The Lotus Empire by Tasha Suri

Author:Tasha Suri [SURI, TASHA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2024-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Malini had her opportunity almost immediately.

There were rituals to an imperial visit to a Parijatdvipan court. But these were not normal times, and Malini had chosen not to indulge in them. She had come to support King Lakshan in a time of crisis, she assured him. Multiple feasts and dances and hunting trips were not required and were certainly not wanted.

When he held court, she did not take his throne, or raise her own throne above his. Instead, when he sat upon the raised platform of his throne, on a silk knotwork cushion with rose-salt incense burning in alcoves behind him, she sat on her own cushion to his far left, surrounded by her personal guard and by her generals.

She was glad she had come here today for his audience with his courtiers. It allowed her to delve even deeper into the woes of Srugna. The growing panic, and the ever-depleting state of their coffers was on full display. It also helped her understand how they could be helped: the food and weapon supplies that would need to be diverted to them. The soldiers, in great numbers, that would need to be funneled to the border with Ahiranya. The ones she had brought with her would not be enough. She would need to leave Prakash here to organize what was needful.

She was listening closely to a report on Srugna’s eastern farming villages when there were a tumult of noise at the grand arched entrance of the hall. It had no gates or doors to bar shut, and no curtains, so there was nothing to impede Malini’s view. She turned her head and watched as a handful of Srugani warriors—one of them clearly barely a child, for all that he had a mace hefted at his side—demanding entry. Two of the courtiers of King Lakshan were trying to dissuade them. The voices of the warriors rose, but the boy—and only the boy—remained silent. The others were ringed around him in an obviously protective circle.

“If they are not allowed entry, bring the boy to me later,” Malini said quietly, turning just slightly to speak into Prakash’s ear. He murmured his agreement.

The noise was not relenting, only growing. With a darting, near-panicked look at Malini, Lakshan finally raised a hand, palm out. The sound quelled.

“Bring my warriors forward,” he said in his rumbling voice. “They may speak.”

They all walked forward onto the circle of carnelian-flecked marble where petitioners were always bidden to stand.

They bowed together, low to the ground, then stood.

One of the older warriors nudged the boy forward. “Speak, lad,” he urged.

“M-my king,” the boy managed to say, his voice reed thin. His gaze darted about the court and fixed briefly on Malini. He was clearly overwhelmed, unfamiliar with the grandness of a highborn court. “I…”

“This boy,” one of the other warriors said, stepping in when the boy’s voice trailed to overwhelmed silence, “is the only survivor of a patrol along the border with Ahiranya.”

He was young to be a warrior, and young for such a dangerous duty.

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