The Lotus Empire (The Burning Kingdoms, #3)

by Tasha Suri

Is this healing? Priya thought. Is this rest? It certainly didn’t feel like it. But she had stabbed Malini and watched the terror and betrayal fill her eyes. She had left Sima behind. And Bhumika—wherever Bhumika was—could not help her. “Rest,” Nandi urged again. And Priya… Priya closed her eyes.

She was walking into the imperial court. She was sliding a knife between Malini’s ribs. She was kissing Malini—kissing her even though she hadn’t kissed Malini when she’d stabbed her. Kisses that tasted of blood, salt. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Hate me, you can hate me. Hate me and live.

Strange to cry, when her heart felt so leaden inside her. Sometimes grief was pain, and sometimes it was simply absence—the wound in the shape of things that could not be felt or touched or comprehended.

She couldn’t remember the last thing she had said to him. She’d searched her memory, racked it. But the more she thought about it, the less she could recall: the more the memory writhed and twisted, evading her. Her mind, punishing her, or showing her compassion.

Empress Malini. Mother Malini. Empress, Empress, Empress. She felt the tale settle around her, written in smoke and in death. And her ribs still burned, and burned, and burned.

But Aditya’s death, and the actions of Elder Priya, had changed her. She’s wounded, Lata had said to him once. Not just in the flesh. Somewhere deep within her, where no physician can heal her.