A low sound, a sound at once soft and harsh. I felt it in the pit of my belly. Ravens fluttering. “No,” Jagrati said fondly in her silken rasp of a voice. “No, my oh so pretty dakini, I do not think so.” She rose from the throne, moving with that angular grace, Kamadeva’s diamond glowing at her throat. “Come, put down your bow, young Moirin. Do not threaten me. It is not who you are. You were made for pleasure, not killing.”

It was true; so true! With a sigh of relief, I lowered my bow.

Jagrati smiled. “Well done, child! Now release your magic.”

I wanted to obey her.

“Moirin, no!” Amrita’s voice rang out. She positioned herself deftly between us, her hands rising in a warding mudra. “Do not listen to her; do not look at her! Look at me, and hold fast to all you love!”

I raised my bow, blinking hard.

I held the twilight.

Jagrati hissed through her teeth, pacing with ferocious elegance. “Little Rani,” she said in a guttural purr. “Do you know, you are everything I hate in this world?”

“The world has not been kind to you,” my lady Amrita said steadily, her hands unwavering. “And I am sorry for it. I listened to the words you said before, and I will seek to be mindful of them in pursuit of the truth. But that does not excuse your cruelty.”

“Pious mush-mouthed creature!” Jagrati reached for her, then recoiled with another hiss. “Look at you.” Her voice dripped with contempt. “So brave, little daughter of the warrior caste; so proud to be doing her duty, so sanctimonious in her self-righteousness.”

It made me angry.

“My lady Amrita is none of those things save brave, Jagrati,” I said fiercely. “Do not project your own darkness on her.”

Jagrati’s glittering gaze settled on me, bringing the full force of Kamadeva’s diamond to bear. My blood thundered in my ears, throbbed in my veins. I had never been afflicted with a taste for life’s sharper pleasures, but that was before I had committed murder and taken darkness onto my own spirit. Now I sensed the absolution to be found in accepting punishment, in abasement and humiliation.

I was flushed and hot, aching between my thighs, beginning to shudder with the force of it. My yew-wood bow trembled in my hands. Kamadeva’s diamond glowed like dark embers, like a blood-red sun setting, promising razor-edged pleasures. Jagrati’s full lips curved in a smile. I wanted her to kiss me again, wanted her to touch me with those cruel, long-fingered hands, wanted her to hurt me. I wanted her to whisper foul things to me in that rasping, silken voice, compelling me to obey her, forcing me into unclean acts. Anything.

No.

No, I didn’t. Because Amrita stood between us, and I would not let any harm come to my kind and lovely Rani. Because Bao fought behind me, and I could feel the force of his diadh-anam burning bright and clear.

I would not let Jagrati and Kamadeva’s diamond turn Naamah’s gift into a curse. I clung to memories of brightness, memories of love. Mayhap Bao was right, and I did fall in love as easily as other people fall out of a boat; but I loved in earnest. Well, and so? I did but obey Blessed Elua’s precept, love as thou wilt.

Elua.

I had prayed to Naamah for aid, but the bright lady could not protect me from my own desires, even desire without love.

But mayhap Elua could.

“Blessed Elua,” I whispered in D’Angeline. “In the name of everyone I have ever loved, I beg you to aid me.”

Golden warmth flooded me, dispelling the darkness. The desire didn’t vanish, but it grew bearable. The shudders that racked me began to lessen, and I was able to steady my hands on the bow.

Anger suffused Jagrati’s face as she felt her influence waning. “What are you doing, dakini? What new spell do you speak?” She forced herself to calmness, coaxing again with her slithering rasp of a voice. “Come, Moirin. Do you not wish to please me? All I am asking is a small thing. Release your magic.”

I shook my head. “No.”

Behind me, the clashing, clamoring sounds of battle were beginning to dwindle. There were low sounds of agony, men groaning and whimpering with pain. If we had won, it would come at a price. Jagrati’s gaze slid past me. I wondered what she saw.

“Bao?” I called.

“Uh-huh!” he grunted in reply, and I heard the sound of a blade clattering against his steel-wrapped bamboo staff. “Almost done, Moirin.”

I kept my arrow trained on Jagrati, and although the Spider Queen of Kurugiri was as beautiful and terrible as Kali dancing, and Kamadeva’s diamond shone around her throat and sang to me, there was only rage and hatred in her. I could not love her. Like my lady Amrita, I pitied her; and I saw her hate me for it.

There was a final clash behind me, then a heavy thud and two sharp thumps, followed by Bao’s soft “Heh.”

“It’s over,” I said quietly. “Give the diamond to the Rani Amrita.”

Jagrati’s narrow nostrils flared. “Come and take it, little Rani,” she said to Amrita. “Come, unfasten it with your own hands, daughter of privilege! Or do you fear to be polluted by the touch of my skin?”

“No, Jagrati.” My lady Amrita lowered her hands, her voice grave. She took a step forward. “I do not.”

For the third time in two encounters, Jagrati recoiled violently from the Rani. Her hands went to the nape of her neck, working frantically at a clasp. Loosing the collar of gold filigree that held Kamadeva’s black diamond, she hurled it at Amrita’s feet. “Take it, then, damn you! Take it!”

Bowing her head, Amrita stooped to retrieve the necklace…

… and everything changed.

SEVENTY-TWO

The stone floor of the throne room of Kurugiri was hard beneath my knees, evoking a distant memory of scrubbing tiles in the temple of Riva.

Thinking it was odd that she seemed so tall, I gazed upward at my lady Amrita.

Upward? Yes, upward.

Taking a deep breath, I realized that I’d released the twilight and gone to my knees without thinking when Amrita picked up the necklace with Kamadeva’s diamond in it. My yew-wood bow and arrow lay on the floor before me like an offering.

I was not alone.

Everyone, everyone in the throne room capable of kneeling was doing so-save for the Spider Queen Jagrati. And even as I thought it, Jagrati swayed on her feet, then crumpled helplessly to her knees, huddling there.

“Moirin?” My lady Amrita sounded forlorn and confused, the collar of gold filigree dangling from one hand, Kamadeva’s diamond flickering in its setting. “What is it? What’s happening, eh?”

Unable to help myself, I touched my brow to the cool flagstones. The uncertainty in her voice made my heart ache. I wanted to comfort her, to pleasure her, to assuage her every fear. For now, all I could do was reply honestly. “You hold Kamadeva’s diamond and all its power, my lady.”

“I do?” Amrita asked in wonder. “I do, don’t I?”

My Rani was beautiful and terrible with it-but not like Kali dancing, no. Like a goddess, but a kinder, gentler one. The goddess Durga on her tiger, perhaps, her face filled with radiant light and fierce compassion.

“Yes,” I whispered.

She gazed around the throne room, taking in the cost of our endeavor. The Falconer Tarik Khaga sprawled on his back, his mouth agape. Dead. He was dead; his five remaining assassins were dead. Over a dozen of her best guards were dead or dying, and it would have been worse had it not been for Bao, kneeling with his staff across his lap, gazing at her in a worshipful manner.

Amrita touched her slender fingers to her lips. “Oh, gods!”

I bent and touched my brow to the floor again. “You did what was needful, highness.”

“Did I?”

I bowed low again. “Of course.”