The man’s facial bandages had come undone.
At least I nicked him, Maiya thought with some satisfaction. He hadn’t been an easy opponent.
The bandages fell away to reveal a hideous visage underneath.
Half of his face had been… burned? No, not burned, Maiya realized. Something much worse. It’d been eaten away.
The man stood slowly, staring up at her as she fled, hatred burning in his eyes.
How could any man hate someone he’s never met? It’s almost as if…
Maiya went rigid. The pieces of the puzzle snapped into place. His formidable experience. The familiarity of the style with which he fought.
She knew that man. She knew him very well.
35
KARTARA NIGHTS (PART THREE) (MAIYA)
To Maiya, the flight back took no time at all. She hardly noticed when they crossed the border to Hiranya, and then finally to Kin’jal, barely even registering the Acira transfers in between.
Her thoughts roiled within her head, entirely consumed with the image of the man she’d seen. A man whose face had been shorn off and shoddily healed.
He’s… still alive.
She shouldn’t have been surprised. Riyan was like a cockroach. He wouldn’t have died so easily.
Memories of another life flooded her mind. Of training and living together with Vir in Riyan’s strange, yet somehow cozy, abode. It was a different time, then. A simpler time, with fewer responsibilities. It was only a year ago.
Maiya’s thoughts wandered as the frigid air turned warm again, stoking the flames of her nostalgia.
How had Riyan survived? Where had he been all this time, and what had he been up to?
Why was he in Sai, of all places?
Yet the more she stewed over it, the more it made sense. Riyan was not a difficult man to understand. Scarred, jaded, and ruthless, yes. But not complicated.
Riyan loved Hiranya. That was the core of his very existence. To that end, he’d devoted his life to ensure Princess Mina would never wear the crown, and he’d succeeded.
He paid a hefty price. Though I suppose he wouldn’t see it that way, Maiya thought bitterly.
Riyan would’ve gladly sacrificed his face or an arm—even his life—to see Mina dead.
She wasn’t dead. Not quite, but close. From the Kin’jal intelligence network’s reports, it sounded like the princess had fallen into delirium, babbling nonsense and ranting at anyone who came near. Apparently, Hiranya had to have her locked up. Both for her safety and for those around her.
Does it give him joy seeing her this way? Maiya wondered. She somehow doubted it.
Riyan seemed to have turned his sights outward after his pyrrhic victory. Sai was Kin’jal’s ally, and a border nation to Hiranya. As such, they posed his country a threat. It wasn’t hard to guess that Riyan intended to install a government hostile to Kin’jal.
Which would, ironically, interfere with the princess’ plans. Though she was planning a coup, would the new Saian regime see it that way? Maiya wasn’t certain. She was also uncertain whether this new government would survive the invasion Andros was bound to initiate.
Too many pieces were moving, and Maiya felt as though she lacked sufficient information to decipher it.
As Frumpy landed in Jatan Forest and the excitement of the night began to wear off, Maiya felt fatigue take its hold. It was late, she was cold and tired, and her bed called.
After submitting a brief verbal report of the night’s events to the handmaiden pilot, she tromped off into the chilly forest, her Magic Lamp guiding the way.
The pilot would remain on standby until Maiya’s double returned… which should be in just a few moments.
It took her some doing to locate the well hidden secret hatch, but once she did, it took only a few more to reach the false wall bookshelf that hid the entrance to her room.
Back home at last—?
Maiya’s eyes widened in horror.
Blood covered the stone ground of her chambers. Her bedding was shredded, the chair and desk had been obliterated, and her personal effects were strewn all over the room.
Standing in the very center of that carnage was none other than the Blessed Chosen. He gripped the neck of her double, holding the poor girl in the air as she suffocated, her legs flailing helplessly.
“Oh good,” the Blessed Chosen said, turning his head almost casually toward Maiya. “You’ve returned at last. This will be easy.”
The handmaiden wrenched her head and locked her eyes with Maiya. She didn’t need to whimper or scream. From her eyes alone, Maiya could see her fear. Her terror.
She was young. Even younger than Maiya.
“Please put her down,” Maiya said, showing her open palms. “She was acting under orders. The blame rests with me. I don’t know what you want, but I’ll cooperate. Please, just let her go.”
“You will cooperate, then?” the Blessed Chosen said.
“Whatever it is you want,” Maiya repeated.
The Blessed Chosen regarded her without even the barest trace of emotion. “Whatever I want, is it?”
“I’ll do it. So just let her—”
Crack.
The handmaiden’s legs abruptly stilled. The Blessed Chosen dropped her limp corpse, which thudded onto the ground.
Her neck was twisted at an impossible angle.
“Good,” the enormous man said, teeth glinting. “Come. Have a seat.”
Maiya didn’t respond. She simply stood there, gaping at the dead girl on the ground, trying desperately to blink back her tears. She was unsuccessful.
Maiya sat in the chair in a daze. It wasn’t that she was unused to death. Just that this was so sudden. So cruel. So… unnecessary.
She was so young…
The girl’s corpse lay just a few paces away, and the poor girl’s pleading expression was all Maiya could look at. Pleading for Maiya to help.
“Eyes on me,” the Blessed Chosen said. Maiya begrudgingly shifted her gaze.
“Why?” she whispered. “What threat was she to you?”
“You would say this? After betraying your people?”
Maiya scowled. “My people, is it? That’s rich, coming from you. I’ve yet to see you at a single blood ritual. Where have you been? What do you do all the time?”
I need to play this carefully, Maiya thought, fighting to purge the shock and guilt from her mind. There would be time for grief later.
To Maiya’s surprise, the Blessed Chosen laughed. A great, bellowing guffaw that echoed off the walls of her chamber.
“What do I do?” the Blessed Chosen said, wiping a tear from his face.
“I fail to find the humor in this,” Maiya said tersely. If she believed she could kill the Blessed Chosen on her own, she would. But she knew nothing of his power, other than his superhuman strength. He could very well be a Talent wielder, which meant Maiya would have to be exceedingly cautious dealing with him.
Moreover, Maiya understood how fragile her position was. The Blessed Chosen would be well within his rights to have her executed. It was exactly the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Which was why she’d taken every precaution. She hadn’t made a single mistake. He couldn’t have known of her foray.
So how…? How had he found out?
“I suffer,” the Blessed Chosen spat. “I suffer in a way that no human does. All thanks to you. You! So blissfully oblivious. Soon. Charging at my throne as if it is some trophy. Soon, you will come to understand. You will share in my suffering. Only, by then, it will be too late. You will regret your every action. You will curse your ignorance.”