The Jasmine Throne (The Burning Kingdoms, #1)

by Tasha Suri

They’d clung to each other out of necessity at first. But they had soon built a friendship on the back of a shared affection for pretty girls, liquor, and nights spent gossiping in their dormitory, laughing with each other until one of the maidservants trying to sleep threw a shoe to shut them up.

I LOVE YOU LESBIANS

“Power can be looking after people. Keeping them safe, instead of putting them into danger.”

He snorted. “You were never inclined to be a married woman.” “If only I lived in the Age of Flowers after all,” she said dryly, not allowing herself to feel any bitterness. “Then I could have married a woman like the ancients used to. But I could still have chosen to make a home with a nice girl, marriage or no marriage,”

LESBIANS !!!!!! GO LESBIANS !

Malini did not let go. She looked at Priya’s hand as if she could read it—read every callus and whorl, every line upon Priya’s palm—like language. And Priya watched Malini in turn because—well, she could admit it to herself, at least—because she simply wanted to look at her. Looking at Malini felt like a forbidden thrill, but somehow less frightening than meeting her eyes, which was too… equalizing. Intimate. Oh, Priya knew an infatuation when she was in the middle of one.

Malini raised a hand, brushing her knuckles against the swelling of Priya’s cheek. Her fingers trembled, still. Priya could feel the sting of the touch. It burned through her blood, sang, and she thought, Oh. Oh no. This was more than simple fascination. This was attraction and it was… not remotely convenient.

But it was hard to think, with Malini’s hands in her own, with Malini’s thumbs brushing the insides of her wrists, where her blood thrummed. There was a promise in this somewhere—in the touch and the smile and the joy written in Malini’s face, the teasing edge to her voice. She didn’t know what exactly to do with it, or with the way it made her own heart turn.

A child should not be a chain, used to yoke a woman like cattle to a role, a purpose, a life she would not have chosen for herself. And yet she felt then, with an aching resentment, how Vikram would use their child to reduce and erase her. She hated him for that, for stealing the quiet and strange intimacy of her and her own flesh and blood and making it a weapon. “I will,” she said placidly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Malini said, and was horrified to hear her voice falter all of its own accord. By the mothers, it was one thing to tremble when she had chosen to do it. It was quite another to do it now, when an air of command had momentarily held Pramila still, and perhaps could again. “Don’t—Pramila, she is nothing.”

She knew how many faces people possessed, one hidden beneath the other, good and monstrous, brave and cowardly, all of them true.

“Why do you want to know about my magic?” Priya asked. “Why does it matter to you?” “I told you that you interest me,” said Malini. “I told you that I want to know everything about you.” “You said that to make me think—you liked me,” Priya said haltingly. Malini’s dark gray eyes fixed on her own. “I do like you,” said Malini. “Please don’t say that.” “You have helped me. You tried to save me from poison. You comforted me. When reality felt far away, and I didn’t know what was real, you—” “Please,” Priya said, and knew she sounded like she was begging this time. “Don’t.” She didn’t want to be convinced into foolishness again, to let herself like Malini too much. She didn’t want to trust her, or want to be friends. She didn’t want to want her. And it would have been so easy, after all they’d been through together—after she’d seen Malini nearly die and watched the way Malini’s eyes had gone wide and cold with fury when Pramila had held the knife to Priya’s throat. She was teetering on the edge. She did not want to fall.

“I’ve avoided marriage. I’ll never willingly beget children with a man. And what is more monstrous than that? To be inherently, by your nature, unable to serve your purpose? To want, simply because you want, to love simply for the sake of love?”

“Here,” said Malini. Abruptly, her voice was in Priya’s ear. She was right there, standing in the water alongside her, the folds of her sari billowing around her. “Let me help.” Malini touched her fingers to the end of the braid, tentative. There was a question in her eyes. And Priya… nodded. Turned her back. Malini took up the sodden weight of Priya’s braid and began to unravel it, working her fingers through it with care. “My hair is easier to manage than yours,” Priya managed to say. “No curls.” Malini worked slowly, sliding her fingers gently through the tangles. “I know you’re trying to avoid talking about us.” Us. “Will you let me?” Priya asked. “Do you really want me to?” She could feel the tug of Malini’s hands—the tingle of it in her scalp. She shook her head, and knew Malini could see it, feel it. “I was never lying about wanting you,” Malini said in a low voice. “Never with my eyes or my words. Never when I touched you. All of that was true.” Another tug. Priya felt the last of her braid uncoil, the pressure on her scalp releasing. “You’re already helping me. You’ve saved my life, Priya. I’m free. There’s no benefit—nothing I gain for the empire, for my goals—by telling you this. Do you understand?” Malini placed her hand flat against Priya’s back. The water was cold and the heat of her skin—of her outstretched fingers—burned. She’d placed her hand against Priya’s blouse, under the drape of her sari, between her shoulder blade and her spine, where her heart thum...

LESBIANS !!!

Malini wanted to explain that being monstrous wasn’t inherent, as Priya seemed to believe it to be. It was something placed upon you: a chain or a poison, bled into you by unkind hands.

After Commander Jeevan had returned to guard Bhumika and the others—after he’d learned everything that had passed—Priya slipped away. She moved silently, carefully, making her way through the woods to the Parijatdvipan camp. Malini had a tent of her own—Jeevan had seen it erected, and sketched out its location to Priya with his words before she departed. Priya waited until no one was looking, then slipped inside. Malini watched her enter. She didn’t appear surprised. “Priya,” she murmured. She crossed the tent and took Priya’s face in her hands. But she didn’t kiss her. Merely looked at her. And Priya… “What, by soil and sky, is this tent?” Priya said, looking around. “Is that gold on the ceiling? And why do you have a writing desk?” “It’s actually modest by the standards of my youth,” said Malini, a smile curling her mouth. But her eyes were guarded when she said, “You shouldn’t have come here.” “Those soldiers couldn’t have harmed me.” “Nonetheless,” said Malini. “Why have you come?” Priya looked at her and looked at her, struggling for the words. “Malini,” she said, shaping the name carefully on her tongue, as if this way, she could keep it. “You’re where you need to be. My part of our bargain is done. And I’m… I’m here to say good-bye.” She watched the smile on Malini’s face fade and die. “I… In truth, I don’t think I should be here telling you this at all. This is—an act of trust,” Priya admitted. “Leaving,” Malini said. “You’re leaving.” “You knew I would have to eve...

“We don’t have to fight,” Priya said suddenly. “There’s a way to move through the city without upsetting anyone until we’re ready and able to deal with them.” Priya’s plan was neat and simple, and Bhumika couldn’t keep an approving look from crossing her face. “See,” Priya said, with a smile. “I am clever. Shows you.” “I’ve never said that you’re not clever.” “You call me a fool all the time.” Bhumika wrinkled her nose and looked away. Sisters.

SEESTERS

“I thought you wouldn’t rise,” Bhumika said through chattering teeth. “Priya, you took so long. So…” And then to Priya’s shock, Bhumika was embracing her, breathing hard, unsteady breaths against Priya’s wet hair. Priya clung back reflexively. “Ashok,” she whispered. “Where is Ashok?” Bhumika said nothing. One of the rebels was wailing, a low keening cry. “You can’t go back in, Priya,” Bhumika said finally. “You can’t.” Priya shook her off. Turned, back toward the water, still on her knees. And Bhumika was tackling her to the ground, but Priya was stronger, she could throw Bhumika off without even trying— “Stop,” said Bhumika. “Stop, stop, please stop. Pri. Priya.” She pressed her cheek to Priya’s own. Her skin was wet, with water and tears. “He’s gone, Priya.” “No. No, he’s not.” “He’s gone,” Bhumika said again, and Priya knew she was right. She could feel the absence of him. The silence in the sangam. “He’s gone.”

SEESTERS