Page 68 of The Burning Mountain
But Virat was dead now. And using dead bodies to animate his soul. Technically, there was nothing morally wrong sincehe wasn’t harming anyone by doing this. In practice, however, Shota found it deeply disquieting and knew Veer did too.
King Samudra, too, seemed to pick up on the currents of tension in the air. “I hope, Veer, that you are absolutely sure this man can be trusted. I’ve never allowed wizards to cross the gates into my city.”
Veer rearranged his expression to one of indifference. “You did it with me,” he pointed out. “And a bit rich, coming from a practitioner of magic like yourself.”
Samudra shrugged, not taking his eyes off the two figures.
The guests were ushered into their presence. Refreshments were brought in. Veer performed the introductions.
Shota kept a sharp eye on Virat, who didn’t seem to recognize or indicate that he knew him. He looked like a gaunt old man, but the faintest scent of rotting flesh reached him, obscured to a significant degree by the judicious use of ash. Shota didn’t think much about his appearance, although Veer appeared bewildered, as if he were seeing a new person.
Princess Chandrasena walked toward them, hesitantly, a question in her eyes. She took in the guests and then did a double take.
“Brother?” Her shocked whisper caused the man accompanying the wizard to turn toward her.
He frowned. “Chandra?”
The princess gave a cry and lurched toward him. Prince Bhupathi caught her in his arms.
“My God! Itisyou.” She smiled through her tears, patting his face as if reassuring herself. “Where have you been? We’ve been sick with worry, fearing you were dead.”
“It’s a long story. I would’ve been dead had it not been for this man,” said Bhupathi, smiling through his own tears, indicating Virat. “He rescued me. I’ve been recuperating under his care.”
The princess turned to Virat and smiled at him. She seemed not to realize who he was. “Thank you. For helping my brother. We are indebted to you.”
Virat said nothing, simply gazed at her. Shota waited for something. A spark of recognition, a flare of rage, some smidgeon of emotion that would give them a clue about the past. But he was blank as a board. It appeared what Virat had told Veer—about losing both his memories and emotions, the longer he practiced necromancy—was true.
The princess’s smile slipped, too, as she continued to stare at Virat. With his disheveled locks and gaunt, ash-covered body, he looked like he had come straight from the graveyard.
The weight of the amulet felt heavy in Shota’s pocket. Veer caught his eye and gave him a slight nod, and he slipped it out, holding it in his hand unobtrusively.
There was no way to state what needed to be said next, except bluntly.
“Chandra. This is Virat,” said Veer.
For a whole minute, her body went rigid. It seemed like she had stopped breathing. A wild mixture of emotions clouded her eyes—hatred, rage, and most predominantly, fear.
“No. It can’t be. You’re dead. I killed you.” She didn’t seem to know she was speaking aloud.
The snick and draw of the blade from its scabbard alerted Shota. She had drawn the short dagger at her waist and would have run it through the wizard, had her brother not grabbed her wrist in a powerful grip.
Veer stood straight, every line of tension in his body pulled taut as he positioned himself between Chandra and Virat. His eyes glinted the gold of his kite, and his face wore a forced inscrutable expression, although he couldn’t quite hide the worry in his eyes.
“Chandra! What the hell are you doing? This man saved me,” said Bhupathi, panting as he tried to hold her back.
Chandra struggled to free herself, twisting madly, teeth bared, lunging toward Virat, not even glancing at Veer.
Virat hadn’t budged a muscle despite Chandra’s continued attempts to get at him. His lack of an appropriate response disturbed Shota. Exactly what had Virat sacrificed in his semi-futile battle to stay alive? If he didn’t have emotions or memories, was he even human anymore?
“Chandra, hold still. For God’s sake. Why are you doing this? What is wrong with you?” Bhupathi gripped her shoulders to face him, shaking her slightly.
“What’s wrong with me?!” she shouted, her voice thin and shrill, with a combination of rage and fear. “You have a bloody mind-controlling freak in your midst, and you ask what’s wrong with me?”
King Samudra’s face paled at her statement, but he didn’t intervene in the argument, he merely stood to one side and watched the proceedings like a hawk. Everyone else took a leaf out of his book and stayed out of it.
“What are you talking about?” asked Bhupathi, coaxing his voice to a lower pitch. “Maayavi is a wizard, true, but he doesn’t control minds. His specialty is weather manipulation. I’ve seen it.”
“Then he has you all fooled,” spat Chandra.
