Page 12 of The Prince Without Sorrow

Chapter Eleven

Shakti

S HAKTI DROPPED INTO A MOCK-BOW AT THE SIGHT OF Emperor Adil.

‘My condolences,’ she said. ‘For your death. I would have wished for an unpleasant rebirth but alas, it appears that you have been punished in kind. Rebirth will not claim you.’

Emperor Adil stared at her like she was a dung beetle. ‘Does your kind not teach basic manners?’ he responded.

‘My kind teaches vipāka ,’ she retorted snidely, watching with satisfaction when Adil cast his eyes skyward. He would know it – the ripening, the maturing of karma. Its result escaped no one, not even a royal.

‘ Teaches ,’ he said with a derisive snort. ‘And what do you do with these philosophies, witch? Nothing. All that power to use, and you store it away.’

Shakti bristled at his comment. Of course he didn’t understand. Not having grown up learning a pacifist code made him apathetic to the mayakari ways. ‘You’re like any power-hungry monster,’ she replied. ‘You don’t understand that simply because one holds greater power does not mean it has to be used. Sometimes, power is best left alone.’

This was the same spiel Jaya had given her. Even as she said it, Shakti knew how hypocritical she was being. Preaching the careful use of mayakari power was worthless when she had used it based on anger and grief. That, and she felt vindicated after using it.

The emperor seemed to be thinking as she did. ‘A false ascetic then, aren’t you?’ he asked softly. In the gleam of his eyes was a panther waiting to kill.

‘You know, I don’t understand your motive,’ Shakti said, tapping her foot on the floor in a slow rhythm. ‘You despise the mayakari and wish to eradicate them from the face of this earth. And yet, this power that you have – is this not the power of a witch?’

Emperor Adil’s answering smile reeked of wickedness. ‘What do you know about power, child?’

‘Power?’ Shakti echoed. ‘It is something that can be taken.’

‘Indeed,’ the emperor looked oddly surprised by her answer. ‘Power always has the potential to be taken away. And who better to stand a chance in taking away the legacy of the great Maurya dynasty than the vile mayakari with their atrocious death magic?’

‘You’re paranoid,’ Shakti said, scoffing. ‘Delusional. The mayakari have lived peacefully for thousands of years. Why slaughter a race that has done nothing to deserve it?’

‘Power like yours was made for war,’ said Emperor Adil. His dark eyes looked hungry at the mention of mayakari magic. It was intermingled with another emotion; one she couldn’t identify. ‘But you abhor it in favour of peace. I have lost to pacifism once, and I will not lose to it again.’

Before she could ask him what he meant by that, the emperor delivered yet another barb. ‘Only the deserving should wield such power, and your kind is not deserving.’

Shakti snorted. The powerful lusted after power. What a surprise. ‘How fortunate that you will not be reborn, Adil,’ she replied.

The emperor glowered at her informality. ‘You know, rebirth will not claim you either, mayakari,’ he said. ‘Those who hold The Collective do not.’

A cold prickle spread down Shakti’s spine. ‘What did you say?’

‘Power cannot be held without consequence,’ the emperor replied. He seemed pleased by her shocked response. ‘Whatever it is that makes up your consciousness will be tethered to the next holder. You will be denied a rebirth, mayakari.’

Surely, he was lying to scare her. Was such a thing even possible?

It was as if Adil sensed her distrust. ‘It is true,’ he said. Even now, he made it sound as if she were a child who could not understand basic writing skills. ‘If it is not, I would not be here.’

There was an unpleasant lurch in the pit of her stomach.

No rebirth . No chance to die naturally, to have her ashes scattered to the winds. To find their place at the bottom of a riverbed, to sink deep into forest soil and become part of the earth once more.

If his claims are true...

Tears threatened to spill but Shakti held them back. Adil’s claims promised an eternity of loneliness. Of attachment. Of suffering.

No , she told herself. I do not deserve suffering.

‘Tell me how to get rid of this, then,’ she demanded and gestured to the throne room.

‘You can’t,’ came the swift reply. But it was too quick.

‘You lie, Adil .’ Hoping to spark annoyance in him, Shakti addressed the emperor without his formal title once more. ‘If this is a collective, there are others here, and that means there is someone who has the answer to my question.’

‘How will you know if I lie or not?’ he questioned in return. ‘Perhaps this is all I know. Perhaps I am a fool.’

The emperor was lying through his teeth and they both knew it. Adil did not seem like the type of person to willingly call himself a fool. There had to be a way to get rid of this affliction. Shakti couldn’t imagine having to spend a lifetime with the emperor in her head. She’d summoned a Great Spirit, of all beings, to help, and if this were to end as a fruitless endeavour, the shame she would inflict upon herself was endless.

‘Fuck you,’ she spat.

‘You dare —’ he began, incensed. With a practised anger, he stood and raised his left hand high as if about to come down and slap her. Panicked by his towering figure, Shakti cast her eyes downward and imagined his arm slipping back down, unable to touch her. ‘ For spirits’ sake .’

When she glanced back up, she found Adil frozen in place. His arm was still raised but it quivered like a plucked bowstring. It was as if he were trying to move but his brain and joints were disconnected. Was this her doing, or his? Surely, it wasn’t Adil’s. No doubt, he would have slapped her without hesitation.

Suddenly, the landscape changed. The Obsidian Throne vanished, replaced by a vivid blue sky and scorched ground. The environment wasn’t clear; it was as if she were stuck in that pesky stage of opening her eyes after sleep and finding the world blurred. The only sure thing Shakti knew was that she was overlooking some sort of mountain cliff. The hazy blue of the sky was too vast for it to be forestland. Adil, too, had disappeared. Another figure had taken his place.

Shakti gasped as her vision cleared. This was the man from before. The beautiful one, with glossy black hair, the charming smile, and the golden circlet that mirrored Adil’s.

‘Who are you?’ she asked him.

The man smiled in response and shook his head. ‘You are not... connected,’ he said. ‘... must ask Ashoka... wisdom of past rulers... first...’

His voice broke with every word, becoming disjointed and faded the more he spoke. Shakti frowned, unable to understand.

‘Ashoka...’ he told her. ‘Ask...’

‘Prince Ashoka?’ Shakti was confused. What would the young prince know about The Collective? She made to ask this mysterious man about his cryptic remarks, but he had disappeared altogether. Only his deep, husky voice remained in her mind:

Ashoka.

Ashoka.

Ashoka.

Shakti felt warmth again.

The moment the mysterious man vanished, the real world appeared. She looked down at her feet. The ash-grey ectoplasm surrounding her started to retreat. Gentle like a baby’s breath, it swished upward, releasing itself from her legs, then torso, then head, until the jaw of the tiger snapped back into its original position. The extended neck shortened, and the tiger became visible again.

Ask Ashoka .

She had heard of him, the youngest prince, from both travelling merchants from the Golden City and from Adil himself. Merchants dubbed him to be soft, and from the way Adil had described his son, the rumours were likely true. Yet, how was Prince Ashoka Maurya the answer to her problems?

‘Shakti!’

Nayani’s voice shook her out of her trance. Carefully, she took a few steps back from the tiger and bowed deeply.

‘ Thank you, Great Spirit ,’ she said. ‘ You have my gratitude. ’

As Nayani followed her bow, the gentle beast let out a deep, satisfied roar. It made the ground vibrate; the tree leaves tremble. ‘ I wish you luck, little witches ,’ it replied. A gold glow emitted from its body as it turned from them and walked away. Where it stepped, moss grew, and when it removed its foot, the moss disappeared. Quietly, they watched it disappear into the forest, until the pleasant warmth that surrounded them a moment ago disappeared entirely and the usual humidity took over once more.

‘Did you see him? Emperor Adil?’ were the first words out of Nayani’s mouth. ‘You seized up for a few minutes.’

Pursing her lips, Shakti looked away. She was still trying to decode the unknown royal’s words, but the mere mention of Adil brought an unpleasant taste to her tongue.

‘He was present, and as unhelpful as I remembered him to be,’ she said.

Eyeing her like she was an illness, Nayani furrowed her brows. ‘I know the spirit told you to decide what kind of power this was,’ she began, ‘but is this not something cursed? To have that monster’s consciousness in your head is cruelty.’

Yes. Too late, Shakti realized that she had forgotten to ask the Great Spirit why . How . Arguably the most crucial set of questions, and in her haste to make sense of herself, she’d forgotten. No matter, she didn’t need to know the how if she didn’t want to keep this ability.

‘He couldn’t – wouldn’t – tell me if there was a way to get this blasted added consciousness out of my head,’ she told Nayani. ‘The other man, though... I saw him again. He – he asked me to speak to Ashoka.’

‘The prince?’ She wasn’t alone. Nayani’s line of thinking was the same as hers. ‘He’s as young as you are, isn’t he? What could he possibly know?’

Another idea was hatching in Shakti’s mind, itching to be birthed. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said as smoothly as she could, ‘but I need to find him to get my answer.’

She saw Nayani still. Saw the few seconds it took for her to chew over what she had said. Visible confusion came first, followed by horrific realization.

‘ Find him?’ she echoed. ‘You don’t mean—’

‘I do,’ Shakti interrupted her, firm but gentle. ‘I’m going to travel to the Golden City, find my way into the palace, and then speak to the prince.’

It looked as if Nayani wanted to induce Shakti back into a comatose state herself. ‘This is the same prince whose father killed our families.’ The tone was flat. Dubious. Judgemental.

‘Haven’t you heard the stories?’ Shakti added. ‘He is said to be quite unlike his father. Some say a mayakari sympathizer.’

Both knew that she was hedging her bets on the tales of merchants, which could range from the exact truth to a complete and utter lie. ‘I have nothing left, Nayani,’ Shakti pressed. ‘My only family is dead. Our village is gone. It’s all Emperor Adil’s fault and now he’s stuck inside my head. I want him out.’

‘Do you realize what you are risking?’ Nayani asked softly.

Her future. Her life. But there was no use in living a future where she would be stuck with a tyrant emperor. It was an insult to her existence, to Jaya’s existence. To any mayakari’s existence.

Impassive eyes stared back at her when she asked, ‘Come with me. Help me. They killed your mother; they killed our people. It may not be the justice that is good and righteous, but it is the justice that Adil deserves. If you ever had a fire, this is not the time to lose it.’

She’d struck a nerve. ‘It was never lost,’ Nayani said, lips thinning. ‘Did my mother mention why I left for Taksila? Why I rarely visit her?’

From memory, Dharvi hadn’t. She’d remained uncharacteristically tight-lipped and chagrined whenever Shakti asked after her daughter. When she shook her head, Nayani sighed.

‘I’m part of their resistance,’ she replied. ‘We... fight back against the governor there.’

Fight? With weapons, curses, or both?

Nayani seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Not in the way you imagine,’ she clarified. ‘The governor there is insistent on destroying the wild forests. We don’t harm the way soldiers do, but we cause minor disturbances with the help of minor spirits to protect the land and ourselves. Though I can’t say that the younger mayakari don’t dream of picking up swords and cursing him to death. The older generations preach peace, but when you grow up persecuted, there’s only so long you can abide by the code.’

For once, Shakti didn’t feel alone. Others shared her fury then, too.

‘Then, will you help me?’ she asked again.

An excruciating pause followed. Shakti felt as if she lived through seven lives before Nayani finally answered.

‘Fortunately for you, I might be able to,’ the mayakari replied. ‘But if you want to find your answers, you must act without rousing suspicion in the palace.’

Even the furthest reaches of the Ran Empire knew of the great palace that belonged to the Maurya clan. From what she had heard, it was a towering white beast of a structure built atop a hill, almost devoid of nature – a nightmare for a mayakari.

‘How do I find a way into the palace, then?’ Shakti asked Nayani.

‘Easily enough, I hope,’ she replied. ‘I know someone who can let you in.’