Forest of Demons (31 page)

“You were hungry. It’s all right,” Ravi said.

But it wasn’t, because she was a vegetarian. She wasn’t supposed to like meat, but she had . . . so, so much.

She picked a shred of chicken from her teeth, looked at it, and then popped it back in her mouth before spitting it out in horror. What was wrong with her?

“Priya? It is Priya, isn’t it?” The queen’s voice was soft and melodious, like the swish of long grasses on a summer day.

They were in the queen’s personal chambers. Huge tapestries adorned the walls, and the floor was covered in thick piled rugs scattered with huge seating cushions. There was an oval bed in the center, draped in veils of purple and cream, and above them the ceiling twinkled, encrusted with a multitude of tiny crystals. There was one window made of stained glass, and the light shining through painted the room in blues and greens.

Priya looked at the queen properly for the first time, registering her perfectly heart-shaped face, large doe eyes, and raven-black lashes. She was beautiful, and her mouth, even though it wasn’t smiling, was a perfect sensuous pout, rosy and full. At first glance she seemed too young, barely a girl, but on closer inspection Priya noted the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth.

Ravi’s elbow digging into her ribs halted her assessment. “Yes, my name is Priya, Your Majesty.” She inclined her head in respect.

“A beautiful name, one of my most favored.” She smiled kindly, her dark kohl-rimmed eyes crinkling with warmth.

Priya felt answering warmth unfurl in the bit of her stomach. “Thank you for helping us.”

“I wish I could help them all, but alas, if I did my husband, despite his insanity, would discover it, and then I fear he may follow through on his many threats to have my head.” She sighed. “He was a good man once, a kind man, intelligent and full of life. He loved me, and I him. However, if I’d known how short our years together would be, I fear I would have traded that love for my freedom.” She winced. “Does that make me a terrible person?”

“Oh, Mother, for goodness sake, stop procrastinating,” the prince said, rolling his eyes.

The queen sighed. “And this, as you may have gathered, is my dear son Chandra, the light of my life.”

Chandra winked saucily.

Priya bit her lip to hide her smile.

“You spoke of invaders. Please, tell me more.”

Priya told her what she knew, what she had seen, and by the time she finished, the queen’s face was twisted in compassion, her eyes welling.

“I am so sorry for your loss, child, but you will find no aid here. If my husband has his way, then we will be laughing while these invaders batter down our walls. In truth he will expect us to laugh as they slit our throats. I fear that the capital is useless, the army grown fat and lazy. In truth, death would be a relief.”

“There must be something we can do?”

“Maybe one of the smaller kingdoms?” Ravi said.

The queen frowned. “If you refer to our neighboring Kingdom of Svastha, then you’re sorely out of date. King Manu’s people have been plagued by one sickness or another for generations, but five years ago they succumbed to an ailment so strange, so contagious that he was forced to close the gates to all. They’ve never reopened. We believe that all perished. King Raj’s kingdom far to the northeast is barely large enough to be given such a title. I have no idea why it’s called the Kingdom of Dhani. Maybe it was filled with wealth at one time, but now it’s a den of poverty and shadowy dealings. Rumors say that Raj is a barbarian, living on the fringes of the desert lands and associating with outlaws.” She leaned forward. “Personally, I think he
is
an outlaw. Some of the tales I’ve heard would give you nightmares.”

Priya refused to believe that was the end of it. There had to be something they could do. “I know our isle is small, but it’s home. I refuse to accept that there’s no hope. Even outlaws and barbarians can be rallied to save the land they call home.”

The queen smiled. “You’re a determined young woman. I can see courage in your eyes. There may be a way, but the path will be perilous.”

There was no choice; they could face the peril and possibly survive, or do nothing and surely die. “Please, tell me.”

“There’ve been rumors of a rebel group called The Fist. They’re said to reside in the deserts northeast of here. They lead a nomadic life, so they’re not easily tracked. The stories say that they fight for the just causes of the people. Although I don’t know whether to believe the tales, for if they were true, surely they would have invaded the capital by now and freed us from my husband.”

Priya stared at her in surprise. “The villages near my home have heard nothing but wonderful tales of the capital, and if
they
have heard nothing, then I doubt this rebel faction will have either.”

The Prince snorted. “Mother, it’s beauteous out in the capital, the tourists love it, and those who do succeed in scratching the surface, whether by deliberation or by chance, are removed.” He shrugged. “Father may be eccentric, but he provides shelter, food, and clothes for all his subjects; even a fool would not risk losing those comforts.”

The queen sighed wearily. “I try not to dwell on the terrible things that happen, and I fear I have succeeded in fooling even myself.”

Priya wasn’t sure what they were referring to, but she knew that time was running out. They wouldn’t be able to save Dhaka, but if they acted fast enough, they may be able to enlist help in saving the Capital. For despite the weaknesses of its current ruler, the Capital was the stronghold of the isle. If the invaders took it, they would have immeasurable resources at their disposal.

The queen studied her carefully. “You’re eyes are indeed beautiful,” she said wistfully. She reached for Priya’s hands, taking them gently in hers. “You don’t have to do this. No one will blame you if you run and hide. You could be safe.”

“There is no safety until these monsters are stopped,” Priya said. “Tell me what I’ll be facing.”

It was the prince who answered. “Adventure! You’ll be facing adventure, and that’s why I’m coming with you.”

“Chandra!” the queen made to stand, but Chandra pressed her back into her seat.

“No, you won’t stop me this time. This is a just cause. If I die in the process, it’ll be a good death, an honorable death.”

The queen hung her head. “Very well, if that’s your wish, I will fight you no longer.”

Priya glanced at Ravi in confusion, why would a mother not fight her son’s decision to walk into the arms of possible death?

Ravi shook his head slightly, his eyes fixed on the queen.

“Take Amit and Deepa with you.”

The Prince stared sharply at his mother, his brows snapping together. “Really? Why now? I’ve been begging you for years to—”

“Do not question me!” The queen’s dark eyes flashed in annoyance, but Priya sensed it was an act to cover what she was really feeling. If only Priya could read her better.

She glanced at Ravi to see if he’d noticed the conflict of emotions, but Ravi was as still as a statue, his mouth parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was trying to catch the queen’s eye, but she studiously avoided his.

There was something strange happening here, an undertone she couldn’t define. Priya was the only outsider. It felt wrong, and it nudged her temper to rise.

“Who are Amit and Deepa?” Her words came out more forcefully than intended, and the prince chuffed in amusement, which only served to make her crosser.

She tilted her head to look at him. It seemed he was always towering over her with that arrogant tilt to his perfectly sculpted lips. He quirked a brow, and then winked saucily down at her before responding to her question.

“They were the court illusionists, until father saw fit to lock them away.”

Illusionists? That was impossible. Illusionists were a myth . . . weren’t they?

There was a knock at the doors, and a frightened-looking serving maid wearing circles of rouge on her cheeks and nose entered. Her eyebrows had been painted over in white and redrawn much higher on her forehead. She bowed low before addressing the Queen in a quick, clipped tongue.

“The King, he comes.”

The queen was on her feet instantly. She pushed a bundle containing the leftover food toward them. Priya took it. It was still warm and smelled delicious.

“Go, now. Be safe,” the queen said.

Priya and Ravi followed Chandra to one of the large tapestries on the wall. He lifted it, slipping behind and vanishing from view.

Ravi reached for her hand, and was about to pull her through when the queen spoke from behind them.

“Have you seen him?”

Priya looked at her in confusion, and then realized she was talking to Ravi.

“Not in a long while,” Ravi said.

The Queen smiled a sad, desolate smile. “Keep her safe.”

Then they were stepping through the hole behind the tapestry and into darkness.

They followed Chandra through the narrow tunnel, lit only by the light of a lamp held high in Chandra’s hand. Chandra did not speak, and so they too kept their silence. In truth it was disconcerting to be trapped in such a confined space. Were they between the walls of the palace? Were there people on the other side, living their lives? If she were to shout, would she be heard?

They came to an intersection, and Chandra took a right. The passage sloped downward before ending abruptly in a small door.

“Wait for me here,” Chandra said. He passed the lantern to Ravi before pulling back the bolt and ducking through.

They didn’t have to wait long before Chandra popped his head through the door and beckoned them through.

Priya was surprised to find that they were back in the dungeons. She recognized the corridor as the one that she’d been dragged down not too long ago. She glanced around, afraid a guard would appear at any moment.

“Quick, this way.” Chandra hurried down the corridor past the locked cells and stopped at the far end before a heavy-looking metal door. There was something odd about the door, and on closer inspection she realized what it was: There was no handle, bolt, latch, or keyhole.

Chandra rolled up his cuff and slipped off one of his bracelets. It was made of thick gold with a raised, blunt saw pattern on the outside. He ran his fingers over the door, looking for something. She saw the moment he found it, his perfect mouth curved in a smile of satisfaction. He pressed the bracelet to the door, holding it so the ridges connected with something, and then he rolled it with his hand. A series of clicks were followed by the sound of a bolt coming free.

The door popped. Chandra curled his fingers around the edge, giving it a tug. Priya saw a flight of stairs leading down into more darkness.

“Follow me. We don’t have much time. This is the only way in, and the only way out. If we’re to retrieve Amit and Deepa, we’ll need to be fast. The guards will be returning to duty in less than an hour.”

Chandra ushered them through the door and followed, locking it behind him.

The steps were stone, slippery and steep, and the walls were smooth, providing no grip. The descent was a slow one, and at the bottom they were faced with yet another door.

This one did have a keyhole. Chandra retrieved the key from a chain around his neck. She noted how hard he had to twist to move the lock, and wondered how long it had been since this door had been used.

Finally the door squeaked open and they were in.

What lay beyond was something that Priya could never have imagined.

It was a dismal replica of what lay above.

It was a city under the capital.

This city’s colors were gray and black and drab. The people, as if keeping to the theme, had developed a decidedly ashen tinge to their skin. There was a painted sky, which she imagined would have been a cheery blue once. Now it was a faded bluish gray. A lamp, large and round, was affixed to the fake sky to mimic the sun. Instead of casting a warm glow it simply served to emphasize the dreary, dismal landscape beneath it.

People milled about sluggishly, their eyes blank and empty, faces slack. They were in what passed for the market, but where above there had been color, music and laughter, here there were only soft sobs and pleading.

A man slapped a woman across the face for trying to steal a loaf of bread from his stall. A woman carrying a small child pleaded with another stall owner for a pint of milk. Everywhere Priya looked she saw sorrow.

Chandra spoke over his shoulder as he led them through the market. “The stalls are a farce. Assigned and stocked by the capital. Everything here is a farce—the jobs, the money, the whole system. Father was trying to be clever. He believes that everyone should taste the capital, and whenever a new citizen is approved an old one is sentenced to the Undercity. If someone in the capital breaks the law, if they utter a cross word or frown, they are sent here.”

That explained how the capital was always able to house more citizens. It also explained the citizens’ forced joviality. “So all these people . . . they were once citizens above?”

Chandra nodded. “And now they are nothing more than prisoners. It’s this or death. Father may be insane, but he’s not stupid. The capital is a carefully crafted illusion.”

“Speaking of illusions, can you tell me why Amit was sent to the Undercity?” Ravi asked.

Chandra shook his head. “I wish I could. I asked Mother, but even she’s unsure. It wasn’t long after the girl Deepa arrived. Personally, I think she’s the one who upset Father. Amit must have intervened and doomed them both. Father’s mind works at a level nobody can comprehend; that’s why he’s so dangerous. There’s no anticipating his moods. What angers him today may please him tomorrow.”

She couldn’t imagine living under such a shadow, but surely anything was preferable to this—all these people living without the sunlight or fresh air.

“It’s funny, actually, because this place was designed by Amit years ago, by order of the king. He made certain to provide vents that pumped fresh air from above. There’s a sun building where, by using a vertical tunnel and a system of mirrors, Amit harnesses the goodness of the sun. People bathe in there at least once a week,” Chandra said.