Page 35 of The Burning Mountain
She counted the number of guards stationed in the room and their relative position to the doorways. There were three entrances into the room—the main door, which was left open, through which she was dragged into the room, and two side doors, each one occupying the two opposite walls of the rectangular room. The only wall that didn’t have a door set into it was to her back. It instead had a tall narrow window placed high, but that was closed as well. A long divan sat under it.
The pair of guards standing at attention at the main entrance drew her eye, and Chandra suspected a lot more were waiting in the long hallway that stretched outside the open main door.
She should have paid mind to where she was going in her desperate dash. This was the eastern part of the palace—a neweraddition to the sprawling complex that she was warned to stay away from. Because this was where Ketuvahana lived. The man’s reputation was black enough to put her husband’s to shame.
Trying to get past all the hurdles was a tall task. Even if she had all her weapons.
Chandra had expected them to confiscate everything, but like she had hoped and prayed, they had left her jewelry intact. If only she could reach it, she thought, wiggling her fingers to get some circulation.
The wait was killing her.
Back in Amaravathi she was punished yearly with whiplashes. The weeks leading up to that day, she would lose sleep, dreading the pain and the long indisposition caused by it. As years went by, she started fearing the days of lost sleep and nightmares more than the actual punishment. Chandra knew intimately the power of being kept on edge, how it weakened resolve.
She questioned if that’s what they were trying to do now. Her mind wandered to Billadev and she wondered how he was faring. And if her unintentional distraction worked and kept the guards from examining too closely at what happened in that room. She also hoped Matangi was far away from theantahpuram, like she’d been instructed.
The door opened and a tall, handsome man appeared at the entrance. He spotted her and a smile draped over his face as he made his way toward her, pulling a chair to sit opposite her.
Ketuvahana was undoubtedly good-looking, but she could read the traces of dissipation—the faint dark circles under his droopy eyes and the hint of saggy skin along his sharp cheekbones, already carving their mark on his visage.
The laces at the front of his shirt were undone, revealing a sculpted chest. Chandra wondered what he had been doingbefore he came here and cut that thought off, realizing she would rather not know.
“Chandra…” he said, and she started at hearing her name, too surprised to hide her reaction.
Ketuvahana’s smile broadened. “Unusual name. But it wasn’t hard to find out.” He leaned back and ran his finger on the wood. “Let’s see… You got in as a helper to Namata Devi and managed to speak to her. How did that go? Was the regent willing to help you? Did you find out Aditya’s whereabouts?”
Chandra had to work hard at keeping an impassive face when dismay roared through her. How did he know so much already?
He beckoned a guard with a crook of his finger, who came forward and placed a pair of gold-fluted vases and the tattered remains of an expensive cloth. “So, what’s your story about these?”
Chandra hid a wince as she eyed the vases, wishing she had chosen something more expensive in the treasury when she fled.
It would have given a lot more credence to her story that she was a thief. But the vases, while made of gold, were in no way remarkable. Many rooms inside the palace had even more precious items in plain sight.
But she hadn’t time and needed a distraction quickly, so she had grabbed the first thing her hands had encountered.
Ketuvahana seemed to have reached the same conclusion. “Don’t bother trying to convince me you’re a thief. I won’t believe it.”
His long fingers picked up the half-burned shawl and spread it.
Chandra’s heart drummed in her throat. Most of the pattern was destroyed, but there were still traces of the five animals along the borders of the garment.
“This interests me more. Someone seems to have given you the cipher to reach the treasury. And of all the people you spoketo, I suspect the only one capable of doing so is Namata Devi.” His gaze flicked to hers and narrowed. “Why would she do that? What’s in the throne room?” His eyes were alive with curiosity.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” scoffed Chandra. “That doesn’t belong to me.”
“Really?” He leaned back, folding the shawl carelessly and tossing it toward the guard, who took away the items. “Well then, I won’t ask you anymore.” His cold sneer chilled her.
“You’ll tell me everything eventually, Chandra. I have ways of breaking a woman’s spirit. By the time I’m done, you’ll be spilling your guts.” He darted forward while still remaining in his seat, quick as a striking cobra, dropping his voice to a whisper that slithered along her senses. “And when there is nothing left, when you’ve emptied the last bit of secret you hold in your miserable heart, you’ll wish there was something still left to say. Something left to give in exchange. Because I won’t stop.”
Chandra suppressed a shudder at his ominous words. She believed him. His eyes moved over her, and she felt as if worms were crawling across her skin. Even if she hadn’t heard rumors about his tastes, even if she hadn’t been warned more than once, by more than one servant, to stay clear of his roving eye, she would’ve believed him. There was something cold and viperous in his gaze that told her he meant everything he said…and would enjoy her pain.
“I really do have to send my thanks to the leader of the Resistance,” he continued calmly, reclining into his chair. “They’ve sent me an endless supply of entertainment so far.” He drew a short dagger from his cummerbund, similar in design to her twin daggers, which she had the foresight to leave back at Samyukta’s house.
Short, curved, with a distinctive bejeweled grips that proclaimed them as family heirlooms. And from the way he handled it, he was very familiar with the weapon. “ObviouslyI prefer the female variety,” he continued. “The more stubborn the better. More…diverting, certainly. Perhaps they know my preferences and think I might be manipulated.” His smile tilted a shade into sarcasm.
At another signal, guards suddenly moved forward and untied her hands, slamming her right wrist to the table, palm up. Chandra struggled instinctively, her other arm flailing wildly until it was wrenched behind her, the angle making her suck in a sharp breath of pain.
She watched helplessly as Ketuvahana dug the tip of the dagger into her palm and dragged, carving an image onto her palm. Chandra bit down on the scream that bubbled to her lips. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
