Page 37 of The Burning Mountain
“No,” repeated Chandra and beseeched Ketuvahana, vaguely aware of tears dripping down her face. She knew she was probably giving away that Matangi was her companion and friend, but at the moment, she cared more about saving her. “Please help her. I’ll do everything you say. I’ll tell you everything. Just…save her.”
Ketuvahana licked his lips, his eyes cold and calculating. “If my intent was to save a traitor, I wouldn’t injure her in the first place. But she had her uses. I got a lot out of her,” he said, confirming Chandra’s hunch that he was responsible for Matangi’s injuries. It explained how he knew so much.
Matangi died in her arms a few moments later. Chandra held her body, numb with shock, unable to believe that she really had died. Just a few hours ago, she had been alive and happy, had dreams and plans to go back to her village. They had been discussing a nose ring, of all things.
“Ah, too bad,” said Ketuvahana, interrupting her thoughts. “But she is the lucky one of you two. She had a quick death.”
Chandra’s heart cracked. This was all her fault. She was the one to blame. If she hadn’t insisted on this plan, Matangi would have been safe and alive.
“Why does she call you princess? Who are you?” Ketuvahana’s voice brimmed with curiosity, and when Chandra gave no answer, he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, ’cause you’ll be my plaything until I tire. You’ll reveal everything to me. Eventually.”
Anger built slowly inside Chandra, like waters cresting against a dam, the grief suddenly gave way to a searing rage that couldn’t be contained.
She carefully lowered Matangi’s head to the ground, her hands brushing across her closed eyes and tucking the tendrils of hair behind her ears. She couldn’t give her proper death rites, but this was the least she could do for her.
“You sick excuse of a man,” she spoke in a low voice, her words almost inaudible. “Calling you a man is a stretch—you’re nothing but a monster in disguise.”
Chandra made her move so fast that it took the surrounding guards by surprise. She flew up from her crouched position. Ketuvahana’s eyes widened when he saw her lunge toward him, seemingly weaponless. He dodged, but a line of red opened across one cheekbone. He lifted a hand to his face, his eyes widened when his fingers came away red.
The guards moved forward, but Ketuvahana raised a hand, halting them, and unsheathed his own sword. A muscle in his jaw spasmed.
“Show me you’re not a coward. Fight me,” she taunted.
The small, naked blade she had fitted into her palm would be no match against his superior physical prowess and weapons. Chandra knew her chances of freedom were low, practically nothing. She also knew she couldn’t escape imprisonment and torture. But honor demanded she avenge Matangi’s death or if not, at least cause her murderer some injury.
Chandra went once again for his throat, but he disarmed her with ease and hauled her close.
She expected this move from him and pressed her palm against his chest, where his shirt gaped. The same palm where he had carved the mark of Amarendra. The bloody imprint of the forbidden, powerful mark was stamped across the smooth skin of his chest.
Ketuvahana’s face morphed into surprise before a bloodcurdling scream erupted from him. He pushed her away and rubbed at his chest frantically. But the mark did its job, burning itself into the skin with painful, raw edges.
The guards in the room leaped forward. Chandra took advantage of the confusion and made a break for the open doors leading outside, but she was tackled before she cleared a few feet.
The soldiers stationed outside restrained her in shackles and then she was marched back to the room. She saw Ketuvahana, sitting on an open-backed chair, being tended by the royal physician. A cooling poultice was on his chest and his eyes narrowed into slits when they fell on her.
His advisor, Sakaala, stood by his side and was whispering something in his ear. It seemed to be good news by the way Ketuvahana was smiling despite the injuries. She listened to their conversation with half an ear and deduced that he was leaving that very evening. Relief filled her. It would provide a temporary respite from whatever torture he had planned for her.
Ketuvahana watched her. He stood up, waving away the physician’s assistance.
“Luck is on your side, bitch,” he said, advancing on her. Gone was the lazy grace and the ever-present smile. Anger dominated his features as he cupped her face, his ancestral dagger back in his hand.
“But not for long. You’ll pay for daring to cause me pain,” he growled, leaning closer. “After I’m done with you, no man will want you.”
Chandra struggled to free herself, not trusting the gleam of madness in his eyes, but her arms were pinned back by a pair of burly guards. Ketuvahana cupped her chin and angled the knife across her cheek, moving leisurely, opening a gash from one corner of her mouth to her ear.
Her screams echoed through the palace, causing people to pause in their work. The soldiers standing guard outside looked at one another from the corner of their eyes. But it wasn’t uncommon to hear a woman’s screams from Ketuvahana’s chambers. Uneasily, they went back to their tasks.
17
VEER’S INTERROGATION
After the relative quiet that surrounded him, the sound of the door opening rang through the dungeon like the blast of a wave.About time.The dungeon had no source of light apart from the dying flames of tar, so Veer had to resort to counting the steady drip of water along a small stretch of the wall to count the minutes. It had been a long half a day since Shota had left. Frankly, he was surprised that Aditya, who had been imprisoned for longer than him, wasn’t driven mad by the lack of light, food, or company.
Torches flickered and waved in the stale air as several soldiers made their way down to the iron cage. Footsteps echoed off the walls, making it seem like there were more men coming than they actually were.
Veer stood from his crouched position over Aditya’s dead body.
The torchlight revealed their astonished faces.
