Chapter One

Marinda

It's too beautiful to die today.

Gita and I hike along a slender trail blanketed on either side by glossy green leaves shaped like teardrops. The path isn't steep, but I can hear Gita's breath-the rise and fall of it, the way it catches in her throat each time she speaks.

Her fear is like the moisture trapped in the humid air-hidden, but so heavy I can feel it pressing against my skin.

Everything will be fine, she says. Balavan just wants to meet you. I'm sure that's all it is.

Or maybe he wants to execute me, I say, trailing my fingers across a plant with bright red blossoms. The flowers release a cloying scent and coat my fingers with a filmy residue that feels like drying blood. I snatch my hand away.

No, Marinda, Gita says. I won't let that happen. But I can hear the lie in her voice. She couldn't protect me from Gopal, and she won't be able to protect me from Balavan either.

The small palace that serves as Naga headquarters is nestled in a rain forest outside Sundari and far from the prying eyes of the Raja. Far enough that only the tigers and monkeys would hear a girl screaming.

I was a fool to think there was a chance the Naga would allow Gita to continue as my handler, to hope I'd be allowed to remain living on my own in Bala City, to believe that anything would be the same after my betrayal. Today I'll either get a new handler or I'll die for my disloyalty. Judging by the sweaty palm marks pressed on the middle of Gita's sari, she thinks it's the latter.

Tell me about him, I say when I can't stand the silence any longer. We walk under a canopy of trees that provides shelter from the sun. Monkeys squeak and twitter above us like gossiping ladies.

What do you want to know?

I want to know what to expect, I say. Tell me something that might save my life.

Gita shakes her head. I wish I could, she says. But Balavan is unpredictable. Sometimes he is charming and personable. And sometimes . . . She presses her eyes closed as if blocking out a memory. He can be cruel.

She reaches for my hand and I resist the urge to flinch. Most days it takes all the restraint I have to look at her without grimacing, to touch her without wrapping my hands around her neck and shaking her like a rag doll. But if I want to bring the Naga down, I have to swallow all of my anger and play the part of the compliant follower.

Gita squeezes my fingers. You must convince Balavan of your loyalty, she says. You must tell him what you told me. How the Raja is holding your brother captive, how he beat you and imprisoned you. It's important that Balavan feels your hatred for the Raja. That he knows you will be loyal to the Snake King. Just tell him the truth.

Dread twists my stomach into a tight knot. Because it's not the truth that will save me today. It's how well I'm able to lie.

I curl my fingers into my palms. My hands always feel useless now, empty without Mani's tiny fingers threaded through mine. There's a hollow space in the center of my chest that aches with how much I miss him. But, for once, I'm grateful we're not together and that he's tucked away in the Raja's palace in Colapi City. He's safe. If I die today, at least I've given him that much.

Gita and I walk in silence for several minutes until two men emerge from the forest and step onto the path in front of us. Thick tattoos of snakes curl around their muscular forearms, and swords hang at their hips.

I take another step forward to explain why we're here, and in a single fluid motion one of the guards slides his sword from its scabbard and presses it against my neck. The cool metal bites into my skin. My breath gathers at the base of my throat, trapped.

This is a broad and winding path, the guard says. The sword is heavy on my shoulder, and my spine starts to collapse under the pressure. b