She woke in the sangam. Bhumika was before her—had heard Priya, perhaps, crying out as the fire hit her. Bhumika’s eyes were molten. “You fainted,” she said. Priya sat up. “I don’t faint.” “That isn’t true. You did. You’re here.” “I was in—a battle. An unexpected battle and . . .” Priya scrambled, touching her fingertips to her side. She hissed. There was a wound. Sap poured from it, strange and unreal in the sangam. Bhumika tutted. “That’s not good,” she said.
