dizziness, Ishvari clung desperately to the tree, numb with disbelief—had she actually lost a fetus without even knowing she was pregnant? The last few moons had passed in such a blur of intoxicated passion that she had not even noticed that her red flow had ceased. The violent group rape she had barely survived had likely sparked the miscarriage.

She forced herself to look down at the square again, identifying Ghora through a haze of loathing. Arms on hips, the priest gazed down at Sumangali’s crumpled figure, a mocking smile on his lips. “Where’s Shani?” he called. A broad-shouldered man she recognized as Devikota’s blacksmith came to the front of the crowd. “Hoi, Shani! Pick a comrade and cart the witch to her hovel. Take the boy’s corpse with you too and toss...

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