The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri

Author:Tasha Suri
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2021-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

PRIYA

She had no idea how long it would be before Pramila woke up, and reason told her it would be best to return to the Hirana as fast as possible. Certainly before dawn came.

But she’d been without her freedom for so long. She was used to being able to travel—to leave the mahal and go to the market, buying fresh fruit or morning dosas with sweet chutneys to cut through the fragile lattice of gram flour. She’d enjoyed hiding from Gauri with Sima, getting sick on palm wine in the orchard, laughing so hard her sides hurt. She missed lying on her own sleep mat.

She missed Rukh, a little. And when she thought of his face the last time they’d spoken, when she thought of Ashok and what a man like her brother could do with a starstruck child who was willing to die for him…

But she couldn’t go to Rukh. She had no excuse to be in the mahal, or see Sima, or touch even the shadows of her old life.

But there was one thing she could do.

The house at the edge of the forest looked exactly as it had the last time she had visited; it struck her as odd, when so much else had changed.

She rapped lightly on the door. Waited.

It opened a crack, and Gautam’s alert gaze met her own. He didn’t look at all tired. There was something tight and terrified about his expression. Even in the dark, she could see that his hand was clenched on the handle of his scythe, holding it at the ready.

“Priya. What are you doing here?”

“I need to speak with you. I won’t be long.”

“It’s the middle of the night, you stupid woman.”

He looked as if he was going to shut the door in her face, so Priya leaned in, getting her body between the frame and the door itself. She stared him down, unblinking, keeping her expression calm.

“Gautam,” Priya said. “My brother sent me. Let me in. And lower the scythe.”

As she’d suspected, he hesitated. Then obeyed.

He led her beyond his workroom, beyond his own private chambers, into the central courtyard of the house. From there he led her to another room, dusty and quiet, and shut the door.

“How is business, Gautam? Still thriving?”

“Why did he send you?” Gautam demanded.

She shook her head minutely, never letting her gaze waver. He seemed to sweat more heavily under the steady pressure of her eyes. She’d learned that, at least, from Malini: how a gaze could pin and bind and compel, as powerful as any magic.

“He didn’t,” she said. “How long have you known my brother is alive?”

Gautam’s gaze turned flinty. “Get out.”

“You were friends once,” she said.

“We were never friends.”

“You owed him something. Or he knew enough to scare you into obedience. That’s friendship enough. How long have you known?” When Gautam was silent, she said, “I’ve seen him again. Don’t lie to me.”

Gautam seemed to deflate. “I’ve known the entire time. I don’t like him, you understand? But he’s a hard man to refuse.

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