“I know.” I stroked the nape of his neck, feeling the strong sinew drawn tight beneath his skin. Naamah’s gift stirred in me, and Kamadeva’s diamond sang to it; but it was not right yet. Not here, not now. “Shall we go count some jewels?”

He nodded. “Let’s.”

SEVENTY-FIVE

Taking inventory of Kurugiri’s treasures was a prodigious task. The coffers in Jagrati’s private chambers alone revealed untold wealth.

“Stone and sea!” I plucked out an impossibly long strand of pearls the size of quail eggs, each one perfectly spherical and uniform in shape, shimmering with an iridescent pinkish hue. “How would someone even wear such a thing?”

“Looped three times around the neck, Moirin,” Bao said briefly. “Sudhakar, make a note. One strand of pearls, three arm-lengths long.”

“Yes, Bao!” the young man said eagerly, adding in an apologetic tone, “Only, I cannot write.”

We found someone who could, since Bao could write only in Ch’in characters, and I could write only in the Western alphabet, neither of which the Bhodistani could read.

One by one, we catalogued the pieces in Jagrati’s coffers.

A gold filigree hairpiece set with emeralds, another set with sapphires and seed pearls.

An ornamental dagger with three large emeralds forming the hilt, sheathed in a golden scabbard encrusted with diamonds.

Countless gold and silver bangles and anklets.

A collar wrought of rubies and diamonds crafted in the shape of glittering flowers with blood-red centers.

Rings set with every manner of gemstone.

Gaudy and elaborate brooches dripping with jewels.

On and on it went, an endless and dazzling array. We found the famous Phoenix Stone, the immense ruby for which the Maharaja of Chodur and his bride had been slain, tucked away in the corner of a coffer and forgotten.

It wasn’t just jewelry, either. There were shelves of jewel-bright miniature paintings on ivory panels depicting warriors riding to battle on the backs of elephants, hunters on horseback cornering a tiger, opulent scenes of court life. There were the gilded lamps and braziers, many of the former encrusted with gems. There were decorative vessels carved from ivory and carnelian. We found an entire trunk of gilded bronze votive figures depicting the Bhodistani pantheon in intricate detail.

“Why would Jagrati want these stolen for her?” I asked in bewilderment, holding a many-armed statue of the goddess Durga. “She claimed to hate the gods.”

Bao glanced at it. “I don’t think this was all her doing,” he said. “There was a fair bit of treasure already here. Lord Khaga let her claim what she wished, and when she tired of it, he got her more.” He shrugged. “It would be like her to claim images of gods and hide them away. Having been denied access to them all her life, it would please her to deny them to others. I never knew what was in that trunk,” he added. “I never saw her open it.”

It reminded me in an unpleasant way that Bao must have spent a great deal of time in this bedchamber. He had been one of her favorites.

Seeing the thought on my face, he looked away. “Let’s just keep going, huh?”

I nodded. “One gilded statue of Durga with…” I counted. “Eighteen arms,” I said to Govind, the elderly steward who was recording the inventory for us.

After we had finished with Jagrati’s hoard, there was the rest of the fortress to catalogue. Mostly its valuable furnishings consisted of furniture and wall-hangings, but there was an extensive set of gold serving-ware inlaid with precious stones that took a long time. There were still the injured men to tend to, which delayed the process, although happily, the wounded were progressing well.

Altogether, the inventory took days, and when we were done, I didn’t care if I never saw another piece of jewelry or treasure again.

“No?” Bao smiled a little when I announced it. “A good thing, since I don’t have any money to keep you in gold and jewels.” His smile faded. “Or any money at all, really. I don’t have much to offer you, Moirin.”

“You have yourself, and that’s enough.” I hesitated, unconsciously fingering the awkward lump of Kamadeva’s diamond in my pocket. “But… Bao, do you think Jagrati’s shadow is always going to be between us?”

“No.” He ran a hand over his hair, which he’d cropped into its former unruly shock before leaving Bhaktipur-although the gold hoops remained in his earlobes. I hadn’t asked why. “No, I don’t. But being here…” He shuddered. “There are too many memories. When we go, I mean to leave them behind.”

“I could take them from you,” I offered quietly. “If you wished it.”

After only the briefest of pauses, Bao shook his head. “Good men died to remove Jagrati and Lord Khaga from this world. To rid myself of those memories would dishonor their sacrifice.”

I smiled. “Funny, that’s very much what Snow Tiger said when I made her the same offer.”

“Her bridegroom’s death?” he asked in a hushed tone. I nodded. “No, she wouldn’t dishonor his memory, would she? Not our Noble Princess.” Bao met my eyes. “I did not suffer anything so terrible as that here in Kurugiri. I am not proud of the things I did, or the man I was here, but since I found the strength to walk away when I needed it, on some level, I must have chosen this. So I will keep my memories, and learn to grow stronger from them. I did not murder anyone, if you are wondering,” he added. “I did not become an assassin, a killer of innocents.”

I had been wondering, but I didn’t let him know it. “You would not have let that happen,” I said firmly.

Bao’s mouth quirked. “I like to think it is true. But in truth, I was never ordered to do so.”

I took his hand, lacing my fingers through his. “Bao… there is a wellspring of relentless pride and nobility hidden in you. No matter how much you try to suppress it, it bubbles to the surface. That is why you did not become a killer of innocents. It is why you did your best to protect someone like poor Sudhakar; and why you walked away from your life as a prince of thugs to become Master Lo’s magpie.” I squeezed his hand, hard. “And it is one of the reasons I love you.”

Averting his head, Bao gazed at our entwined fingers; then gave me a glinting look under his lashes. “What are the other reasons?”

“You make me laugh,” I said promptly. He scoffed. “It’s true! And it’s worth more than you reckon. In Vralia, it helped keep me sane. I imagined you counseling me when the Patriarch was demanding my endless confession, especially when it came to you.”

“What did I say?” he asked, curious.

“You said, ‘Tell the stunted old pervert whatever he wants to hear, Moirin, and I will bash his head in when I have a chance.’” I smiled. “And then you grew indignant because Pyotr Rostov did not press for details about your prowess in bed.”

“That does sound like me,” Bao admitted.

“I know.”

“What else?”

“Remember on the greatship?” I asked softly. “You said you were afraid my destiny would swallow you whole. Gods, Bao! I’m afraid of my own destiny. It’s been a hard one thus far, and if the tulku is right, it’s far from over. But at every crossroad, you’ve never hesitated. Not once.”

His hand stirred in mine. “That’s not true. I left you.”

I shook my head. “That was a different kind of crossroad.”

“Was it?”

“Yes.” I freed my hand from his, laying one hand on his hard, firm chest and one on my own, feeling our shared diadh-anam twine and flicker. “This destiny, Master Lo laid upon us both. You had to find your own way to accept it, and I think I needed the time and distance to be certain of my own feelings, too. And… I don’t know, Bao. Mayhap the gods prompted him to do so. It has led us to bad places, dark places. Riva. Kurugiri. Even so, good things have come of it. I do believe what we have done serves the greater good.”