Page 34 of The Burning Mountain
“Princess, leave,” he said urgently.
“What?”
“I’m trapped; the throne won’t let me go; its trying to show me something,” he said, his voice sounding far off. “Burn the shawl and leave, Princess,” she heard his distant voice coming from the mist.
“You’ll need it to make your way back across the floor,” protested Chandra, torn. The shawl was an incriminating piece of evidence, tying them to Namata Devi, and needed to be destroyed once they were finished. But…
“I won’t. I’ll remember—” His voice cut off. His mouth was forming words, but she heard nothing.
Chandra observed the saccadic eye movements that made her think he was seeing something. Then, as she watched, the mist enveloped him entirely and he slowly started tofade.
Chandra frantically scrutinized the shawl to see if they had missed anything.
But the shawl was only a cipher to get to the throne. It carried no information or clues about how to break the trance that Billadev was trapped in. In a few short moments, he disappeared completely. The mist dissipated as if it never existed and the throne stood innocently in the center of the depressed floor, the moon shining brightly over its empty seat, leaving her with a deep worry for her friend.
What just happened?
The answer came to her in a sudden burst.Of course. Thepanch-pashuthrone was magical—said to reveal the truth. She wondered briefly what the throne could be showing him, then the ring of the bell jolted across her senses, reminding her of the hour’s passing and bringing her attention to more immediate concerns.
Her heart pounded in sudden dread when she heard the footsteps of guards as they rounded a corner and stepped into the corridor outside the room.
She couldn’t do anything for Billadev. She had to trust him when he said he could find his way back. But if she stayed here any longer, her chances of getting caught were high.
Making a decision, she touched the shawl to the torch’s flame, then dropped it to the ground, kicking the burning fabric out of sight as best as she could.
A pair of vases at the entrance caught her eye, and she plucked them, tucking them under her arm as she ran out, covering the lower part of her face.
Shouts sounded outside as the sleeping guards were discovered. She made a run for it, but unfortunately, she was spotted. “Who’s there? Wait! Thief! Raise the alarm. We have a burglar loose on the grounds.”
A few short but intense minutes later, she crouched behind a pillar, rubbing the stitch in her side, and tried get her bearings. She had led her pursuers toward the eastern part of the palace, toward the royal quarters, as far away from the throne room as she could get.
In her mad dash, she had climbed many stairs and jumped on balconies, tiptoed across countless railings, but she still couldn’t shake off her pursuers.
Hopefully, the chase had given Billadev enough time to escape. She prayed the throne released him soon. And that he would be able to make it safely across. Now, if only she could make her way out of the palace without being discovered.
She peered past a heavy curtain, from her second-floor hiding place, down into the deserted courtyard below. Its entrance appeared to be unmanned. More importantly, it was open.
She swung herself down from the short balcony and dropped to the ground, dashing past the courtyard. A shout alerted her that she was found once again.
She increased her speed in her rush to get past the entrance, her lungs burning.
A sudden burst of light from flaming torches blinded her and she stumbled, losing her balance. As she fell, she instinctively rolled out of the way.
The horse’s hooves landed just a few inches from where her head would have been. Winded, her eyes slowly traveled up the stallion’s impressive legs, her heart still pounding from the recent brush with death.
But before she could get up, she felt a sword at her throat.
She gulped.
Of all the people she could run into, it had to be the one person who terrified her.
Ketuvahana.
16
CHANDRA’S INTERROGATION
Chandra sat at a table; her hands bound so tightly to the sides of the chair that her fingers were starting to numb. After she was caught, she was kept here for hours, her captors standing silent, making no move to interrogate her. Her tension ratcheted up at their restraint, the passing time winding it up like a corkscrew, so she couldn’t help but startle at the slightest sound.
