck the side of the dhow with a thud.

Naresh stepped onto it, then glanced back at Lang. This was undoubtedly a bad idea on several counts.

Still, he crossed to the junk and stepped down onto the other ship. The admiral led them back into a spacious cabin and bid them sit, taking a seat across a short table himself. He said nothing until after servants had brought tea. Even then, he just watched them. Waiting for them to make the first move, of course.

Naresh cleared his throat. “I am Naresh of the Arun Guard. And this is Lang—”

“Prince of Suladvipa,” Lang interrupted. Of course, Lang was at best an exiled prince, if that.

Tua Pek Kong inclined his head once more. “You come with a flag of peace.”

“We wish peace,” Naresh said in Tianxian. He hadn’t spoken the language much since the Academy, but he remembered a bit.

Still the man started a moment. He didn’t smile, but his eyes held a little warmth at Naresh’s attempt to address him in his own tongue.

Lang scowled, and looked like he started to point at Naresh, then changed his mind. “Speak our language, please, Admiral,” he said, turning to the Tianxian. “This is sovereign Skyfall territory. You cannot simply lay claim to it.”

“The Son of Heaven may claim all the Earth, as his mandate demands.”

Lang shook his head. “Your emperor is not here. Would it not be inappropriate for the Solar emperor to send his Arun Guard to seize Tianxian territory?”

“I have heard of Arun Guard before. You are mighty warriors.”

Naresh nodded.

“But the Solar Empire has fallen. The Lunar Empire has fallen. This Temple is very dangerous. The Son of Heaven cannot allow such a weapon to remain unclaimed.”

Lang gripped the table. “It is claimed. We claim the place, it’s our homeland.”

“With respect, this land is now Tianxian.”

And Kertajaya wanted him to recruit these men? Naresh shook his head, then looked up at Tua Pek Kong. “Admiral, maybe we can come to a mutual understanding. Perhaps if a friend of Tianxia held the Temple, your emperor would have no need to fear.”

“The Son of Heaven fears nothing. This Temple is no longer available.”

“Now look—” Lang started to say.

Naresh grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “Pak Kertajaya has enemies on these Isles. He’d be very receptive to friends. Perhaps we can work together.”

Tua Pek Kong stroked his mustache with two fingers. “Tianxia can respect friends. Friends must prove their worth, first.”

Meaning the Tianxians wouldn’t help against Rangguwani. Nor should they—Naresh could offer no reason for them to get involved.

“Then we will leave in peace,” Naresh said.

Lang tried to speak again, but Naresh tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder. Lang might have succeeded as a diplomat with Semar, but the Tianxians clearly required more tact.

Tua Pek Kong rose with them, and ordered his men to escort them back to the gangway. As soon as they crossed back to the dhow, Lang spun on him.

“What in Rangda’s underworld are you doing? We can’t just let them claim the Temple!”

Naresh kept walking back to Kertajaya, who awaited them up on the poop deck.

“Naresh, I’m talking to you!” Lang said, chasing after him. “Naresh!”

Naresh fought to keep from clenching his fists when he spun on Lang. “What would you have us do? Fight a dozen war junks armed with Fire-Lances, with what? Gandewas, a single Firewalker, and one Arun Guard? We might sink one or two before they destroy our ships. Of course, we’d be dead, and they’d still have the Temple. We do not have the forces to challenge the Tianxian navy. Not now.”

“Call a Warak Ngendog.”

“They’re too far, and one wouldn’t make enough of a difference, anyway.”

Lang pointed at him. “Then call the whales, Whale Lord!”

“Whales? How many do you think I can call? The Sun Brand has limits, Lang.”

“Enough,” Kertajaya said from above. “We cannot exhaust our forces here. Any man we lose fighting Tianxians is one man less we have to fight Rangguwani with.”

Naresh Strode up onto the poop deck beside the king, causing him to start. “Then let us leave this place.”

Kertajaya rubbed his chin, then looked out over at the war junks. “Would they join us if we agreed to cede the Temple to them?”

“What?” Lang demanded. “You cannot possibly be considering legitimizing the foreigner’s claim!”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m considering, Lang,” the king said. “They already hold the Temple, and Naresh says we cannot take it from them. Better we let them have it and earn their support against Rangguwani than leave with nothing.”

Naresh shrugged. “Perhaps they would agree.” Tianxians were big on formalities, and the emperor might rather be granted the Astral Temple with honors than hold it as a conquerer. Apparently they felt it was their right, regardless.

Still, Naresh couldn’t say whether Kertajaya was brilliant for finding a way out of the situation, or a coward for considering ceding the most sacred place of the three dynasties. And he no more wanted to see such a weapon in Tianxian control than he wanted it under anyone else’s.

He looked back at the gathered Tianxian fleet. The place was already theirs.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-THREE

Since before the breaking of the Pact men and women had come to Jonggrang Temple complex to pray to the gods. Even on Swarnadvipa, Chandi had heard the legends as a child. Ratna, of course, had scoffed at her desire to see the place. “Suladvipa is part of the Solar Empire. They’d never allow you access to the sacred site.”

But before the Fourth War, the locals had allowed pilgrims from all over the Isles to come here, and the place was not far from Daha. Chandi was fairly certain she’d find Naresh in the capital—he couldn’t stay away from the politics, despite himself—but maybe, if she prayed in Jonggrang, Chandra would help her first. She needed to be whole when she faced her husband.

The boy at the front of her elephant started singing, his voice loud and clear, clean like the rains that washed over them. In the rainy season, the boy had told her, elephants were the only way to reach the complex. Flash floods could wash through these mountains too easily, but the mighty animals could keep their footing in currents that would sweep a human away. So Chandi sat high atop her elephant, the shade of the canopy providing partial shelter from the pouring rains. The boy she’d hired, probably no more than thirteen, sat at the base of the elephant’s neck, just behind its ears. He sang of the temple legend, of tragic Jonggrang herself. Was this the boy’s full-time work? That would make sense.

Chandi shut her eyes and forced herself to focus on the song. Old legends had a comfort to them, a familiarity. Maybe that warmth could fill the gnawing hunger the Amrita had left in her core.

Prince Bandung sought Princess Rara Jonggrang’s hand in marriage, but she refused him. The prince had slain her father in battle. And so, in her pride, she scorned the man who had taken her kingdom, though his love was genuine. And still the prince persisted, as she had persisted with Naresh. So Jonggrang agreed to marry him, if he could complete a mighty task.

He was to build her a thousand temples in a single night. Faced with the impossible challenge, Bandung had called on aid from Kahyangan. The spirits rose from the stones themselves at nightfall, and constructed nine hundred and ninety-nine temples. Rara Jonggrang saw they would soon build the thousandth temple, and she would be forced to keep her promise and marry the man who had slain her father. So she set fire to the rice fields beyond the temples, creating so much light the roosters crowed, thinking dawn had come. The spirits, fearing the dawn, fled back into the stones, and the thousandth temple was never completed.

Chandi had heard all of that before. She’d heard how the thousand temples were spread around the Isles, ninety-nine of which were here. But the boy continued to sing. Was there more to the story she’d never heard? He sang that Bandung, in a moment of grief and rage, cursed Jonggrang by those same stone spirits. And when true dawn came, her body turned to stone for her treachery. Seeing his love so afflicted, the prince had repented. But it was too late. His actions could not be undone, and his love was lost forever.

Chandi shivered. It was just the chill of the rain and mountain winds, of course.

Ahead, a massive arch formed a gate to the temple complex. Though the top of it was probably thirty feet high, the way was narrow enough an elephant could only just fit. Her guide slowed their mount, allowing the pilgrims ahead to pass through in single file. The top of the arch was carved like a face, looking over all travelers who climbed the steep path to this complex. Two more faces watched to either side, like the guardians of the temple watched all approaches. Could such a place really have been built by the magic of Kahyangan? Or more likely, had her ancestors conjured the tale to explain this ancient complex? It was not the first thing she’d seen on the Isles that predated all known history. The great monoliths on this same island, and, of course, the Astral Temple.

The boy patted the elephant’s head, whispering something in its ear. It reached its trunk up to a nearby tree and plucked a pink orchid, then turned back, offering it to her. For a moment, Chandi sat stunned, before taking the flower in reverent hands. It was soft, and though damp, not soaked. The tree branches had sheltered it from the heavy rainfall. Chandi rubbed it against her skin. Once, Naresh had brought her a mountain orchid, back when they lived in Cenrana. That little Solar village where she’d found no acceptance, where she’d writhed within wondering how to prove herself to those people, might have been the most peaceful time in her life, at least since her childhood. Funny, how memory twisted upon itself. Hadn’t she been unhappy in Cenrana? And now she looked back on it fondly, even as she looked back on her time in Kasusthali.

And both places were forever gone. It meant something, right? Maybe she needed to learn to appreciate the moment she was in. But in this moment, the pain, the need still burned through her. She realized she’d drawn her Blessings, and released them with a soft curse. Chandra, she needed help.

At last their elephant trod up the path through the gate. The rains had abated, at least partially, though great puddles still filled cracks and depressions in the stone floor of the complex. Much like the Astral Temple, the countless small temples here seemed arranged in a mandala, forming concentric circles. The temples varied in size and shape, but all were decorated with the faces of gods and spirits, carved right into the stone. Some had visages so terrible they might have been demons. Other statues were twenty-foot-tall guardians, kneeling before a temple in ceaseless vigil.

The temples rose in tiers, with the peaks of some reaching thirty or forty feet in the air. Chandi turned about, almost losing her footing at the endless ranks of spires reaching into the misty sky. Mountains. The temples were modeled after mountains, rising like that. And what was at their heart?

She continued to the center of the mandala. In the middle of the path, a statue rested. A woman whose features were long ago worn away by wind and rain, but who had clearly once been sleek and beautiful. Jonggrang herself? Turned to stone by her prince’s anger, or merely a replica of the famous princess? The statue wore only a slight skirt, and no top, although countless hanging necklaces covered her breasts. No features remained on the face, but the crest looked like it had been a crown.

Chandi continued past the statue, but glanced back at it once more over her shoulder. A love scorned for pride had cost the woman everything. She shook her head, trying not to shudder.

One temple nearby bore the crescent face of Chandra. She hurried toward it, skirting around a small crowd at the center of the complex. Twenty or so steps led up to the entrance to the temple. Chandi fought the urge to draw her Blessings as she trod up them. Patience.

Inside was dark, lit only by streams of sunlight that broke through holes in the roof. She knelt in front of the altar, knees folded beneath her. Was Chandra in this place? Could he hear her?

“I’m … failing.”

No one answered.

“I hurt him again … and I still can’t let go of … Why? Why would you give us this burden? This wondrous power and this terrible insatiable need for it?”

Chandi shut her eyes and tried to control her breathing. It had become so ragged, like she was in a battle. Control. She just needed control.

“Please help me,” she whispered. “I need him back …”

And to do that, she had to find a way to leave the Amrita behind. Would she have to leave her Blessings behind, too? Perhaps that was the true test—to be granted the power of a god and told not to use it. For a long time she sat, trying to clear her mind.

Was it easier here to find the stillness? Maybe. She pictured the full moon before her, so close she could touch it. Other images slipped into her mind, other thoughts. But she drove them out. Just the perfect, glowing roundness. Her heart slowed, but she almost didn’t notice.

She couldn’t say how much time she spent inside the temple, but when she left, the sun had peeked through the clouds. For a time, she just walked the complex. Though many pilgrims were here, the place still seemed quiet.

At last she found herself back at the heart of the complex. At the center of the concentric circles of temples someone had carved actual circles into the ground, great deep carvings, though a massive crack split those circles down the middle. Chandi knelt at the very center. Inside the inner ring were the same carvings she’d seen in the depths of the Astral Temple. Nine circles, each bearing a strange Glyph in the center.

The Nine Spheres of Creation, Nyai Loro Kidul had called them. What did it mean? Had the builders of the Astral Temple built this place, as well?

“Rumor says she’s already moved on Bukit,” someone was saying.

Chandi glanced at a cluster of four pilgrims now sitting near the statue of Jonggrang.

“At this rate, all of Swarnadvipa will be hers in a month.”

“No—the Lunars have a lot of people spread out in the mountains. She could conquer the cities, but there’ll be resistance for a long, long time.”

She rose and drifted over to the pilgrims.

“And you think she’ll stop with Swarnadvipa? I heard she already rules half the rest of the South Sea with her foul black magic. We could be next.”

“The Ratu Adil would stop her before that.”

“Who are you talking about?” Chandi asked.

The other pilgrims took her in, then one nodded at her. “The Witch-Queen of Malayadvipa. She’s assaulted Swarnadvipa. From the sound of it, she’s almost broken the island already.”

Chandi bit her lip as she wandered away from the pilgrims. The Witch-Queen? Wasn’t she just a rumor, a legend? But then, Chandi had seen Rangda herself. And now a foreign power assaulted her homeland. Only it wasn’t her home any longer. She’d turned her back on her people for Naresh. Hadn’t she?

She slumped against a temple, fighting down a shiver.

She’d grown up in the mountains of Swarnadvipa. The beautiful, pristine wilds there had given rise to her countless adventures with Ratna and Mahesa. They were both dead now. Her father was dead. Maybe even Malin. And who was left to defend her people against such an invader? Rangguwani? But he’d made his home in Daha.

And Chandi … She was the daughter of the late War King. Naresh might say she had a responsibility, a duty to her people, no matter what had happened. And Naresh might be the only one who could help her with this. He would help her, wouldn’t he? He was her husband. He had to help …

But she had wronged him. Again. How could she face his anger? Worse, how could she let herself draw near the Amrita he carried? Taking that away from her might have been the best thing he could have done for her. Maybe, if she could admit that, she was already making progress.

It was a pretty thought, at least.

The boy who had brought her here lounged in the shade of a temple, but he sat up and stretched as she drew near. “Going already, my lady?”

Yes. She was going.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-FOUR

It was by Chandra’s luck that Chandi was still in Daha. Of course, Pohaci could have found the girl anyway. She liked to think of herself as a damn good spy, so, sooner or later, she could find anyone in the Isles. But since Chandi had been kind enough to return to her old house in Daha, she’d saved Pohaci the trouble.

Pohaci leaned against a stilt, out of the rain, watching the house. Being a spy meant she noticed things others overlooked. Like how most nervous people fidgeted, fixing their hair or clothes or doing things with their hands. Pohaci did none of those things as she took in Daha’s Cenrana District. Of course, she had no reason to be nervous, not really.

Chandi was a Moon Scion of House Soma, which meant she might have some answers about why Rahu had wanted Pohaci, all those years ago. The War King had singled her out, added her to his personal retinue of spies, and then lent her out to another House. And Rahu never did anything without a reason, at least not before he went completely lunatic. In Malin now, he didn’t seem lunatic. He seemed alien, like a force slithering through the darkness, waiting to strike. It probably made sense. Time in Kahyangan would have to change a soul.

And that soul was in Malin. It could be destroying him, like a poison within, for all she knew. It was taking him from her and she was going to be left alone again. Perhaps, in enough time, the spirit would merge with the body, just as the crocodile in her had. And then Malin, the person he had been, would be lost to her forever.

And she was not going to let that happen.

She wasn’t going to learn anything just standing here. She pushed off the stilt and made her way toward the house, taking the steps slowly. Inside, it sounded like the girl was tossing the place. But it had to be her—from this close, Pohaci could smell her.

She peeked her head in the doorway. Chandi was holding a sketch on a single sheet, a picture of an old twisted tree. And she was crying, albeit without sound.

“I need your help.”

Chandi jerked, leaping to her feet and grabbing a toyak. “You,” she said when she focused on Pohaci. “What are you doing here?”

“One might think that question had already been answered …”

Chandi pushed Pohaci out the doorway with one hand on her shoulder. “Get out of my house, crocodile.”

Pohaci grabbed her wrist. A mistake, of course. Chandi reversed her grip and spun her around, bending her arm behind her back and shoving her against the doorframe.

A shot of pain ran up her arm and into her neck. Chandi was so damn strong. There was no way Pohaci could compete with Chandi’s speed and strength, or, if she was honest with herself, even the other woman’s skill at Silat. Fortunately, she hadn’t come here to fight.

“If I’ve done something to deserve such treatment,” she said, “it escapes me at the moment.”

“Really.” Chandi pulled a little harder on her wrist, and Pohaci had to fight the instinct to cry out in pain. “I seem to recall you pouring the Amrita down my unwilling throat.”

“You mean saving your life?”

Chandi shoved her away, and Pohaci almost fell, only catching her balance on the rail around the balcony.

“I didn’t ask for that!” Chandi advanced on her, fingers curled like claws.

“Your husband did. And you’re still welcome.” Pohaci rose from the rail and walked back to stand right in front of Chandi, putting her face inches from the other woman’s. “You’d rather be dead? And leave Naresh alone?”

Chandi spread her arms, taking in the house. “Do you see him here now?” Her voice had risen, almost to hysterics. Maybe she’d gone lunatic. If so, it would make getting anything useful from her much more difficult.

“You still have the chance to go to him, though, don’t you? Someone took away my chance. They took him from me!” And Chandi was going to help with that, whether she wanted to or not.

“You found Malin?” Chandi bit her lip, at last relaxing the visible tension in her muscles.

“I found him. Rahu has him.”

Chandi shook her head. “We killed him.”

“His spirit is in Malin now.” A ghost that threatened to consume her whole world and turn it to ash. But not if she ripped Rahu to pieces first.

“Cinders and chamber pots!” Chandi ran her fingers through her hair. “Please tell me this is a joke?”

Oh, how she wished she could. Chandi glared at her a moment, before throwing her hands up. She sunk down and leaned against the house. “Malin is …?”

“He’s still in there!” Pohaci knelt beside her. “And I need your help. Now.”

Chandi shook her head. “I have to find Naresh … I have to …” She leaned her face into her palms.

Damn it. So the Moon Scion had lost her beloved, too? Then how was she going to convince her to help?

A throbbing began to build at her temples. They’d both been left alone … But she wasn’t going to wallow and moan like Chandi. “Rahu said something … Do you know why he wanted me for your House?”

Chandi started, looking up from her hands. “You belonged to House Soma? I never even met you before Malayadvipa.”

Buaya Jadian were not like the Macan Gadungan. They had served certain Houses, but they’d never been taken in, always kept at a distance. Pohaci had seen Chandi a few times in passing, but it wasn’t surprising the girl didn’t know her.

“Malayadvipa …” Chandi said. “Their Witch-Queen is assaulting our home.”

“Our home?”

“You’re still a Lunar.”

Moon Scions. They’d claim the Jadian were less than them, until they needed something. And then … then the Jadian were true Lunars. “It’s not my problem.” Of course, last she’d seen Rahu, he’d been with Tanjung. Maybe they were still together. “But I … I need to take Malin back. You understand. I need him.”

“Yeah,” Chandi said, standing. “That I understand.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, though Pohaci didn’t think it was cold out.

“There’s something more … You told us you killed Rangda.”

“Landorundun did, yes.”

Pohaci shook her head, slowly, her eyes locked on Chandi’s face.

Chandi’s mouth fell open. “Then,” she said after a moment, “Ratna?”

“I don’t know … Rangda was in her body, but the body seemed … broken.”

Chandi’s legs gave out beneath her, but Pohaci caught her arms and pulled the other woman back to her feet.

“How could this happen?” Chandi asked. “Didn’t we accomplish anything?”

Pohaci didn’t release her grip on the girl. She seemed to be all that held her up. “I don’t know. Come to Swarnadvipa with me. Help me find out what Rahu had planned for me back then … I have to know, and you’re a Moon Scion, you’re House Soma. You can find the answers.”

Chandi pushed away, then, steadied herself. “If I do, you have to help me stop the Witch-Queen, save our people. Our people, Pohaci. You were born a Lunar.”

Pohaci bowed, slightly. She had no problem killing Tanjung, if she could. It was a big if, of course, considering the woman’s apparent power. But destroying her could be the first step in getting Malin back.

“I need to find Naresh first,” Chandi said. “We’ll need his help.”

Pohaci shrugged. She’d certainly not turn away aid from the Arun Guard if it was offered. But then, why wasn’t the man with his wife now?

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-FIVE

The Tianxians had not objected to Kertajaya and his men going ashore, as long as they didn’t try to climb the cliffs to the Astral Temple. Naresh hadn’t fought at Astral Shore, of course, but the idea of making camp here still unnerved him. Once, he’d have put little stock in the stories of restless ghosts trapped on the beach after the slaughter that had ended the Fourth War. Now, it was hard to dispute the reality of ghosts, having had to fight one in the body of that poor boy, Mahesa.

Still, it was nice to stay on dry ground a while. He loved the sea, but too long aboard a ship, and everything seemed to keep swaying, even on land. It took a while to get your bearings back.

Kertajaya had erected a large tent as his command post. Admiral Tua Pek Kong sat there now, looking over the treaty before him. In it, Kertajaya had kingship over all the Skyfall Isles as the Ratu Adil, but still subject to the authority of the Tianxian emperor. The emperor could garrison the Astral Temple as he saw fit, but would allow his ships to aid Kertajaya against the “rebels.”

“The Son of Heaven must review this himself,” Tua Pek Kong said. “I suspect he will sign these papers. Messengers need time to reach the emperor, though. Before that, I cannot help you.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Kertajaya said. The king had referred to the Tianxian as Pak Tua Pek Kong only a few times before apparently deciding it was too tedious. Now, he just called him Admiral.

Naresh rose with the Tianxian and walked him out of the tent. The man’s own soldiers waited nearby, an elite bodyguard of six men. As near as Naresh could tell, none of them understood the Skyfall tongue.

“We truly wish peace,” Naresh said.

Tua Pek Kong turned to him. “Your king wishes peace with Tianxia. Very wise. But not just peace—he wishes war with other Skyfallers. This is not peace.”

All too true. Naresh bowed, and the admiral returned the gesture.

He watched the foreigners leave, returning to their own camp further up the beach. If they had any fear of Astral Shore, they didn’t show it.

Naresh turned to watch the sea. Clean and clear as sapphires, without any memory of war. He walked down to the edge of the water and let the tide wash over his sandals, then shut his eyes and felt its rhythm around him. It was balance. Like breathing. Like Kebatinan.

Out there, in the clear waters, he could see a pair of dugongs. To see a pair away from their herd was odd, but at least they had each other. Naresh had lost even Chandi. Lunacy had taken her, and try as he might to avoid it, he’d begun to doubt she’d ever be the same.

Someone running down the beach disrupted his trance. A messenger, based on the missive in his hand, running toward Kertajaya’s command tent. Whatever it was, Naresh needed to hear it too. He could Sun Stride back, but if trouble came, it was better he saved every last bit of sunlight. Instead, he ran toward the tent himself. He still couldn’t run as he once had, not with the leg Malin had savaged, but he could manage a decent gait.

“What is it?” he asked as soon as he reached the tent.

“Rumors. Nonsense,” Lang said.

But Kertajaya stared at the missive, reading it and rereading it. At last he looked up. “Leyaks have been spotted attacking people on Yawadvipa.”

“Leyaks?” Naresh said. “As in demons? You’re not serious.” For once, he agreed with Lang. Such things didn’t exist, or if they did, they didn’t come out of Kahyangan.

Like Rangda. Naresh shut his eyes. Oh, Surya. If Chandi was right and Rangda had escaped the underworld last year … maybe she hadn’t come alone. “Are you certain of this?”

“No,” Lang said.

“These aren’t just reports from one or two small villages,” Kertajaya said. “The messenger says there have been dozens of attacks. Hundreds of people are dead—maybe more we’re not even aware of.”

Surya’s glare! If this was true, his homeland had never faced such horrors before. “Then we have to go and stop this.”

Lang scoffed and threw up his hands. “Not you, too.”

Kertajaya sank back into the makeshift throne he’d brought from his ship. “We can’t afford to throw away lives on Yawadvipa, whatever is going on. But our resources are limited, especially until the Tianxians sign the treaty.”

Naresh advanced on the king. “You cannot ignore this, Pak Kertajaya. You can’t leave our people to the mercy of leyaks!”

“If Rangda’s servants are there, what would you have me do, Pak Naresh?”

“Fight like the Ratu Adil you claim to be! Save them from this nightmare.”

Kertajaya slumped down in throne, head in his hands. “How could we take such a risk?”

“How can we not? Yawadvipa is the Solar homeland. These are our people dying.” Maybe the king cared nothing for that, nothing for anything but his own power. Naresh was beginning to remember why he’d left Kertajaya in the first place. If he wouldn’t act for honor, maybe he’d act for self-interest. “If that doesn’t motivate you, consider this. Whoever saves those people will earn their unwavering loyalty. Imagine the Ratu Adil who conquered the forces of the underworld. Who could question such a claim then?”

“I guess that’s a point,” Lang said.

Kertajaya sighed. “You’re right … though we may all be damned for it, Pak Naresh.”

Naresh nodded. They needed to make for Yawadvipa as soon as possible.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-SIX

From the docks, Landi smiled as she watched her husband preparing his new dhow. The Long Awaited Dawn, they named her. Ben said Chandi had been here, but she’d rushed off after an altercation. Apparently that was how he’d gotten the last of the money he needed to buy the ship. Devious as Ben might be from time to time, there was no way he’d steal from Chandi, so Landi had to assume the girl really had left behind large amounts of money. Not that impulsive behavior was unlike the Lunar.

Ben helped his crew tying lines and loading crates. Her husband was never afraid to do the hard work himself … Just like he was never afraid to take the credit. Landi chuckled, tracing every movement of his sleek body. His dark skin was like tea with a hint of milk, and his locks were so exotic.

Landi Strode onto the ship. Or rather, she tried, and nothing happened. She shut her eyes, forcing herself to take a deep breath. How did one cope with losing the power of a goddess? Maybe one more thing she’d need to ask Chandi, someday, if she ever saw her again.

“Are you really sure you want to find Malin?” Ben asked, as Landi walked up the gangway like any normal person.

Whether she wanted to or not, she’d made a promise. She had to find the Macan Gadungan, no matter how far he’d gone. Her husband said Malin had fled after a climactic battle at the Astral Temple where he’d slain the ghost of Rahu. It sounded like a children’s story. But then, Landi herself had been possessed by a mermaid and rescued by a dragon, so she wasn’t going to dismiss anything at this point.

“Yes.”

“Ah, my dear, Pohaci was looking for him, last we saw her. She’s probably the best way to find him. Ah, but you’re not planning on killing the weretiger, right? I rather think Pohaci might object to that course.”

“No, Ben. I’m not planning on killing Malin.”

“Right, well then, all is well. Then.” Ben shrugged, swaying his locks. “I’ve just got to collect a few more crewmen, and we can be off.”

“Do you know where she is?” Landi called after him.

“Not a clue. Only that she was last on Puradvipa. Actually, that is rather like a clue. Or it would be, if I thought she was still there. And I don’t, so we’ll call it half a clue.” Ben winked at her. “Rest assured, love, I have half a clue.”

Landi rolled her eyes, then sat on the gunwale, as the rest of the crew prepared to make way. Not Ben’s old crew, of course. They had all died when she … when Loro Kidul had dropped the ocean on their heads. It was a wonder that Chandi and Bendurana had survived. She’d have to thank the girl for that, one day. One more thing to add to the list of things to talk with the Lunar about. So much had changed in Landi’s absence. Much as she speculated, she still couldn’t imagine how Chandi had let Naresh out of her sight, much less driven him away. Ben said little of it, and, in truth, she preferred to talk of other things with him.

“You know, you’re beautiful,” she said to Ben when he passed, pinching his hip.

“Ah, my dear, that much is obvious even to a blind man. Or woman. I often get compliments from blind girls. Not as many as from sighted girls, but that’s to be expected.”

Landi snickered, shaking her head, and watched Ben as he walked down the gangway. He swayed his hips like a girl, as if he knew she was looking.

He was a man almost overflowing with confidence. When he’d first tried to court her, he stood below her window singing to her. When that hadn’t worked, he filled her entire room with flowers. Landi smiled, shaking her head. Ben never took no for answer—thank Surya.

Someone shoved her and she fell to the deck, slamming her elbow into it. It stung like lightning, and for a moment, she could barely move except to cradle her throbbing arm. Above her, Dewi Kadita stood, hands on her hips. How had she let herself get so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t heard the woman approach? First of the Arun Guard indeed.

“I’m not going to just give him up!” the woman said.

What in Rangda’s underworld? Landi raised an eyebrow, then stood before Dewi Kadita. “It’s not your choice to make!”

Dewi Kadita pushed her again, and Landi took a step back. “I had him first! He loved me first!” She kicked at Landi.

Landi caught her foot and held it in the air. “Maybe. But he loves me best.” She shoved the woman’s leg, sending her tumbling to the deck. She stormed closer. If the bitch thought she could take Ben from her, she was going in the ocean.

“No,” Dewi Kadita said, rubbing her backside where she fell. “No. You weren’t there …” She climbed back to her feet, slowly. “You didn’t see the magic when we made love on the beach.”

She’d slept with him? Landi had grabbed the other woman before she even realized what she was doing, and shoved her against the gunwale. This woman had not only slept with her husband, she thought to taunt her with it. Landi’s fist curled at her side. She could crack ribs with one blow.

Tears streamed down Dewi Kadita’s face. “He loved me.” It was almost a whimper.

Surya, she couldn’t beat a woman like this. A broken heart was all she had to show for a hard life. Not that Landi’s life had been easy, but … she had Ben. She had Ben. “He chose me,” she said, her voice a whisper.

“What?”

“He chose me,” she repeated, this time to Dewi Kadita. “He does love me best. Whatever you had, keep it in your heart, or let it go. The choice is yours. But Ben and I, we already made our choices and you can’t change them. You have to know nothing but pain waits for you on this ship.”

The woman backed away shaking her head. “Why?”

Why what? Why had Ben chosen her? Why had fate brought them both into his life at different times? She shook her head and spread her hands. She didn’t have any answers for this woman.

And she didn’t owe her any. “Go, before I make you.”

“Dewi?” Ben asked, as he walked back up the gangway.

But the girl just shook her head, rushing away. She paused at Landi’s husband, though, then threw her arms around him. Cheeky bitch. Landi could break her arm for that … but then Dewi spoke. “Goodbye, Ben.” She released him and ran down the gangway.

Ben shuddered. “Dewi?” he called after her. “Wait, I …” He shook his head, then turned back to Landi. “Ah, my love, have you been showering my old friends in kindness?”

“In cold reality, more like.”

Ben frowned a little, a strange expression on his face. “She deserves better. Better than the reality dealt her.”

Landi sighed. Maybe the girl did. But she’d brought it on herself coming here. Of course, Landi would have done the same. So it was better not to dwell on it. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Indeed, wife. Another great adventure awaits! There will be dashing, daring, and lots of searching.”

Landi took Ben’s hand and followed him up to the poop deck. She didn’t need any more adventures. She’d found what she’d been searching for. Now, she had one more task to complete. Just one more, and she and Ben would be free.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-SEVEN

“If Naresh never came back to your house, did it occur to you he never came back to Daha at all?”

Chandi glared at the werecrocodile. Pohaci could be irritatingly direct. “Most children learn a little thing called tact. Crocodiles don’t learn it?”

“No. If someone offends me, I just bite their head off.”

And she probably meant that literally. Chandi sighed. “He might have gone back to Rangguwani. Something went wrong between them, so I thought he’d stay away …” But Naresh was so stubborn about duty, and try as he might, he’d never leave politics.

Pohaci shrugged. “We’ve already searched the rest of this city.”

And what a pleasure that had been. Having a professional spy tell her all the ways she did it wrong was even more fun than learning the trade on her own had been.

But she needed Pohaci, so she just headed over to the palace with her. Rangguwani kept the main gate open, so they should be able to just walk in. Chandi took off in that direction, knowing, and only partly regretting, that Pohaci would follow.

“Look, the Iron Palace is a big place,” she said.

“I know.”

Chandi glanced back at the werecrocodile. “When have you been there?”

“I came here a while back with Lembu Ampal.”

What? Naresh had mentioned the big Guardsman had come here, but he never said anything about Pohaci. Was it because she had that pretty face? Could he care about her?

Chandi grit her teeth and shook the ridiculous thought out of her head. She would not be jealous of a crocodile. Naresh was loyal to her, even if he had left her. Anything else was just the lunacy talking. And as much as she’d used the Blessings, it wouldn’t be a surprise to have it return. She needed to stop, as she’d done before. At least for a time. Would that abate it?

And deep down, even knowing lunacy was returning, she still wanted the Rangda-damned Amrita.

The guards at the palace gate looked over the two women, but waved them on after only a moment. They probably wouldn’t have let her bring a toyak inside, but Chandi had left those in her house, anyway.

There were people all over the massive garden. Chances were best that the guards would recognize Naresh, but talking to them might arouse too much suspicion. “We need to talk to the courtiers, the servants, anyone who might have seen him.”

Pohaci turned around, as if memorizing every aspect of the layout, every person in the garden. “There’s dozens of people here. We should split up and meet back here if one of us finds something.”

Sweet Chandra, yes. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to question someone without the woman pointing out her every misstep? Yes—yes, she thought it would. “Fine, meet me back at the fishpond at noon.” That gave them each half a phase to move about the grounds and ask questions.

One good thing about the Buaya Jadian, at least Chandi wouldn’t have to tell her to be discreet. It was what they did, after all. Sneaking about, spying. And murdering. Pohaci probably had blood on her hands—but, then, so did Chandi.

Chandi drifted around the garden, making idle gossip with the servants. None mentioned seeing Naresh, even when Chandi hinted about it. By the time the third woman mentioned Lembu Ampal’s muscular body, Chandi was ready to pull her hair out. She had nothing against the big Guardsman, but he wasn’t the man she wanted to hear about.

“Chandi,” someone said.

She turned to look into the eyes of a Macan Gadungan. He had two other men with him, flanking him.

“Sunten,” she said.

The weretiger nodded. “The Ratu Adil wants a word with you.”

“How is dear Rangguwani? I can’t say I much want any words with him.” In fact, she’d avoided him even when Naresh served him. Anusapati’s brother …

“You don’t have a choice,” Sunten said. “He’s very serious.”

Chandi glanced around her. Other soldiers had begun to form up around her and the three Macan Gadungan. Using her Blessings risked lunacy, but there was no way she was giving in to this. If she could get to the wall, she could run up it and escape. Where was Pohaci? The damn werecrocodile was nowhere to be seen.

“You think this is a good idea, tiger?” Chandi backed away, edging closer to the wall. It would be a long run, but maybe she could get around the guards and up it before they could catch her.

“I think it’s my duty, Chandi. Surrender now.”

“No.” Chandi lunged at Sunten, catching the surprised weretiger by the throat. She hefted him into the air and flung him back at one of his companions, then took off running.

The third weretiger chased after her, and from the sound of it, so did a lot of guards. Others tried to interpose themselves between her and her escape. Not a good place to be. Her fist made a sickening crack against one guard’s face, and she dodged around the side of another.

And then someone stood behind her, with a hand on her shoulder. As she recognized Lembu Ampal, things shifted, and she stood again in front of Sunten, who was rising from the ground, his face painted with rage.

Chandi launched both elbows out behind her, catching the Guardsman with one. He fell, with a grunt. Sunten leapt at her. She spun and kicked him in midair, hurtling him the other direction. Another soldier grabbed her. She flipped the man, then disabled two more with joint locks.

Someone thrust the shaft of an arbir at her. Chandi caught it, then yanked it from the man’s hands. She didn’t know how to fight with the polearm, so she tossed it aside. An aerial cartwheel carried her over another attacker. Lembu Ampal appeared in the air in front of her, and his fist slammed into her cheek before she could change directions.

The impact flung her to the ground. For a man without enhanced strength, he was damn strong. Her Blessings let her cut through the pain, barely. She swept her legs out, tripping the Guardsman. A Macan Gadungan flung himself atop her. Her blows might have cracked the tiger’s ribs, but he didn’t let up. Someone yanked her arm behind her back and forced her to a sitting position.

Chandi thrust her leg out, catching a soldier in the stomach and sending him flying. Whoever held her must be a Moon Scion. He was just too strong. Macan Gadungan, Arun Guard, Moon Scions. How could she fight them all? No one could.

It didn’t mean she was going down easy.

Sunten grabbed her, pulling her to her feet as others tried to manacle her hands. Chandi drew her Potency Blessing as hard as she could and kicked at the tiger’s knee, knocking it out of joint. He fell, screaming, clutching his mangled leg. He’d heal—benefits of being Jadian—but not quickly. She snapped her head back, smashing the base of her skull into the nose of whoever held her.

The Moon Scion dropped her, but several other arms still held hers. Another Macan Gadungan hit her in the gut. She held her Blessings, fighting the pain. His third blow knocked them away. As soon as the Blessings dropped, all the agony of her body washed over her like the rushing tide. She would have toppled, except someone still held her up by the arms.

She had to … she reached for her Blessings again. It had become second nature. Drawing them eased the pain, but she probably had broken ribs herself. Her attackers had manacled her arms behind her back and forced her to her knees. From this position, she couldn’t attack. She couldn’t even defend herself when Sunten backhanded her.

“Vicious bitch,” he said.

“Fight me one on one and see how it goes,” she said.

He slapped her again.

She looked up. Pohaci was crouched over the body of a soldier, meeting her gaze. One glance told Chandi the other woman already knew there was nothing she could do. With a nod, Pohaci slipped away behind some trees, fading into the garden.

Pohaci had all but disappeared. If Chandi had done so, she’d be free now. Why hadn’t she thought of using her Glamour? The lunacy was affecting her mind, wasn’t it? She shook her head, trying to clear it.

They pulled her through the ornate throne room and forced her to kneel before Rangguwani. He sat there on Kertajaya’s throne, his gilded costume looking like glittering wings, staring at her. Anusapati’s brother. Was that why he wanted her? Revenge for the death of his little brother?

Chandra, he was going to blame her for that, wasn’t he? And she could see Anusapati in him—in those ochre eyes and that strong jawline. And in her, he’d see the reason his brother was dead.

“Chandi,” he said, not rising. He at least looked the part of the great king.

“You think Naresh won’t hear about this?”

Rangguwani smirked. “I’m hoping he does. Your husband has become difficult to control. And the Ratu Adil must have control of the Isles. There are too many loose ends. The Arun Guard must serve me.”

Chandi spit blood on the floor. He thought he’d use her to control Naresh? At least that meant he wasn’t going to kill her for what happened to Anusapati.

“If you think you can earn his loyalty like this, you’re a fool,” she said.

Rangguwani shrugged. “The man will never risk his wife. You just became my most valuable treasure.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-EIGHT

The screams of the damned filled Naresh’s dreams as they filled his waking moments. As they filled the rainforest and villages of Yawadvipa. Nightfall brought loose the demons, as their heads left their bodies and they sought fresh prey.

This fishing village had once thrived a few phases’ walk from Kasusthali. Now, the evening sun cast it in brilliant orange light, seen by none but Naresh and his men. These villagers had fled in a hurry. Surya say they were safe. This was the third village in a row he’d found abandoned. Perhaps all the Yawadvipans had fled to other islands, but that seemed unlikely.

“Naresh,” Lang said, his voice dry as he pointed at a house.

Blood splatters covered the porch, even the roof. Naresh drew his keris sword and advanced on the house, then Strode up to the porch. Inside, the smell of rot almost overwhelmed him. The corpse inside might once have been a man, although so much of its flesh had been eaten, it was hard to be sure.

Naresh climbed back down the ladder and joined Lang and the others. They’d brought twelve men here, and hoped to recruit more … but the leyaks had been through this place already. Any hope he’d held that the stories were only stories had died not long after they’d arrived on Yawadvipa. His homeland had become a feasting ground for the minions of the Demon Queen.

Something made the hair on the back of his neck rise, and he spun, looking for it. They were still here. That mind-rending shriek ripped through the air again, leaving his men covering their ears and whimpering.

“Rise, draw your blades,” he shouted.

More shrieks filled the air. First one, then another. Four, five—they bled together in a cacophony of pain and chaos.

The flying heads appeared a moment later, surrounding them. They flew in circles, like predators stalking a kill, feeding on the fear as much as the eventual blood.

“Torches!” Lang shouted.

Soldiers scrambled to light fires. As soon as one got a torch lit, Lang summoned the flames, engulfing his fist. He launched them into the air and it exploded around a leyak, sending the creature crashing to the earth in a smoldering, stinking heap.

Everything went still. The leyaks stopped flying for an instant, hovering in place. All eyes were on the flaming corpse. Then the heads shrieked again and exploded into motion. Three leyaks swarmed Lang. Naresh Strode into the air in front of one, severing the entrails at the base of the head. The horrid thing fell to the ground in two pieces.

His soldiers launched arrows from the gandewas, but the leyaks flew too fast, and only a handful hit their marks. A leyak dove for an archer. Naresh Strode in front of him, grabbed the thing by the hair, and rammed his sword through its jaw. Another launched itself at him, so he Strode away. The head was still impaled on his sword. He had to plant it on the ground and use his foot to hold the gruesome thing down in order to free his blade.

Entrails wrapped around his leg and flung him to the ground.

Explosions continued, as Lang dropped more and more leyaks with his fireballs. Good thing the man had joined them. Fangs sank into Naresh’s thigh, and burning venom like acid shot through his leg. He smashed the pommel of his keris into the head until it released him, then ran the blade through its eye socket.

It felt like fire was spreading through him, pulsing through his veins. The venom was paralytic, not deadly, from what he’d seen, but it hurt like Rangda herself had spit on him. His leg barely responded as he untangled the entrails wrapped around it.

His men were screaming. A leyak had wrapped itself around one man’s neck and crushed it while feeding on his face. Naresh Strode over and cut down the leyak, though the man was beyond saving.

His leg couldn’t support him, and the venom was slowing him down. Two more Strides, and he took down another leyak. They were fast, and strong as Jadian, at least.

They must have killed a dozen leyaks today, but a glance told Naresh he’d lost half his men. Lang was on the ground, screaming as a pair of leyaks crushed him, gnawing on his flesh.

“Lang!” Naresh Strode over, running his blade through a head feasting on the Firewalker’s shoulder. Naresh ripped the dead thing off the man. The other leyak, still wrapped around Lang’s legs, snapped at Naresh. Naresh punched it. The burning had spread to his waist, and he couldn’t feel his leg.

Lang used the reprieve to summon more fire and engulfed himself in it. The flames surrounded his body, driving Naresh back, before they simmered out. The leyaks lay still, but scorch marks covered the man, too, and his clothes had burned away to cinders. He bled from at least four different bites. One had torn out a chunk of his shoulder.

Naresh knelt beside the man, whose breaths came in shallow gasps, and tried to staunch the bleeding at his shoulder. Lang recoiled from Naresh’s touch on his burned skin.

“Semar …” Lang mumbled. “He can … you find him …” And then no more gasps came from him. His chest grew still.

“Damn it,” Naresh said, closing the man’s eyes. Lang was a bastard, but no one deserved this. No one. Naresh grit his teeth. Without the Firewalker, the rest of his people might soon share Lang’s fate.

He stumbled to his feet, though only one leg worked, and barely at that. His fingers were tingling, too. If those went numb, he’d lose his grip on his sword and this would be all over.

Lang’s explosions had lit half the houses in the village on fire, casting the entire landscape in flickering shadows. More leyaks swarmed through the air, barely visible in the twilight sky. Someone was walking closer to Naresh and his remaining men, walking past the flames. Another Firewalker?

A woman, he realized, from her silhouette. When she drew closer, he recognized her. Ratna, or what was left of her.

“Do you like my pets, Guardsman?” she asked. Her voice rasped, escaping through holes worn into her throat. He could see a hint of her vocal cords moving when she spoke. Bile rose in his throat. Fight it down.

Naresh tightened his grip on his keris and Strode beside Ratna. Rangda, she was Rangda now. He rammed his sword toward her heart. She spun, catching him in the chest with a blow that sent him flying into one of his men.

Rangda laughed, and the corpse of one of Naresh’s soldiers rose, shambling to its feet, and then toward another soldier. “I am the queen of the grave, little man. What hope do you have?”

His man helped him up, and they both backed away from the advancing Demon Queen.

“I am Arun Guard,” Naresh said through teeth clenched against the pain. That hit had driven the wind out of him, maybe broken something. Breathing hurt.

A leyak dove for him. He Strode a foot to the side and hacked it down as it passed.

“I am a Son of the Sun,” he managed, turning back on Rangda.

“You are nothing, mortal. Tremble before your gods!” Her voice seemed to echo off every house.

“Get us out of here,” his man said, clutching Naresh’s shoulder.

No, they had to end this.

Rangda reached a hand toward the flaming house and a lance of burning timber launched from it, impaling another soldier. The walking corpse had killed its victim, and now that man’s corpse rose as well. Suddenly, the soldier holding Naresh’s arm was the only one left of his men.

Lang was dead. His men were dead.

Rangda reached toward another house. The burning roof ripped free and flung itself at Naresh.

He Sun Strode, taking the man with him back down to the beach.

The sound of the roof crashing down reached them an instant later, like an entire house had collapsed.

Naresh was running out of sunlight. He could see the outline of Kertajaya’s ship, but if he left Rangda here, she would tear through the people of Yawadvipa like a Warak Ngendog on a rampage.

His legs gave out and only the soldier beside him kept him standing. The man’s arms trembled as he held Naresh up. Naresh’s vision had started to blur.

Rangda’s laughter filled the village. Surya preserve them, the Demon Queen would wipe all life off this island. The Solar homeland. And there wasn’t a damn thing Naresh could do about it. Maybe with a fully-charged Sun Brand he could have fought against her.

“Get us out of here,” the man repeated, shaking him.

Yes. He had no choice.

Naresh focused on the dhow in the distance and Strode himself and the other man toward it. His sunlight gave out first, and they plunged into the sea beside the ship.

His legs wouldn’t respond, he was sinking. He flailed his arms, trying to tread water, but without his legs, it was a vain effort. Salt water burned through his wounds, but it was a distant pain. Seawater filled his mouth and nose.

Something hit him. A line. He grabbed it, felt someone hauling him toward the ship, and up.

He had to hold on. Had to hold the line until they pulled him aboard.

At last he collapsed on the deck, sparing a glance through the scupper at Yawadvipa.

His homeland burned.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-NINE

Though Kertajaya had named Lang his heir, Naresh had never expected to see the king weep for the Firewalker’s death. Oh, he had tried to hide it, of course, but Naresh had seen the tears fall when the shock had passed. The king probably blamed him for his heir’s death, though he never said it.

Naresh had spent much of the voyage back to Suladvipa in his berth. The paralytic toxin had ravaged his body, and with his wounds and his weakened state, the fevers returned in force. He shivered despite the blankets piled atop him. He had no more of the qinghao to fight the malaria. Maybe Semar would, if he could find the fire priest.

The leyaks had continued to attack them as they sailed away, but not for long. Perhaps the heads dared not fly too far from their bodies. Perhaps they were only interested in taking one island at a time. From what Naresh had seen, the slow but steady fall of the world might be inevitable.

He hadn’t been strong enough to stop it. He’d failed to stop the leyaks, as he’d failed to stop Rangda. Maybe, if she hadn’t come, maybe he could have stopped the demons. Perhaps he was fooling himself, though. The leyaks alone had killed Lang and most of his men, and Naresh’s body would still have failed him, even if their mistress had not come. There were just too many.

Chandi had called the Arun Guard war gods. But one Arun Guard was not a match for an army of demons. And there was only one other besides him left on the Skyfall Isles—or in the world. They were the last. Probably the last there ever would be, since the priests who had known the secrets had died at the Astral Temple and at Kasusthali. No one alive could recreate the Sun Brand, so far as Naresh knew.

The storms never ceased, not for the entire voyage. Naresh drifted in and out of consciousness, wondering if the visions he saw were real or products of his fevered imagination. He saw people calling out to him, begging for the Radiant Prince to save them from the onslaught of darkness. He heard his mother’s voice, claiming Rangda was the culmination of centuries of descent into corruption and depravity. The dynasties had been in a downward spiral since the breaking of the Pact.

“We’ve made the river ways,” Kertajaya said.

Naresh opened his eyes. He was drenched in cold sweat, and the blankets were too wet to be much help in drying him.

“Are you certain Semar will shelter us?” the king asked.

“No.” Naresh wasn’t certain of anything. Semar hadn’t thrown in with Rangguwani—not exactly—but the two of them had some kind of treaty, or at least agreement. Rangguwani let Semar come and go as he pleased and never forced the Ignis to his cause. In exchange, Semar had sent the man Firewalkers and soldiers.

And yet, the fire priest had seemed to offer neutral ground before. He’d seemed to want to serve as a teacher to Naresh, once. And Pottala was the only place he could think of that might take them in.

“It’s better than hiding back in that cave.”

Kertajaya stroked his mustache. He didn’t speak for a long time, and Naresh had almost fallen back asleep when he did so at last. “I know you did what you could to save Lang.”

“It wasn’t enough. Didn’t save any of them.”

“I’ve got one soldier who swears otherwise, but be that as it may. None of us expected that sort of resistance. No one expected …”

Her.

Surya, how had Chandi fought Rangda? She’d had the help of another goddess. And Rangda had killed that goddess and damn near Chandi and Ben as well.

“We’ll be there soon,” Kertajaya said. “Regain your strength.”

Naresh slept then, and woke later, rubbing his eyes. It was warm and dark. He was in the Shrine of Sacred Flame again. And that smell was … qinghao. “Semar?” his voice sounded dry.

“Drink this.”

It was hot and welcome. Anything to drive back the malaria. Naresh finished the cup before he spoke. “Kertajaya needs sanctuary.”

“You let your loyalty ebb and flow like the tide, Naresh.”

No. He’d given it to men who had failed to honor it. He hadn’t betrayed them first. He hadn’t. “I learned things I didn’t know before.”

“The ability to reevaluate your opinions in light of new evidence is commendable. Foisting your hopes on those who will inevitably fumble them may be less so.”

Naresh tried to sit all the way up. His body barely responded. “What would you have me do?”

“Be who are you. Embrace the fate that lies before you, lest you stumble in running from it.”

He chuckled, or would have had he been stronger. Instead it came out as a hacking cough. “The Radiant Prince? I’m just a warrior, Semar.”

“Then be a warrior. But whatever you choose, do not run from it. You cannot afford that. Nor can the rest of the Isles.” Semar took the empty cup away and helped Naresh to his feet, drawing his arm around his shoulders. Semar was taller, so he had to stoop to support Naresh. “I’ve arranged the same house for you. Perhaps familiar surroundings will help.”

“Don’t you live in Daha now?”

“Not since your falling out with the king.”

Semar helped him limp through the village. His legs wouldn’t work. The one had never recovered fully from what Malin had done and the other had been bitten by a leyak. The poison might be gone, but the wound remained.

Semar paused to open the door to Naresh’s old house. “You are eager to blame yourself for all that goes wrong in the world, but so reluctant to accept the authority or responsibility in name.”

“I’ve failed. Repeatedly.” Naresh grunted as Semar helped him lay on the floor.

“You’re only human.” The Igni’s odd blue eyes sparkled when he looked at Naresh. “Expect from yourself only what it is fair to expect.”

Semar slid the door closed, leaving Naresh in the half light that filtered through the windows. For the first time, he noticed it hadn’t been raining when Semar had brought him outside. The sun had just peeked through the clouds, though from the position, it would set soon.

You’re only human. That was the problem, of course. A man couldn’t fight a goddess, not alone. Naresh would need an army. Perhaps if he could bring Rangguwani and Kertajaya together, perhaps they could stand against her. But he was not a mediator. He was a warrior.

Then be a warrior. But he’d failed at that, too. He’d lost. He fought Rangda, and she’d trounced him.

He lay here on the floor, broken. His legs ruined by his battles with the supernatural denizens of Kahyangan, his body ravaged by malaria. He hadn’t been strong enough to face the spirits and demons.

He was only human.

And the world needed him to be something more. His people needed something more. The Solars were being wiped out by Rangda Demon Queen herself. The horrors of the underworld were loosed on Earth.

Naresh tore open his baju and pulled the bundle from it. The Amrita.

It gave Moon Scions the power of Chandra. He’d sworn not to take it. But he had the power of Surya, he and Lem alone had it. And that power was not enough. Not by itself. To take more than one dose of Amrita was a poison that drove men and women mad, drove them to the depths of addiction. It had nearly broken Chandi.

Naresh opened the bundle. One and a half vials. The nectar of the gods. The power of a god, in the palm of his hand. “Surya … am I betraying you to even think it?”

If the sun god heard, he did not answer.

Naresh opened the first bottle and breathed in the scent of milk, perhaps with a hint of jasmine. The contents glittered, like water in sunlight. “Gods above preserve me … I need the strength to stand against what we have come to …” To be the warrior Semar had asked for.

He drained the vial in one swig. The other could remain … a constant temptation. A torment to Chandi.

No. Let it be done. Forever. Naresh drank the second vial, then tossed it aside. It clattered along the floor.

He sank back down, curling himself into a ball. Too late to turn back now. Maybe it had always been too late. Perhaps every step had led him here.

Warmth spread from his stomach. It grew quickly, like a fire trying to burst through his veins, coursing along to his heartbeat. It began to throb behind his eyes. Still the heat grew, from warmth to pain, and from pain to agony.

His breath came so quickly he was sure his lungs would burst, even if his heart didn’t. Perhaps he’d taken too much. Perhaps he’d killed himself with this. He opened his eyes but the room had fallen away. Instead, he saw stars. Millions of stars, shining in the night. One by one, they winked out, lost in darkness.

All that he was began to fly apart.

Infinite radiant heat filled his vision to the right. Surya. The sun itself, ready to embrace him. As he’d seen when he rose to the Arun Guard, so many years ago now. The sun, the man, it reached for him.

To his left, another body glowed. The moon rose, and grew full, engulfing the sky. It too reached toward him. Chandra. It had to be Chandra.

Somewhere, he had crossed the line, bridged a gap.

Beneath his feet, the Earth seemed a tiny speck. Coruscating orange light burst from the sun and matching blue light from the moon, enwrapping him. The energy dove through to his core and became him, mingling and threatening to destroy him.

The eyes of two gods fell on him, unblinking, unmerciful, and judging. The energies were tearing him apart. His essence could not contain such powers joining within.

All creation was blown away, leaving only dust. Soon, Naresh too, would be swept away. He was becoming nothing but the dust of the stars. Emptiness.

No pain. No time. No more love.

No more love? No more Chandi?

No. He wouldn’t let it happen.

One more hand was reaching for him. She was there. She’d always been there, holding him. Naresh reached for Chandi’s hand. She was filled with stars, she was the light itself, filling the darkness. And when she touched his hand, Naresh’s form became whole again.

The sun and moon returned, their energies rushed into him and molded together. It filled his eyes and his heart. The sweet, soft touch of Chandi’s lips brushed his face and he opened his eyes.

He was still lying on the floor of his house, though that floor looked to have been scorched, and the roof was crumbling.

Semar knelt across the room from him, watching with those crystal blue eyes. “At last you have chosen.” He rose, leaving a pot of steaming tea on the floor. “You won’t need this anymore, I think.”

Naresh pushed himself from the floor. He tried to speak, but his throat was raw, like he’d been screaming for a phase. Maybe he had.

“Sleep now,” Semar said. “You will see dreams you have never seen before. And when you wake, the world shall see what it never dreamed of.”

PART THREE

1197 AP, The Rainy Season

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY

Damn that girl for letting herself get captured. The thought had become Pohaci’s daily mantra. She could have gone to Swarnadvipa alone, but her best chance of finding the information she sought was through Chandi, the last living Scion of House Soma. Besides, maybe she could help her get Malin back from Rahu.

She had no other reason to help the Moon Scion. No reason at all to care.

Pohaci pushed through the underbrush in the wetlands. It was a comfort. Many people thought marshes contaminated or dirty, but they were no such thing. Wetlands represented the confluence of water and earth, the triumph of nature over civilization. Nothing could be cleaner.

Nevertheless, Pohaci’s life had become a nightmare. Become? Who was she kidding? She’d always had a rough life, but she’d dealt with each loss, each deprivation or torture as it came to her. But she would not give up Malin. She would not let him suffer under Rahu’s lunatic whims. Malin had descended into the Bowels to save her from her nightmare. She’d brave anything to save him from his.

But she could never rescue Chandi from Rangguwani. The Iron Palace was a fortress, and from all reports, Rangguwani had chained Chandi to his very throne, demanding Naresh come to him. So Pohaci would give the king what he wanted.

She was going on a fragile hope, trusting her network of informers. They claimed Naresh had fled to Pottala, the Igni village. Firewalkers were dangerous, but with luck, they wouldn’t see her until she was ready.

She passed into the wet rice fields, remaining so low the farmers couldn’t spot her. The waters stirred as she passed, but only a little. She could wait until nightfall and pass as a crocodile, but she’d already spent too much time tracking the Solar down. Every moment she wasted here, Chandi was at Rangguwani’s mercy. Not that Pohaci cared about her …

From the edge of the wet rice fields, she spied on the village. A group of young men and women were practicing their Firewalking, tossing flames back and forth between them like a ball. A ball that would explode if one of the fools dropped it.

When no one was looking, Pohaci dashed from the fields to one of the houses, hiding in its shadow. She passed from one shadow to the next, moving through the village like a whisper.

There.

Behind the fire shrine, Naresh paced around a training mat, working through Silat forms. That was Lunar Silat. And he was fast. Faster than she had ever seen a Moon Scion do the forms. Faster than her eyes could fully track. Faster even than she remembered him being in the battle with Rahu. A warrior with such speed and skill would be unmatched, even without the Sun Stride. It might give them the edge they needed to sneak in, save Chandi, and break out of the palace before Rangguwani killed them all.

Of course, she’d have to reveal herself for that to work. Pohaci sighed and stood, but only after surveying the area one last time. The fire priest Semar watched Naresh with folded arms, saying little, but otherwise, the Guardsman was alone.

Time to make herself known. Pohaci sauntered over, keeping one eye on Semar at all times. Probably a Firewalker himself, though she’d never heard of him using the power. Still, she couldn’t afford to underestimate the Igni. Best to be ready to take him down if he tried something.

Naresh thrust both palms forward in her direction. His sleeves issued a crack from the sudden snap of his arms, and Pohaci could swear she felt the wind, even from ten feet away.

Naresh’s eyes narrowed a moment, that was all. “What do you want, werecrocodile?”

Semar regarded her too. Odd, the man didn’t even start at her appearance. Not easy to spook this one, then.

“Your help.”

Naresh shook his head and resumed his forms. “I don’t have the time to indulge your search for Malin. The Isles are in chaos. I have to finish my … training.”

Of course the selfish Solar cared nothing for Malin—the man who had ended Rahu for everyone. Or tried …

Pohaci eyed Naresh carefully. He smelled different. Faint, but his arrogance had been replaced with something deeper. Determination? Something had changed him, physically and mentally. “What happened to your limp?”

The Guardsman glanced down at his once bad leg, then shook his head. “Exercise and a good diet.”

Fine. What did she care, if he didn’t want to tell her? “You may not have time for me, but I imagine you have time for your wife.”

Naresh paused, then walked over to her. “What about her? Where is she?” His voice was dry, harsh, and very serious.

Pohaci looked up into his eyes, eyes that threatened terrible violence if something happened to his wife. She could see why Chandi would find him attractive, even if he was a Solar. He had nothing on Malin, of course. Malin was her mate. My lover, he’d called her. And she’d earned the title. “Rangguwani has taken her. He holds her, demanding your service. The Ratu Adil thinks he can cow you with a threat to your wife.”

Naresh’s fists clenched by his side. “He wouldn’t dare.”

“He has. Ask anywhere in Daha and you can hear his challenge. You are too sheltered here.”

Naresh glanced at Semar.

“It’s quite possible,” the priest said.

“Of course it’s true,” Pohaci said. “You think I’d come all this way to waste your time?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded of the priest.

“Do you think I track your wife’s every movement?”

Naresh looked back at her, and his eyes narrowed. Then he started off, heading toward the village outskirts.

“You still have things to learn,” Semar said.

Naresh didn’t slow, so Pohaci trotted after him. “Naresh?”

“Come.”

She had to hurry to keep pace with him, but since he didn’t Sun Stride, he must want her along. “What are you going to do?” That smell, that scent coming off him had become something else, something she knew from deep inside her. Rage.

“I’m going to educate the public in the proper behavior for an honorable king.”

Pohaci had to hurry to keep up with his longer legs, now that his limp had vanished. “You plan to fight him?”

“No,” he said, favoring her with a dark glance. “I plan to make an example of him.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-ONE

The chains grated against the iron ring that bound them, but they didn’t bend. Even when Chandi had drawn her Blessings as hard as she could, they’d only shrieked in protest. Now, she dared not continue to use her Blessing. The poppy extract they put in her water left her half-dazed, and she would not risk lunacy. Not again.

“You won’t break those,” Rangguwani said to her. He sat on his throne, watching her from the corner of his eye while receiving his advisors.

The Moon Scion who stood in front of him bore a bandage across his face. Hints of red seeped through the cloth near his right ear. “We’ve retaken Bukit,” the man continued, “but Bangdvipa is lost.”

Rangguwani drummed his fingers on the armrest, scowling. “Tell your people they must hold the capital. We’ll make that a staging ground to spread throughout the rest of Swarnadvipa.”

The wounded man bowed, swaying a bit as he did. “My lord … Reports from Yawadvipa seem … unbelievable.”

Chandi had heard the rumors. She’d remained on her knees beside this throne for so many days, hearing everything. Would the man never tire of looking at her? She’d tried snide comments to see if he’d send her away. He ignored them as he ignored her threats, pleas, and anything else she tried. Drugged with poppy, they let her walk twice a day, once in the morning, and once in the evening. The only time she could relieve herself, or take food.

Once, the man had apologized for the treatment. “Truly,” he’d said, “I regret leaving you like this, Chandi. But I know enough of you not to let you out of my sight. And I will not allow Naresh to remain rogue. The Arun Guard have a place at my side. And nowhere else.”

Chandi shook her head, trying to clear out the poppy haze, then turned her attention back to the wounded man.

The Moon Scion bowed, but he looked ragged. “The soldiers who returned … The few who returned claimed the entire island is overrun with leyaks. Living nightmares.”

When Chandi was a child, a leyak had attacked Bukit, or so stories claimed. People whispered that Malin had hunted it down and destroyed it. But the weretiger never spoke of such a thing. Had she failed to give proper credence to such tales? Would Malin know how to handle these things? If only someone knew where to find the Macan Gadungan. And if only Rahu hadn’t … Chandra, poor Malin.

“We will attend to Yawadvipa once Swarnadvipa is secured,” Rangguwani said. “Hold the creatures at bay, and do not let them spread. Until we’ve dealt with the Witch-Queen, we cannot split our forces.” Rangguwani waved the man away.

“You don’t think the two might be related?” Chandi said.

Rangguwani blinked, but didn’t look right at her. Still, he must know the truth. If the Witch-Queen hadn’t called the leyaks, she must at least be coordinating with them.

As the Moon Scion left the great hall, Sunten entered, still walking with a slight limp. The Macan Gadungan healed fast, so she must have damn near destroyed his knee for it to still give him trouble. Chandi waved at him, earning herself a snarl.

“Announcing Arun Guardsman Naresh and Buaya Jadian Pohaci,” the weretiger said.

Naresh was here? Chandra’s bitter spit, she hoped he had a plan. A better plan than walking into a trap.

At the announcement, soldiers rushed about the hall, most standing off in the wings, others forming up in front of the throne, alongside Lembu Ampal. Rangguwani’s hands gripped the armrests and he leaned forward. A moment later, Naresh stepped into the hall, walking down the plush purple carpet with a determined stride.

His eyes met hers and filled her with a sudden warmth, though only the barest hint of a smile touched his lips.

“Naresh, it’s a trap,” she said.

“I know,” he said, then looked to Rangguwani. “And you have but one chance to escape it, king.”

Rangguwani slapped his hands on the armrests and stood, advancing to stand just behind Lembu Ampal. “You forget yourself, Guardsman! You are a servant of the king. I am that king, I am your new emperor, and yet you do not stand by my side. You abandoned your duty. Where is your famous honor? You will swear an oath of service to me, of loyalty for life. Only then will I accommodate your wishes.”

Pohaci stood at the entrance to the great hall, eyes slowing taking in the mass of soldiers. And she would see everything, wouldn’t she? There were a half dozen Macan Gadungan, as many Moon Scions, a Guardsman, and at least twenty soldiers she’d seen—with probably others waiting in the wings.

“Honor?” Naresh said. “You have abducted my wife. Release her.” He began to advance on the throne again. “Immediately.”

“I am the Ratu Adil! You do not presume to give me orders, servant. Swear the oath or pay the price. You are nothing but a rogue soldier, given powers you do not deserve. You are a destabilizing force threatening this grand empire. Who do you think you are to challenge us?”

Naresh stopped, taking in every face in the hall. “I,” he said at last, “am the Scion of Sun and Moon. Avatar of Night and Day!” His voice echoed through the throne room, as everyone else fell deathly silent. “And you will release my wife, or I will cross your broken body to free her.”

For a moment Rangguwani stood there, slack-jawed and trembling in either rage or disbelief. Maybe both. If Naresh had wanted to provoke him, he’d succeeded. Indeed, Chandi found her own mouth hanging agape. Avatar of Night and Day? Did that mean Naresh had taken …

“Kill him,” Rangguwani said.

Chandi’s breath caught in her throat. Whatever his escape plan, it had better be good.

But Naresh just stood there, hands spread to his side as the soldiers advanced on him. Sunten bounded forward, charging him from behind, keris knife in hand. More soldiers rushed after him.

And then Naresh exploded into motion. He spun, catching Sunten in midair with his fist. He moved so fast, he seemed to be in two places at once. He caught a soldier’s arbir in one hand and slammed his palm through the shaft and right into the man, sending him flying back into his companions.

He Strode behind a man tripping him, and again in front of another, flipping him over his shoulder. He Strode into the air, near the roof, carrying the man with him. His momentum built as he fell, and he Strode again, converting it to hurl the man straight out of the hall. The poor soldier must have flown thirty feet and blown straight through the double doors.

Naresh was everywhere. Chandi’s eyes blurred trying to track him. He was on the ceiling and the floor, Striding across the room. His every blow sent men flying. At one time she’d swear he stood in three different places, leaving afterimages in all of them. It must have been the poppy affecting her mind.

More and more men rushed him, but they were hurled everywhere. He was in midair, fighting Lembu Ampal. They were falling, each Striding all across the room. He punched the big man, sending him flying, then appeared behind him in the air, caught him, and flung him at the ground.

Naresh landed atop him with crushing force.

Someone tried to shoot him with a gandewa, but he was gone in an instant, and the archer fell dead before his arrow had crossed the room.

Rangguwani himself ran at Naresh, moving fast enough he must have drawn every bit of his Potency Blessing.

Naresh spun and kicked a Macan Gadungan in the head, sending him spiraling through the air. He caught Rangguwani’s arm and slammed his fist sideways into the king’s chest. Chandi heard bones crack from the blow. Naresh rammed his knee into the man’s abdomen, and Rangguwani crumpled to the floor.

And then Naresh was still.

In the space of a few heartbeats, Naresh, Pohaci, and a few courtiers who had not fought were the only ones standing in the throne room. Chandi released her breath. Pohaci finally moved, entering the room.

Sweet Chandra. It looked like a cyclone had swept through the chamber. Men had been strewn about the hall, thrown about the hall, like palm leaves caught in the storm. Some lay in the center of the room, while others slumped against the walls. Some of the bloodstains coating those walls had to be twenty feet in the air.

Chandi’s husband turned to her, then stepped over the fallen king as he walked toward her, never taking his eyes from hers. He grasped the iron ring with both hands and heaved. Metal shrieked again, and then the stones in the floor cracked. The ring jerked free.

Chandi stood, still not quite able to catch her breath. She was vaguely aware of Pohaci kneeling over Rangguwani and sliding a keris into his prone form. She couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

Her husband threw his arms around her, holding her tight in an embrace. The poppy haze still tugged at her mind, but she was safe. He had forgiven her. And she was safe.

At last he lifted her into his arms, and Chandi wrapped hers around his neck. Naresh kissed her, then carried her out of the hall, not pausing to look at the wake of destruction he’d left behind him.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-TWO

The sun had long since risen when Chandi’s husband stirred beneath her. His bare chest was warm, and she didn’t want to remove her head from it. She ran her fingers along the line of his jaw until he held them and kissed them lightly.

“Are you hungry?” he said, after a moment.

No. She’d have to be starving to leave this moment. Though she wouldn’t have chosen Semar’s village, this place had brought Naresh back to her. The Igni had given Naresh a permanent house here, which implied he expected him to remain. They’d see about that.

They’d slept together, for the first time in far too long. And it had been even longer since they’d made love like that. Naresh hadn’t spoken much, but his eyes had said more than words ever could. What had happened to him? Had time and fear alone brought him to this?

Without doubt he’d taken the Amrita. Had it changed his mind as well as his body? “How much of it did you take?”

Naresh swallowed, his chest moving underneath her chin, then ran his hands along her shoulders, and down her bare back. “All of it.”

Chandi sat up, looking into his eyes. “There was more than a full vial.”

Her husband grunted assent, then tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. It looked like someone had recently patched holes in the roof.

“What was it like?”

His hand rubbed over her abdomen, and he shook his head. “Beyond words … I think I was lucky to survive. People weren’t meant to have both energies within them … the two gifts seem to feed off each other. I can Stride more, and farther.”

Why would the powers interact like that? Of course, no one had ever considered combining them before. Who could? Since the Amrita and the Sun Brand had been discovered, the Lunars and Solars had been separated. “How far?”

“As far as the eye can see. And using the Blessings seems natural, like training in Kebatinan for the Sun Brand had prepared me … like I can see them, inside myself.”

And he was strong—stronger even than Malin, she’d guess, and faster than … anyone. Something deep within him had changed. Was he still the same man she loved? Was he still her husband under all of that? When he kissed her, when he held her, when he made love to her, she still felt his heart, beating in time with hers. But he’d become something that had never existed before. A living god, almost.

The thought sent a shudder through her, and Naresh sat, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m here.”

She leaned into him, nuzzling against his skin, before she spoke. “Naresh … I’m so sorry for the things I …” Her voice was breaking. How could she even put into words the things she’d done? She’d maimed the man she loved, accused him of stealing from her. She’d betrayed him. “I never meant to …”

“I know.” His voice was dry, almost emotionless. Sweet Chandra, he shouldn’t forgive what she’d done.

For a while, he just sat there holding her, then he kissed her forehead. “What are you thinking?”

Chandi sighed. A lot had happened in the Iron Palace, and they hadn’t had time to talk of it all. And Pohaci had … “Did you tell Pohaci to kill Rangguwani?”

“Of course not.”

Much as the man may have deserved it, she was glad her husband hadn’t set out to assassinate him. It just wouldn’t have been the same Naresh. But he was still there. Even given what the Amrita had done to him, he was still her Naresh.

“She did what she felt she had to,” he said. “On the way, she worried about leaving an enemy behind. I can’t blame her for taking the opportunity.”

Nor could Chandi. Pohaci had been an assassin. Maybe Chandi should be grateful the other woman had done the things Naresh couldn’t or wouldn’t. If they’d left Rangguwani alive, he might have come after them again. From the way Naresh had tossed about the men in that hall, Chandi would be surprised if many of them recovered.

And if he’d taken that much Amrita, what else might he be capable of? “I’m glad it’s gone.”

“What?”

She should be glad it was gone. The thing had damn near destroyed her. Now, there was no more Amrita. She couldn’t be sure if anyone lived who knew how to make it, but all that had been made was gone, now. “The Amrita … I couldn’t stop myself.” She shut her eyes, trying to stop the tears she felt building there. “I couldn’t … I still need it so much, Naresh. It scares me.”

Instead of speaking, he rubbed his hand along her back again. “Shh,” he said, at last. “Fear nothing, anymore.”

“Not lunacy?” How could she let herself fall into that again? Her Blessings had become so strong now, and she couldn’t stop drawing them. She was trying, so hard, to stop. But she couldn’t.

Naresh held her arms and pushed her away to look into her face. “You won’t go lunatic, Chandi. You know the risk and you face it. It’s only in trying to deny that it’s happening to you that you will fall prey to it.” He sighed. “And I guess now I also face that risk.”

“We should avoid using the Blessings,” she said. Sweet Chandra, the very thought soured her stomach. Those Blessings made them godlike.

“That may not be possible, Chandi. I took the Amrita because I had to. Because the things that are happening are bigger than me, or you, or our desires.”

And that was the thing. She couldn’t let go either, even if she wanted to. She’d promised Pohaci she’d go with her to Swarnadvipa. And since the werecrocodile had brought her husband back to her, it wouldn’t do to break that promise. “My homeland is under assault from the Witch-Queen.”

“And mine from Rangda.”

Chandi cringed. “Rangda? She’s not dead?”

“I don’t think a spirit can die, Chandi.”

“And Ratna?” If Rangda survived, maybe her cousin did as well. Could she still save her?

“Rangda is still in her. But her body seemed … dead, rotten.”

Chandi shut her eyes for a moment. Ratna. No matter what the girl had done, no one deserved her fate. Chandra, preserve her soul. Say that she had been returned to the Wheel of Life to be given another chance.

“I have to go with Pohaci. She needs something from Swarnadvipa.” Chandi took her husband’s hand. “Come with us. Rahu is in Malin now. We need your help to save my people from him. And there’s still the Witch-Queen, and now Rangda …” She had never heard of anything like what Naresh had done in the Iron Palace, but how could even he face Rangda? It was like their entire world was unraveling around them.

“Rahu? Surya’s glare. I suppose I should have known. What can we do?”

She wished she knew. “Naresh … Swarnadvipa was my home.”

“All right. I’ll come with you.” He smiled, just a little. “I wouldn’t want to leave your side, anyway.”

She leaned on his chest, pushing him back down to their cot. “Then don’t.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-THREE

It was strange to have Chandi back. Part of Naresh couldn’t let her out of his arms, and part of him felt like she’d never left. Maybe that was why they were together. They’d become such a part of each other’s lives that even time and distance was a transitory barrier between them.

She had gone to gather supplies for their journey, and Naresh now stood before Kertajaya, outside the Shrine of Sacred Flame. “I only need the ship for a few weeks, at most,” Naresh said. Kertajaya always made everything so damn difficult.

“It’s too dangerous. The Lunar waters are more hazardous than ever, and we cannot afford to risk a single ship. Much less our sole Arun Guard.”

Naresh grunted. The last Arun Guard, now. Lembu Ampal was probably dead. Naresh hadn’t intended to kill the big man, but neither did he hold back. Lem had chosen to serve Rangguwani, even to be a part of Chandi’s abduction. And the state they’d held her in—Lem should have stopped it. And he hadn’t. Still, Naresh had never heard of one Arun Guard killing another. He’d called the man brother.

But a brother should never have let that happen to his wife.

“We’re not going to lose your ship, Pak Kertajaya.” And he certainly wasn’t planning to die, either. “Swarnadvipa may be dangerous, but it’s also in danger. You can win support by aiding them in their struggle against the Witch-Queen.”

“If Rangguwani is dead, then now is the time to move on Daha. The bastard made my capital, my city his throne. The Iron Palace belongs to me, and I want it back.”

“So raise your army and move on it,” Naresh said. “In the meantime, we’ll take a ship and secure Swarnadvipa. We cannot allow this Witch-Queen to consolidate her power there.”

“The Witch-Queen is no longer on Swarnadvipa,” Semar said. The fire priest stepped out of the shadows of his shrine. Somehow, Naresh wasn’t surprised the man had eavesdropped on them. Semar always knew more than he should. “She sails for the Astral Temple.”

“The Tianxians hold the Temple,” Naresh said. And Tua Pek Kong wouldn’t let the Malayadvipan queen anywhere near it. “They’re still theoretically Pak Kertajaya’s allies.”

“And tell me,” Semar said, leaning against the shrine and fixing Naresh with his gaze, “do you think that Fire-Lances will be enough to stop her black magic? She’s coming with an armada she’s been raising for years. Rangguwani’s death, though it may serve your cause, also leaves a void in the Isles. Many of the people are now leaderless. Can you imagine a better time for a foreign queen to sweep in and lay claim to all before her?”

“All the more reason we must move on Daha,” Kertajaya said. “If we retake the Iron Palace, we show people we can fill that void. Lend me Firewalkers to take control before some upstart Moon Scion tries to replace his fallen lord.”

Semar now turned his unnerving gaze on Kertajaya. “And what would you do with them? Burn all around you? Turn them on your own city? On the people you claim to want to rule for their own benefit?”

“Igni, you speak to your rightful king,” the man said.

The fire priest smirked. “Are you king by right? Who gives you this right? The bloodline of Solar kings? But the Solar Empire has fallen. You have appointed yourself the Ratu Adil, but then so did two other men—both dead. You presume to command loyalty without earning it, Kertajaya.”

Kertajaya’s hand drifted toward his keris. Naresh narrowed his eyes and stepped in front of the man, shaking his head once. The king glowered, but released his sword.

“Semar, perhaps you should help Pak Kertajaya,” Naresh said. “If we end the chaos in Daha quickly, we can present a more united front against the Witch-Queen.” And Rahu. And Rangda. Surya say that the Amrita had made him strong enough to face her.

“Then you must aid the Tianxians,” the fire priest said. “You cannot allow the Witch-Queen to claim the Astral Temple for her mistress.”

“Mistress?” Naresh asked.

“Surely you know to whom the Witch-Queen prays? If she takes the Astral Temple, what will she do with it?”

Rangda. “You want me to help the Tianxians hold the Temple? They’re invaders, too. Choosing not to fight them is one thing, but helping them solidfy their position? They’ve taken something that doesn’t belong to them.”

Semar nodded. “They have indeed.”

Surya’s glare. “And if Rangda takes it from them …” Whatever the Demon Queen wanted the Temple for, it wouldn’t be good for the people of the Isles. It would probably be bad for the entire world.

Naresh felt himself clenching his fists and forced himself to release them. He truly had no choice. Semar was right. Whatever else happened, he couldn’t allow Rangda or her Witch-Queen to take the Temple.

“And will you help Pak Kertajaya take Daha?”

The fire priest shrugged, pushing off the shrine and taking a step toward Naresh. “As you wish.” He nodded at Chandi as she approached, earning himself a glare, then disappeared back into the temple.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“I need to prepare,” Kertajaya said, and departed, as well.

“Walk with me, Chandi.” Naresh led her down by the river, holding her hand. Her skin was warm and smooth and all he’d ever need in his life. And he was going to have to leave her again.

“Will he let us use his dhow?” Chandi asked, while they stood looking out over the riverbank.

“Yes. But you and Pohaci will have to take it without me.”

Chandi tightened her grip. “What? Why? We just got back … I …” She squeezed his hand so hard it hurt.

“The Witch-Queen is moving on the Astral Temple. Semar told me I need to stop her, that she serves Rangda. I’ll join Tua Pek Kong and aid his defense against her armada. It’s the only way.”

“Oh, so you’re listening to Semar now!” She pushed him, and he took a step back. “I need you, too. Swarnadvipa needs you.”

“Now is the perfect time for you to investigate there, while the Witch-Queen is away. Probably the leyaks will be gone, and even if they’re not, you’ll never have a better chance.”

She bit her lip before speaking. “No. I’m not leaving you. I’ll come to the Temple with you and we’ll defend it together.”

He’d known she’d want to try that. And he’d spent the walk here trying to think up a reason she’d accept, for refusing her aid. “It’s too dangerous.”

And the hands were on her hips. Not the reason she was going to accept, obviously.

“Chandi, you shouldn’t be using your Blessings. Not now, not until you’ve got control again. You worry about lunacy? Thrusting yourself in the middle of war would shorten the road there. Besides, you may never have such a chance to search Swarnadvipa for whatever answers you seek as this. Everyone’s attention will be on the battle.”

“Including mine! You think I can let my husband sail away into danger and face the Witch-Queen alone?”

“I’ll be fine.” Sooner or later, he was going to have to face Rangda. Taking on the Witch-Queen would be good practice with the Blessings. “Chandi, I’ll meet you in Swarnadvipa as soon as I’m able. Please, trust me.”

“I do trust you. I’m still not leaving you.”

He grabbed her arms. “For once please listen to me and do what I’m asking! Take Pohaci and do what you need to do. I want you safe, away from this battle, so I can do what I need to. And you have to do what you need to do. Yawadvipa may already be lost, and we have to act quickly, or lose Swarnadvipa as well.”

Her face fell, and she bit her lip again. “Fine,” she said at last. “But you better take care of yourself.”

He kissed her on the cheek. An ache he couldn’t express built in his chest until he thought he’d explode. But he couldn’t show her. She would only insist on coming into danger at his side. “You know I will. Come on, let’s get your ship loaded.”

Her touch lingered on his arm for a long moment.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-FOUR

Seaspray broke over the prow of the Long Awaited Dawn. Landi’s husband had painted a mermaid there, despite her objections. “Ah, my lady, it’ll be good luck you know,” he’d said. Now she stood on the bow in the early morning.

It was chilly, and though the rains hadn’t started yet today, they would. Landi could tell from the sky. Dark clouds hid Surya’s face, leaving her chilled.

“My dear, you should really reconsider this course of action,” Ben said. She hadn’t heard her husband approach. She smiled without turning around. “Bukit is dangerous these days. In fact, Bukit is rather dangerous most days. One might think the Lunars like it that way. You know, a bit of mayhem and death to keep the Solar riffraff away?”

“If Malin is there, I have to go there.”

“Ah,” Ben said. “But that’s a big if, is it not? It was just a sailor’s rumor he was there. Sailors are notoriously untrustworthy, you know.”

Landi turned then to look at Bendurana, unable to keep the wry grin from her face.

“Well, not me, of course. You told me I was your heart, my dear. And if you can’t trust your own heart, who can you trust? And right now, your heart’s saying forget Malin. He’s probably hiding in the rainforest somewhere, chasing down small animals. Just the way he likes it. We’d look much more heroic sailing off into the sunset together.”

As much time as they’d spent searching for Pohaci, she hadn’t turned up. Probably she had left long ago. But the rumor of Malin was enough to make her sail for the Lunar homeland, and despite her husband’s objections, he would never stop her.

“I have no choice, Ben.”

“Ah, my dear, we always have choices. Did someone force you to wear that red baju today, or did you choose it? Look at me, I’m choosing to stand here with a beautiful woman. You could argue I have no choice, because a hero always has to have a beautiful woman, but nevertheless, I chose you. Out of all the fish in the sea.”

Landi rolled her eyes and looked back at the waves.

“Why do you need Malin so badly, anyway?” Ben asked. “Why does the dragon want him?”

“Tioman was …”

The dragon was complex. Sometimes, sorting through her tumultuous emotions to find the truth was difficult, but the dragon had once believed herself human, at least until a storm had nearly killed her. And in that human life, she had been married to Malin, of all people. Malin, the weretiger servant of Rahu who had caused so much devastation across the Skyfall Isles. Perhaps he had turned to the Lunar War King thinking his wife dead, as she had thought him.

“Fate is never kind, Guardswoman,” the dragon had said. “Ironic, sometimes just, and often surprising. But never kind.”

Tioman had been determined to find a mystical orb to reunite her soul with Malin’s—at least until Landi had told her the man yet lived. Now, she wanted nothing more than her husband. And Landi could not blame her. After all, she herself would have done anything to get back to Ben.

And the dragon had kept her part of the bargain. Landi’s husband now stood on the ship behind her, trailing his fingers down her back. So Landi had to do anything in her power to fulfill her oath.

And that meant sailing to Bukit.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-FIVE

Rangguwani had claimed his people had secured Bukit. That meant the old capital made the perfect place for Chandi and Pohaci to start their search. Once, this place had been Chandi’s home, and she dreamed of no other. But it was so long ago. Both times she’d returned, she’d done so in battle.

They walked along the beach beneath the cliffs leading up to the city itself. Once Mahesa’s family, House Indu, had reigned over the harbor here. But Little Mahesa and his father Gantangan were dead. Even their former Macan Gadungan, Sunten, might have fallen when he fought Naresh. Little remained of their House, and the palace looked ill-kept. Would all the once-mighty Houses of the Lunar Empire end thus? Broken and fallen. Maybe it was what they deserved, for centuries of lies and oppression.

She paused by a twisted tree just behind the Palace of House Indu. “We used to climb this tree, Mahesa and me. Once, we even got Ratna to try it. She only got up to this branch.” She pointed to one about fifteen feet of the ground. For Ratna, it had been an accomplishment.

Pohaci looked up at the tree. “I remember this place, too. I killed a man right by that rock.”

Was she serious? Chandi looked at the other woman’s face. Sweet Chandra, she was. “Well then … we should be going.”

The rains fell lightly as they climbed the narrow cliff path up to the city, but Pohaci didn’t complain. This way could be treacherous, even when not slick with rain, but the werecrocodile seemed to know it well. Chandi had thought most people avoided this way. Malin had shown it to them as children, but more than one careless Lunar had broken his or her neck trying to take this shortcut.

Chandi couldn’t keep the hurry from her step after she crested the ridge. Bukit was a short walk from the cliff, and the last time she’d seen the place, it had been aflame. Now, no fires burned, and someone had cleared away some of the rubble of the Hill Palace. How could Malin have ordered that place burned down? She’d grown up there. The damn tiger had destroyed it on a whim.

She glanced at Pohaci. She’d almost forgotten the woman loved him.

Beside the ruins, soldiers gathered under a man she didn’t know. Perhaps a Lord of some northern House. “We could join them,” Chandi said. “If they fight against Tanjung’s forces.”

Hard to believe that woman was the Witch-Queen, but Pohaci assured her it was true. Chandi remembered almost nothing of Tanjung, except that she’d been a friend of her mother’s. The woman had left Bukit after Calon and Simhika died. Apparently she’d been quite busy abroad, too. If she was responsible, even in part, for her mother’s death, Chandi would happily see Tanjung dead.

“I want to know what Rahu wanted with me,” Pohaci said. “Please, let’s find that first.” The look on her face said that even after they did, she was more interested in finding Malin than fighting Tanjung.

Chandi had no desire to face Rahu again, especially not in Malin’s body. Still, she couldn’t just run from it. And Pohaci had helped save her from Rangguwani.

Chandi scanned the crowd. On the fringe of town, watching the soldiers, she spotted a bent old man. Sabdapalon, wasn’t it? He’d been a servant of House Soma, until a few years ago when Rahu had dismissed him for being too old. The War King had arranged a comfortable little home in the Loghouses for the man to retire in, and Chandi had never seen him again.

She pointed him out to Pohaci, and they started for him. On spotting them, the old man glanced over his shoulder and shuffled off a bit. Chandi didn’t need to hurry to catch him. He wasn’t exactly quick on his feet.

“Sabdapalon. Please, don’t you know me?”

The man stopped, and turned around with some difficulty, leaning on a walking stick. “Oh, yes, yes. I can’t forget Ketu’s daughter, can I? No, I can’t. Put vinegar in my tea once or twice, didn’t she? Yes, yes she did.”

Chandi cringed. She’d almost forgotten about that. “Forgive childish pranks and let me buy you some fresh tea now. And perhaps a bit of rendang?” Actually, she’d love a bit of the traditional Lunar food herself. Nobody else ever got it quite right, the way they did here.

She nodded at Pohaci, who scampered off to a street vendor and bought a pot of tea and several plates of rendang.

“Yes, yes child. I suppose I ought to invite you up to my home? I ought to. But I don’t plan to. Too far to walk, isn’t it?”

Chandi smiled a little, and led the old man to the community feast hall. Moon Scions rarely ate here, but there was no rule against it. There had probably been a rule against Buaya Jadian eating here, from the way Pohaci kept looking around. The feast hall was really just an open building with a wide roof and multiple thick support poles. Eight long, low tables stretched across the hall’s width. The back of the hall was taken up by a large cooking pit, though no one worked there right now.

It was late for breakfast, and too early for the lingsir kulon meal. But neither Chandi nor her two guests seemed inclined to complain. Pohaci tore into her duck rendang with abandon, ripping bits off without thought of decorum.

“You served my family for a long time, Sabdapalon.”

“Oh, yes, yes. Since before they came to Bukit. You used to call me Sab Uncle. Naughty little Chandi, always stirring trouble for her Sab Uncle, yes?”

Sab Uncle? Chandi smiled. She did remember that. Like most of the slaves, the man was there when she’d needed him, and almost invisible the rest of the time. Which probably made Chandi a rather ungrateful child. Never had she asked him where he came from, what life he had before he was enslaved. Probably, he had opposed her uncle or her father in something. Or more likely, the man’s former lord had.

“Who is Anjasmara?” Pohaci said, a bit of sauce running down her chin.

“Eh, I don’t know that, now do I?” the old man said. He sipped his tea. “Sounds familiar, maybe. But who can say?”

“Sab Uncle,” Chandi said, “I’m sorry for things I did. Please forgive youthful foolishness.” Funny how many things she’d done in her life that bore apologizing for. Mostly, she’d thought of herself as a pretty good person. But maybe even good people had things to apologize for. “You said before my family came to Bukit? Where were they before?”

“Oh yes, yes. Old House Soma, in the north, on the shores of Lake Toba. They came here and wiped out House Shravana, yes? Took Queen Kenya’s palace as their own. So you could have a nice place to grow up, naughty little girl.”

Lake Toba was a volcanic lake in the north. Some said the fire god Agni himself slumbered in the depths of that volcano, though she’d never heard Ignis claim that. The lake would take almost a week to reach on foot, given they’d have to pass through mountains.

“Do you know me?” Pohaci said.

“Oh, now how should I know that, child? Look a bit familiar, though, don’t you?” The man finished his tea and picked at the rendang.

Pohaci rose. “Let’s go then.”

Chandi looked down at her untouched meal. “Do you mind?”

Pohaci shrugged. “A little, but I assume you don’t care.”

Damn right. Chandi savored every spicy, thick bite. They knew how to cook here. If there was one thing she missed about this place, it was that.

“Oh, little Chandi,” Sab said. “Not a good time to go to the north, no? They say Rahu has returned up there. His army marshals, preparing to assault Bukit again. The others won’t bow to him anymore. Not again. No, no. But no one beats Rahu, do they, dear?”

A rumble built in Pohaci’s chest, a sound almost like a growl. “Malin.”

Chandi bit her lip and stared down at her plate. She’d promised to help Pohaci, but Rahu was beyond dangerous. Beyond a lunatic even.

No one beats Rahu?

Kala had. Malin had.

And Chandi planned to do so.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-SIX

“Set aside your pride,” Naresh said to Tua Pek Kong. “You are going to need my help. The Witch-Queen is not an enemy like you have faced before, and she’s bringing an armada much larger than this.”

A light rain fell, but Naresh took little notice. They stood aboard the admiral’s ship, just off Astral Shore. No sign had come of the Witch-Queen’s fleet, as yet. Once, Ben had spoken of fighting the woman. Naresh had taken it as just another of his ridiculous stories. Strange that a few of them turned out to be true. The Serendibian claimed she’d used black magic in battle to destroy an entire fleet from his homeland.

Tua Pek Kong may have Fire-Lances, but Semar was right. They didn’t know what they were up against.

“Very well, Naresh. You remain on this ship and see our battle. We defend this place in honor of the Son of Heaven. We will not fail him.”

The Tianxian had a long, thin-bladed sword with a straight edge. A tassel hung from the pommel, and a dragon was etched on the side of the sheath. Not so unlike the dragon that had been etched into Ken Arok’s keris. Surya allow that this blade would find a better fate.

The day wore on, but Naresh wouldn’t leave the Tianxian junk. They offered him food, fried rice with a hint of spiced fish. It was a slightly odd combination of flavors, but Naresh had eaten much worse. He supposed he could get used to it. Maybe one day, when this was over, he’d even visit Tianxia.

“I’ve heard your homeland has wondrous green mountains that touch the sky,” he said.

“Mountains of mist and deserts as vast as the breath of a god.”

Naresh had never really longed to travel, not before. His place had been at the side of the Solar Emperor. His future had been decided by his mother. But now, all that he’d known had fallen. And the chance to see the majestic lands of Mait or Tianxia or Au Lac began to sound a welcome respite. He could take Chandi and maybe buy a ship of his own, and sail away. Ben had visited many of those lands, so maybe they should take him.

Or maybe not. Not if they were seeking peace and quiet. Bendurana was many things. Quiet was not one of them.

And Chandi. While Naresh waited here for the Witch-Queen’s wrath, his wife walked into danger alone. Often as he swore not to let that happen, fate seemed to always cast them apart. Perhaps the gods toyed with them. Or perhaps they had made this world themselves, all the children of the Skyfall Isles. In their arrogance and pride, they had warred and fought and allowed something terrible to awaken here.

Had the dynasties been united a few years ago, their combined might could have crushed any foreign invader. That was the dream of the Ratu Adil, to unite those dynasties. But by now, they were each so broken, so driven to the edge of destruction, it might be too late to stand against the Witch-Queen. Much less Rahu and Rangda.

No.

Naresh would not give in to despair. The Amrita had made him something different. And he would put an end to this spiral of chaos, even if he had to rain destruction across the Isles to do it.

For a moment, the thought startled him. Would he bring more chaos in the name of order? Perhaps he had no choice. Maybe the only way to save the world was to burn it. Or maybe it was the darkness rising in him once again.

Someone shouted in Tianxian, calling out that the enemy had been spotted. A moment later, the crew began announcing numbers of enemy ships. The words went by too fast for Naresh to catch many of them, but by the last call, he was pretty sure they were saying thirty ships. Thirty, to the Tianxians’ twelve.

His hand clenched around his keris.

“Now, Naresh, you see our might,” Tua Pek Kong said.

The Tianxian fleet moved to flank the Witch-Queen’s own. As they drew nearer, volleys of arrows fell on the decks of other junks, but Tua Pek Kong’s ship was too far to be in danger. And then a Fire-Lance roared. The explosion ripped a hole right through a dhow’s hull. More and more Fire-Lances retorted. Naresh couldn’t even guess how many of the weapons fired through the deafening cacophony.

At least four of the Witch-Queen’s fleet sank before the Fire-Lances were empty. In the silence while they reloaded, more arrows fell on the Tianxian fleet. Flaming arrows. Those flames caught sails and even slick decks that never should have allowed the fires to spread. Foul witchcraft burned men alive.

The Malayadvipan dhows continued to close the distance, even as the Fire-Lances launched another barrage. The Witch-Queen’s forces were boarding Tianxian ships.

“You need my help!”

Tua Pek Kong looked at him. “We are not close enough to—”

Naresh Strode to an enemy dhow. He rammed his keris through the captain’s chest before the man could speak. The sword stuck, forcing him to pause and yank it free before he could Stride again. The delay cost him a scratch on his arm as the helmsman attacked him with a keris.

Naresh Strode beside the man and slammed his elbow into the Malaydvipan’s face. He immediately Strode and cut down another, then another, and another. When he drew the Blessings, his Sun Brand seemed to charge from them. He could think faster. Everything slowed down around him.

He hurled a man off the ship, kicked another in the chest with enough force to shatter his ribs, and tripped a third before the first man hit the water.

One of the flaming Tianxian ships exploded, the force of it enough to knock down men on this dhow. Hot wind rushed over Naresh’s face just before he Strode back to Tua Pek Kong’s flagship.

Naresh shook himself. “What in Rangda’s underworld was that?” Perhaps the Witch-Queen had more powerful magic than he’d thought.

“The black powder must have caught flame,” the Tianxian said.

Black powder … “It explodes like that?” A simple fire could ignite it?

The man nodded.

“And do you have it on this ship?”

After a brief hesitation, the man nodded again. “Such powder is needed to fuel the Fire-Lances.”

Naresh glanced at the advancing fleet. “Bring me a keg of it.”

Tua Pek Kong watched Naresh’s face a moment, eyes narrowed. At last he ordered his men to do as Naresh bid.

Another Tianxian junk was going down by the time a pair of soldiers hurried to Naresh’s side, holding a keg between them.

Naresh put his hands on it. “Move back,” he told them, then grabbed a flaming arrow stuck in the gunwale. He jammed the arrow just into the keg, not quite touching the powder, ignoring Tua Pek Kong’s sudden intake of breath and the shouts of the soldiers.

He Strode into the air above a Malayadvipan dhow while holding the keg, released it, and Strode back to the junk. A heartbeat later an explosion ripped off the dhow’s mast. Chaos engulfed the crew on that ship.

“Bring me another!”

Tua Pek Kong and his men were staring slack jawed at Naresh.

“Now!” he shouted.

The admiral nodded, and the men ran off to grab another. As soon as they returned, Naresh repeated the maneuver on the nearest dhow.

Once he stood back on the junk again, he pulled back his baju to look at the Sun Brand. He’d worn it down. He drew his Potency Blessing hard. The Brand began to glitter, refilling even before his eyes. If he could refill the Brand anytime, unlimited power was in his hands. His fists trembled from the energies rushing through him, and lightheadedness threatened.

Another Tianxian junk went down, its crew overwhelmed by the onslaught from the Witch-Queen’s forces. Then another exploded.

Suddenly, one of the soldiers near Tua Pek Kong turned on him, attacking him with another of those long swords. Naresh shoved the admiral aside and caught the attacker with a right hook. The man crumpled to the ground. Traitors. Just what they needed.

But others among the crew of more junks had begun attacking their own. Some were fighting with weapons, but many just began biting or hitting with whatever was on hand.

“Surya’s glare,” he murmured. They weren’t traitors—the Witch-Queen’s magic had driven them mad. Only the foulest black magic would do such a thing.

Flames continued to spread with unnatural quickness. Naresh helped Tua Pek Kong up, who looked over his failing fleet. They were losing this fight.

“All Fire-Lances focus on their lead ships,” he shouted in Tianxian.

Naresh’s gaze darted from one ship to the next. He didn’t have time to wait for more black powder. He Strode to a sinking junk and placed his hands on the ruptured mast. This might not work, but he could try.

He Strode into the air far, far above a dhow, taking the mast with him. It was far too heavy to hold, and jerked from his hands immediately, tearing at his shoulders. But from this height, several thousand feet in the air, it would have a lot of momentum. Naresh Strode back down to a junk—any junk, since picking out a specific one from here was impossible.

A few heartbeats later, the mast crashed onto the dhow and the ship almost folded in half, crumbling like a man kicked in the groin.

And then Tua Pek Kong’s ship exploded.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-SEVEN

From the moment Naresh Strode onto the Tianxian flagship, heat raged around him. He had to shield his face from it. The whole junk was aflame, and most of the crew—those still alive—were jumping over the gunwale to get away from the sinking ship.

The hull was split down the middle, so the deck pitched forward into the water. Naresh’s feet slid along the slick surface. He didn’t try to fight it. Tua Pek Kong lay in a heap against the remains of the mast. Naresh scrambled over to him and knelt beside the man. Still breathing, but burns covered half his face and side.

With one hand on Tua Pek Kong, Naresh Strode to another junk. “Admiral, can you hear me?” he said, still kneeling. The crew of the new junk started at their appearance, but quickly resumed their attempt to escape the Witch-Queen’s barrage of arrows. “Tua Pek Kong!”

The man grunted. “How can we face such a woman?”

Naresh didn’t know. But he’d be damned if he’d let the Witch-Queen take Astral Shore. He dashed for the gunwale. A dhow was closing fast on them, and it was definitely a woman on the poop deck, shouting orders. A woman in elaborate regalia. “That ship,” he shouted in Tianxian. “Target it!”

The Tianxian crew hesitated.

“Follow his orders,” Tua Pek Kong said.

The junk fell off from the wind to bring the Fire-Lances to bear. A moment later, the weapons roared, splintering the Malaydvipan ship.

And then lightning split the sky, so close it almost blinded Naresh. It struck their mast, ripping through the junk and igniting the sails. The crack of thunder nearly drowned out the roar of the Fire-Lances and left his ears ringing. Another bolt struck the bow and Naresh slipped from his grip on the gunwale. Sailors on the bow convulsed and then fell.

Naresh Strode to Tua Pek Kong and grabbed him, then stood so he could see the shore. He Strode again, this time to the beach. There was no way he could save the entire crew. A moment later, the junk exploded. The fires must have reached the black powder.

Lightning fell on other Tianxian ships. Only a handful remained now, and the Witch-Queen still had more than a dozen dhows, near as Naresh could tell. This fight was finished. They’d lost, and she would take the Temple. He’d failed.

He stood, shaking his head.

No. No! It wasn’t finished. He was going to finish it.

They called him the Whale Lord.

He shut his eyes for a moment, his whole body trembling as he reached out with his mind. He could feel them, in the depths of the sea. Whales and dolphins and sharks and mantas. He opened his eyes, but they were filled with blinding light. He ripped off his baju to soak up more sunlight, then flared the Sun Brand as hard as he could, vaguely aware he was floating off the ground.

More power. He drew his Blessings. His mind touched so many others beneath the sea that its mysterious depths unfolded before him. He saw the infinite beauty of the reefs in a thousand colors, of the fish of a million kinds. He felt the water’s caress against the skins of innumerable beings as they glided through it.

More.

He demanded more, stretching himself through the depths of the South Sea.

His vision revealed all the ocean. And all of himself. He was a reflection of the sea, too. A mirror of the tide, rushing in and out, carried by a million currents. He could see into the depths of his being, see all that he was in the countless stars flickering before his eyes.

He could see the strands of his mind fraying, too. It didn’t drive him lunatic—he couldn’t allow that. Instead, he watched the threads of his past shrivel and break. In his days at the Academy he’d had a macaque… hadn’t he? And yet he couldn’t remember its name. For an instant, he saw himself feeding it pieces of banana… and that was gone.

His mother’s face … He couldn’t remember.

Still he needed more power.

Her voice, he held on to … until that too faded. The memories were cut from his mind. Mother.

The whales were coming to his call. He could feel their minds, even as his own broke apart. Because there was always a price. This power had to come from somewhere, somewhere within him.

Chandi’s crooked half-smile flashed through his mind. He had danced with her in the Academy grounds… it was slipping from his mind.

No! He would not let the memories of his wife go. But he had nothing else but his past to give. Nothing except his future. He could see his own life force, pulsing and throbbing within him, like the ebb and flow of the tide. And it was the only other place he could turn for such power.

And he would not surrender this world to darkness, no matter the cost.

He tied his life to the power surging through him, and felt that light within diminish. Years of his future bled away. Five years off his life, stripped away in an instant. Still he needed more. Ten years. Twenty.

Naresh roared, spreading his arms toward Surya’s face. He was hovering two dozen feet off the ground.

A pod of blue whales broke through the surface of the sea and hurled themselves on the Witch-Queen’s fleet. The animals crushed the ships like so much kindling, their sheer size more destructive than the entire Tianxian fleet.

Dolphins snatched Tianxians in the water and carried them toward the shore. Sharks dragged under the scattered remains of the Witch-Queen’s forces. Naresh could taste the intoxicating flavor of blood in their mouths, consuming all they were.

He released the power and fell from the sky, impacting the beach with enough force to drive the wind from his lungs. He lay face down on the sand, a slim awareness of rain falling on his back tugging at his mind. The sense of his own body and mind and soul had faded. But he’d really done it. He knew he had. The memories he’d lost were gone.

And he’d given up years off his life.

But this was only the Witch-Queen. When Rangda came, he would have to give more. Give and give until there was nothing of himself left. And he would do it.

He pushed himself up. No ships remained, only driftwood as far as the eye could see.

Someone dragged herself from the waters, barely able to stand when she reached the shore. Naresh watched the Witch-Queen, her regalia lost now, as she labored forward. “You did this,” the woman said. “You cannot stand before me. I am a demigod! I carry the blood of the divine in my veins.”

Naresh struggled to his own feet. His legs wobbled beneath him. He drew his keris. “If so,” he said, “you’ve chosen a poor use for that power.”

The woman drew herself up to her full height, walking now with strength and confidence. “I am the emissary of Rangda herself. I walk in the footsteps of the gods. You are nothing!” The woman extended her hand to the sky. A bolt of lightning flashed.

Naresh Strode to the side. It happened so fast, he couldn’t move far. The lightning struck the sand, flinging it into the air and crystalizing bits into glass. His eyes were singed, and everything flowed in afterimages.

He Strode again, behind the woman. And he rammed his keris through her chest. “I was thinking the same thing about you.” He yanked his blade free and she fell to her knees.

She stumbled, trying to turn to face him. Blood trickled down her mouth. The flickering lights before his eyes made it hard to focus. She slapped her hand into his knee, sending him tumbling to the ground.

The woman crawled on top of him and began choking him. Even the flickering lights began to fade.

Naresh drew his Potency Blessing and slammed his fist into her side. She jerked, but didn’t release him. Everything was lost. Light and sound and time slipped from his mind.

But the people still needed him. Chandi still needed him.

He slapped his hands up, connecting with the woman’s temples. She fell off him, collapsing onto the beach. Naresh gasped, trying to suck in breath through his raw, bruised throat.

He couldn’t see, but he reached over until he felt the woman’s body. Then he slammed his fist straight down into her head. Her skull crunched.

He fell, then. And shut his eyes.

The cosmos filled his vision, revealing sun and moon and stars. And Chandi. The one thing he would never let go of.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-EIGHT

The ruins of what had once been Palace Soma were now overrun by the rainforest. Vines covered the walls and poked through the roof. Nature slowly reclaimed what had once been taken by man. Pohaci smiled. The palace had sat right on the edge of Lake Toba, and must have offered peaceful respite from all worries. And yet, seeing the wild overtake it was more beautiful still—a gentle reminder that what was done could be undone. Sometimes, at least.

“I wonder why we never came here,” Chandi said. “If Father grew up in this place.”

“And Rahu?” Pohaci asked. She cared little for Ketu, but Rahu had taken her for a reason. She had to know what it was. She had to know everything, at last.

“Pohaci,” Chandi said as she stepped through the crumbling doorway into the ruins, “Rahu wasn’t really my uncle. He came from somewhere else. We don’t know where, exactly—a different country. For some reason, my father pretended to be his brother.”

Pohaci didn’t know what to say that. That House Soma were liars was no surprise. But what was the point in a deception like this? Perhaps it had allowed Rahu political power in Lunar society, but why should Ketu have cared?

“This place has been abandoned a long time,” she said at last. “I don’t know how much we’re going to find here.”

“All of the Houses maintained records,” Chandi said. “I don’t know much about them, but I know there should be something here.”

Pohaci shrugged. She’d spent enough time scouring the records of House Kshuparaka on Bangdvipa. No reason to expect this to be any different.

Except that this place was collapsing around them. The cracked roof let in a drizzle of rain that collected in pools on the stone floor. Macaques skittered away as she entered what might have once been a library. Probably where they had kept the records. Dozens of moldy books littered the floor.

What was she even looking for? She sighed. Rahu had claimed her after coming to Bukit …

Pohaci, daughter of Anjasmara. Who was her mother? A slave of House Soma? That would make the most sense, she supposed. But what possible interest would Rahu have had in the child of a slave? Unless her mother had angered him. Perhaps the War King had taken Pohaci to punish her parents for some transgression. What more terrible punishment could he come up with than to force their daughter to become what she had become? A monster.

She tore through the remains of the books, but there were few records of lineage, certainly none for slaves. Pohaci’s stomach growled. Perhaps they should break for the lingsir kulon meal. They had limited supplies, but one of them could go out hunting. Chandi was a pretty good hunter. Actually, the woman was fairly good at most things, Pohaci had to admit. She would have made a fine Buaya Jadian. Not that a Moon Scion would ever condemn one of their own children to such a fate.

“Pohaci,” Chandi called from somewhere upstairs. “Come up here.”

Pohaci left the library, following the other woman’s voice. The stairs had rotted through, and didn’t look likely to support a man’s weight, though they might support her. There were advantages to being short and slim. Still, the boards groaned under her every step. Not encouraging. The handrail had splintered, so she didn’t touch it. She’d rather not dig chunks of wood out of her palms.

The remains of an arrow shaft stuck from the wall near the top of the stairs. Scoring on the walls up here looked like this place had been through a battle. Perhaps House Soma had abandoned its own home after someone else ruined it.

Chandi poked her head from a side room and grabbed Pohaci’s arm, pulling her in. “Look.” She pointed at a painting of a young man. The man looked vaguely familiar, but Pohaci couldn’t place him. “This must have been my father’s room.”

Pohaci drifted closer to the painting, glancing down when the floorboards beneath her creaked. The man in the painting was probably not yet thirty, and unlike the Ketu she’d seen, he hadn’t trimmed his hair short. It fell about his face, brushing the tips of his ears.

“He must have grown up in this room,” Chandi said, her gaze wandering about the chamber. It was nice enough, Pohaci supposed. Or it would have been, if there wasn’t a gaping hole in the wall where a window had probably once stood. “It’s odd, isn’t it, thinking of your parents as children? Wondering what they dreamed of.”

Pohaci shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

Chandi frowned, then sat on the bed. It sank beneath her, then cracked. The bed didn’t fall all the way down, though. Chandi jumped up, looking down, then back at Pohaci. Something had stopped the two pieces of the bed from collapsing to the floor.

Pohaci leaned down on her stomach and scooted closer. There was a box under the bed. “Lift up the pieces,” she said.

Chandi did, and Pohaci pulled the box out. It was wooden, and mold covered the sides. The top stuck a moment before she pried it free and tossed it aside. Old papers sat in the box. She scanned the top one. “My dearest Damarwulan, I miss you truly. You must soon return to Bukit. The waiting without you seems interminable …”

“This is a love letter to someone named Damarwulan,” she said.

“From who?”

Pohaci skimmed to the end of the letter. From Anjasmara. Chandra, her mother had written this Damarwulan, had loved him. She tried to picture her face, but there was nothing. Damn it, why couldn’t she remember her own mother?

Pohaci shoved the letter at Chandi, then flipped through the rest of the box. Seven letters, seemingly spread over the course of at least a season. Including one from this Damarwulan, never sent. He claimed his family had learned of their affair, and was sending him to the Astral Temple as penance for his shame. “He told her to forget him.”

“Who was Damarwulan?” Chandi asked.

“His things are in Ketu’s room …”

Pohaci stood, dropping the box. She had seen the name Damarwulan somewhere, in one of those books. She hurried from the room, forcing herself to take her time on the treacherous stairs.

“Where are you going now?” Chandi called.

Pohaci ignored her, rushing back into the library and tearing through those books again until she found the one she was looking for. A record of accomplishments. “Damarwulan, bastard son of Suhita, defeated the Solar Menak Jingga in single combat,” she read aloud. “For this honor he was awarded praise by Queen Kenya of House Shravana.”

Chandi stood in the doorway. “What does it mean?”

“Rahu wasn’t really your uncle …”

“True.”

“Look for any record of Ketu in these books,” Pohaci said, waving her hand at the rest of the family records.

Chandi sighed and grabbed a stack. She folded her legs beneath her and did as she was told.

Pohaci grabbed another stack and began flipping through them. After a phase she looked up. “Nothing. No mention of Rahu, which is not surprising given you what you told me. And no mention of Ketu, either.”

Chandi shrugged, then stood, stretching. “So?”

“How could Ketu have passed Rahu off as his brother, as a member of House Soma? Don’t you think it odd no one else noticed?”

Chandi waved her hand at the destroyed palace. “House Soma must have fought with another House during Rahu’s rise to War King.”

“House Shravana, I think.”

“Where are you going with all this, crocodile?”

“That painting was your father. In Damarwulan’s room.”

Chandi shrugged. “So you think Ketu … was really Damarwulan? A bastard son of House Soma?”

“And he had no standing. So if he had an affair with a member of House Shravana, say Anjasmara …”

Chandi bit her lip, then walked over to stand a few feet from Pohaci. “It would be awkward, at best. House Shravana was one of the four great houses back then. They could only ally with a legitimate member of House Soma, if at all.”

“To cover that shame, House Soma sent Damarwulan to become a custodian of the Astral Temple. A priest …”

“Making the Amrita,” Chandi said. “Where he met Rahu? Because if Kala came to the Isles through the Astral Temple, so did Rahu. And they must have changed my father’s name to give him a new identity … to make him seem like a ranking member of the house.”

Pohaci nodded, trying not to shudder. “Malin said the Astral Temple sent Kala somewhere. It must serve as a gateway to some other land.” Pohaci slowly looked up at Chandi. “They told me my parents died in the Fourth War.”

“But if you’re the daughter of Anjasmara,” Chandi said, “if you’re the product of her affair with Damarwulan … and if Damarwulan was Ketu, then …” Chandi paused and met her gaze. “Then you’re my sister.”

Half-sister, since Simhika was still Chandi’s mother. Pohaci’s legs gave out beneath her, and she sat down, rather than risk falling. Rahu had taken her … Because she was Ketu’s daughter, too. His illegitimate, eldest child, probably four or five years older than Chandi. Her little sister.

She looked up at the other woman, who looked as shocked as Pohaci felt.

Could this really be the truth? Had Rahu given her to Calon to cover all this up?

She caught herself grinding her teeth and stopped. Nervous gestures were for ordinary humans. A Buaya Jadian was still until the time came to strike. Maybe Ketu had known about her, maybe he hadn’t. But Rahu must have known. The man must have murdered her mother, and sent her to Calon to keep watch on her. But he didn’t want her too close, didn’t want to risk someone learning the truth. So he sent her to work for House Kshuparaka.

Pohaci hadn’t noticed Chandi walking over, but the girl pulled her to her feet, then slipped her arms around Pohaci’s back. She had to fight against a tremble. This woman was hugging her. Humans didn’t do this with her. Only her own kind could be close to Buaya Jadian. Only Malin had held her so intimately.

Crocodiles didn’t need hugs.

She tried to push Chandi away, but the Moon Scion was too strong, and held on.

Crocodiles certainly didn’t cry. Pohaci never cried.

And yet, a tear rolled down her cheek. She embraced her sister.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-NINE

A few days ago, Chandi had thought she had no blood relatives left in the world. She’d lost Ratna, the closest thing she had to a blood relation, to the ravages of the underworld. From what Naresh and Pohaci had said, her cousin was dead. Her body was just a vessel for the Demon Queen. And now Chandi, against all logic, had found a sister.

So her sister was a crocodile. No one was perfect.

They were on their way back to Bukit now. Pohaci had found her answers, though Chandi wasn’t sure it had made things any easier for the woman.

“If this is all true,” Chandi said, “then you are the heir to House Shravana.” For that matter, she was the eldest child of House Soma, too.

Pohaci walked a short distance ahead, clearly more at home in the rainforest than even Chandi. She dodged around branches and underbrush without even seeming to notice. She grunted in answer, but said nothing.

Fine. “What do you want to do about it?”

“There’s nothing to do. I am Buaya Jadian, not a Moon Scion. And there is no House Shravana anymore.”

“There is as long as you live.” Her sister. How could she have a big sister and not have known it? She guessed she could see herself in Pohaci. The same soft cheek bones, the same small lips. The same color eyes, almost.

“I’m not interested in being the lady of any House. I just want to save Malin from Rahu.”

Yes, there was that. Pohaci obviously didn’t want to talk about her lineage. And maybe Chandi couldn’t blame her. If she thought her father had failed her, imagine how Pohaci felt about him.

And how in Rangda’s frozen underworld were they going to get the ghost out of the weretiger? “Rahu only left Mahesa’s body when it died. When Malin killed him.”

Pohaci spun on her, and in two steps, held her by her baju. “What are you saying? That we can’t drive out Rahu without killing Malin? Is that what you believe, Chandi?”

Chandi pulled the werecrocodile’s hands from her shirt and looked her in the eye. “I don’t know. Even killing Malin might not work. Maybe Rahu would just move into another host.”

“Killing him!”

“Don’t you think he’d rather be dead than serve as Rahu’s helpless puppet?”

Pohaci shoved her, and Chandi stumbled backward, tripping over a root and landing hard. “He’s still in there!” The Jadian stormed off through the edge of the rainforest, almost entering Bukit. She stood, shoulders tense for a heartbeat. “What’s that smell?” she mumbled just before she ran off.

Chandi sighed, rubbing her backside as she rose. Damn crocodile. She had a nasty temper. Which probably ran in the family, didn’t it?

She trudged off toward Bukit, then froze. Across a field, Pohaci stood statue still, eyes locked on Malin. The weretiger was here, he’d seized the city. Rahu had seized it. A few buildings had burned, but Chandi hadn’t been able to see the smoke through the rainforest canopy.

“And Chandi, too,” the man said. “What a nice surprise. You two make quite the ironic pair. Never in my dreams did I guess you’d wind up together like this. Fate has a delicious sense of humor, does it not?”

Pohaci trembled, starting to advance on him.

Chandi rushed forward and grabbed her before she did something stupid. They were probably no match for Rahu, even if he wasn’t in Malin’s body. “You mean like how two sisters you separated would wind up sending you back to the underworld?”

Rahu sneered, then chuckled. “I had high hopes for you once, Chandi. Of course, even when you were grown, I didn’t really recognize you. Not until that day in the Astral Temple. Now I’m sure; I know who you are and what you’ve become.”

What was he talking about now? It didn’t matter.

“Why?” Pohaci demanded. “Why do this to me?”

“Your father thought you might be his. He wouldn’t see you murdered like the rest of your family.” Rahu shrugged. “House Shravana could identify him, same as his family could. They could ruin all we were building. So they all had to go. You, he wanted to send away. He thought I sent you to Malayadvipa. But I’d never throw away so useful a tool. We needed recruits, after all.”

“You let her put this thing inside me!”

“I made you strong, child. You can still serve me, if you bow. You both can.” He smiled at Chandi, the corners of his mouth barely twisted. “Even you, even after all you’ve done. Leave the Solar and join me, girl.”

Chandi laughed. “Leave Naresh? You are a lunatic.”

Rahu shrugged. “Word came today he wiped out an entire fleet off Puradvipa. You know, I’ve only ever known one person with such a penchant for destruction, trailing chaos and desolation in his wake everywhere he goes.”

No. Naresh was a good man. He loved her, and he did what he had to. “I swear I will destroy you one day,” Chandi said.

Rahu reached a hand out past them, and Chandi glanced over her shoulder to see several jagged rocks lurch free from the ground. “What makes you think you’ll live through today? Maybe I shall give your husband a reason to hate, and see just what he’s capable of.”

Chandi’s hand tightened on Pohaci’s shoulder. “Run,” she whispered.

And Pohaci launched herself into motion, rolling under the rocks as they flew toward them. Chandi too dove under the missiles, and drew her Blessings, launching herself back into the rainforest. They could lose him in dense woods. It was their only chance.

It was almost sunset, wasn’t it? “Shift as soon as you can,” she shouted at Pohaci. “Meet me back at the ship.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

What now? Sisterly love? Not really the time for the crocodile to decide she had a heart. “Just do it! I can take care of myself.”

An inhuman shriek tore through the rainforest, and then another.

Sweet Chandra, the sound shredded her mind. “What was that?”

“Leyaks!” Pohaci said. “Still want me to shift?”

Chandi kept dodging around trees. Her Potency Blessing made her agile, but she didn’t know the rainforest as well as Pohaci. She couldn’t reach her full speed. Could Pohaci escape the leyaks on her own? Or would they hunt down even a crocodile in the forest?

“Come on! We have to get back down to the beach, back to the ship.”

A leyak crashed through the nearby canopy, leaving splatters of blood across the leaves. Chandi pulled a toyak from her sarong and drew her Blessing harder. The thing dove straight at her. She dodged to the side, swinging as hard as she could. The stick cracked across the thing’s skull, sending the head crashing into a tree. Her toyak snapped in half, one piece flying off into the woods.

Pohaci grabbed her and pulled her along. “We don’t have time to fight them all. This place will be swarming with the creatures soon.”

“How many?”

“Too many.”

They scrambled forward, toward the beach to the east. Just a little farther.

But they weren’t going to make it. If Chandi didn’t do something, Rahu would catch them, or the leyaks would.

“Hold on to me,” she said.

Chandra, she was going to lose her mind with this kind of thing. But she wouldn’t let her sister fall to Rahu. The man had taken too much from her already. Too much from all of them.

She drew her Glamour, bending light around them, then pulled them both to the ground. The underbrush seemed to blend around them, as their skin and clothes became translucent. The demons might smell them, if they paused long enough. Once, the effort of such a Glamour would have left her trembling in an instant. But the Amrita had changed her. It had almost destroyed her, but it had made her strong, too.

She held the illusion as the creatures crashed overhead, and even as Rahu passed them by. When he had gone, she pulled Pohaci up and they ran on.

They just had to reach the shore and get to the ship.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY

The wind was up, casting Landi’s hair out behind her. These days, she always wore it unbound, as she’d often done before becoming a potential for the Arun Guard. Without the Sun Brand, her days as a Guardswoman were over. Even with it, she wasn’t sure what was left for her to protect, save her husband and her oath.

“Stay on the ship,” she said to Ben. “We may have to leave in a hurry.”

Ben shrugged, swaying his locks. “Ah, my dear, I’m more than happy to leave Bukit in a hurry. In fact, I’m in enough of a hurry we could leave without even stopping. Right now, that is.”

“I’m going ashore to look for Malin, Ben. I have to do this, alone. Wait for me.” She leapt down into the ship’s rowboat.

“Ah, you know, I’m always waiting for you!” he shouted. “Eagerly! Fervently! Lasciviously!”

Landi decided it was best not to acknowledge the snickering crew. She tried to hide her smile as she rowed toward the beach. Ben was… Ben. And his irreverent, nonsensical, beautiful wit had become so ingrained in her life she could almost hear his lines even before he spoke. Not that even she could guess some of the things that came out of his mouth.

She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time. She was rowing into the Lunar capital city. She’d been to Bukit’s harbor once, when they rescued Naresh. She’d never expected to see it again. Back then, Malin had maimed Naresh, had almost killed him. Now here she was, trying to find the weretiger and reunite him with his wife.

On the shore, Landi made for the harbor to the north. Her arms ached from rowing the boat, but it was a good ache. The pain of hard labor, like a heavy bout with a keris sword. Her time in the Guard had made her strong. She had to be twice as strong, twice as tough as a man to make it. And she’d proved she was.

And yet maybe she’d been a fool to join the Arun Guard at all. All her heart had wanted growing up was her music. People called her a prodigy, but she wasn’t. She’d worked day and night to master the flute. Or not the flute, so much, as the human heart. The sounds that could pull its strings and make it sing and weep all at once.

Maybe when this was over, she’d take it up again. She’d been released from the Sun Brand, so maybe it was a sign to go back to her music.

The rowboat scraped onto the beach. People were screaming in the distance. A pair of women rushed down the side of the cliff, slipping over the rocks. That slope was steep, and probably quite dangerous. Landi tried to Stride closer, forgetting again she couldn’t. Instead, she ran toward them.

That was Chandi, though she didn’t know the other woman. Landi hesitated a moment. What was the girl doing here? Last she’d heard, Chandi was all but banished from the Lunar Empire.

Something shrieked, the sound of it tearing at the edges of Landi’s mind, and she stumbled, falling to her knees and clutching her ears. Surya, what was that? More shrieks followed.

As Landi regained her feet, Chandi and her accomplice leapt off the last ten feet of the cliff path to reach the beach. Chandi ran quickly, but not as fast as Landi knew she could. The other woman must not be a Moon Scion. Landi ran to meet them, drawing the keris. Whatever chased them would soon regret it.

When she saw Landi, Chandi stumbled to a stop, falling on her backside. “L-Landorundun?”

The other woman pulled Chandi to her feet and glared at Landi, then urged the girl to keep running.

“What’s going on, Chandi?” Landi said.

Someone had followed them down the cliff. It was him. Malin. Tioman’s lost husband, and the last thing she had to do. Just bring him to her, and she was free, free to leave the chaos and war and politics behind. Free to be just a wife, maybe a mother. Free to live.

Almost free. Landi started for Malin. The man looked her over and smirked, then continued advancing. So the weretiger had turned on Chandi again. And she’d make him pay for that. Landi shook her head … No. She sheathed the sword. She’d come here to talk to Malin, not fight him.

“Landi, stop!” Chandi said. “He’s not who you think.”

The other woman kept trying to pull Chandi away, toward the shore.

Landi turned to face Malin. Whatever Chandi was trying to say, it would have to wait. She had an oath to fulfill. “I bring a message, Malin.”

The weretiger advanced until he stood face to face with her. “So do I. You should have listened to Chandi.”

He struck fast, faster than she could ever react without the Sun Brand. His palm caught her in the chest and flung her through the air. All her breath escaped her, even before she hit the sand. Her chest wasn’t working.

Someone lifted her from behind and dragged her toward the sea. She gasped, finally sucking in air. “Ma-Malin! I bring word … from Tioman.”

The man froze then, rage and confusion and Landi couldn’t tell what else passing over his face in an instant.

“She wants to see you—she lives!”

Chandi was still pulling her toward the sea.

Malin shook his head twice, then doubled over, grabbing his temples. When he looked up, his face had grown dark. “Then she can die, too, Guardswoman.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Landi asked Chandi, at last getting her feet under her and running.

“Rahu’s spirit has possessed him!” Chandi glanced back at her. “How are you alive?”

Rahu’s spirit? What in the name of the Sun? It sounded like one of Ben’s ridiculous stories. But Landi never remembered seeing Chandi this frightened except when Rangda herself had taken Ratna.

“Go to the boat. Ben is on the dhow,” Landi said. She ran beside them, then fell to her knees in the sea, yanking free the keris even as she dropped. Surya, let this work. She plunged the keris into the waters. Even if the dragon heard, how long would it take? “Tioman! I found him, Tioman!”

That horrible shrieking came again, closer this time, and she looked up. The flying heads looked like leyaks. Which was impossible because they didn’t exist. Landi embedded the sword in the sand and stood to face Malin—or Rahu—as he drew near.

Chandi’s friend had pushed the boat into the water. Landi could join them … but she couldn’t let the chance at Malin go. She had to get him to the dragon. She rubbed her sternum where he’d struck. Damn, he was strong.

“Chandra’s dark side,” Chandi swore, then ran at Malin. Then she vanished, becoming just a ripple in the air.

A heartbeat later, Malin recoiled as if struck. He launched his hand out and grabbed something, Chandi suddenly appearing in his grasp. “He smells you, bitch,” Malin said.

Surya above! Had Chandi really just done that? So much had changed … Landi ran toward the weretiger, who flung Chandi at her. Landi tried to dive to the side, but not fast enough, and collided with the Lunar.

She pushed Chandi off her and tried to stand. Then something rose up out of the sea in a shower of saltwater behind her, and she spun. Glistening turquoise had never looked so beautiful. The dragon flew up from the sea and landed on the beach, only her tail still in the waters.

Then before Landi’s eyes, she began to change, her form shrinking, her claws and whiskers retracting. Tioman’s humanoid form was disturbing—she was still blue—but it didn’t leave one trembling the way her draconic form did. She walked toward her former husband. “Malin. It’s time we were reunited, my love. Come to me.” She beckoned him toward her.

Malin grabbed his head again, shaking. “Impossible … I …” He looked up, glaring. “You are nothing to me, girl. Serve or perish!”

Tioman recoiled as if struck. “Don’t you know me? I’ve changed, but I’m still Tioman. You promised me the world, Malin.”

Malin sneered, then dashed toward her. He shoved the dragon backward, causing her to stumble. “Malin is just a shell. And you are nothing but a tool.”

“No! I am your wife!” Tioman reached for him again, and he slapped her hand away.

“Tioman,” Landi said, “I don’t think this is going—”

“Stay out of it,” the dragon said, barely glancing at her. It was enough to see her eyes had turned red. “Malin—”

Malin’s fist cracked against her jaw, and Tioman fell. He kicked her in the stomach, flinging her back into the sea.

Landi looked up at the weretiger, the ghost that had just dropped a dragon. Oh. Damn. She jumped in the boat with Chandi and the other woman. “Time for us to go.”

A roar erupted from the depths of the sea. The clouds above darkened and began to swirl. The evening breeze picked up, becoming a gale that tossed the small boat despite Chandi’s best efforts to steer.

Tioman broke from the sea again, returned to her dragon form. As she rose, so did the waves. With her every bellow the sea turned more tempestuous.

“Help me with the oars!” Chandi said.

Landi moved to comply, though she lacked the Moon Scion’s strength. The other woman pushed her aside and grabbed an oar, moving with clearly superhuman strength. Was she a Moon Scion after all?

The stormy sea dropped out from under the boat, and they fell at least three feet to crash back down. The impact jarred Landi’s teeth.

“Tioman!” Landi shouted. Her rage was going to kill them all.

“Are you insane, woman?” Chandi’s friend said. “The dragon can take care of itself.”

Indeed, Malin was retreating back up the shore. And for all Tioman’s roars and snarls, she did not pursue, though she hurled wind and water at him and the leyaks. She couldn’t leave the seaside.

“We have to go to the Astral Temple,” Chandi said.

“What? Why?” Landi had fulfilled her oath, but this hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped. Not at all.

“Naresh,” Chandi said. “We need Naresh.”

Landi rubbed her sternum again. She had fulfilled her oath, and it was past time to be gone from here.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-ONE

Tua Pek Kong’s face still bore the burns of his ordeal, but Naresh thought the Tianxian had begun to recover. Nothing remained of the two navies, but his dolphins had rescued about forty Tianxian sailors. Now they had reunited with the small garrison Tua Pek Kong had left inside the Astral Temple.

The Tianxians had taken over Tohjaya’s former throne room as their base of operations here, though it looked more like an infirmary at the moment. Half of the admiral’s men were injured, some badly. The worst hadn’t made it through the first night after the battle. Others bore burns, cuts, or arrow wounds.

“Without your ships, you are cut off from your emperor,” Naresh said, kneeling beside Tua Pek Kong’s mat, where the man had been meditating. “Your only choice now is to join the people of the Skyfall Isles. The woman I killed, this Witch-Queen, was a mere servant of the real enemy. Rangda Demon Queen will come for this place, and we cannot let her have it. You have heard the stories of what it’s done—eclipses and cyclones. Surya alone knows what else it can do. We cannot allow such a weapon into the hands of a being bent on destroying humanity.”

“Your words are bitter medicine, Naresh.” The admiral stroked his mustache, though one side of it had burned away. “They sting like the salve my healers give me.”

Naresh spread his hands. “The future is what we make it.” It sounded like something Semar would say. Part of him wished the fire priest was here now. For that matter, why shouldn’t he be? This could well become the Isle’s last stand against Rangda. Naresh could not allow this place to fall. “Stand with us.”

“And what guarantee do I have of friendship, here?”

“My guarantee. I give you my word, if you hold this place in trust with us now, you will be welcome as guardians in the future. Your emperor can rest assured that this weapon will never be used again—but only if you help us now.”

Tua Pek Kong inclined his head. “I can hardly refuse after you have saved my life.”

More than once. Naresh was glad he didn’t have to point that out. He left the temple and walked out into the rain.

It was a clean rain, no longer the storm-darkened sky the Witch-Queen had called down upon them, but the natural weather of late in the rainy season. The dry season would return before too much longer, but the Demon Queen would come before that. From what he’d seen, nothing remained of Ratna. There was only the monster inside her, and it had eaten away her body and soul.

And in a way, Naresh was doing the same thing to himself. Those memories he’d lost were really gone, those years off his life really spent. He couldn’t feel his life force now, not the way he had that day, but he knew it was real. His every breath was borrowed from the universe, and now his body would give out that much sooner. It was a frightening sense of mortality … and yet gratifying. His energy, his life, was the same energy flowing through all beings, flowing through all the cosmos. One day that energy would run out and his soul would return to the Wheel of Life, to be born anew. Fresh, and, he hoped, in a world without this darkness overhanging it.

Surya, when had he become so introspective? He shook his head. Semar might be proud, but Naresh had no time for such reflections. He did need the Igni here. For that matter, he needed Kertajaya, too. And most of all, Chandi.

Naresh hunted down the Tianxian scribe. “I need paper and pen,” he said.

When the man gave them to him, Naresh sat inside an ancient temple, writing letters. He’d have to have them taken to the nearest village and delivered from there. It would take time for the others to reach this place, if they came.

Chandi would come, of course, if the letter found her on Swarnadvipa. Semar and Kertajaya, it was hard to say. Semar would understand what was at stake, but Kertajaya never seemed to look past his own self-interest.

Of course, right now, defending this place was in everyone’s best interest.

Ketu had used the Astral Temple to throw all the Isles into chaos. Naresh didn’t want to imagine what Rangda could do with it.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-TWO

Bendurana’s ship, the Long Awaited Dawn, bucked on the unruly seas, but it was certainly more stable than the rowboat had been. Phases had passed, dawn had come, and still the elements raged. They seemed to obey the command of that dragon. Such an odd creature. And she claimed to be Malin’s wife. If anyone deserved such a title, it was Pohaci, not some dragon he may or may not have known in another lifetime. And really, he married a dragon? Inside her, the crocodile shifted, feeding on her rage. If she wasn’t careful, it would seize control. It knew only one way to sate anger—with blood.

Pohaci was the one who had been by Malin’s side in all his struggles against Rahu and Ketu. She was the one he loved. The only one.

Not some creature.

The waves surged again, and Pohaci had to grip the gunwale to steady herself. The stormy sea was no place for a crocodile.

A sudden spray of water erupted from the ocean, and the sleek turquoise creature soared up, landing on the ship’s bow. The impact, or at least the weight, caused the ship to rock forward, angling the deck in a way that made Pohaci’s stomach lurch. The dragon seemed to notice, because she stalked closer to the center of the ship, allowing the dhow to stabilize.

“Ah, my… lady?” Bendurana said. “Such a prestigious guest has rarely graced the deck of my ship. Certainly not of this ship, although I’ve had a goddess or two ride some of my other decks.”

The dragon snarled at the Serendibian, who quickly backed away, then turned to Landorundun.

“What happened to him?” the creature demanded.

“They tell me he was possessed by a ghost from Kahyangan. The spirit of Rahu, former War King of the Lunars.”

“He wasn’t just possessed,” Pohaci said, advancing. “He was taken after the sacrifices he made to destroy the lunatic! We have to free him.”

The dragon didn’t look at her. “You let this happen,” Tioman snapped at Landorundun.

“This happened long before she got here,” Pohaci said. If Malin’s supposed wife thought she could ignore her, she was in for a shock. “You want him? Maybe you should have been there fighting Rahu with us.”

And maybe then the ghost would be in her instead of Malin. Actually, a possessed dragon would probably be a bad thing.

Now Tioman did look to her. “You are bold, girl.” The dragon sniffed her. “And possessed yourself. Moon Spirit?”

“I am Buaya Jadian.”

“I don’t know what that means,” the dragon said.

“It means—”

“I also don’t care.” Tioman turned back to Landorundun. “Can you drive the spirit out?”

“I don’t know,” the Solar said. “I didn’t know about any of this.”

Chandi moved beside the Solar. “The only way to get Rahu out is by killing the host.”

“No!” Pohaci said. “We’re not killing Malin!”

Tioman turned back to her again. “You … You love him?”

Oh shit. It was done now. Pohaci lifted her chin and looked the dragon in the eye.

“You think you can take my husband away from me, you … you tramp!” The dragon’s eyes flared red. She snatched Pohaci with one claw around her waist.

“Stop!” Chandi cried.

But Tioman pulled Pohaci in closer and tossed her into the sea. The ocean washed over her and sucked her under. It had grown too tumultuous for her to swim, at least as a human. Water stung her eyes and filled her nose. She couldn’t shift in daylight. She flailed about, struggling toward the surface. Then arms reached around her and hefted her upward.

She sucked in a mouthful of air. Another woman held her around the waist, keeping her on the surface.

“Breathe,” the woman said.

A heartbeat later a surge of water lifted her up, carrying her over the ship like she was flying.

Crocodiles were not meant to fly.

Pohaci landed on the deck with a thud. A naked woman landed down beside her. No, not a woman, a duyong—a mermaid. The mermaid’s tail became legs, and she shakily stood. Pohaci shook her head. She was afraid the dragon alone might not have made for a memorable day. Now she had a mermaid to ensure she never forgot this trip.

“Dewi?” Bendurana said. “How did you …? Ah, my lady, you never cease to surprise me.”

The dragon turned on the mermaid, snarling.

The mermaid shook her head. “These are still my seas, dragon. You know who I am? Do you really want to see which of us has greater control?” The mermaid reached her hand out toward the ocean and the tumult grew eerily still, despite the biting winds.

With a last glare at Pohaci, Tioman leapt off the ship and dove back into the ocean, showering the deck in seawater as she vanished.

“Thank you,” Pohaci said to this Dewi. The woman, or spirit, rather, was pretty. But these things could be deceiving. Pohaci hadn’t ever heard of anything good coming from Kahyangan. Still, she’d saved her from the sea—and from that dragon. What had Malin been thinking, getting involved with the creature? “Who are you?”

“The better question, my dear,” Ben said, clearing his throat, “is would you be interested in some clothes? If not, fear not, we don’t judge. But it would be remiss of me not to offer.”

Landorundun disappeared into the forecastle, and came back a moment later, flinging a baju and sarong at Dewi’s face. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re welcome,” the woman said, then walked over to Ben without putting on the clothes. “You always manage to find danger, Ben … If I couldn’t have you, at least I could save you.”

Ben’s mouth opened, but it took a moment for words to come out. “What are you saying, my dear?”

“I did it for you. She wasn’t in her anymore,” Dewi said, indicating Landorundun. Her voice almost broke. “So I called to her again. I thought, she wanted my body once … If I took her back …”

Landorundun pushed her. “What do you mean you did it for him? Who asked you to—”

Ben stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. Pohaci took off her baju to wring it out, ignoring the stares of the crew. Jadian had better things to care about than modesty.

“I took her back to protect him,” Dewi said. “To protect you all. My body, my life for the power.” The last she said so softly the humans might not have heard it.

Ben embraced her, and suddenly Landorundun’s scent went from cold anger to very hot wrath. But the Solar said nothing.

“I wanted to protect,” Dewi said. “I just didn’t think I’d need to this soon. How did you manage to anger a dragon?”

“My dear, she was not angry with me,” Ben said. “Women the world over hold only love for dear Ben.”

“I know,” Dewi said.

Ben threw a glance at Landorundun, who was scowling, then hugged Dewi again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything, Dewi.”

The woman shuddered and returned the embrace.

Pohaci leaned against the gunwale. If the mermaid had calmed the seas, she was welcome here. Even if this little dhow was getting crowded.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-THREE

A crenellated wall surrounded the Astral Temple, but Naresh didn’t have nearly enough men to guard the entire perimeter. If Rangda came with leyaks, the wall probably wouldn’t make much difference, anyway. The things could fly—at least at night, when the heads detached from the bodies.

Naresh walked along the length of the wall now, inspecting Tua Pek Kong’s troops. The admiral had made Naresh an honorary officer in the Tianxian military, which was a great honor. Many of the Tianxian soldiers had mechanical bows that could propel a bolt with extreme force. The one advantage the wall gave them was height. From their elevated positions, they might have a better shot at the leyaks. Unfortunately, the flying demons were fast—maybe too fast for many of the crossbowmen to hit.

“Sir,” a soldier said in Tianxian. “A small party climbs the paths up the cliff.”

Naresh nodded, then Strode down to ground level outside the wall. A small group meant it wasn’t an attack, so, with luck, reinforcements had arrived. The Tianxians had braced the wooden gate with bands of iron. It probably wouldn’t do any good against the forces they’d face, but Naresh hadn’t wanted to disabuse them of whatever slim hopes they held on to.

Crossbowmen leveled their weapons at a group cresting the rise up to the plateau. Chandi was at the group’s head. Naresh ran for her. Thank Surya! When reports came that Malin had taken Bukit …

Chandi started running for him too and leapt into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and her legs around his back.

“Chandi!” He buried his face against her neck and held her close. “You got my letter?” he said after holding her a moment.

She shook her head when he set her down, then kissed him. Her soft, warm lips brushed over his, speeding his heart. He ran his fingers through her hair. Not a scratch on her.

“Ah, Naresh, your romantic efforts have improved,” Bendurana said. “I’m comforted to see you have begun to master life’s most important lessons.”

Naresh looked up to see Ben, Pohaci, Dewi Kadita, and … Landorundun?

He squeezed Chandi’s hand, then walked toward Landi. They stared at each other for moment, then he clapped her on the shoulder. “I should have known you were too stubborn to die.”

“Damn right.” She wore her hair down, as she had done back in the Academy, and it blew in the breeze.

Naresh caught himself smiling. Damn. It was really Landi.

He turned to Dewi Kadita. The former harem girl held herself straighter now, and her eyes didn’t back down from his for a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“I would not see Rangda have her way with this world. My business with her is not quite finished, though our last encounter weakened me. I still claim the South Sea as my domain.”

Naresh raised an eyebrow. Well, that was different.

“Ah, Naresh,” Ben said, “she’s Nyai Loro Kidul. Some of the time. You get used to it, for the most part. By which I mean not really.”

“We are both here,” Dewi—or Loro—said. “We have an understanding.”

“Better her than me,” Landi said.

Pohaci snorted, then stalked off through the gate. Naresh waved at the Tianxians to let her pass. None of the soldiers seemed to know what to make of the odd gathering, and Naresh couldn’t blame them. He led everyone inside, then took Chandi’s hand.

“What’s wrong with the werecrocodile?”

“A lot happened,” Chandi said. “She’s … my sister.”

What? “How?”

Chandi shrugged. “My father had this whole other life.”

Well, he supposed they did look a bit similar, but thinking she was related to a Jadian seemed odd. “I guess that means she’s my sister-in-law, then?”

Chandi crooked a half smile, shaking her head. “What are we going to do, Naresh?”

He sighed. It was easy to pretend he needed them all here because he missed them. He did miss them all. But Rangda and Rahu were still out there, and his forces had been depleted badly. Word had not yet come from Semar or Kertajaya, so he had no idea if he could count on them to defend this place.

“The Witch-Queen attacked here,” he said. “I killed her, but we lost all our ships, too. Fewer than eighty men remain to guard this place.”

And he had lost more than men. The memories were irreplaceable, but more than that, he’d lost years—years of his life he could have spent with Chandi. She was here, brilliant and young and vibrant. And now she would outlive him by decades. And telling her would only break her heart. It almost broke his.

He drew a deep breath. He couldn’t dwell on this. She’d see it in him. “What happened on Swarnadvipa?”

Chandi stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, while she spoke of searching the island for clues about Pohaci. She told him they learned her father and Rahu had perpetuated a conspiracy to bring the man into Lunar society, a conspiracy far deeper than they had thought at first. And Rahu, now in near full control of Malin, had attacked them.

The part about the dragon seemed pretty unbelievable, but Chandi said it with a straight face. And, Surya knew, he himself had been through some rather unbelievable things lately.

“Is Pohaci well?” he asked.

“As well as can be expected. Finding out your lover is married to another woman can’t be easy. Finding out she’s a dragon and she plans to eat you wouldn’t help your mood much, either.”

No. He imagined it wouldn’t. “I’ll speak to her,” he said. He’d spent enough time traveling with the Buaya Jadian that maybe she would listen to him. He was going to need her strength before this was over. And if she was Chandi’s sister, she was family. “Bring everyone to that temple,” he said, indicating an unused one beyond Tua Pek Kong’s command post, “tonight after the evening meal. We’ll decide what to do.”

Chandi smirked, then kissed him.

“What?”

“You’re starting to act like a real prince,” she said, still smiling.

No, he wasn’t. Shaking his head, he walked through the temple compound. Pohaci drifted among the pillars, just beside the bowls leading to the lower levels. This werecrocodile was Chandi’s big sister. Naresh folded his arms. The light rain had soaked through the woman’s hair, leaving it plastered against her face. Her hair was a bit shorter than Chandi’s, at least in the front, where she cut it off just under her ears. But they had the same features, really.

“Are you going to stand there staring,” she said, “or do you want something?”

Naresh walked to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for what happened with Malin.”

“I can still get through to him.” She shrugged free of his hand and leaned against a pillar. Surya’s pillar, if Naresh remembered correctly.

“I hope you’re right.”

“Rahu has taken so much from me. I will not let him keep Malin.” She met Naresh’s gaze there, a fire in her otherwise sweet face. “The man, the foreigner came here and destroyed everything. My family, my home. And finally he’s taken my love. I’m going to destroy him, no matter what it takes.”

Naresh frowned. According to Chandi, Malin claimed Rahu and Kala had come through the Astral Temple from some foreign land. She also said Semar had hinted that Rahu’s old country had built the Astral Temple and maybe other ruins across the Skyfall Isles. It didn’t make any sense. There was a piece of the puzzle he just didn’t have, and he was beginning to think the only way he could hope to stop all this was to understand it.

Rahu and Kala. Their war with each other had spilled over into Kasusthali, into the Skyfall Isles. And through it, they had ruined both dynasties. Oh, now he could see the corruption had been there before. Ken Arok’s betrayal of the Radiant Queen and his own assassination proved that. Maybe the empires would have fallen eventually even if Rahu hadn’t come here. But maybe they could have been saved.

“Brother,” Pohaci said.

Naresh turned. Lembu Ampal had called him that, though Naresh had never had any true siblings.

“Chandi said Malin would rather die than be a slave to Rahu.”

“You two know him much better than I ever did.” Naresh had seen more of Malin than he ever wanted to, but he wouldn’t say he knew him.

“She’s right.”

He nodded. There was no easy way out of this. Something had come into the world from Kahyangan, and it had no intention of going back.

He clapped her on the shoulder, then walked away, strolling the compound, until a sound caught his ear. A flute, played from somewhere up on the ramparts. He Strode toward the sound, finding Landi sitting on the edge of the wall, playing a Tianxian flute. It was her song, but it was different. It had become mournful and joyous at the same time. The song had always been complex, but now, something lurked beneath the surface. A rising tension, like a dam about to burst, and that tension filled him and flowed through him, until he realized it wasn’t tension. It was anticipation. She had tried to put hope itself to music.

And if he could hear it, feel it, she must have succeeded.

He closed his eyes and drank in the song, turning his face to the sky and letting the rain wash over it. He didn’t open his eyes until she stopped playing.

“Chandi told you about Hainuwele?” he said at last.

Landi drew a deep breath, but said nothing. Naresh and Chandi had gained a sister in Pohaci, and Landi had lost hers.

“I’m so sorry, Landi.”

She shook her head, still looking over the edge of the cliff, not meeting his gaze. “I’ve lost the Sun Brand.”

Naresh started, then turned to face her directly. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. I guess when Loro was in me, her battle with Rangda burned it out somehow.”

If he ever lost the Sun Brand it would be like losing a part of himself. After so many years, the Sun Stride had become second nature. He could never imagine how Landi must feel. “You are still Arun Guard, you know. You’re still one of the finest warriors in the Isles.”

She sighed. “And I have this,” she said, raising a keris. Ken Arok’s keris. Damn, he’d thought the Isles were rid of that thing.

“Landi, that sword is cursed.”

“I’ve noticed. It makes me strong, but darker. Still, we may need it before the end.” She hesitated, then turned to face him at last. “You say I’m such a fine warrior. What if I don’t want to be a warrior anymore?”

He knelt beside her to bring his face level with hers. “I need you.” His voice was a whisper. “Just a little while longer, Landi. A little more, and this will be done.”

She smiled, brushing her wet hair from her face. “When you first courted me all those years ago, did you ever think we’d have this conversation?”

He shook his head. He’d never thought any of this would happen. Not the brief peace with the Lunar Empire, not falling for Chandi, and not the insatiable wrath of Kahyangan. “Landi? You knew my mother, right?”

“What? Of course I knew her, Naresh!”

Naresh wished he could say the same. There was just this hole in his mind. He burned away years of his life, but not before he’d lost some things he could never replace. “What’s her name?” His voice broke, and his throat felt dry. What kind of son had to ask such a question?

Landi took his hand and looked deep into his eyes. “What have you done to yourself?”

He shut his eyes. Getting the words out was like trying to chew crystal. “There’s a price for the power. Humans weren’t meant for this.”

“Surya, Naresh. It’s killing you, isn’t it?”

All he could do was nod.

With one hand she held his, with the other she stroked his face. “Her name was Aji Bidara.”

“And where is she? Is she safe?”

“Naresh … She’s dead. For years now.”

Somehow, he’d known that. He couldn’t remember it, but he’d known. He rose. “Get some food. I’ve called everyone for a meeting after that.”

“She’d be proud of you,” Landi said.

And that was something. Maybe it was all that mattered. Even if he couldn’t remember the details, if he’d lived his life well enough to make her proud, maybe that was enough.

Naresh left then, joining Chandi for the evening meal. She had gathered a couple bowls of Tianxian fried rice, and they sat back-to-back, in the shadow of a temple, out of the rain. They talked of everything and nothing, and if Naresh tried to remember what had been said, most of it was a blur. But all of his worries melted away like dirt washed clean in the rain. It was probably the most restful meal he’d had in a long, long time.

“I could make it like this,” she said.

“I look forward to it.”

“Will we go back to the house in Daha? When it’s done?”

Naresh smiled. “I was thinking maybe we would travel. Visit Mait, even Tianxia. I suspect Tua Pek Kong could arrange fine accommodations for us.”

She leaned against his back. “When will it be done?”

“Soon.” It had to be. The world could not take much more of this.

Well before he was ready, he saw the others gathering in the temple. He sent Chandi on, as well, and went to invite Tua Pek Kong himself. The Tianxian had as much a part to play here as any of them. This was no longer a fight just for the Skyfall Isles. If Rangda took the Astral Temple, she could threaten all life on Earth.

Inside the temple someone had lit a brazier, and everyone huddled around it. Landi lounged in Ben’s arms, while Dewi Kadita sat across the fire, clearly trying not to stare at them. Pohaci lay on her side close to the brazier, watching everything without moving, Chandi sitting beside her, her legs folded beneath her. Naresh sat beside his wife, and Tua Pek Kong took up a seat across the brazier.

“We all know why we’re here,” Naresh said after a moment. “The Witch-Queen has fallen. But her mistress Rangda remains. From what we can tell, Rahu is in league with her, or at least pursuing a common agenda for the moment. We must find a way to stop them, at any cost. We know they want this place, and we know it can do terrible things. We don’t know how or why it can do them, or even really where it came from.”

“I thought it was built by the gods,” Pohaci said.

“I’m not so sure,” Chandi said. “Semar seemed to know something. He admitted to having been to whatever land Rahu came from, and seemed to be saying Rahu’s people built, or at least understood, this place.”

Naresh frowned. “It always comes back to Rahu. He came to these Isles and started us down this path. Why?”

“He was fleeing Kala, I think,” Chandi said. “And this place was some kind of gateway to their land.”

Yes. That was the thing. “A gateway allows passage in both directions,” he said. “If we want to know the truth, the answers are through the gateway.”

“Truth is not enough, in-and-of itself,” Dewi Kadita said. Or more likely Loro Kidul, given the deep timbre of her voice. “Even were you to learn the origins of this place, it may not help us. This Temple is more ancient than your empires, without doubt. The Glyphs below us speak of the Nine Spheres of Creation—the forces of Kahyangan. Each spirit in my world is an elemental of one of these forces, and this place harnesses that power. It rips the fabric of the universe apart, changing the fundamental laws of creation.”

“That sounds bad,” Ben said. “I vote for not changing the fabric of the universe.”

“Do you know where the gateway goes?” Naresh asked Dewi.

“No. Somewhere beyond the bounds of my domain.”

That must mean beyond the entire South Sea. Beyond even far Tianxia, probably.

“It must have to do with that astrolabe and orrery at the bottom of the temple,” Chandi said. “Right? I mean we have an idea what everything else here does.”

“You’re not seriously thinking of doing this?” Pohaci said. “You want to go through a gateway to some unknown land, Chandra-knows-where, where you think Rahu may have come from?”

Chandi shrugged. “It may be the only way to stop him. Naresh is right. We have to understand what’s going on if we’re to have any chance of standing against him. Or Rangda. Whatever country they were from, he must have had a plan coming here. And more, if his people, his ancestors built this place, they must have known how to use it. Rahu knew so much about it—maybe his people can tell us how to use it against Rangda.”

Naresh took a deep breath. “Then I will go. We still need to defend this place, so the rest of you need to hold it.”

Chandi laughed. “How did I know you were going to say that?” Then she slapped his arm. Hard. “Don’t even dream of leaving me behind this time, husband.”

“Ah, Naresh, I think you’d best listen to the woman,” Ben said.

Landi sat up from his arms, then. “Go, Naresh. We’ll hold this place until you return.”

Naresh stood, pulling Chandi up with him. “So be it. Get some sleep. In the morning, Chandi and I will try to activate this gateway.”

Surya help them.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-FOUR

The orrery Chandi had spoken of was in the lowest level of the Astral Temple, beyond the large crystal at the complex’s heart. Naresh opened the metal door leading into the room, but found himself standing and gaping like a boy seeing his first Arun Guard. The chamber was a large dome, with a ceiling forty feet high. The orrery itself took up most of the dome, sunk into a water-filled basin in the floor, with a three-foot wide walkway surrounding the basin.

“Are you sure about this?” Landi asked.

Naresh looked to Chandi, and she nodded. He turned back to Landi and patted her on the shoulder. “Take care of things here.” He slid the metal door closed behind them, then embraced his wife. “What now?”

She pointed up at an enormous astrolabe in the center of the orrery. The entire solar system seemed to orbit that device, which had a small platform in front of it. It also had a number of gears and dials on it, though Naresh could make very little of them.

Now that they were closed in the room, Naresh could see the orrery spun, albeit very slowly. Massive metal arms stretched out, attaching to planets and moons, all rotating about each other. The waters below churned, too, like something was pumping them, far below.

“How deep do you think it is?” Chandi said, following his gaze.

“Hard to say. Deep. Maybe the movement of the water powers the device.” He placed an arm around her waist and Sun Strode them onto the platform. Up close, it was clear many of the gears could be adjusted. Naresh shook his head. “So where’s the gateway?”

Chandi bit her lip and ran her fingers over a lever. It was etched with a spiral that folded back on itself, creating an endless loop. She shrugged. Then she pulled the lever.

The entire orrery jolted, and the arms began to accelerate, moving in reverse from the direction it had been before. “Was that a good idea?” Naresh asked.

“My ideas are always good. Sometimes.”

Naresh drew Chandi closer to him. The orrery arms were spinning faster and faster, and they stood in the center of this thing. The waters had become like a maelstrom beneath them. Chandi folded her arms around his back. She was shaking, so he squeezed her. Maybe this had been a mistake—but at least they faced it together.

The orrery spun so fast the arms were a blur. The waters began to rise up along the sides of the dome, creating a hollow sphere of liquid surrounding them. And it was closing in.

“Naresh!”

He squeezed her tighter. There was nowhere for him to Stride to. Whatever was happening, they had to ride it out. Sparks began to rise from the device, then leap along the arms. Lightning struck the water, and the entire room was suddenly engulfed in crackling energy.

The thrum of the machine filled his ears. He couldn’t hear his wife’s voice anymore, so he pulled her away, just enough to look into her face. She set her jaw and nodded.

A wave of air exploded down from the top of the dome and Chandi’s form broke apart. A heartbeat later he realized his own had begun to disintegrate, as well. Everything turned to dust and scattered, and yet he saw, still, even as it reformed around him.

Then the wall of the water collapsed, and the machine began to slow down, eventually returning to its slow steady advancement.

Naresh ran his fingers over his wife’s face. She was whole again. “Don’t touch anything else,” he said, then grabbed her and Strode back to the doorway.

“Do you think it sent us to Rahu’s homeland?”

The room rumbled, vibrating is if in an earthquake. “It did something.”

He opened the door, but the room beyond had changed. Landi and the others were gone, replaced by a half dozen bodies of men and women he’d never seen, wearing strange clothes. They all wore trousers, made at least in part from leather, and button shirts. Many had long overcoats, as well, and the men had twisted cloths wrapping their heads. The people had somewhat fairer skin than Skyfall natives, although still wheat-colored.

The crystal in the center of the room was glowing, and the pillars were missing. An explosion from somewhere above rocked the room so deeply Naresh could feel it through the ground.

“We’re still in the Astral Temple,” he said, hurrying for the ladder up. They had to be … Or perhaps this was a near replica of it.

A hatch now covered the top of ladder, so he pushed it open. It led into the open air, rather than the second level as he had expected.

“No pillars …” Chandi said, looking around at the underground.

Naresh had other questions as he climbed out into the open. Clouds drifted by, almost level with his face. He stood in the midst of a city made of iron, their island connected to the others by a bridge at least a hundred feet long and twenty feet wide. That bridge was covered with bodies, some moaning in pain, others clearly alive, fighting one another.

And looking down off the bridge, he saw clouds. Through the clouds, far, far below, he saw a hint of blue ocean.

He couldn’t swallow. Never could he have imagined such a place in his dreams—or his nightmares. Giant pointed domes topped many of the city’s buildings, though the entire skyline was wreathed in smoke. Columns of it rose from countless points throughout the city.

At the far end of the bridge, a metal creature that resembled a bear made of interlocking gears was ripping men to pieces. One of the men pointed a club at another man and the club released an explosion like a Fire-Lance. The victim jerked and fell from the bridge, spurting blood as he tumbled down through the clouds.

Watching the poor man, Naresh saw a ship sailing through the air beneath the city. It looked like a giant balloon somehow carried the base of the ship. And it was sailing. In the sky.

Chandi’s hand slipped into his. She said nothing. He tried to speak, but no words came.

Explosions rocked the city.

PART FOUR

The Unknown

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-FIVE

Chandi grabbed Naresh’s arm and pulled him aside as one of the soldiers lunged for them, then kicked the man in the face. The attacker crumpled onto the bridge. “We have to get out of here!”

Naresh jerked out of his stupor and nodded, wrapping his arm around her. The world shifted, then, and she stood at the end of the bridge—only to be faced with more bridges. The entire city seemed composed of bridge-like roads, and now they stood in a four-way intersection. Beneath the metal, great slabs of rock supported the city.

Sweet Chandra, it was like a whole flying island! As she peered down into the clouds below, her knees wobbled in a wave of dizziness.

The left bridge led to what almost looked like a harbor, except it was filled with those flying ships. Down to the right, an army of those mechanical soldiers advanced on their location. And straight ahead, another army stood, or rather fell back under an assault. Chandi could never forget the sun-colored hair of the man making that assault.

Kala.

How was he here? Had he returned to this country? Was it his homeland, too? She squeezed Naresh’s hand, pointing, unable to make her voice work. What nightmare had they stumbled into?

“I see him,” Naresh said, his jaw set. His other hand had clenched into a fist.

Kala moved down the bridge at a steady pace, not quite running. A pair of soldiers tried to interpose themselves between him and whatever he was after. With a hand on both their chests, he shoved them, sending both flying so far they tumbled off opposite sides of the bridge.

“The bastard brought this ruin here, too,” Naresh said. “He took Revati … It’s time he answers for it.”

“Wait, Naresh!”

He tried to pull his hand free, but she clapped onto it with both of hers. No way was he getting away from her.

A mechanical soldier advanced on Kala. He ducked its blow and came back swinging with an uppercut that actually crunched its metal skull. Even from fifty feet away Chandi heard that clang. Kala ripped a bladed arm off another metal soldier and used it to impale the creature.

Dozens of soldiers, living and metal, rushed him, but they barely seemed to slow him down. He advanced on what had to be a palace in the distance, beyond the soldiers. The building was iron like the rest of the city, but painted in brilliant red, and topped with domes fifty feet in diameter, at least.

And atop one of the balconies, a man stood, his long hair blowing in the wind, shouting orders at his soldiers.

Her husband pulled his hand free and Strode behind Kala.

“Naresh!” Chandi drew her Potency and ran for them.

The air seemed to ripple around Kala, like a bubble underwater, seeking escape to the surface. A tremble in the bridge they stood on rapidly turned into a full quake. Kala clutched his head with one hand, holding up the other and shouting something unintelligible at Naresh. He tried to back away from her husband, but Naresh rushed in swinging.

Kala was still shouting, but not in the Skyfall tongue. He ducked Naresh’s blows and sidestepped, impossibly so, given how fast Naresh moved. It was like Kala knew every move Naresh would make, and twisted just enough to avoid each. The trembling increased, as did the distortions in the air. Naresh fell back a step, swaying and looking like he would retch. Then he Strode behind Kala even as Chandi reached the pair.

Before Naresh had even vanished Kala had started jerking his elbow back. It connected with the exact spot Naresh appeared. Her husband shot through the advancing soldiers like he’d been kicked by a Warak Ngendog.

And then the air—the world itself—seemed to rupture. A hole of … nothingness … opened just off the bridge, crackling with lightning and sucking in the metal like it was made of sand. It pulled at her like a maelstrom, drawing her closer, even as everything around her seemed to slow down. Or rather, things in the distance seemed to be moving at super speed, like Naresh when he used his new powers.

Chandi drew her Blessings harder, but the force kept pulling her in. Kala grabbed her arm and yanked her away while kicking a soldier into the vortex. The man fell in slow motion, growing smaller and smaller until he just ceased.

Kala spun her around to face him, then his emerald eyes glazed over for a moment. As soon as they returned to normal he gasped, releasing her and clutching his head. “Who are you?” he said in the Skyfall tongue.

“Forgotten me already, Kala?” What in Rangda’s underworld was even going on here? She glanced back at the distortion, which had begun to shrink.

Kala stared at her for a moment, mouthing something, then turned to meet the advance of more soldiers. He killed almost without thought, it seemed. Men attacked him and they died. Machines crumbled before him. Anything that stood in his way fell as though he were emong, the wave of tides. What was this man? Or was Kala a god? Maybe this place was some fearful underworld of Kahyangan.

Chandi ran from him, seeking out Naresh. Her husband was rising, clutching his chest. A soldier tried to attack him, and Naresh disarmed and tripped the man. He turned toward her, but stumbled as he walked forward. The man he’d felled jerked his head wrap free, then pulled out a long, thick pin that had bound his hair.

“Naresh!” Chandi shouted.

Too late. The soldier slammed the pin inches into Naresh’s side. Blood trickled from her husband’s mouth as he collapsed to the bridge.

Chandi screamed, launching herself onto the soldier and smashing his face onto the metal bridge. Once more she vented her rage on the man, crushing him, then she crawled to Naresh. Blood oozed from the puncture in his side, and Kala must have broken some of his ribs. Chandi cradled Naresh’s head, and pulled him to the side of the bridge. Chandra, please let the other soldiers leave them in peace. They never should have come here.

One of the airships flew past, firing something that seemed to resemble Fire-Lances at the bridge. Explosions rocked around her, and Chandi could only scream.

Kala stomped on the head of another mechanical bear, then kicked off it, launching himself into the air. Flames exploded beneath his feet and a sword of fire appeared in his hand. He must have flown thirty feet through the air to impact that airship, slamming the flaming brand into the balloon. An explosion wracked the craft, flinging Kala free. He landed on a bridge below them, surrounded by more mechanical soldiers.

The flaming airship plummeted toward Chandi and her fallen husband.

“Naresh!” she shouted. “Get up! Right now!”

The craft collided with the bridge ahead. A wave of heat washed over her. A deafening roar filled her ears and shook her to the bones. The bridge split like a log chopped in half.

Chandi tried to shift her gravity to the sloping surface, but it pitched her and Naresh off it.

Her husband was free falling ahead of her, unconscious.

The winds swept away her screams. It tore her clothes and stung her eyes. She folded her arms by her side to fall faster. She had to get to Naresh. She had to.

They’d fallen a hundred feet, two hundred. The rush of air was all she could hear. Debris and men and machines fell all around her, but she focused on Naresh. The waters below were getting closer. Chandi reached her hand out and wrapped her fingers around her husband’s ankle. “Naresh!”

He couldn’t hear. She jerked him, slapping his leg. And then he opened his eyes, groggily, and looked at her. He shook his head once, then their position shifted. They were still falling, but not among the debris. Now the city was beneath them. And approaching very, very fast.

“Naresh!”

He looked down and must have Strode again. They appeared at the foot of the palace, laying on a metal platform. The man on the balcony looked down at them and shouted, pointing soldiers toward her. She didn’t know the language, but she knew the man, now.

Rahu’s hair was longer than she had ever seen, and he looked younger, but it was definitely him. Which was impossible. Rahu was dead.

It felt like something had coiled around her heart. Rahu was dead. And he was standing in front of her, not a ghost, but in the flesh.

She reached for Naresh, but he’d lost consciousness. Chandi hefted him up, carrying him away. Soldiers closed in around her, more than she could ever fight alone. Still, she drew her Blessings and ran, dodging the attackers as best she could.

The palace gates were closed, so she shifted her gravity to the wall and ran right up it, then leapt off, Naresh still cradled in her arms. He was losing a lot of blood. It soaked her kemban and sarong and made her hands slippery.

In the distance a mechanical creature was flying. Chandra, the serpentine thing looked like Tioman had, except made of iron and gears. It launched a blast as if from a Fire-Lance at Kala below, and explosions engulfed the bridge he stood on.

Then Kala walked from the inferno, his clothes burning away, and flames swirling around his arms. He was a Firewalker, too? The fire spiraled around his hands then shot out at the dragon in a vortex. A cascade of blasts ran along the thing’s spine as it fell from the sky.

Chandi kept running with Naresh, not sure where she was going.

“Over here!” Kala shouted. “Bring him.” The man stood on the bridge below. Chandi couldn’t afford to trust him … but neither could she take a chance not to. She had to do something to help Naresh, and she had to do it fast. She leapt off her bridge and landed on the one below, twenty feet from Kala.

He dispatched three more soldiers, but held up a hand when she moved in closer to him. “Keep your distance.”

What now?

He pointed down the bridge, toward the city. “We can find shelter in the slums. Go now. I will keep the Clockworks off your trail.”

Clockworks? The machines?

Chandi drew her Glamour, blending herself and Naresh with their surroundings, and ran into the deep city. Soot and smoke covered everything. Explosions continued behind her.

But all she could focus on was Naresh’s weak breaths.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-SIX

Chandi knelt by Naresh’s side in the shadows of the windowless room. The only light came from a crack in the door to the sitting room, where Kala waited. The foreigner had refused to come in. Chandi stroked Naresh’s brow. His breathing had become more regular, but his skin had grown cold. She’d bound his wounds as best she could.

It was a shame they didn’t have more Amrita. Chandi bit her lip. No, it was probably for the best. Naresh would be fine. He had to be. He would. Her husband was strong. Her hands were shaking. Chandra, did she want the Amrita for him, or for herself?

For a time she lowered her head onto his. “Please help him,” she asked Chandra. Maybe he wouldn’t listen, but it couldn’t hurt. And she couldn’t lose Naresh.

She slipped from the room, shutting the door. He needed rest.

“The ravages of destiny weigh heavily on you,” Kala said without looking at her. His voice was low, and he spoke softly. The man sat with his legs folded beneath him, his wrists resting on his knees. Just the way her father had once meditated.

“What are you talking about?”

“Energy. You’ve opened yourself to the energies of the universe, but you don’t know how to control them, so instead they control you.”

She knelt beside him. He’d removed his tattered shirt, revealing rock-hard muscles and a body as toned as Naresh’s. He still wore leather pants, although fire had melted those in places, too. His eyes held her gaze and she wasn’t quite able to look away. Was the emerald sparkle just her imagination? His red-gold hair hung about his face, setting off that sparkle.

Chandi shook her head, breaking away from those eyes. “Are you saying I can control lunacy?”

He shut his eyes. “All that is within you is you, and therefore under your control. Your mind and body are mere manifestations of your soul, and a soul, while it can be tainted, is not subject to simple madness.”

Was that true? It seemed impossible. All her life, she’d been taught the price of the Blessings. Be a goddess, pay with your mind. Everything had a price. But Kala was more powerful than any Moon Scion, and though certainly odd, he didn’t seem quite lunatic.

“Show me. Please.”

He drew a deep breath, then opened his eyes and crawled over to her side. He waved for her to position herself in the same meditative pose he’d been in, then placed his hand on her stomach. Her skin tingled where he touched her, spreading warmth through her abdomen, and lower. Chandra, she hadn’t expected to … She set her jaw. She would not indulge such thoughts.

“Your energy begins here, and rises up along your spine, drawn in by chakras. When you infuse them with your life force, you bend the natural rules of the universe. Close your eyes.”

She did so, but couldn’t quite still her breathing. The warmth of his hand on her abdomen left her lightheaded.

“Every breath you take is life. You draw in the essence of the universe, the akasha, and convert it into your own life force, prana. See that energy, running through your body like a river. It goes where you tell it. It is yours. It is you. Your soul is an immortal, eternal aspect of creation. A divinity in its own right.”

“I … I took a drug that made me this way … I need it.”

Kala blew out a breath. “This chemical changed your body, allowed you to infuse these chakras in a way normal humans cannot. But the chemical does not define you. Your essence runs deeper. See the change inside you. When you see that change, the lunacy and the addiction, fold it into a ball. This ball has a latch. You can lock it away. The choice is yours. The control is yours.”

His low voice left her dazed, half asleep. Her mind saw the things he described. A river of energy coursed through her body, a flow connecting her to everything. She could see the lunacy interrupting that flow, and could taste its foulness. She focused on that river, diverting it around the ball of lunacy Kala described.

Rough fingers brushed her cheek. Kala held her face in his hands as she opened her eyes, stroking her jaw with his thumb. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Sweet Chandra, this was not going to happen. Rangda take her body for this reaction.

“I’m married,” she said, her throat dry.

Kala removed his hand, slowly closing his fingers. “I can see that. You just … reminded me of someone.”

“How is it you don’t remember me?” His face was too close to hers, so she moved back. With increased distance, the pressure in her stomach faded a little. It had just been the stress. She was just so worried for Naresh.

“You’ve come through the Time Chamber, haven’t you?” Kala said. “But you don’t yet realize the implications of your journey, nor the eventual destination. Whatever experiences we shared in your past have not happened for me. Not yet.”

That was impossible. Time Chamber? Chandi bit her lip and leaned back against the wall. It was impossible, wasn’t it? “You’re saying I’ve traveled backward in time? I thought the Astral Temple sent us to another place.” This world of madness and metal and chaos. But Kala claimed it wasn’t another world at all—just the past. And if Rahu and Kala had come from the past … She shook her head. No, she had to focus on the task at hand. She’d lose her mind trying to understand all this.

“A journey in time is a journey through space.”

Chandi shook her head. This was nonsense. It might explain how Rahu was alive, and looked younger, but how could this be true? If it was, it meant that the conversations she’d had with Kala hadn’t happened yet. Or not for him.

“What’s your name?” he said.

“Chandi.” When they’d first met, he’d known who she was. Chandra, she was getting a headache. “Then where are we?”

“One of the Tripura cities. Three floating cities that rule the world. This is Vidyunmali.” His face darkened. “City of the Triumvir Rahu.”

“How are they flying? What are these Clockwork things?” She blew out a breath. “I mean, what on Chandra’s dark side is going on?”

Kala smiled, just a little, though he looked sad. “History unfolds in eras, cycles of change and continuity. Here, the Triumvirate rule the world through technology more advanced than you’re acquainted with, so it must be lost some time in the future. This technology allows them to levitate cities, control the skies, and build the creatures you speak of.” He paused, and his eyes glazed over for a moment. “And like fools, they thought to master time, only to become enslaved to it.”

“And you’re from here?”

“No.”

That was enlightening. Chandi resisted rolling her eyes. He was always like this, wasn’t he? And yet, when he drew near, she … No! Damn it, no. Naresh was hurt, maybe dying.

She turned back to Naresh’s room. “Can’t you do anything for him?”

Kala shook his head, slowly. “Not me. I cannot help, but there is someone here who could. The right medicine could speed his recovery.”

Chandi stood, shaking herself. “Then tell me where to find him.”

“It’s beyond the Hall of the Triumvir. My appearance would draw too much attention. Those parts are still solidly under Rahu’s control. We will take them, soon.”

She shook her head. “Naresh can’t wait. I’ll go. I can change my appearance to look like these people.”

Kala folded his arms and leaned back. Whatever went on behind his unusual eyes, she couldn’t guess. “Then find Nairyosangha. He’ll be able to help your husband. Go quickly. This place is not safe.”

Really? She hadn’t considered that. This time she did roll her eyes, then stepped back out into the street.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-SEVEN

Mostly, the streets were empty. Chandi would guess those not involved in the fighting had fled, or locked themselves in their houses. But given the destruction raining down over this city, the utter devastation caused by Kala and Rahu’s war, hiding might not do them much good.

She had thought to find answers to the chaos in her own world—only to find a time engulfed in even more destruction. How could all of this have happened, and no one remembered it? Such godlike power to float cities, forgotten … Or recounted only in myths of gods?

Chandi had disguised herself, creating the illusion she wore the trousers and long coat of one of the women here. All the soldiers seemed to wear a sash with an elegantly curved knife attached to it, so she took one from the body of a fallen warrior. He wouldn’t miss it, and it helped her disguise.

Kala was right. She saw the addiction, the lunacy as a ball now, and she worked around it. It was a part of her, but she could control it. Except that ball kept threatening to crack open.

She ran down the dark, empty streets. Night had fallen while she rested by Naresh’s side, but explosions and the retorts of those hand-held Fire-Lances still echoed in the distance. Vidyunmali was tearing itself apart, and she didn’t want to be around to see it.

The path was confusing, but Kala had told her to seek out a man called Nairyosangha. She couldn’t talk to him, of course, but hopefully he’d accept pearls as payment. Who didn’t like pearls?

The Hall of the Triumvir was domed, perhaps seventy feet in radius, topping a long building. It sat in the center of the city, beyond the palaces. Chandi could see it from the edge of the slums. She could also see thousands of soldiers formed up beyond it. The Clockwork Soldiers numbered almost as many as the living here, and they patrolled tirelessly. She’d have to pass them to get the medicine for her husband.

This had been a bad idea. She’d left Kala alone with Naresh. He wouldn’t hurt her husband—she was sure he wouldn’t. But he didn’t seem willing to go out of his way to help him, either. He wouldn’t even go in the room with him—though Naresh had attacked him, so she couldn’t blame him.

Maybe Glamouring herself to look like a soldier wouldn’t be enough to get these men to let her by. But she had other options. She drew her Glamour tighter around her, bending light and turning herself almost invisible. It took more effort, but with the darkness, no one would notice her at all. She kept her pace steady and light, not risking anyone hearing her as she trod among the soldiers.

And then a Clockwork Soldier grabbed her arm. In her shock, she lost her Blessings, and her Glamour fell away. Soldiers nearby let up a shout, screaming things she couldn’t understand.

Dammit all. Chandi drew her Blessings and yanked her arm free, shoving the Clockwork into one of its fellows. She ran past two men, catching one with a hook when he tried to grab her.

Clockworks closed ranks before her. Chandi jumped, kicking off one’s head, and flipped over it. She landed in a roll, but hadn’t gone far when she realized several of the human soldiers pointed those hand-held Fire-Lances at her.

One shouted at her, motioning for her to raise her hands. She could run, try the Glamour again, but the Clockworks seemed to see through it. And those weapons fired metal very, very fast.

Chandi raised her hands. She wouldn’t help Naresh by dying here. They’d been fools to even try to come to this place.

A woman bound her hands behind her back with metal restraints, then led her through the crowd, back toward the Hall of the Triumvir. Up close she could see the entrance, a massive archway. Beyond the archway, she could see the entire interior of the Hall was curved like a tunnel. A staircase led up to a walkway thirty feet above her, but the soldiers didn’t take her there. Instead they guided her under it, to Rahu, who stood with his hands behind his back at the center of the chamber. His long, sleek brown hair reached halfway down his chest. He spoke in the local language.

She just shook her head. What in Chandra’s name did he want from her? This man had taken enough from the Isles already. Except he hadn’t even done that yet.

And if she killed him here, he’d never do anything of the terrible things he did. He’d never start the Fourth War. They’d come here for answers, but now they had a chance to save everyone.

Again he spoke, and again she shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

He glared, then nodded. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged her toward a back room. Inside, stuck to the wall was a crystal resembling the one in the Astral Temple, but much smaller. Rahu threw her against the wall by the crystal, then grabbed some kind of cable. He held one cord, then wrapped another around her restraints.

At some order, his men activated a machine in the corner, and gears in the room began to turn. The whirring increased, and Chandi felt a pressure building in her skull. Something was boring into her mind, like a worm crawling through wet mud. The pressure increased until she screamed, then fell to the floor.

And then the whirring stopped, and the pressure faded. She opened her eyes to see Rahu was also on the floor, clutching his skull.

“You …” He shook his head, then rose. “You were seen with him. Tell me where to find him, and you may live, girl.”

How in Rangda’s underworld had he learned her language? That thing had done something to her, to her mind. Would it harm her?

“Where is Kala?” Rahu demanded.

Chandi swallowed, then shook her head. Even if she was willing to hand over Kala—and she wasn’t, despite herself—Naresh was with him. She struggled to her feet. This was turning into a really bad day.

“He’s going to kill you,” she said.

“So he will come here for you.” Rahu tapped his lip with one finger. “Are you his woman?”

Would it make it better or worse if Rahu thought she was with Kala? But the man must have read her hesitation.

“Perhaps not, but you wish you were.” He spoke to the others then, in his own language.

Clockworks dragged her up the stairs, then out onto a balcony. Outside, in the smoky air, she could still make out the fires burning throughout the city. A building to the north exploded, pieces falling into the sky.

A woman sneered at her, locking a chain to her restraints. Then she pushed Chandi off the balcony.

Chandi drew her Potency Blessing just as the restraints jerked taught. It was probably all that kept her shoulders from being yanked out of their sockets. Her hands were behind her, so she could do nothing but hang from the chain, suspended ten feet off the ground.

Pain was already building in her arms and shoulders. She was bait, but Chandra alone knew how long it would be before Kala learned of her situation. If he did. If he cared.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-EIGHT

Naresh’s feet almost fell out from under him when he stood. Someone had patched his wounds, and even his ribs seemed to have healed—mostly. But he felt so weak. The room was dark, so it took a moment before he noticed the man sitting in the corner.

He knew those crystal blue eyes.

“Semar? How are you here?”

The Igni stepped into the light, but he’d changed. His hair was a bit longer, his clothes like the locals, and even his skin tone had shifted a little. But it had to be Semar. It was still the same eyes, still the same face.

“Naresh. There are many things you do not yet understand. And here I go by Nairyosangha.”

The door drifted open. Kala stood there, though he didn’t come in the room. “Your wife has been taken by Rahu.”

“Where are we? How did I get here?”

Semar folded his arms. “This is Vidyunmali, one of the Tripura cities. I’m told your wife brought you here after you were injured.”

Naresh took a step forward, then felt nauseous. It faded as Kala backed away.

“Where is she?” Naresh said.

“On the Hall of the Triumvir,” Kala said. “You go and save her, while I keep Rahu’s forces occupied.”

Rahu was here? Naresh shook his head. He didn’t have time to worry about that now. If Chandi was in danger, that was all that mattered. Kala disappeared out the front door, and Naresh followed a moment later. He glanced back at Semar.

And now she was in danger. Naresh couldn’t afford to waste time. Nothing would harm Chandi. Nothing.

“Are you coming?”

The man nodded, once, then followed.

Outside, Semar pointed down the street, and Naresh trod down it. He needed to save his sunlight, if he could. Not enough made it through the thick smoke blanketing the sky, and he’d rather not pay the price of using his Blessings to refill the Sun Brand.

“You followed us here?” Naresh said.

“No, Naresh. I was already here.”

So Semar had come through the Astral Temple before he arrived. But that didn’t make sense. The Tianxians had guarded it, and he had seen Semar just before he came to join them.

“You’ve traveled to another era of the world,” Semar said, as if in answer to his unspoken question. “I never met you before today, before … Kala … came to tell me you needed my help.”

Naresh blew out a breath. Another thing he had no time to consider.

The sounds of fighting echoed ahead. Not just fighting, but a full-blown war. Kala had torn through the ranks of the Clockwork Soldiers like a force of nature. His every attack carried him out of the way of another’s blow. It was like he knew everywhere his enemies would strike. And his strength was like nothing Naresh had ever seen. Not even his own new powers made him that strong.

Keris in hand, Naresh waded into the remains of Rahu’s army. He cut down five men before he saw Chandi hanging from the building by her hands. In an instant he Strode to the balcony.

“Chandi!”

“Naresh,” she said weakly, straining to look up at him.

He pulled her up by the chain, then unhooked it. Some kind of manacles bound her wrist. He drew his Blessings and jerked her arms apart, snapping the chains. Chandi fell into his arms, and he held her tight, ignoring the shouts of advancing soldiers for a moment. He ought to kill them all. Let them all burn, let this place be finished. Kala was right to tear this corruption from the sky.

But he’d risk Chandi if he remained. Instead he Strode with her back to the city, back to where Semar waited.

Chandi shut her eyes, leaning against his chest. “I knew you’d come for me.”

“Always.”

“Rahu is still alive here,” she said. “If we kill him here, he’ll never come to the Isles. We’re in the past—a long time in the past, I think.”

He held her at arm’s length to look into her gaze. “Semar said the same thing.”

“Semar?” She looked up then, finally noticing the Igni in the shadows. She shoved Naresh away and advanced on the man. “You! Haven’t you caused enough harm? What in Rangda’s frozen underworld are you even doing here, priest?” She moved to slap him, but he stepped back quickly, hands up.

“You seem to blame me for things I have not yet done. I understand, it’s hard not to. But you have to accept the reality of the situation you find yourself in, child.”

“I am not a child, Semar!”

“Then don’t act like one.” The Igni started back down the path away from the Hall.

“Wait,” Naresh called. Surya, if this was all real, if they were really in the past, then maybe they could change things. If Rahu and Kala never came to the Skyfall Isles … There would be no Fourth War. Then he would never have met Chandi. He looked at his wife. Could he give her up to save the world?

But it was more than that. Kala chased Rahu to the Isles, where Rahu arranged Ketu’s marriage with Simhika. Chandi would never be born. If he disrupted the timeline further, there was no telling what would happen to his world.

“Kala!” Naresh shouted.

The man ripped the head off a Clockwork Bear and flung it at a soldier, bowling him over. He glanced back at Naresh’s call, and returned to the edge of the battlefield.

“I have her now,” Naresh said.

Kala glanced at him. “Then go! Rahu’s madness must be ended. His life is forfeit.”

If Kala killed Rahu here then neither of them would ever come to the Isles. If Rahu died here, Chandi wouldn’t be born. And Kala didn’t kill him here, because he chased him to the Isles. He killed him in Kasusthali. Kala had come here trying to do the very thing Chandi had wanted to do.

“Help us fight Rangda,” Chandi said. “She walks the world, but you could help us stop her.”

Kala might be able to face her … To spare Naresh the burden. But if he came now, he wouldn’t chase Rahu into the future. And Chandi would be gone. Naresh grabbed his wife’s arm. “He can’t.”

“Naresh is right, I must stop Rahu. The future depends on it.” Kala took off running then, tearing through the soldiers.

“Why, Naresh?” Chandi asked. “He could have been a huge boon to us. Maybe even told us how to use the Temple against Rangda.”

Naresh pulled her behind him, trying to catch his breath. This had taken too much out of him. He’d lost so much blood. “If he doesn’t chase Rahu through the gateway to our time then you’d never be born.”

“You—wait, what?”

“Think about it,” he said, continuing to pull her along. Dizziness threatened to consume him, and he had to steady himself along the bridge rail.

Semar stood ahead, waving them on.

“Rahu has to come to the Isles, and for that to happen, Kala has to push him to the brink here. But why did it take twenty-five years for Kala to follow?”

Semar ushered them forward. “What makes you think it did? Time is funny that way. For him, maybe only a few moments had passed between now and when you encounter him again.”

In the Academy, his philosophy teachers had theorized that in changing a single a moment in time, you’d change everything that followed. Because all of history must have been built upon itself. They had to get out of this time before they risked unmaking the world they knew. No matter how bad it had gotten, Naresh could not imagine a world without Chandi in it.

“We need to get back to the Astral Temple.”

“The way to the Time Chamber is guarded,” Semar said. “We’ll need to take another route.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-NINE

“There,” Semar said, indicating the airship docks. “You need to board one and take it back to the Tripura Device and the Time Chamber. Rahu’s forces have retaken control of it, so you’ll need to move quickly.”

The entire city rocked in the wake of another explosion. Naresh frowned and looked to his wife. This place was falling apart around them.

“We can’t fly one of those,” Chandi said.

Semar looked over his shoulder, as if watching for something else in the city. Kala, perhaps. The man shook his head, then turned back to Chandi. “I’ll do it for you. Just hurry.”

The dock was swarming with Clockworks, and Naresh didn’t have the strength to fight them all. He was still weak from blood loss, and until he’d rested … but they didn’t have time for that.

“Chandi, I don’t know if we can take a ship anyway,” he said.

She patted him on the shoulder. “We can.”

She ran down the bridge and leapt at one of the Clockwork Soldiers. She caught its head between her legs and twisted, flinging it off the bridge. She rammed a foreign knife through the head of another, causing it to spin around randomly, flailing its limbs in the air.

Naresh Strode beside her and shoved another Clockwork backward. He moved to grab Chandi, but noticed she was staring at the ground. It was stone, unlike most of the rest of the city, and someone had carved a pair of deep, concentric circles into it. On the inner ring of the circles were smaller circles, each bearing a Glyph, much like the rings inside the lowest level of the Astral Temple.

Clockworks advanced on them. Naresh grabbed his wife and Strode to the base of a ship. A rope secured it to the dock, and a gangway ran up to a door leading inside the ship. Chandi nodded at him, then rushed up the gangway. Thuds echoed inside, then Naresh Strode back to Semar.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the priest, then Strode back to the ship.

Semar ran up the gangway, and Naresh cut the rope holding the airship in place before following. Semar helped him raise the gangplank, then led him toward the bridge. The hold was littered with unconscious bodies. Chandi had done her work well.

The bridge featured large glass windows and a wheel much like a traditional ship. Naresh didn’t understand the meaning of any of the other gears or dials on the thing, but Semar seemed to. After the man adjusted a few, the ship lurched forward.

“This is Jonggrang Temple,” Chandi said at last.

“What are you talking about it?” Naresh had never seen the place, but he knew it was on Suladvipa, not in some floating city in the sky.

Chandi swallowed and turned to him, though she didn’t seem to see him. “The gods … the gods of the stars and sun and moon cast a rock from the heavens into the endless ocean of the Earth. Sea algae covered it and the rock became the Skyfall archipelago.” Her fingers slipped into his hand, though she still seemed to be looking past him. “The rock fell from the sky. The sky fell. The Skyfall Isles.”

“If cities fell from the sky it would …”

“It would be the end of an era,” Semar said from the wheel. “The last, desperate breaking of corruption. The arresting of decay by excising it, even if some healthy tissue was lost with it.”

Naresh had seen the city. It stretched for miles and miles. He couldn’t even imagine the level of catastrophe if this place fell.

A sudden dryness filled his throat, and he had to support himself on a console. Not if. When. Chandi was right. The Tripura cities would become the Skyfall Isles.

The end of this era of the world would lay the foundations so that one day, people would come to the Isles. They’d build temples to the gods, staring in wonder at the works of Tripura and call them divine. They would build the Astral Temple on the ruins of the Time Chamber.

“It’s what keeps the city aloft,” he said. “The same thing that Ketu used to create the eclipse and the cyclones. This Tripura Device you spoke of. What would happen if it were disrupted or destroyed?”

“It would release the harnessed energy, probably enough to destroy the complex,” Semar said.

It wasn’t a weapon at all. These people had used it to defy the laws of nature and lift cities among the clouds, from which they could rule the world.

“We’re nearly there,” Semar said. “Can you teleport us through the glass?”

Teleport. The man must mean the Sun Stride. He nodded. He could go anywhere he could see. With one hand on Chandi and the other on Semar, he Strode to the top level of the Astral Temple—or the place that would become the Astral Temple.

Chandi flung that foreign knife, catching a man in the chest. The soldier dropped his hand Fire-Lance and collapsed to the ground. Naresh Strode to another and cut him down. Chandi rushed past him and disabled three more, then threw open the hatch and leapt down it.

“The Time Chamber needs to be calibrated,” Semar said.

“Just do it.” Naresh grabbed the priest and Strode them both down to join Chandi.

She swept the legs out from under one soldier and caught another with a joint lock on his wrist. Her sudden twist snapped the man’s bones and sent him screaming to his knees.

Semar paused only for a heartbeat before hurrying off to the Time Chamber.

“So is this what you expected to find through the gateway?” Chandi said.

“Uh, no.”

It answered so many questions, though. At last he had begun to understand Rahu, and even Semar and Kala. A foreign king, driven from the distant past. They had all come from here and brought wonders and horrors in their wake. If not for them, Chandi wouldn’t exist, so he couldn’t hate any of them. Not really.

But Rangda was still there, ravaging his world. And no one here could help them, not now. It was in his hands. Maybe it had always been in his hands. He’d turned from the responsibility every chance he’d been given. Every day since the fall of Kasusthali, he’d refused to be the leader Semar had asked him to be. What had the man known? Semar’s past self had witnessed the power Naresh had now, so he must have known all along he would take the Amrita. He would become what he had become.

And the priest had tried for so long to shape a leader. A warrior.

The man returned from the Time Chamber and nodded. “Go quickly. Others will be here soon. Your own era needs you, does it not?”

Chandi glared at the priest as she passed him. Naresh shrugged. All of this had become too complicated for him to place the blame on any one person’s shoulders.

He followed his wife back into the Time Chamber. She’d already jumped onto the pedestal by the astrolabe. Naresh shut the door and joined her.

“I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

She kissed him, then turned on the machine again.

PART FIVE

1197 AP

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY

The Astral Temple shook almost as soon as the waters receded. Naresh grabbed Chandi and Strode back to the door.

“It didn’t work?” she said. “Are will still in Tripura?”

Naresh threw open the sliding panel. The pillars had returned, but no one was down there.

“Where are they?” Chandi asked.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and Naresh ran to the ladder. Even as he reached it, a scream echoed from above. A heartbeat later the shriek of a leyak tore at his mind. He grit his teeth.

He scrambled up the ladder, past the second level, and into the bowl at the heart of the temple. A moment ago he’d stood in this same place, flying through the sky. A moment ago, and Surya knew how many hundreds or thousands of years had passed in between.

Night had fallen. Blood splatters covered the pillars and streamed down into the bowls. Leyaks fed on the Tianxian soldiers, though some of the demon heads lay fallen with crossbow bolts in them, as well. Where were Landi and Ben? And Pohaci, or Tua Pek Kong? Naresh Strode to a leyak and cut it down. He drew his Blessings to refill the Sun Brand. He had no choice now.

“Sweet Chandra,” Chandi said as she came up behind him. “We’re too late. This place has already fallen.”

Only a handful of the Tianxian soldiers remained alive. Naresh Strode to one and killed the demon attacking him, running his blade through its skull. Another and another he killed, but the demons were everywhere.

Naresh’s breath came in ragged gasps. He wasn’t strong enough for this right now. He stumbled to his knees. “Landi, the others …”

A moment later, Chandi was at his side, pulling him up. “They’re not here. We can’t fight all these demons. Not now.”

“We cannot lose this place, Chandi. You know what it is.” But his sword trembled in his grasp.

A leyak dove at Chandi and she punched it square in the nose. The crunching sound was sickening, but the way the demon flopped on the ground almost made Naresh laugh. Almost.

“Your Tianxian allies are dead,” she said. “The Temple is already lost. We have to go, we have to find the others.”

“No, we have to finish these leyaks ourselves.” His tightened his grip on the sword and drew his Blessings harder. They gave him strength, let him block out pain, but they didn’t stop the dizziness that threatened to topple him over.

Still he fought as the demons dove at them. He cut the entrails from one, Strode and cut another out of the air, and Strode back to the ground as Chandi stomped on a demon head.

“If Rahu or Rangda are here,” he said. He tried to rise, but his knees gave out. He’d pushed himself too hard since his injury.

Chandi yanked him up. “Come on, Naresh! We have to go!”

“We can’t.” If Landi had died to protect this place … Or Ben, or Tua Pek Kong? No.

More leyaks swarmed the air above them. Hundreds, at least. Maybe more than he could fight even uninjured.

“Get us out of here!” Chandi shouted.

Naresh groaned, then Strode atop the wall, taking Chandi with him. From there he could see a dhow, out on the sea. The flash of its Fire-Lances against the night sky highlighted it.

With a hand on Chandi’s shoulder, he Strode them both to that dhow. It took him a moment to recognize the Jin Laut. The Jin Laut … “How?” Naresh asked to no one in particular.

Crewmen ran about the ship, scurrying in the midst of a battle. Chandi’s support alone kept him from falling when the ship swayed with the waves.

A heartbeat later Landi ran toward his side. “Naresh! Thank Surya. Ben, time to go!” A crude bandage hung from her left shoulder, and dozens of cuts covered her face and arms.

“You’re alive,” he said.

Chandi left him with Landi and took off toward Pohaci. Good the werecrocodile was here, too.

“What happened?” he asked. “How long were we gone?”

“A couple of weeks. We had to abandon the Temple a few phases back. We didn’t want to leave without you. Naresh, there’s no time.”

Tua Pek Kong was on the bridge with Ben, shouting at a small handful of his crossbowmen. They fired at enemy dhows. A ragged scar ran down the admiral’s face, seeping blood.

A chill settled on Naresh’s heart. They had failed. They had lost the Astral Temple. And if Rangda knew how to use it, they had even lost the Time Chamber. Perhaps it should have concerned him that his greatest fear was no longer the Demon Queen possessing the Tripura Device. But compared to controlling time, controlling cyclones was a small thing. He’d failed his people, his world. He’d claimed the power of the gods and failed to use it. What a fool he’d been to think he could stop all this.

“Ben, go!” he shouted, then slumped against the gunwale. Chandi rushed back to his side and helped him up.

Dewi Kadita stood at the bow. As a swarm of leyaks flew toward the ship, she raised her arms and a wall of water engulfed them, dragging them into the sea.

“Ah, my friends and dears and loves,” Ben said, “we’re rather in the middle of a fight. I can’t just wave my arms and make the ship fly away.”

“Loro!” Pohaci shouted from the poop deck.

Dewi Kadita looked back, then a surge of waves hefted the Jin Laut up and flung it forward at unnatural speed. The sudden movement knocked Naresh from his feet and he slipped along the wet deck until Chandi grabbed him and pulled him into her arms.

He let her guide him into the forecastle, and collapsed into a berth. Sleep took him almost immediately, and he dreamed again of stars and the moon and the sun. And he dreamed of flames consuming the earth, of flying cities crashing into the sea and barren rocks, throwing clouds of dust into the air.

It seemed only a few breaths he slept, but when Chandi shook him awake, morning had come. “They’re waiting for you.”

Of course they were. They always were. Naresh wasn’t sure how he’d found himself in this role, but perhaps he’d run from it too long. “Water.”

Chandi brought him a goblet, and he drank, then followed her up the companionway.

Ben, Landi, Pohaci, Dewi Kadita, and Tua Pek Kong all stood on the poop deck above. The Tianxian was the worst of them. He had a bandage around his head now, covering one eye. Landi and Ben looked ragged, covered in cuts and bruises, and barely able to stand. Only Pohaci seemed strong and hale, perhaps because her nature had already healed her.

They watched him, watched his every step. They weren’t judging him, they were awaiting him. They waited for someone to save them. A light rain fell on them, and though the sun had risen, the sky was dark with clouds.

He joined them above, then took Chandi’s hand. “She told you what we found beyond the gateway?”

Landi nodded. “Kertajaya sent this ship to aid us, along with word he raises an army on Suladvipa. Things turned bad the day before you returned. But the king will stand with us.”

Good. At long last Kertajaya had seen his duty. Naresh prayed it wasn’t too late.

“Pohaci, what of the Jadian?”

The werecrocodile leaned against the gunwale, watching the group, yet somehow aside from it. “Some have joined Kertajaya. The rest fight to defend Swarnadvipa from leyaks. Yawadvipa is completely lost.”

Naresh nodded. It would have to do. He couldn’t well demand the Jadian abandon their homeland, though if they didn’t stop Rangda, perhaps none of it would matter. “Admiral? How many of your men are left?”

“Counting myself, seven.”

Seven.

“Sweet Chandra,” Chandi said.

Seven men out of his Tianxian army. Maybe if he’d been here … “Loro?”

Dewi Kadita, or Loro given the voice, drifted over. Her body looked as worn as his felt. “I protected this ship as best I could. I can do little else, especially on land. I was … weakened after my last battle with Rangda. I cannot face her now, if I ever could.”

Naresh nodded. They had all been pushed to their limits. But they would not break. They would not fail. “We need to go to Pottala.”

“Naresh, no,” Chandi said. “Not again, please. You cannot trust Semar. He knew so much of what was going to happen. He was there, in Tripura, where this all started. He could have prevented this, and you still want to run back to him?”

“I’m not convinced of how much he knew or what he could have prevented,” he said. “And it doesn’t matter. What’s happened has happened.” He might have had a chance to change the past, but the price was too high. And he’d lost that chance now. “I sent for Semar. I want to find him before he tries to come here. We need him, Chandi. We need his Firewalkers.”

And Naresh needed his wisdom.

Semar had known things. He’d been shaping Naresh from the first moment they met. He’d known disaster would come for the world. Maybe he’d helped bring it about, or maybe he’d just tried to make sure Naresh was ready to face it when it came. Either way, Naresh needed to know what he knew.

“Ah, Naresh,” Ben said, “we can go to Suladvipa. Rather quickly with Dewi’s help—she works fast, after all—but if we run from Rangda, when do we stop running?”

“Soon.” Very soon. Naresh needed to regain his strength. He needed to see Semar one more time, to ask him if there was another way out. But there wasn’t much time. Leyaks were covering the Isles and the Temple had fallen.

Soon, he would have to face Rangda. All these preparations, all the armies he could gather, would only serve to occupy her forces. Because the truth was, he had to fight her alone. If even Nyai Loro Kidul couldn’t stand against Rangda, he could never let any of the others risk their lives.

He had made himself the avatar of two gods so he could stop Rangda.

He would not back down.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-ONE

The Jin Laut drew near Pottala, following the river. Why wouldn’t Naresh listen to her? They had no way to know what else Semar might be lying about, or withholding. And yet, Chandi’s husband had come to rely on the Igni. Maybe it was her fault, for being away from him so much last year. Maybe if she had never gone off seeking Nyai Loro Kidul—but then the goddess wouldn’t be by their side now.

Dewi Kadita appeared in control, most of the time. Why the sea spirit allowed the human vessel so much reign, Chandi didn’t know, but it seemed like a good thing. Except for the mooneyes the woman kept making at Ben, which Landi probably did not appreciate.

Today, when the rains had broken, Chandi had seen the sun for the first time in a long time. It wouldn’t last, but for the moment, she enjoyed the warmth on her face, and the reflection off the river.

“Tie her off,” Ben told his crew. “Best we go on foot from here.”

Naresh stepped up beside her and took her hand. “It will be well, Chandi.”

She sighed. How could anything be well again? Their whole world was falling apart. They had lost so much already, and maybe they’d all be dead within the week. Still, she walked with him down the gangway and into the village.

Semar awaited them on the edge of the village, hands behind his back. He wore an unadorned black baju and his eyes sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.

“We seek sanctuary,” Naresh said. “We need time to recover.”

“And you think this village can shelter you from the wrath of Rangda?” Semar asked. “You have my sanctuary, for what it’s worth, but I think you’ll find little solace here.”

Of course they wouldn’t. How could they, knowing how brief the respite would be? Soon, very soon Naresh would confront Rangda. He would kill Ratna, or whatever was left of her. Or the Demon Queen would kill him.

No!

Chandi wouldn’t allow herself to think it. She couldn’t consider such a thing.

“Meet me behind our house later,” Naresh said. “I need some time to think.”

Probably about the same things she thought of, but she couldn’t blame him for seeking solitude for a moment. Chandi kissed her husband, and he wandered off, as did the others. Landi and Ben held hands, walking toward the wet rice fields beyond the village.

But Semar just stood there, unmoving, watching her. Asking for it. Chandi sauntered over to him.

Then she slapped him. “Bastard.”

After rubbing his jaw for a moment, Semar sighed. “What is it you think you know, Chandi?”

“I think I know you’ve lied to me, misled us, trapped Naresh. You were from Vidyunmali?”

“No.”

“Then what on Chandra’s dark side were you doing there, Semar? Are you ever going to tell me the whole truth?”

“No.”

That was surprisingly direct. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with an answer like that. She could slap him again. She dismissed the idea. It would only make her feel better for a moment, and he was sheltering them.

“I haven’t trapped Naresh,” Semar said, after a moment. “I’ve only shown him possibilities. His choices are still his own, even if he feels compelled to make them. But then, your choices were your own, too, Chandi. Did I ever once force your hand? Did I tell you what steps to take?”

“No! You just made it look like a fool’s path would lead to salvation.” Chandi caught herself balling up her fists and almost smiled. Naresh was rubbing off on her.

“We haven’t lost salvation yet. Things did have to happen, it’s true. An era of the world is ending, but you can still choose how it ends. The Skyfall dynasties have fallen. The whole South Sea is in chaos. If you do not stop Rangda here, that chaos will spread beyond, to engulf all the Earth. But hope remains, even in our darkest moments.”

Chandi bit her lip and folded her arms about herself. Of course hope remained. It had to. She wouldn’t give up, and she wouldn’t run away. It had gotten her nothing in her life. Besides, there was nowhere to run now.

“An era is ending …” she repeated. “Like the Tripura Era ended.”

“Yes.”

“And you stood by and let it happen.”

“You mistake me,” the Igni said. Assuming he even was an Igni. “The era would end no matter what happened. Corruption and chaos is not a sustainable state.”

Choose how it ends, he’d said. Chandi nodded. That’s what he’d done, wasn’t it? He’d tried to orchestrate the ending of that age, just as he’d tried to arrange it here. What was the purpose of toppling the Solar and Lunar Empires? Couldn’t all of this have been avoided?

Chandi shook her head, walking away. To dwell on what might have happened was madness. She was trapped with the world the way it was, and this was the truth she had to face.

A gnawing hunger clawed at her mind. But she didn’t need the Amrita. Not anymore. It was a ball with a lock. And she controlled the river. The hunger receded. It didn’t vanish, but she could control it.

She drifted through the village, at last coming to rest behind the house Semar had given Naresh. He wasn’t there yet, so she kicked a few rocks around, bouncing one between her feet like a Sepak Takraw ball. Ben and Landi had played the Solar sport in Cenrana, what seemed a lifetime ago. A simple life, happy in their little village. They had been happy, though she’d let petty disturbances like what Solars thought of her ruin hers.

And now, Chandra, she’d give almost anything to go back to those days.

“Chandi,” Naresh called.

She spun around, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Something soft fell on her head. She brushed her fingers through her hair, and an orchid petal, brilliant pink, fell from it. Another drifted over her ear. She looked up, then. Naresh stood on the roof, and at her gaze, began to shower her with the petals. Soft as silk, they brushed her skin and fell over her like sweet rain.

Chandi laughed, spinning around and closing her eyes, until she felt Naresh’s arms around her waist. His warm lips brushed her neck and she shuddered.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you.” His voice was deep, pained. “Forever.”

Chandi leaned back against his chest and wrapped her own arms around his, stroking his wrist with her fingertips. “You’re still trying to decide what to do?”

“Everyone looks to me now.”

“Because of who you are,” she said.

“Who am I?”

“I guess you have to decide that yourself.” She clasped his hands. “When I was looking for the answer, I prayed at Jonggrang Temple. It’s peaceful, and not far from here. Maybe you should go.”

He was quiet for a time. At last he released her and turned her around, then kissed her. “I will, then. I’ll meet you back here tomorrow.”

Chandi laughed. “You plan to get there and back in a day?”

Naresh smiled, just a little. “I can Sun Stride as far as I can see now. And on a clear day, I’ll be able to see the ruins from up in the sky.”

Chandra, he was serious. Chandi realized her mouth hung open, so she shut it. He could really travel across miles and miles now. As far as the eye could see. She shook her head and smiled. “So how about I come with you?”

Her husband drew her close and held her for a moment. “I need to be alone, to think.”

Chandi sighed. Of course, she’d known that. “Go with the speed of the dawn.”

Naresh cocked his head at her use of the Solar expression, then kissed her once more, and was gone. His mother had said that to her when she left to save Naresh from Bukit. And she’d succeeded.

Chandi walked through the village alone, stopping by some children. “Can I borrow that?” she asked one. The child gave her the ball, and she went out to find Ben and Landi.

They’d returned to the village and were standing under a tree, talking. Landi’s arm was still bandaged, but the cuts on her face had scabbed over.

Chandi tossed the ball to Ben, who caught it.

“Ah, Chandi, you really think now is the time for games?”

The world could end tomorrow. Now was all that remained.

“Yes, I think now is the perfect time. Get Pohaci and let’s make some teams.”

Ben laughed, and even Landi smiled. “In that case, my dear, no powers.”

“I don’t need them to beat you, Captain,” she said.

Some of the villagers joined the game, too. By the end of it, Chandi had lost track of the score. But since everyone was smiling and laughing, she considered it a victory.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-TWO

The rains came again in the evening. They were clean and cool, and though it chilled him, Naresh remained out in them. He had walked among the ruined temples of Jonggrang for a phase. He’d seen the broken circle at its heart, where a crack had split it. Chandi was right. The place had once been part of Tripura. So odd, to think that countless ages ago it had flown through the sky.

It had fallen here, and Surya-knew how long later, people had come and thought it built by gods. Human memory was so fragile, so limited. How many times had civilizations risen and fallen, before what had been became lost in the mists of time?

And everyone looked to him to fix this. He fell to his knees in the center of the circles and let the rain wash over him. He had taken this upon himself. He had taken to Amrita because he needed the power of two dynasties to fight the darkness consuming the world. Because he had to save Chandi from it.

The cool rain had plastered his hair to his face and his shirt to his back, but still he couldn’t make himself stand. Instead he spread his arms to the sky, welcoming the torrent. Lightning flashed above, and thunder rumbled. He had called himself the Avatar of Night and Day. It was what he had become.

People called him the Whale Lord, and he had embraced it to destroy the Witch-Queen. And they called him the Radiant Prince. He was the son of the Radiant Queen. He was the last of the Arun Guard. He was the only one to ever bear the Sun Brand and Moon Blessings, both.

So how could he turn away from the things people needed of him?

He couldn’t.

He shut his eyes against the pounding rain.

Semar had tried to tell him, way back then. He’d brought him up into the mountains. The priest had spoken of waterfalls. The river was turbulent until, after so many bends, it became calm again. Semar was talking about the world. It had to pass through the tribulations to find peace. Like the waters, it was all a cycle, an endless cycle. Sometimes it fell from the sky, sometimes from the mountains, and sometimes it flowed calmly back to the sea.

People called him the Radiant Prince.

He remembered the words of his fevered dreams, though her voice was lost. Who are you, his mother had asked him.

He was the Radiant Prince.

A roar ripped from his throat. This was his world to protect. Rangda would not take any more from it. There was no more running from his destiny, no more fear.

Naresh stood and Strode into the sky. Wind and rain tore at his clothes, but he Strode again and again in an instant. A matter of heartbeats, and he found himself kneeling in the center of Pottala village.

He rose.

“Semar!”

A moment later the fire priest exited the Shrine of Sacred Flame. He walked into the rain and joined Naresh at the heart of the village. Others had begun to gather, too. He smiled at Chandi as she moved to his side.

“Much has been asked of you,” Semar said.

“Much has,” Naresh agreed. “Will you follow me?”

Semar bowed.

Naresh turned, taking in the rest of the circle. Even Kertajaya was here now, the king watching him intently.

He drew his Blessings and flared the Sun Brand, setting his eyes aglow as he took in everyone’s gaze. “Will you follow me?”

One by one, everyone bowed. The whispers had begun again. The Radiant Prince. He had run from those whispers for too long. After a long pause, Kertajaya knelt before him. Even Chandi started to go to her knees, but Naresh grabbed her arms and pulled her up beside him.

“We will end this,” he said. “I am the scion of sun and moon, and we will end this.”

“But Naresh,” Semar said, rising. “There are three dynasties of the Skyfall Isles. You must complete the circle.”

Naresh shut his eyes for a heartbeat, then turned to the priest. The man was asking him to become a Firewalker. Now, after so much time. Of course, now. Because now he was ready. Now there was no more time.

“Yes, Semar. There are three dynasties.”

“And the Ratu Adil must represent them all,” the Igni said. At that, he ordered his people to fill a pit with burning coals.

Naresh stared across the village while its people gathered.

An energy ran through him. This was going to hurt. A day of rest had done him a world of good. He healed faster now. Maybe his feet would heal, too. But this was really going to hurt.

Chandi squeezed his hand while he watched the Ignis. “You shouldn’t do this.”

“I have to.” Semar was right. He had to represent all the people. And he needed any edge against Rangda he could gain.

And his wife stood by his side, holding his hand while the fire was lit.

The flames rose off the coals half a foot into the air. The rainfall created a haze of steam over the pit, but wasn’t enough to extinguish the fires. Ignis did this to become Firewalkers, even boys not old enough to shave. They survived the pain and fear. Naresh had to face it, too.

Semar stood on one side, holding the sacred brazier. He beckoned to Naresh, who stepped up to the edge of the pit.

“Naresh …” Chandi said.

He squeezed her hand. So little time remained. Rangda would be at the Temple soon, if she wasn’t already. Her people—her demons—had taken it. Next to the dying world, his pain wouldn’t matter. Looking down at the pit, for one moment, he considered backing away. Then he stepped onto the burning coals.

Agony shot through his feet and he screamed. His skin was blistering and peeling, but forward he walked through the flames. Two more steps. And then two more.

A fire began to build within him. The burning in his feet ran up his spine and collected behind his eyes. And through it, through the pain and consumption raged an inferno before him, all around him. The fires of Kahyangan engulfed him, and he became part of them. A blasted landscape of volcanoes and rivers of magma became his world. And in that world, figures emerged. Like people, but their bodies were flame.

At their head stood a giant whose eyes were smoldering pits. Heat washed over him, but the giant held his gaze. Agni … The Fire God. One of the flame people stepped into him, and filled him. It scorched through his veins and seared his lungs.

Flames poured from his mouth and eyes and ears into a stream that wrapped itself around him. And then it was gone.

At the end of the pit, Naresh stepped out into Chandi’s arms. She had to support him, for his feet wouldn’t. The flames burning them, the flames of the pit, even the brazier went out. Flames licked at his fingertips.

Chandi lifted him up, and Semar put a salve on his feet.

“The circle is complete, Naresh.”

The salve soothed the burning, but Naresh let his wife carry him back to his house. It was funny—as many times as he’d carried her in his arms, he didn’t remember her ever carrying him. She sat him on the cot and he rested.

Outside, the rain had stopped.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-THREE

Flames swirled around Naresh’s hands. When he drew his Blessings, he could feel them—the fires—no matter how far away they were. He could feel the burning heat of magma beneath the surface of the world, eager to escape through volcanic shafts. He could feel the fires of the sun itself, farther away than anyone knew, calling to his Sun Brand.

Far away, on Yawadvipa, his people had fallen. Kertajaya said nothing remained of the Solar homeland. Rangda had taken it all. The heat fed off his growing rage. He could see the Demon Queen before him, burning in the fires of his wrath.

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he released fireball after fireball over the river. Seven, eight exploded in quick succession, creating sheets of flame that blanketed the waterscape. Naresh reached out to the flames of those explosions. He could feel them too, and he shaped them with his hands. He turned those flames into a vortex, a column of fire stretching into the sky. With a push, he sent the column spinning away.

Swarnadvipa was falling to Rahu. Rangda had the Temple. The two days he’d spent in this village may have cost thousands of lives. People died while he waited for his strength to return. Because he had to destroy the leyaks. Because he had to be strong enough. His fists clenched so hard they hurt. He’d burn the world to save it.

Breathe.

He released the twister and it burned up into smoke.

His feet had healed quickly. Perhaps he would always bear the scars, but between Semar’s ministrations and his own nature as a Moon Scion, he could walk without pain after only a few days.

There was a faint presence in his mind now, though. A Fire Spirit. That’s how the Firewalkers worked. They had attuned themselves to such beings, and through them, could affect the flames. The more he used the power, the more the spirit clawed at his mind. Maybe some Firewalkers would break under the strain, become mere puppets to the things within. But Naresh knew the being was there, and somehow he locked it away in a corner of his mind.

Even Firewalkers came back to Kahyangan. They borrowed power mankind was not meant to have, and they’d pay a price for it, too. Just as Naresh paid a price for his power.

He wouldn’t need these powers much longer, anyway. The time had come.

He walked back to the village. It shouldn’t surprise him that half the populace had gathered to watch his display over the river. Anyone within miles must have seen that column of flame. Which was fine. He was done hiding from Rangda.

Chandi stood there, alongside the others, her arms folded over her chest. She was waiting for him. He could see it on her face, she knew.

“I’m going to stop the leyaks,” he said. Before he could face Rangda, he had to clear away her minions. The demons had caused enough harm.

She scoffed. “We’re going to stop them, you mean.”

Naresh shook his head. “No, Chandi. Reports say they have overrun Puradvipa. We’ll never get close to the Astral Temple unless I can diminish their numbers.”

“And you can’t do it alone,” his wife said. “You think I’d let you walk into that without me?”

Naresh tried to smile, but he couldn’t keep the sadness from his face. It would be so easy to take her with him, to keep her by his side. But he alone could face this. “You have to. Chandi, if you’re there, I won’t be able to unleash the full force of these flames. If anyone else was left alive, anyone that could get caught in the blasts, I’d have to hold back.”

“Dammit Naresh, you don’t think I’m just going to stay here and wait, do you?”

No. He didn’t really think that. “You all agreed to follow me. So listen to me now. I have to do this part alone.”

“Fine. Then we’ll stop Rahu.”

He sighed, but Chandi continued before he could speak.

“You can’t focus on Rangda if he’s still around, always threatening to sneak up and destroy you.”

Pohaci took a step forward. “Besides, we have to help Malin.”

“Rahu’s still in Bukit,” Naresh said. “He’s not coming here. And I don’t want you going anywhere near that island.”

“Ah, Naresh,” Ben said, “you don’t get to play the only hero here, you know. The rest of us want some stories to win the girls, too, eh.”

“Oh, really?” Landi said.

Ben shrugged, jiggling his locks. “I was thinking of Pohaci, of course. She probably wants to win a few hearts.”

The werecrocodile turned slowly to look at the captain with narrowed eyes. After a moment, Ben took a step backward, and she smiled. “Rahu has taken Malin. I will not let that stand.”

“And we still have the Jin Laut and the Long Awaited Dawn,” Ben said. “Be a shame not to use such fine ships. I mean, they deserve to go down in legend, too. Just think, the entire crew will have a chance to win the girls with the stories we’ll shape. Naresh, you have no right to deny the hearts of so many desperate men, nor disappoint so many fair ladies.”

“You agree?” Naresh asked Landi.

“What, about winning girls?” she said. “No, not so much. But we do have to deal with Rahu, and if you won’t take us with you to Puradvipa, then Swarnadvipa is where we need to be. If you make a move on Rangda, Rahu will come. You don’t want him at your back.”

Naresh sighed. They were right. It was easy to become so focused on the leyaks and Rangda. But Rahu was out there, too. And if he stopped Rangda, Rahu would still try to take the Temple.

He clapped her on the arm. “Then take care of my wife, Landi.”

She nodded.

Naresh returned to Chandi, who now had her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think I have a better chance of taking care of all of them?”

“Probably. But you’re my moon and stars, love.” He kissed her, and she threw her arms around his neck.

“Go with the speed of the dawn,” she whispered.

“I go to bring us the dawn.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-FOUR

Morning mist covered the Astral Temple and the mountains beyond it. From where he crouched on Astral Shore, Naresh watched the compound. This place that had fallen from the sky and led to such madness. His ancestors had unlocked secrets of the gods and written them on those pillars. Those secrets had given the Isles Moon Scions, the Sun Brand, and Firewalkers.

And now, in Naresh, for the first time, those powers were united. He opened himself to all of them at once. He had lit a bonfire on the beach, and its flames called to him.

Shrieks of the damned echoed through the rainforest. Once such horrid cries would have sent birds to wing, but now, perhaps none remained here. Those people and animals that lived here had fled.

The sun was rising, and the leyaks would have to return to their bodies. In human form, they were still strong, but much slower and easier to fight.

Corpses waddled toward him down the beach. From what he could tell, Rangda raised the dead as minions when she didn’t have time to call leyaks into them. These creatures seemed mindless and soulless. Surya, let them not be suffering in their state.

Naresh rose, keris in hand. It was time to clear the way to the temple. Rangda had been left unchecked here too long. Many of these corpses assaulting him had been his own Tianxian defenders. He could do nothing for them now but end their misery.

He Sun Strode behind one and lopped off its head. He was gone, cutting down another and another before the head had fallen. One grabbed him. He kicked out its knee and hacked into it as it fell.

Men began to rush him from the rainforest. Perhaps they were the leyaks, trapped by daylight in their prisons of flesh. Or perhaps they were simply men in service to Rangda. Naresh didn’t care. They would all burn.

He reached out to the bonfire, encircling his limbs in flame. The first fireball he launched exploded in the face of a charging man, leaving nothing but a charred husk on the ground. The assault faltered for a moment. Naresh launched five more fireballs, catching the men—or leyaks, by those shrieks—in groups where he could.

A corpse got too close, and he cut it down with his keris. He Strode and swept the legs out from under another attacker and rammed his sword through its chest as it fell. An uppercut shattered the jaw of another leyak, cutting off its maddening screams.

Again and again he Strode, killing leyaks with fist and sword and flame. Twenty, thirty fell. Dozens burned, filling Astral Shore with the nauseating smell of cooked human flesh.

And still her armies came on, pouring from the temple and the rainforest.

Naresh turned to face them all. At last. He grit his teeth. They were all coming for him. They came by the hundreds, perhaps by the thousands. Now was the time.

He Strode behind the bonfire and exploded it upward, shaping the raging inferno into a twister, a vortex stretching fifty feet into the sky. Just like he’d practiced. He thrust his hands out before him, sending the flame twister skittering along the beach. The vortex immolated everything it touched, turning sand to glass and leyaks to ash.

Naresh roared from the effort of holding the thing together, much less trying to steer it. He drew his Potency harder, feeding the power to the Fire Spirit he called upon. It was his life force, the same as with the Sun Brand. He was burning his own life away, just as he burned the leyaks.

And it wasn’t enough. He fell to his knees, and the twister winked out into smoke. Hundreds of corpses and leyaks still advanced on his position. It wasn’t enough. He could never stand against Rangda with these creatures in his way.

The flames of earth were not enough to burn away the corruption that grew here.

He stood, slamming his fist into another leyak, breaking its neck. There were greater flames in the universe.

He flared the Sun Brand to its limits. His body began to levitate, hovering above the shore. He could feel the fires of the sun itself. They were out there, if he could only reach them.

He Strode above the Astral Temple and hovered there, drawing his Blessings to the limit. A flare of solar fire leapt from the heavens toward him, wrapping Surya’s warm embrace around him, searing his eyes. The wrath of the Sun God burned through his veins.

Naresh roared, spreading his arms. He glowed like a second sun in the sky. Cascades of flame leapt from his body and scorched the beach below, turning all of Astral Shore into a monument of glass.

He needed more. This would end.

His body had become fire and light and rage.

Naresh clenched his fists.

Then he fell to the earth like a meteorite. Like a falling star, a blaze through the sky. Faster and faster he fell, trailing radiance behind him. In the compound, he could see Rangda. And for one brief moment, it looked like fear washed over her face. Then a dome of ice formed around her.

He impacted atop one of the temples and the force shattered stones, sending them flying in all directions. Star fire erupted from him like a volcano, a billowing cascade of explosions that swept away the temples and the walls and the pillars and hundreds of leyaks.

When he opened his eyes, smoke filled them. What had once been the Astral Temple had become a smoldering ruin. He hadn’t broken the surface, the device would still be below. But the place itself was gone, leaving nothing but rubble.

All the shrieks had stopped. His legs trembled, and he couldn’t quite stand. Breathe.

He shut his eyes again, trying to focus on Chandi. She was waiting for him. He had to get back to her.

He rose, swaying, and waded through the smoke. The wall was gone, and the rainforest beyond had turned to ash. No living thing remained within twenty miles, of that he was certain.

None except for himself, and Rangda. She stumbled through the smoke too, steam hissing off her blue-tinted skin. The flesh on one of her hands had peeled off, and her clothes were scorched, but still she stood, baring twisted teeth at him.

Naresh drew his Blessings, refilling the Sun Brand. More years fled off his life, but there was no turning back.

He Strode behind her and swept her legs out from under her. His fist slammed into her back and sent her flying aside. His next Stride carried him before her, where his kick reversed her momentum.

“You’re going back to the frozen underworld, bitch!” he shouted, and Strode again. But she wasn’t where she should have been.

Instead, she stood by his side. Her laughter echoed off the ruins. “Yes, Naresh. Kill this body. Yours would make a rather wondrous vessel, don’t you think? All that power, combined with my own. Please take this body from me.”

Naresh hefted his keris, but hesitated. That’s what had happened to Malin. Malin killed Rahu, and the ghost took his body next. And if it was true, if Rangda could take his body and then use what he had become … He backed away, the sword slipping from his grasp. It clattered on the smoking stones.

Rangda laughed again, and frost escaped her mouth. “You begin to understand. I am Hel, mortal. I who have existed for eons longer than you can imagine—I cannot die. I have feasted on millions of souls. If you kill me, I just take the next available body. If not yours, there are others on this island. I can reach a hundred miles, two hundred! You have but one choice. Die.”

“No.” He kept backing away. If he couldn’t kill her … He had to be able to stop her somehow.

“Watch your world freeze,” she said, her laughter chilling his spine. “The device will allow me to breach the barrier separating our worlds. The mists of the dead will sweep forth, covering the Earth. My frozen underworld, as you call it, will soon become yours as well. And for all your might, there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

Ice coalesced around her fingers and launched at him before he could react. An icicle pierced his thigh as he Strode into the sky. With the smoke, he couldn’t see far. Which meant he couldn’t Stride far. He Strode again and again, trying to put distance between himself and Rangda.

Frozen projectiles fired through the air, often missing him by a hairsbreadth.

At last, out over the sea, he could spot the clear sky. He Strode straight up, and then away.

Because she was right. There was not a damn thing he could do to stop her.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-FIVE

Soon they would reach Swarnadvipa. Landi had no desire to see the island again, but it was time to finish this. And though she might like to deny it, there was one more person tied up in Pohaci’s perverse love triangle. She used a rope to lower herself over the side of the Jin Laut, so she could place the cursed keris in the sea.

Perhaps Tioman wouldn’t answer. Perhaps the dragon had turned her back on the world. But Landi needed any ally she could find at the moment.

“It’s insane,” Pohaci had said. “The woman tried to kill us last time. We’re alive only because of her.” She pointed at Dewi Kadita. “And now you want to call the dragon again?”

“Dragons are not like other creatures,” Loro said. “Tioman may not be fully a dragon, but she might be close enough the ghost cannot possess her body.”

“You mean if she kills him?” Pohaci demanded. “You want to use her to kill Malin?”

Chandi had interposed herself between them then. “It’s one possibility, Pohaci. One we have to consider.”

And so now Landi hung off the ship, dragging the blade through the water. Her arm had begun to ache, and at last she gave up. “Pull me up.”

When she stood back on the deck, she rolled her shoulders. It had been worth a try. If Tioman had come, maybe she would have helped. The dragon had held her captive for a long time, but in a way, she was like anyone else. Lonely, trying to connect with someone. “Now we need to—”

The dragon’s roar cut her off. The beast flew from the sea, showering her with chilling saltwater. Tioman landed on the deck, folding her coils beneath her and staring at Landi. With red eyes.

Chandi pushed her forward a little. “It’s your call.”

Of course it was up to her. She tried to restrain the urge to glare at Chandi. The woman didn’t mean any harm. Tioman just had that effect on people. Including Landi.

“Rahu is still in Malin,” Landi said to the dragon. “If anyone can get through to him, maybe you can.”

Tioman blew out a puff of air and jerked her head, looking away. The water streaming down her face looked like tears, but Landi knew that was just her imagination.

Damn it, this woman had suffered enough, but she wasn’t making it easy. They needed Tioman, and Landi had to do this. “Whatever happens, we have to get Rahu out of Malin,” Landi said, though she could barely get the words out. And Tioman’s eyes were still red. Landi had to reach her human side, or this could turn very, very bad. “You must have seen that explosion to the east this morning. That was probably Naresh fighting Rangda. Whatever pride you feel, however it may have been offended, if you turn away from this now, it will be too late to rectify it later.”

Tioman turned back to her then, and her eyes changed just before her body began to shrink. Soon she had resumed her humanoid form, though still with turquoise scales. Was she really incapable of returning to her human form, or did she assume this hybrid guise to intimidate people?

“I will reach my husband.”

Landi shuddered. If she didn’t say it … “If you can’t, he’ll have to die.”

Tioman snarled, baring her teeth, her eyes flashing back to red in an instant. “I will reach him! Mine, he’s mine! I will!”

Pohaci took a step forward, but Chandi grabbed her.

Landi watched the other women from the corner of her eye. “We will bring him to you onboard the Long Awaited Dawn, then.”

The dragon growled, then walked to the bow, seeming to soak up the sea spray.

“Their marriage ended decades ago,” Pohaci said.

Landi sighed. “The only way to get him back may be for you to let him go.”

The werecrocodile shook her head. “I’m the one that will get through to him.”

Chandi came up and put her arm around the woman. “Are you sure you’ll be able to get him to follow you?”

Pohaci nodded. “I’ll bring him.”

A shudder ran through Chandi. “If you don’t reach him …”

“I know what has to be done!” Pohaci stalked away.

Landi frowned. They were committed, now. Letting Tioman do this, relying on the dragon for anything, was a gamble no sane person would take. At least not until driven to the extreme bounds of desperation.

They’d reach the shore in a few phases. She retired to the captain’s cabin, though Ben was on the deck above. She was so tired. In truth, she’d grown tired of all of this. Not long ago, she’d thought of retiring from the life of a soldier and returning to her music. Now she found herself burdened with saving the whole damn world.

She lay on her berth and shut her eyes, trying not to think. Kebatinan seemed farther away since her ordeal with Loro than it had in the past. Once, she’d been a master of the meditative techniques. It had made her a natural at the Sun Stride, too. Now, that peace was lost, like so much else.

She’d lost her home, her position, her power, and her sister. Hainuwele had never quite gotten anything right, and dying to save Lang … Landi almost wanted to be angry with her for it. Maybe Hainuwele had felt the same when Ben had told her Landi had died to save him.

She began to drift off to sleep, hearing music in her mind. It was soft, muted, and foreign—Tianxian, perhaps.

Landi sat up. There was no way she’d dream of Tianxian violins.

Out on the deck, Tua Pek Kong stood by the mast, playing the stringed instrument. Chandi sat on the gunwale, blowing on a Tianxian flute in something that vaguely resembled music.

Ben stood nearby, watching Landi and clapping his hands. “Ah, my love, you didn’t think I’d let the day go by without a bit of song and dance, did you? Heroes always have to have a party!” He slapped his hands, stomped his feet, and slid along the wet deck over to her, sweeping her into his arms.

Landi laughed, spinning in Ben’s embrace, and danced about the deck. Other members of the crew had begun to dance as well, or to beat winches or barrels in time with the music. The foreign admiral was pretty good, actually. And Ben had arranged all this for her. Landi kissed her husband after their dance.

The seas had turned turbulent, and a sudden wave almost threw her from her feet. Ben caught them against the gunwale. Landi looked past him at Dewi Kadita, whose entire body trembled in time with the seas. She cocked her head at the woman, and Dewi shuddered. Then something cold washed over her, and she straightened. Nothing had changed, and yet her eyes had become alien. Loro had taken control, and the moment she did, the seas calmed.

Tioman had started over toward the mermaid, but paused. She turned her gaze—yellow eyes, thank Surya—on Landi, watching her and Ben. The dragon’s jaw trembled, and her claws scraped along her frill. Then she spun on her heel and stalked to the bow. Tioman had spent decades alone, thinking her husband lost. Now she found him again, only to learn not only did he love another, but he was possessed by a ghost.

Landi brushed her hair from her face. Nothing she could say to the dragon would make any difference. And she couldn’t afford to join her in misery. Not tonight. Not after Ben had arranged this.

Tua Pek Kong had stopped playing when the dhow jerked, but after a moment, he resumed his song, as did the others.

Landi sauntered over to Chandi. “You’d better give me that before you hurt yourself.”

Chandi flashed a crooked half-smile, then handed her the flute. “He knew you’d want to play if you saw me try.” Of course he did. “You know, you could always teach me.”

Landi smiled too as she sat beside the Lunar. “Someday, when this is over, I will.”

For so many years she’d been perfecting one song, but she didn’t play that now. She played a song of peace, of calm, and of triumph. She played the hearts of the crew, because they needed her to. And by their faces, she played them well.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-SIX

Pohaci crouched over the bodies of two of Rahu’s cronies. Sabdapalon cowered in the corner, covering his head with his hands and mumbling.

“I have no quarrel with you, old man,” Pohaci said, rising. “In fact, you can tell them I was here.”

She didn’t have to risk letting Rahu see her himself. She just needed to make sure word of her arrival got back to him. Luring the fools into the Loghouses was easy enough, but ensuring there was a witness to recognize her had taken a little maneuvering. And a little luck.

She ran directly from the Loghouses through the market and down to the beach, taking the cliff path too quickly to be safe. She needed people to see where she’d gone, but it would be bad if Rahu caught her before she got back to the ship. Her foot slipped on wet gravel and she nearly skidded off the path. Sharp rocks cut her hand as she steadied herself against the cliff.

She leapt the last ten feet off the path and hit the beach running. There was no way she could handle Rahu by herself, so she made a break for the rowboat. This was a stupid plan. She’d do anything to get Malin back, but Rahu was going to kill her before they even reached the dhow. Or maybe he’d choose the damn dragon.

She shoved the boat off the beach and jumped in, pumping the oars with every scrape of strength she could muster.

The Long Awaited Dawn wasn’t far, but when she looked behind her, a jukung was approaching. Malin stood on it, his face a mask of rage and delight all at once. The ship moved without him even tending the sails, and it moved fast. Maybe faster than she could get back to the dhow herself.

Her rowboat began to creak before she reached the Long Awaited Dawn. It sounded like someone sitting on a chair that couldn’t support his weight. A spray of water shot up from between two boards, soaking her. Shit. Pohaci leapt off the side of the boat and swam for the dhow.

A heartbeat later her rowboat splintered like Rahu had crushed it in the palm of his hand. Pohaci dove underwater, swimming as fast as she’d ever swum in human form. They should have done this at night, when she could shift.

Her hand brushed the dhow’s hull and she snared a line, hauling herself up. The hull was slick with water, giving her no footholds, so she had to pull herself up by strength of arm alone. By the time she rolled over the gunwale her shoulders ached.

Tioman stood there, watching her. Bitch could have lent a hand.

Pohaci shook herself and stood. “Enjoying the show?”

The dragon woman shrugged and turned back to watch Malin’s jukung as it pulled up alongside the Long Awaited Dawn. Pohaci watched her lover climb the hull with ease. They were really doing this. Her heart raced, but she held herself still. Always wait for the right moment. She could still save him.

“Husband,” Tioman said.

For a moment, Rahu hesitated, looking at her, then held his head in one hand. A snarl escaped him.

“You know me, my love,” the dragon said. “You made your vows to me. It’s time for us to go home.”

Rahu, or Malin, looked up from his hands, a pained expression on his face. “A lifetime ago …”

“You can have it again.” The dragon took a step toward him and ran her hand along his cheek.

Malin reached out too, stroking her jaw with both hands. Pohaci clenched her jaw. She was going to lose him to this … creature. But it was better than allowing Rahu to have him. If it was what Malin wanted, she owed it to him to see this through. Instead, she fell back, retreating toward the poop deck. If Tioman brought him back, then the dragon deserved him.

And Pohaci would be alone. She’d been alone her whole life. It had been a fool’s hope to believe in anything more.

A sickening crack froze Pohaci in place.

She turned, slowly, to see Tioman’s limp body hanging from Malin’s hands. Her neck was twisted all the way around backward. Her lover dropped the dragon’s body and sneered.

A hollow chill filled Pohaci’s abdomen. Her legs wouldn’t work. Tioman was a dragon. Tioman was … dead. Like kindling snapped in half. How could he have done that to his wife? How could he have done it to a dragon?

“You really thought that would work?” Rahu said to Pohaci. “You think whatever Malin felt for someone, he’d be strong enough to challenge me? I have become a god, little crocodile. And you, I should have killed long ago. I let your father’s sentiments for you cloud my judgment. The foolish mistake of a mortal heart. A situation I have since transcended.”

Tioman’s empty yellow eyes stared at her. Accused her, as if she had been the one bring the dragon in on this. And soon, Pohaci would share Tioman’s fate.

She backed away, up to the poop deck. Rahu followed, his teeth bared. The ghost had taken her love, and she had to accept that she couldn’t get him back. Malin was gone, and she … She’d failed the one person who she’d sworn never to let down. A profound nothingness rose in the pit of her stomach, and only the crocodile spirit within let her keep moving. Maybe now, all that remained was to free him from this torment. She backed into the brazier on the poop deck, lighting the explosive Tua Pek Kong had given her. A little metal ball, filled with black powder. When the wick burned down to the powder, the ball would explode, flinging metal bits everywhere.

Crude, but the demonstration he’d given her had been convincing.

As Rahu crested the stairs, she flung the ball at him. With a wave of his hand he sent the explosive soaring up into the air, where it detonated. He jerked at that, and paused to look up.

“Nice trick. I didn’t think the people of this era had rediscovered that yet.”

And it was done. Everything was finished. Find the right moment, and act without hesitation. Pohaci fell to her knees. “I love you, Malin.” Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes. But crocodiles didn’t cry.

“Oh, he knows,” Rahu said, as he closed the distance between them. Then he choked, coughing, and stumbled down to the deck. He sputtered something incomprehensible.

Pohaci grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back to his feet. “Malin?”

“I love you … too … Pohaci,” he said. His every word seemed pulled from him. He jerked his head from one side to the other. “I can’t … I can’t stop him …” Then he looked up and met her gaze. A softness filled his eyes that she’d never seen there. And in that softness she saw the reflection of her own soul, and for the first time in her life, true peace. “Save me.”

Pohaci nodded, and gently turned his head to the side. Off the port side, the air rippled. The illusion fell away and the Jin Laut appeared.

“This ship is filled with black powder.”

Malin stood straighter then, and he laughed. Loud and clear and free. “Send the bastard back to the underworld.” He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her so hard it took her breath away.

She heard the retort of the Jin Laut’s Fire-Lances, but she just kept kissing Malin.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-SEVEN

Chandi screamed from the effort. She knelt on the deck of the Jin Laut, extending her Glamour around the entire dhow. Once, she never could have done this. The very idea was lunacy, and would have destroyed her mind. But Kala had taught her. She could see her energy, see the river of it flowing through her, flowing into her from the universe itself. She could see the toll of that power, draining at the edges of her mind. She wrapped that lunacy in a ball and allowed the river to flow around it.

Her eyes burned. Her nose bled. Pain flared from her limbs. Her fingers dug into the deck so hard she scored the wood and ripped her fingertips raw.

Chandra, please let Tioman succeed. If the dragon got through to Malin, they would never need this backup plan. Pohaci was her sister. Malin was … Chandi didn’t know what Malin was anymore. But she didn’t want to lose Pohaci. The girl knew what she was doing. But how could Chandi just let her go?

The answer was easy, of course. Love. If Naresh had killed Mahesa, Rahu would be in him now. And Chandi would do the same thing as Pohaci. If the man she loved couldn’t be saved, she would at least end his nightmare.

Ben’s hand fell on her shoulder. His spyglass hung limp at his side. “That was the signal.”

Chandi hadn’t even heard the hand explosive go off. How could she, over the sound of her own screaming? If Pohaci had set off that explosive, it meant she and Tioman had failed. Maybe her sister was dead already.

And yet she couldn’t quite let go. Still she held the Glamour. She didn’t want to lose anyone else.

But Naresh needed her, too. He couldn’t afford to have Rahu come to Rangda’s aid.

She let the Glamour fall, and the air rippled, revealing the ship beneath her. Unconsciousness threatened at the edge of her mind when she let the power go. Maybe that was all that had kept her going.

“Chandi?” Bendurana said.

“Do it.” Her voice was raw from screaming. She forced herself to look up. She had to witness this.

“Fire!” Ben shouted.

Six Fire-Lances rocked then, back-to-back. They were so far from the Long Awaited Dawn, it took a heartbeat or two before anything happened. It felt longer.

And then the other dhow went up in a fireball that must have stretched fifty feet in the air.

Another heartbeat and Chandi heard the explosion, felt the heat. Or maybe she was just flush from the effort. She fell back to the deck and wept.

“Ah, she was a good ship,” Ben said. “Oh. And a good crocodile, too. And Malin … he was a good friend. Occasionally.”

By her side, Chandi saw Landorundun embrace Ben, and both of them shuddered. One of them put a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t look up to see who. It didn’t matter, since she knew they both felt the same.

And what could they say?

Chandra please let this have worked. Let it be enough, let Rahu be far enough away he couldn’t take anyone else. Loro had guessed it would be, but by the way each of the crew looked at one another, they all thought the same thing.

She’d just killed not only her mentor, the man who had saved her life countless times and protected her from childhood, but her own sister. She’d killed Pohaci, even if it had been the other woman’s choice. Pohaci should have been heir to the Lunar Empire, and she was dead. Because she loved a man too much to leave him in torment.

And Chandi would have done the same. She tried to stop crying, but the tears just kept falling. She cried until there was nothing left.

And then Landorundun pulled her to her feet. “We should find Naresh,” Landi said.

Chandi nodded.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-EIGHT

For as long as Landi had known Naresh he’d been reckless, impulsive, and arrogant. And perhaps that had never changed, but he’d harnessed it somehow, and become something more than she ever thought he could have. Something more than she would have thought anyone could have.

When he Strode aboard the Jin Laut, a shout went up among the crew. He looked worn and ragged, but the moment he saw their eyes on him, he stood tall. Landi tried not to let herself be jealous. That had always been her problem. She’d worked so hard to prove herself, but Naresh always seemed a step ahead. When she was chosen as First of the Arun Guard, part of her thought she’d won.

But maybe it had never been a contest. Naresh wasn’t trying to beat her. And now, she wouldn’t want his burden. Not for anything in the world.

Landi leaned back against Bendurana’s chest, taking comfort in his warm hands as they stroked her hair. Everyone was watching Naresh. Even her. He’d never really wanted the attention, not like this, but at long last, she could see he’d accepted it.

He wrapped his arms around his wife and held her as she spoke of killing Malin and Pohaci. That couldn’t have been easy for her. Landi had lost her home not once, but twice … But so had Chandi. Landi knew what it felt like to lose a sister. Whether she and Hainuwele had been close didn’t matter. She was her sister.

And Tioman … Tioman had given Landi her life back. She’d brought her back to Ben, when she should have died. She owed the dragon everything. And she was probably gone now, too.

Naresh nodded when Chandi finished speaking. “But it worked … You were far enough away?”

“That demon is back in the underworld,” Chandi said.

Something Landi couldn’t read passed through Naresh’s eyes, then he shut them and took a deep breath.

Tua Pek Kong walked toward them. “We do not have much time.”

Naresh turned from Chandi and nodded at the Tianxian. “No, we don’t. Less than you know, in fact. Rangda plans to use the Tripura Device to breach the boundaries of her realm in Kahyangan. She claims she can flood the world with the mists of the dead and unleash her world on ours.”

Landi blew out a long breath. She brushed her hair from her face with her good hand, then Ben held her hand tight. Rahu’s people had built a device that could break all the laws of nature. It floated cities, altered the course of the moon, affected the atmosphere. What possible madness possessed them to build such a thing? What arrogance?

But if the device could breach Kahyangan, even if that wasn’t its intent, this thing went beyond madness or arrogance. It would end the world.

“So we have to take the place back from her,” Landi said.

Naresh turned to her. “We have to destroy it.”

“That could be complicated,” Loro said. “And very dangerous. A device of such power is liable to explode if disrupted. There’s no telling how much damage it could cause.”

“Ah, Naresh,” Ben said. “I hate to spoil the party—gods know I love a good party—but you seem to have forgotten the part where the person using this beacon of idiocy is the Demon Queen of the underworld. You know, icy goddess of death, pain, and black magic? Likes to maim, kill, and torture for fun. She might object to us spoiling her little plan.”

Naresh sighed, and looked away. “I know, Ben. I’ll deal with her. I can’t just kill her, though. The same thing would happen to me that happened to Malin.”

“Naresh, no!” Chandi said, grabbing him and spinning him around. They’d had to kill Malin and Pohaci both to free him. Maybe the same would happen to Naresh. And poor Chandi could never accept that. No more than Landi could let go of Ben.

“Chandi … We have to stop her, no matter the cost. This isn’t just about us, or even the Skyfall Isles. She’s going to end all civilizations across the Earth. Mankind will be finished. At best, we’ll be enslaved to the spirits of her frozen domain. At worst, we’ll be wiped out entirely.”

“We cannot allow that to happen,” Tua Pek Kong said. “Whatever forces we have left, we have to direct them at her.”

Naresh held Chandi’s hand, and Landi found herself fumbling to hold Ben’s as well. “Rest tonight,” Naresh said. “Say whatever needs to be said. Because tomorrow, we go to war with a goddess.”

Landi watched Naresh and Chandi descend into the forecastle. No, she didn’t envy him anymore. Nor did she envy Chandi, who had to love the man carrying such a burden.

Ben led her away by the hand, back to their cabin. Naresh had said to say whatever needed to be said.

Looking into Ben’s eyes, she thought they spoke all she ever needed to hear.

Which didn’t stop him from talking all night long.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-NINE

The gale tore at Naresh’s clothes and hair. He’d felt this before, in the cyclone on Suladvipa. The Jin Laut drew near the glass beaches of Astral Shore, but the winds were too high. Every time Ben tried to close, the waves hurled them back out.

With one hand he gripped a line, holding Chandi with another. They’d be lucky not to capsize in this. “We have to get in there!”

“I can’t do anything like this,” Ben shouted from the poop deck.

Naresh could Stride there, but he was going to need help to fend off the leyaks and whatever else Rangda had in store for them. He may have cleared most of her army before, but she would have more.

The black clouds almost obscured the red sky. Almost. As they’d drawn near, something had happened in the air above the Temple. It had swirled into a vortex, opening into a burning crimson abyss. Freezing mists had reached them long before the cyclone winds.

Most of the crew had bundled in extra layers of clothes, but none had the thickness for this kind of chill. They’d need mountain clothes soon. More and more of the fell mists poured from the Temple, so he couldn’t even see it clearly from here.

“Loro!” Chandi shouted. “Do something!”

“Too much power,” the goddess said. “It would burn me out to bring us through this.”

“We don’t have a choice!” His wife was screaming, but even he almost couldn’t make out her words.

Dewi Kadita looked at them, then turned to look at Ben. “I … love you.” Naresh couldn’t see her face, but something passed between them. When she turned back, her eyes were wide and her breaths came in gasps. She tore open her baju and cast it aside.

Then she leapt over the side into the icy sea.

Ben mouthed something Naresh couldn’t hear.

A moment later the winds stilled, and a wave hurled the Jin Laut forward. The waters carried them so high the ship sailed past the edge of the shore and almost crashed into the cliff side. Naresh’s stomach leapt into his throat and he screamed, his grip crushing the gunwale. The prow tore into the glass, crunching it beneath them before the whole bow ruptured. Naresh Strode ashore with Chandi, praying the others would make it to safety.

The dhow toppled onto its side, the mast snapping in half while it skidded along the glass shore. The retreating waters threatened to pull everything back into the sea, but the dhow halted its movement before it got that far.

For a moment, Naresh couldn’t breathe. No one could have survived that. He’d saved Chandi, but the others were still there. He Strode back to the ship. The moment he arrived, he saw most of the crew had jumped off the side as it fell. Some poor souls lay crushed under the weight of it, or torn to shreds by shards of glass.

As he ran looking for survivors, Naresh spotted Ben lying still on the broken glass. No. Ben couldn’t die … Ben was Ben. He’d outlive them all, and then brag about it. He’d …

“Ben!” Landi shouted. She ran to him and fell at his side, and Naresh joined them. Landi grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away from the wreck.

The Serendibian groaned, then gasped, clutching his leg. “Surya’s fiery loins!”

Well, that probably meant he’d be fine. Naresh helped Tua Pek Kong up, before returning to Ben and Landi.

“Ah, sorry boys and girls,” Ben said. “I think my leg’s broken. You may have to do this one without your big hero.”

A handful of shrieks sounded from the smoldering Temple above.

“Hold off the leyaks,” he told Landi. “Chandi and I will finish this.”

She nodded, then suddenly embraced him. “Take care of yourself, Naresh.”

Unable to decide what to do, he just stood there, his arms open for a moment, before at last returning her embrace. Landorundun had rarely been so affectionate with him. Not in years. He took a deep breath. It was because she knew they might not see each other again. When he thought he’d lost her to Rangda before, he’d never gotten this chance to say goodbye. Despite all the tensions that had run between them, he supposed she had become his best friend, apart from Chandi.

“I want to hear that song again when this is over. I want to hear it in a concert hall.”

“Then you’d better kill the Demon Queen. I don’t think she’ll be throwing any concerts.”

Ben lay in the sand, still clutching his leg, a wry smile on his face. “Ah, Naresh, don’t think I didn’t see what you were doing with my wife there. It seems only fair I call Chandi over here and return the favor.”

“Probably best you give it up while you still have one good leg,” he said, then bent down and clapped the captain on the shoulder.

He bowed to Tua Pek Kong, who now stood, sword in hand. “Draw them off us if you can.”

“It would be my great honor, Naresh. Never have I known a warrior like you.”

The three of them and Chandi were all that was left in his world. He might not see them again, but he’d make a better world for them.

Naresh returned to Chandi then, and took her hand. The mists swirled outward from the Temple like the winds of a cyclone, ever expanding. Perhaps by now they stretched hundreds of miles. Maybe even farther. Every moment they delayed the chill of the world grew. Rangda’s underworld was taking over. The fell spirits she had brought forth, the leyaks she’d called so far, would be only a shadow of the horrors that would wash over the Earth when she was finished.

“I’ll deal with Rangda,” he said to Chandi as they walked toward the cliff. “I’ll draw her away. I need you to stop what she’s done to the Tripura Device. There’s no one else I could trust with this, Chandi.”

“No, Naresh. I’m staying by your side.” She squeezed his hand and folded herself against him.

“Chandi, you have to. If you don’t stop the machine, nothing else will matter. When you do it, you have to move fast. You need to go through the orrery as soon as you can.”

“What?”

“Semar said the machine would explode if you disrupted it. The whole temple compound could be engulfed in flame. Your only chance is to escape through the Time Chamber.”

She was already shaking her head. “I have no idea where it could send me—or when. How would I find you again?”

“I’ll find you. It’s your only chance.”

She sighed. Deep down, she had to know what he said was true. This was the way it had to be. He had to face the Demon Queen alone, and she had to save the world. Naresh smiled at her. “I love you, Chandi.”

She pulled him down and kissed him then, and time and the chill faded away. Naresh felt only the burning, brilliant sun and moon. No matter what this cost him, she was worth it. When her lips at last left his, her voice was a whisper. “I love you, too.”

Rangda was killing their world. They didn’t have much time left. But the Demon Queen had stopped to throw a cyclone at them, to try to stop them from reaching her. Which meant part of her was afraid. And she should be. Naresh was coming for her.

CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED

So little remained of the world Naresh had known. The Solar Empire had fallen. Yawadvipa had been overrun by demons. The Astral Temple itself lay in ruins. The Arun Guard was broken. All that remained of his world stood by his side, holding his hand.

Chandi was all he had left. And he would protect her, no matter the cost. That meant he had to draw Rangda off so she could destroy the Tripura Device. Whether fate or choice had brought him to this point no longer mattered. All that mattered was the next step before him.

He Strode them to the top of the path outside the temple. “Wait until I have her attention, then sneak underground.”

Chandi squeezed his hand in response, and Naresh held her for one moment more. One breath longer, before he had to face the Demon Queen. And then the breath was gone. He released his wife’s hand and Strode into the ruins. The mist was thickest here, and he could make out shapes in the distance, but only see clearly for about ten feet.

A handful of men walked here—leyaks, probably. Naresh Strode behind one and decapitated it. He kicked another in the face, then ran it through. A third tried to attack him, but he caught its arm and broke its shoulder, then stomped its head when it fell.

“Rangda!” he shouted.

Silence filled the ruins. Once, countless temples had composed this place. Naresh had brought them all low. Molten stone had now solidified, giving the compound the look of a blasted seascape, frozen in motion. The heat hadn’t scorched the metal of the bowls, though, and Rangda climbed from one. Her steps fell heavy, and she stumbled as she crested the top of the bowl.

“Using it takes a toll, even on you,” Naresh said.

“I’m going to devour your soul. It should prove quite invigorating.” She advanced on him, her steps growing steadier, as the red light of her eyes intensified.

Half her face was nothing but a skull, and the other half had turned icy blue. Her hair had gone white, and frost formed around her eyebrow and at the tips of her hair. Once, this woman had been beautiful. Ratna, Chandi’s cousin, had given herself in marriage to end a war. She’d made a noble sacrifice, and it had cost her everything. Surya allow that her soul had already fled this body. If not, Naresh would free it soon.

“Would you like to kneel and worship me now? Feel free. I’ll kill you after you’re done.”

Naresh sneered. “You should have stayed in the underworld.”

The Demon Queen circled him, disappearing in and out of the mist. Naresh began to do the same, and as they walked, the distance between them slowly decreased. “How does it feel to watch your world end?” she asked.

“I’ve seen the end of one era already. The world recovered and gave rise once again to the brilliant flourishing of life. To thousands of years of glory and love and hope. To redemption. As it will when you are gone, spirit. You have no place in the mortal realm.”

She sneered. “So speaks the man himself reliant on powers granted by Kahyangan. Come, Solar, let me send you to Surya. Let me show you the weak, fragile face of your god.”

Rangda slammed her fists together and lances of ice exploded outward from all over her body. Naresh Strode into the air, dodging around the missiles, then back down to the ground behind the demon. He thrust his sword at her, but as she growled the blade grew cold, so cold his fingers numbed and he lost his grip. Rangda spun and knocked the sword aside, and it shattered when it hit the ground.

“You think me a mere demon, Solar? You think I can be slain so easily?”

She swung, and he blocked half a dozen blows before kicking her in the knee. She fell to one leg and Naresh caught her across the face with a hook. She jerked backward, then the stone beneath him ruptured, launching shards. Naresh Strode away, but not before the slivers of rock tore dozens of gashes along his legs.

He collapsed on the ground where he reappeared a hundred feet away, his legs no longer able to support his weight. Rangda smiled as she closed the distance between them. Naresh drew his Potency Blessing harder to block the pain and climbed back to his feet.

“You would make a fine host, of course,” she said, “but now is not a good time to have my work interrupted. I think devouring your essence will work better for me today. Unless you succeed, and then, I guess I’ll take you.”

“Not if I’m dead, too.” He took one painful step toward her, then saw Chandi make her way to the bowl. She ran and slid down the metal incline. A moment more, and she’d be there.

Rangda laughed. “Then what? You’ll kill everyone else on this island? I can travel hundreds of miles before my essence would dissipate back to the Spirit Realm. What do you think you can do?”

“Fight.” He Strode behind her, then right back in front of her. As she turned, expecting him to be in back of her, he pounded her in the side with rapid body blows. Her ribs crunched under the pummeling, and she screamed, a ragged, bloody sound.

A spear of ice formed in her hand and she thrust it at him. With her hand on him, he couldn’t Stride away, but he twisted, taking the blow in his side rather than through his chest. Hot pain lasted only a moment, before his entire right side began to turn numb. He shoved her backward, and stumbled down himself, falling to the ground.

Blood, his blood, covered the rocks, making his every attempt to stand impossible. The lance of ice throbbed in his side. He slammed his hand down, snapping it in the front. Hard as he drew his Potency, he couldn’t block that much pain. He couldn’t fight it all. A haze of red and black clouded his eyes.

His bloody fingers wrapped around the back of the spear and yanked it out.

“Behold, the Destroyer, the savior of mankind,” Rangda said as she advanced. Blood trickled down her face, too. He had probably destroyed many of Ratna’s internal organs. That body would fail very soon. And she would take his. Of course, now he was dying too. But then, if she spoke the truth, she’d just move on to another.

And Chandi was the closest.

Every breath hurt. Naresh rose to his knees.

“Naresh!” Chandi’s voice echoed off the bowl. She was running for Rangda.

Dammit. Why hadn’t she just done what she was told? Because then she wouldn’t have been Chandi.

Rangda glanced back at his wife and smiled. “She’ll do nicely for a vessel, too. A very powerful Moon Scion, isn’t she? First, though, why don’t we let her watch you die?”

Icy claws dug into his shoulder. Her fingers bored through his skin and scraped the bone.

Naresh ignored the pain. None of it mattered. He turned to look in Rangda’s glowing eyes. She could possess someone hundreds of miles of away. But he could go farther. Anywhere he could see.

“What you said about seeing Surya’s face?” he shouted. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Naresh, no!” Chandi shouted.

He Sun Strode into the mist, taking Rangda with him. They appeared in the air above the mists, falling fast. He wrapped both arms around Rangda, drawing his Blessings as hard as he could to hold her against her struggles. Then he looked straight up at the sun.

And he Strode to it.

Absolute light surrounded them, and his lungs stopped working. For an instant, he felt the infinite heat of Surya as it reached out to embrace him. He saw the smiling face of his god, welcoming him home.

CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED ONE

Chandi fell to her knees, a few feet from where Naresh had stood. He was gone. Sweet Chandra, he’d done it. He was gone …

Mists continued to pour from the temple, from the device below. Ice was spreading outward, perhaps covering the entire world. Maybe sunlight would become but a memory. Somehow, she couldn’t make herself care.

Naresh was dead.

She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t even breathe. She sat there, her mouth open, dimly aware of the world ending around her. And perhaps she should let it. But it wasn’t what he would have wanted. And she’d seen his face. He’d done this for her. He’d done it for the whole world, damn him and damn Solar honor.

She half walked, half crawled back toward the metal bowl and slipped down it. She had one last promise to keep. The icy mist filled the lower levels of the temple, clinging to her sarong and kemban. The rungs of the ladder cracked in her hands, and frost coalesced on her clothes.

Not looking up or down, she climbed. The chill stung her eyes and made it hard to breathe. At last she found herself at the base of the lowest level. She turned. She couldn’t see far ahead, only a few feet, so she took each step with care.

The crystal at the heart of the chamber pulsed, emitting a faint blue light. This must be the power source. The Solars had harnessed crystals to build Kasusthali. The Tripurans must have used this thing to focus their own power. Without it, the barrier between worlds would snap back into place—it had to, that was their only chance.

Voices whispered in the mists around her. She didn’t understand the words, but she caught the meanings. Threats. Warnings not to interfere with what had begun.

Rangda was probably already returned to the underworld. And if Chandi didn’t do this, maybe she could even come back again. Spirits were immortal.

She drew a toyak and screamed, slamming it against the crystal with the full might of her Potency drawn. The stick snapped in half, one piece flying off against the wall. A hairline crack appeared in the crystal. The voices intensified, shrieking at her.

Chandi looked around the room. The explosions above had caused rocks to fall here. She grabbed one the size of her head and stood over the crystal.

“Stay dead, bitch.”

She slammed the rock down and the crystal fractured, a piece breaking off. The mists ceased, and lightning began to coruscate over the device, leaping around the room. A hum grew, like the hum of the Time Chamber when it was turned on.

This place would likely explode soon. But she had no reason to care.

Naresh was gone.

She had fulfilled her promise to save the world. She’d done what she could. Now the time had come to rest.

Why should she go through the Time Chamber?

Everything was finished. Everything.

But then, the answer was there, too. It’s what Naresh would have wanted. She had told him she would do it. And how could she break such a promise, when she would never be able to make him another?

With a tremble, she drew her Potency again and ran, leaping over the lightning crackling along the ground. As she rose she dove through the chamber door and slammed it closed, then ran and leapt out to the astrolabe. Her hand caught on a gear and shifted it, but what did it matter? It didn’t matter where or when this thing sent her. She threw the lever.

The machine sped up, the orrery spinning faster and faster, this time in the same direction it had already been moving. An explosion rocked the outer chamber as the water rose. The door to the chamber melted. Lightning crackled through the waters, and things shifted.

The fiery explosion was gone, and now a long solid glob of metal stood where the door once had.

It was done. She had escaped the breaking of the device. Her last promise to Naresh.

She jumped back to the walkway around the orrery and left the Time Chamber. Dust now covered everything down here, and the ladder was cracked and unstable. After a few breaths, she shifted her gravity to the wall and climbed her way out.

Sunlight burned her eyes as she climbed up from the lowest level, exiting into the ruins, or what little remained of them. The rainforest had retaken the entire cliff, and vines and moss covered everything. Monkeys skittered about, squeaking at her like an intruder.

Beyond the edge, by the cliff, Semar and Kala sat on a rock, looking at her.

So.

She shut her eyes a moment, then walked toward them.

“It’s all gone,” she said. She sank to the ground, lacking even the strength to confront these men. These two had cost her everything, but she was too hollow inside to act.

Kala rose, leaving Semar on the rock, and knelt beside her. “What’s gone?”

“The world. We stopped Rangda … but she’d already destroyed the world.”

Kala pointed at the sky. “The sun is shining, Chandi. You are thousands of years in the future, in my time, and the sun is shining again. Is that not proof that you did not fail, that you saved this world for all future generations, including me? You can help the people come through the darkness she unleashed… but only if you go back.”

“And what of my world? Naresh is dead.” She had nothing to go back for. The world could attend to itself.

“I know.”

How did he know? No, the truth was, she didn’t care anymore. Not about any of it.

“I lost the man I love, my husband.” Her chest clenched and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t weep, much as she wanted to. “Because of you, because of both of you, and your wars and talk of destiny. You saw this coming. You could have stopped it. And now he’s gone forever.”

Kala reached out and stroked her cheek, running his thumb along her jaw as Naresh had once done. It tingled, and it took her a heartbeat longer than it should have to slap his hand away. “How dare you?”

“You still don’t understand, Chandi. There is no losing him forever. You talk of the Wheel of Life, of souls bound together for eternity, but you don’t really believe it. Do you not see that, if he were to be born again, you would find him again? Find yourself drawn to him, in any form, because your souls are tied together? That is the only forever that matters.”

What was he saying? That Naresh could be reincarnated? Of course he could … So she could meet him again.

Kala’s eyes held something more. Something she couldn’t quite read.

“It shouldn’t surprise you that the same soul cannot occupy the same space … if such a paradox occurred, time and space would begin to bend, to warp and tear.”

“Time is a funny thing,” Semar said. “Eras must end and corruption must be abated. And for that to happen, there must be a catalyst. A person, a soul, willing to take up the horrible burden.”

No. Chandi shook her head. “No.”

“At last you begin to see.” Kala’s voice was soft and warm. And too familiar. Not the voice itself, but the mind behind it. The soul behind it.

“No.” Hot tears ran down her face.

Rahu said he’d only ever seen one man with Naresh’s penchant for destruction. Why wouldn’t Naresh be born again, thousands of years in the future? If the Wheel of Life existed, he would live hundreds and hundreds of lives. And time had distorted when they were together. Kala had refused to even touch Naresh.

“So … I’ll … see him again?”

“See him again?” Kala said. “You will never be separated from him for long. No matter how many lives you live down through the ages, you are bound together for all eternity, passing through it as soul mates. When the stars grow cold, he’ll still be there, I will still be there, holding your hand. When the last embers of this universe burn out, still the flame of love will linger between us. There is no forever save this, Chandi.”

Sobs wracked through her and she fell to her face on the ground, unable to support herself. For how long she cried, she couldn’t say. Kala’s warm hand on her back was a comfort and horrid reminder of all that had gone. “I hate you both,” she said at last, her voice hoarse.

“I know,” Semar said.

She looked up at the Igni. His skin had changed again, it was lighter, as it had been in Tripura, and his hair was shorter. “I have an idea what—who he is,” she said nodding at Kala, “but what are you? You seem to have lived in all of these times. You’re immortal … Are you a god, Semar?”

The man rose from the rock then, and smiled sadly. “I’m … something else. And I’m sorry, for the things you had to lose to get here. I’m more sorry than you can ever know.”

“I don’t believe any of this nonsense about the need to end eras. There had to have been another way to arrest this so-called decay and corruption. And you, from the future, you could have found it!” She rose, grabbing him by his shirt. “Did you try? No! You allowed yourself to become set in your course. You knowingly allowed the entire world to be ravaged in the name of the greater good, ignoring the people you hurt in the process.”

Semar shook his head. “When the foundations are rotted through, the entire house must be razed before it can be rebuilt.”

She pushed him away. “Why on Chandra’s dark side did any of this have to happen? And don’t feed me any shit about fate and cycles of history.”

“You’ll understand one day, but not in this life,” Kala said.

Chandi glared at the bastard. “I will never forgive you. Either of you.”

“You don’t have to,” Kala said, “but you shouldn’t allow hatred to fester in your heart. I’m not just from the future. I see it. It’s how we knew you’d be here, right now. It’s how I knew the things Rahu would do, terrible things. Things I tried to stop … His tyranny may have begun in the Tripura Era, but it bled into many. You cannot begin to imagine the burden the shadows of the future place on a person.” He shut his eyes a moment. “But not everything I’ve seen ends in horror, Chandi. Naresh left you one last gift, a piece of himself within you.” He placed his hand on her abdomen.

Chandi’s breath caught, and her hand drifted to the spot Kala had touched. Warmth lingered there. Naresh was still here. Chandra, could she really be pregnant? A child—his child. Sometimes she had dreamed of peace, dreamed of raising a family with him, and now he was gone. She’d have their child alone? But she would have it, would have him still. Sweet Chandra, her, a mother.

She swallowed. “Boy or girl?”

“You really want me to tell you?”

She shook her head. She supposed not.

“You have to go back,” Kala said.

Chandi looked up at the sun and let it warm her face. “There’s nothing for me back there.”

“There’s a world that still needs you. You can return to be mother to a new era, or leave them to founder through the unknown.”

How could she go back? Why should she care about that world? Landi and Ben were still there, but she’d lost the people she loved most in the world. Here, the sun was warm. Here there was light and peace. And nothing more she had to do but live. Hadn’t she done enough? Hadn’t she sacrificed enough?

But Kala was right. She couldn’t allow her people, her world, to suffer without her. Not if she could stop it. Still, there was one more thing she had to know.

“Kala.” She took a step toward him, and held his gaze with her own. “Is this where you brought Revati? Kakudmi said he asked you to take her someplace safe.”

His face was unreadable. “That was a long time ago.”

“What happened?”

“She grew up, fell in love. She had a son … She’s not part of your world anymore, Chandi.”

Revati had a son? A son? The girl wasn’t even three the last time Chandi had seen her. And she had a son. Despite herself, she laughed.

It was all like a dream, but she walked back toward the chamber. For years Naresh had spoken of honor and duty. And she had never understood. Not until now. It wasn’t about doing things others forced you to. It was about doing what you had to, because you couldn’t disappoint those who believed in you, even if they no longer walked by your side.

She held her abdomen as she walked. Naresh’s child would be born without a father, but he or she would be born in a new world, freed from Rangda. A world they could rebuild from the ruins of fallen dynasties. No nation on Earth would survive Rangda’s mist unscathed. And maybe that was what Semar had tried to say.

Kala walked some distance behind her. It was odd, but in the end, when Naresh found peace with the role he was cast in, he did remind her of Kala. They were the same soul. The man behind her was not her husband, but he was a part of Naresh. And maybe that was enough to know, whatever he’d done, he’d done because he believed it right. Rahu had threatened his world, too.

Beneath the ruins of the Astral Temple, Kala set the machine. “It’s not exact, but you should return a few days after you left.”

“What will I find?”

Kala shook his head. “Your future is your own. You must build the new world yourself. A lot of people will look to you.”

Chandi nodded. She wasn’t going to let them down. Kala turned and jumped from the astrolabe, then walked toward the exit.

“I’ll really be with him again?” she asked.

He didn’t look back. “In every lifetime.”

Part of her wanted to end this one, to move forward now and be with him all the sooner. But she owed it to their child to live. That was duty. That was honor.

That was love.

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KEEP READING

The Skyfall Era has ended. The Ragnarok Era has begun.

The Skyfall Era

Children of Sun and Moon

Currents of Wind and Tide (Interlude 1)

Legacy of Moon and Fire

Fragments of Memory and Dream (Interlude 2)

Avatar of Night and Day

Curse of Witch and War (Prequel)

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Who am I? I’m a writer who loves speculative fiction, especially epic fantasy. I adore mythology and history, and those passions inspire most of my works. I studied philosophy in college, then publishing. More importantly, I went backpacking in India where I met my future wife, Tarannum “Juhi.” She supports pretty much all my crazy obsessions, like writing novels, so I started Incandescent Phoenix Books, and she eventually became my graphic designer. We’re a husband-and-wife team, which is pretty much the coolest thing ever.

I pretty much love to hear from readers, so feel free to email me at matt@incandescentphoenix.com.

If you loved this book and have a moment to spare, I’d really appreciate a short review wherever you bought the book. Every review makes a world of difference.

GLOSSARY

Arun Guard: The elite protectors of the Solar Emperor. They receive the Sun Brand.

baju: a buttoned shirt worn by males and females, typically long-sleeved.

belacan: Solar spicy shrimp paste.

bidadari: angelic beings from Kahyangan.

Children of the Sun: clergy of the Solar faith, led by the Radiant Queen.

dhow: a mid-sized sailing vessel with lateen sails and a long, thin hull.

Djambo Baros: the mythic Tree of Life, which houses the Wheel of Life.

ekor pari: a Lunar rope-whip, called “stingray tail” by the Solars.

gandewa: a hunting bow, used in war by some Solars and by pirates.

Glamour: Moon Scion power of illusion. Used to create superficial changes to appearances. A closely guarded secret.

gudeg: sweet stew made from jackfruit.

Ibu: title of respect given to adult Solar females of equal or greater standing.

Jadian: were-beasts such as the Macan Gadungan.

jukung: an outrigger canoe. One of the most common means of transportation around the Skyfall Isles.

Kahyangan: the Spirit World.

karedok: Solar salad with peanut dressing.

Kebatinan: a Solar meditation technique believed to bring them closer to their god, Surya.

kemban: a bodice wrap sometimes worn by females.

keris: the most common weapon carried by both Lunar and Solar warriors. The Lunar keris knife is an undulating dagger with waves that symbolize the synthesis of fire and water. The Solar keris sword is a straight-bladed shortsword said to house the honor of a Solar warrior.

kolak: a Lunar sweet dish made from palm sugar, coconut milk, and fruits.

leyak: demonic servants of Rangda.

Macan Gadungan: Weretigers who serve Moon Scion houses as bodyguards and avengers. Despite their power, they are virtual slaves in Lunar society. They can only assume tiger form when the moon is out, but even in human form they have supernatural strength, speed, resilience, and senses.

Moon Blessings: Magic powers of Moon Scions including superhuman speed and strength, the ability to walk on walls, and the Glamour. The more a Moon Scion draws his Blessings, the faster he becomes a lunatic.

Moon Scion: The Lunar nobility, who claim descent from the Moon God, Chandra. They possess magical abilities called Moon Blessings.

nagasari: banana-filled cakes made with palm sugar.

nasi goring: rice curry. Traditional Solar breakfast.

Pact: an accord between the three dynasties of the Skyfall Isles to hold the Astral Temple in trust of the gods. It was broken in the year 1 AP (After Pact), igniting the First War.

Pak: title of respect given to adult Solar males of equal or greater standing.

Radiant Queen: leader of the Solar religion, the Children of the Sun. The last was Aji Bidara.

Radnai: Lunar dance theater that combines music, dance, and Silat.

rendang: the signature Lunar dish, made from beef or duck covered in coconut milk.

sarong: a skirt that wraps around the waist, worn by both males and females.

Selamatan: a Solar ritual performed several times for the souls of the dead. Without Selamatan, Solars believe souls can linger as angry ghosts.

Sepak Takraw: a Solar sport where players kick a rattan ball to keep it airborne. Once a children’s game, now a professional sport.

Silat: martial art of the Skyfall Isles. Lunar Silat places more emphasis on unarmed combat, while Solar Silat focuses on swordplay.

songket: a Lunar method of weaving gold into silk.

stagen: a sash worn by women for special occasions.

Sun Brand: a magical tattoo the Arun Guard receive on their backs. This allows them to store sunlight, then spend it to move at superhuman speeds, affect the minds of animals, and Sun Stride (instant teleportation).

toyak: fighting sticks made from rattan wood.

ultop: a child’s toy that presses a rod through a funnel to make a loud pop.

War King: a supreme leader of the Moon Scion houses during times of conflict. Currently this is Ketu.

Warak Ngendog: amphibious dragon-headed hybrid creature. It has a long neck and body similar to a giraffe, small semi-functional wings, and a dragon-like tail. The Arun Guard use the Sun Brand to control them and use them as mounts for soldiers and weapons of war.

Wayang: Solar shadow puppetry.

Wheel of Life: most Skyfall natives believe that in death they are returned to the Wheel of Life, through which they will be reincarnated.

Places

-dvipa: Skyfall language term meaning “land.”

Academy: a university hosted by the Ministry of Information; located in its own district in Kasusthali.

Astral Temple: religious site sacred to all three dynasties. Located on Puradvipa.

Bukit: the Lunar capital, located in northeastern Swarnadvipa.

Kasusthali: the Solar capital, a city under the sea, off the coast of Yawadvipa.

Mait: an archipelago north of the Skyfall Isles.

Puradvipa: one of the central Skyfall Isles. Home to the Astral Temple, and settlements of both Lunars and Solars.

Serendib: an island nation across the sea.

Spice Islands: a chain of islands in the Outer Isles famous for its spices.

Suladvipa: a province of the Solar Empire, ruled by King Kertajaya. Home island of the Ignis.

Swarnadvipa: home island of the Lunars.

Tianxia: a faraway land known for its exotic goods.

Yawadvipa: home island of the Solars.

Lunars

The Lunar Empire is ruled by Moon Scions, which divide themselves into twenty-seven extended families called Houses.

House Soma

Calon: deceased Ratna’s mother, Rahu’s wife. Killed during the Fourth War. Formerly of House Arang.

Chandi: daughter of Ketu and Simhika, cousin to Ratna. A powerful Moon Scion.

Ketu: Rahu’s younger brother. Father of Chandi. A dedicated priest of Chandra and a master of Silat.

Rahu: War King of the Lunars, master of Silat, and the most powerful Moon Scion known.

Ratna: daughter of Rahu and Calon. Moon Scion of minor talent. Sent to wed the Solar Emperor and end the Fourth War.

Simhika: deceased Chandi’s mother, Ketu’s wife, Calon’s cousin. Killed during the Fourth War. Formerly of House Arang.

Malin: Macan Gadungan. Ratna’s bodyguard. Originally from Mait.

House Hasta

Sangkuriang (Sang): Moon Scion, Lord of House Hasta.

House Indu

Mahesa: Moon Scion. Childhood friend of Chandi and Ratna.

House Kshuparaka

Anusapati: deceased Chandi’s former fiancée. Murdered Ken Arok and then went lunatic. Killed by Chandi and Malin.

Solars

Aji Bidara: the Radiant Queen.

Empu Baradah: First of the Arun Guard. Naresh’s mentor.

Kakudmi: the Solar Emperor, son of Ken Arok. Ratna’s former husband.

Ken Arok: deceased the previous Solar Emperor, killed by Anusapati at the battle of Astral Shore.

Kertajaya: King of Suladvipa, cousin to Ken Arok.

Landorundun (Landi): Potential for the Arun Guard. From Suladvipa. Seen as one of the most beautiful women alive.

Lang: Potential for the Arun Guard from Suladvipa, and nephew of Kertajaya.

Lembu Ampal (Lem): a potential for the Arun Guard. A man of exceptional size.

Naresh: a potential for the Arun Guard. Renowned for his prowess with the sword as well as his reckless behavior.

Wanebaka: a potential for the Arun Guard from the Spice Islands.

Others

Bendurana (Ben): Serendibian ship captain. Once served the Lunars, later the Solars. Sails the Queen of the South Sea.

Partigatiga: Igni rebel leader.

Semar: Igni Fire Priest and most respected member of the Igni community.

Deities

Agni: Fire God, patron of the Ignis.

Antaboga: serpent of the underworld and harbinger of Rangda, Demon Queen.

Chandra: Moon God, patron of the Lunars.

Nyai Loro Kidul: Queen of the South Sea.

Rangda: Demon Queen, ruler of the frozen underworld. Goddess of death. Called Nirrti in Serendib.

Surya: Sun God, patron of the Solars.

Phases of Time
bangun: pre-dawn morning phase.

esuk: post-dawn morning phase.

teng’angi: mid-morning phase.

lingsir kulon: early afternoon phase, the time of the midday meal.

asar: late afternoon phase.

sore: evening phase.

sirap: night phase.

tengah wengi: midnight phase.

lingsir wengi: late night phase.

Table of Contents

Title Page
Dedication
Author's Note
Get Free Stuff
Map

Children of Sun and Moon

Prologue

Part ONE

- Chapter One ￼
- Chapter Two ￼
- Chapter Three ￼
- Chapter Four ￼
- Chapter Five ￼
- Chapter Six ￼
- Chapter Seven ￼
- Chapter Eight ￼

Part TWO

- Chapter Nine ￼
- Chapter Ten ￼
- Chapter Eleven ￼
- Chapter Twelve ￼
- Chapter Thirteen ￼
- Chapter Fourteen ￼
- Chapter Fifteen ￼
- Chapter Sixteen ￼
- Chapter Seventeen ￼

Part THREE

- Chapter Eighteen ￼
- Chapter Nineteen ￼
- Chapter Twenty ￼
- Chapter Twenty-One ￼
- Chapter Twenty-Two ￼
- Chapter Twenty-Three ￼
- Chapter Twenty-Four ￼
- Chapter Twenty-Five ￼
- Chapter Twenty-Six ￼
- Chapter Twenty-Seven ￼
- Chapter Twenty-Eight ￼
- Chapter Twenty-Nine ￼
- Chapter Thirty ￼

Part FOUR

- Chapter Thirty-One ￼
- Chapter Thirty-Two ￼
- Chapter Thirty-Three ￼
- Chapter Thirty-Four ￼
- Chapter Thirty-Five ￼
- Chapter Thirty-Six ￼
- Chapter Thirty-Seven ￼
- Chapter Thirty-Eight ￼
- Chapter Thirty-Nine ￼
- Chapter Forty ￼
- Chapter Forty-One ￼
- Chapter Forty-Two ￼
- Chapter Forty-Three ￼
- Chapter Forty-Four ￼
- Chapter Forty-Five ￼
- Chapter Forty-Six ￼
- Chapter Forty-Seven ￼
- Chapter Forty-Eight ￼
- Chapter Forty-Nine ￼
- Chapter Fifty ￼
- Chapter Fifty-One ￼
- Chapter Fifty-Two ￼
- Chapter Fifty-Three ￼
- Chapter Fifty-Four ￼
- Chapter Fifty-Five ￼
- Chapter Fifty-Six ￼
- Chapter Fifty-Seven ￼
- Chapter Fifty-Eight ￼
- Chapter Fifty-Nine ￼
- Chapter Sixty ￼
- Chapter Sixty-One ￼
- Chapter Sixty-Two ￼
- Chapter Sixty-Three ￼
- Chapter Sixty-Four ￼
- Chapter Sixty-Five ￼
- Chapter Sixty-Six ￼
- Chapter Sixty-Seven ￼

Part FIVE

- Chapter Sixty-Eight ￼
- Chapter Sixty-Nine ￼
- Chapter Seventy ￼
- Chapter Seventy-One ￼
- Chapter Seventy-Two ￼
- Chapter Seventy-Three ￼
- Chapter Seventy-Four ￼
- Chapter Seventy-Five ￼
- Chapter Seventy-Six ￼
- Chapter Seventy-Seven ￼
- Chapter Seventy-Eight ￼

Legacy of Moon and Fire

- Part ONE (1195 After Pact)

- Chapter Seventy-Nine ￼
- Chapter Eighty ￼
- Chapter Eighty-One ￼
- Chapter Eighty-Two ￼
- Chapter Eighty-Three ￼
- Chapter Eighty-Four ￼
- Chapter Eighty-Five ￼
- Chapter Eighty-Six ￼
- Chapter Eighty-Seven ￼
- Chapter Eighty-Eight ￼
- Chapter Eighty-Nine ￼
- Chapter Ninety ￼
- Chapter Ninety-One ￼
- Chapter Ninety-Two ￼
- Chapter Ninety-Three ￼
- Chapter Ninety-Four ￼
- Chapter Ninety-Five ￼
- Chapter Ninety-Six ￼
- Chapter Ninety-Seven ￼
- Chapter Ninety-Eight ￼
- Chapter Ninety-Nine ￼
- Chapter One Hundred ￼
- Chapter One Hundred One ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Two ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Three ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Four ￼

- Part TWO (1196 AP)

- Chapter One Hundred Five ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Six ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seven ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eight ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Nine ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Ten ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eleven ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twelve ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Thirteen ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fourteen ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fifteen ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixteen ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seventeen ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eighteen ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Nineteen ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twenty ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Three ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Six ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Eight ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Nine ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Thirty ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Thirty-One ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Two ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Three ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Five ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Six ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Seven ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Eight ￼

Avatar of Night and Day

Part ONE (1197 After Pact)

- Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Nine ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Forty ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Forty-One ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Forty-Two ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Forty-Three ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Forty-Four ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Forty-Six ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Forty-Seven ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Forty-Eight ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Forty-Nine ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fifty ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fifty-One ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Two ￼

Part TWO (1197 AP)

- Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Three ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Four ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Five ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Six ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Seven ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Eight ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Nine ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixty ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixty-One ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Two ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Three ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Four ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Five ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Six ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Seven ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Eight ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Nine ￼

Part THREE

- Chapter One Hundred Seventy ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seventy-One ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Two ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Three ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Four ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Five ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Six ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Seven ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Eight ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Nine ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eighty ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eighty-One ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Two ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Three ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Four ￼

Part FOUR (The Unknown)

- Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Five ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Six ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Seven ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Eight ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Nine ￼

Part FIVE (1997 AP)

- Chapter One Hundred Ninety ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Ninety-One ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Two ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Three ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Four ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Five ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Six ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Seven ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Eight ￼
- Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Nine ￼
- Chapter Two Hundred ￼
- Chapter Two Hundred One ￼

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