The tiger at midnight, p.13
The Tiger at Midnight, page 13
Esha raised her eyebrows at the information.
Amali. A small town deep in the northern Parvalokh region. She was familiar with it.
“You sure you don’t want to stay in service of the Blades?” Esha asked. Tana’s eyes went wide and Esha laughed. “It’s all right. I understand. But if you change your mind, just send a note to me.”
“Sorry for this.”
Tana’s eyes flashed in confusion before Esha dipped her hand into the sleeping draft and covered Tana’s mouth.
Tana looked to be only a few years younger than her, her face losing years in sleep. Not young for the rebels, but young. If she had another life to live—a small one, a happy one—who was she to stop her?
It could end up being a huge mistake, but something in Esha’s gut told her Tana would never speak of the Viper or the rebels again.
Esha watched the girl for a while, her breath rising and falling, before winding her way upstairs.
Chapter 26
Kunal had been trailing behind Rakesh for the past ten minutes, gripping the handle of his knife tightly as the other soldier led the way through the long, winding bazaar. He was getting dangerously close to a breaking point, and hoped, for Rakesh’s sake, that they found Laksh soon.
“He’s here, somewhere. I swear,” Rakesh said, turning back to toss a glance or two at Kunal, probably looking for a weakness or a failing on his part so he could break and run.
Kunal took a deep breath.
Focus hones the soldier into the keen edge of a blade.
The memory of his uncle’s words hit him hard. He would never hear his uncle’s wisdom again—never argue against his words of wisdom again.
Rakesh came to a sudden halt, ignoring the annoyed squawk of an old man who he had cut off. Kunal pulled up behind him and Rakesh winced, recognizing the tip of Kunal’s knife against the bottom of his spine.
Kunal’s heart unclenched at the sight of Laksh a few paces away. Laksh looked up at them as he brushed a lock of wavy hair out of his eyes.
“Nice to see you both,” he said, not a hint of surprise in his voice. Relief flooded through Kunal.
“What?” Laksh asked, looking between the two of them. He addressed Rakesh first. “Did you really think I didn’t know you were following me? You’re as tall as the western hills.”
Rakesh scoffed, his face turning red.
“And you. You shouldn’t be so glad to see me.” Laksh shook his head slowly, looking at Kunal. “I’m competition.”
Kunal’s brow furrowed. He turned around to clasp Laksh by the shoulder, who waved them over to the side of the road, away from the crush of people in the center of the bazaar.
“Glad to see you alive,” he whispered into Laksh’s ear. The corners of Laksh’s mouth tilted upward.
“I wouldn’t let Rakesh get rid of me that easily. I’ve known he’s been behind me since the last town, but I was able to slip him this time and pick up a nice poison for my knife. If he tries anything . . . ,” Laksh said, his voice low, but not low enough for Rakesh to miss.
Kunal smirked and looked behind him—just in time to see Rakesh holding a knife.
In an instant, Kunal disarmed him.
Speed was the one thing Kunal had that Rakesh did not. He shoved Rakesh against the nearest wall, knocking the knife from his hand. Rakesh choked on the cloud of dust that flew out around them.
Kunal smiled. “Truce? I’m feeling generous right now. No one touches each other until we’re all outside the city. Jansan’s oath.”
Rakesh’s eyes flashed murder, but Kunal saw him swallow hard. Laksh stepped forward and held out a hand, palm up.
“I would take it, soldier,” he said. “I guarantee you it’s the best option this one will give you.”
After a moment, Rakesh sighed. “Truce,” he croaked.
Kunal let him go and Rakesh straightened, dusting off his armor and pants. “Oath as Naria’s child. You’re witness, Laksh.”
“Now that we’re back to being one big, happy family . . .” Laksh grinned as the two soldiers glared at each other. He motioned them toward a stall selling long, curved swords and round iron shields and they moved back into the teeming crowd.
A cough came from Laksh, and Kunal realized his hands were still fisted, ready for attack. Laksh held out a fine-looking shield to Rakesh, whose eyes finally dropped that hunted-animal look.
“Not that I’m not happy to see your shining faces, but I’ve just met a beautiful girl and I’ve got to say, you both are a bit of a disappointment after that,” Laksh said. Rakesh folded his arms and leaned against the wooden post of the weaponry stall.
“Getting distracted?” Rakesh scoffed. “I’m not surprised at all. You were always a jokester. I don’t even know why you were picked for this mission.”
Laksh ignored him. “This girl.” He whistled. “She had eyes that changed like the winds of the monsoon season.”
“Are you becoming a poet now, Laksh?” Kunal asked, with one eye on Rakesh.
“No, I think I’ll leave that to you, Kunal,” Laksh said. “I’ve seen better in the royal court in Gwali, don’t get me wrong. But her eyes—”
Unbidden images of Esha entered Kunal’s mind, face illuminated by the moon and the light of the Tej. Kunal started, guilt painting over the image, mixing in with memories of sitting across from his uncle.
He looked around, at Rakesh, realizing he had drifted off into a daydream. Laksh was still talking, but Kunal heard only bits and pieces.
“I walked her over to the east, where there’s a row of blue houses. Merchants, from the looks of it. Quite wealthy too.”
Kunal remembered the houses in a vivid rush of memory, an image he had tucked away to paint and one that now stood out starkly in his mind. They had ranged from a vivid cerulean color to the deepest midnight blue, with trellises that climbed up the sides, dotting the walls with bright bursts of pink hydrangeas. That area had been almost abandoned when he had strolled through it earlier, the merchants away on their annual trip to the east.
Rakesh picked up the round shield and inspected it. Kunal watched his hand graze the opal-encrusted hilt of a curved knife that sat next to it.
“Wealthy and beautiful? Seems like a prize you don’t deserve,” Kunal teased.
“I do quite well for myself,” Laksh said. “But this time it seemed a bit too much work even for me. Her sister had fainted due to excitement, apparently, but she seemed rather sicker than that. A protective father and a sick sister? Too much trouble.”
“Not up for the challenge?” Rakesh said.
“The girl wouldn’t even enter the house she was so terrified of her father,” Laksh said. “Why work so hard when I’m about to become commander and can take my pick of beautiful women?”
Kunal rolled his eyes. Laksh always talked like this, but he had only occasionally joined the other soldiers on their city excursions during campaigns. And then, often only to gamble.
Something about Laksh’s story seemed odd.
A protective father didn’t make sense—most merchants in this region were on their pilgrimage to the eastern coast for the annual trade festival right now. Why would she lie about where she lived if her father was most likely gone?
It hit Kunal as he ran his fingers over a quiver, admiring the delicate mirror work that created shifting illusions of color and light.
Beautiful eyes. An empty house and a story. A girl on the run.
Esha.
Laksh had just seen the Viper, spoken to her. His throat closed up at how close she had been. One wrong move and it would have been Laksh who captured her, not him.
The thought was a gut punch.
Kunal put down the quiver, imagining the different pathways to the blue house, how to get out of this ridiculous conversation, how to lead the others away.
No more distractions.
Chapter 27
Esha slid farther down the tub, letting her hair billow out in the water, floating like tiny snakes. Lifting her eyes, she took in the golden filigree that was etched across the ceiling and the sumptuous tapestries in shades of blue and pale cream that hung on the walls.
Tana slept soundly a few stories below, and with the amount of the draft in her body, she would stay there till the morning. By then, Esha would be gone.
Esha sighed. Faor had been a dead end on who had framed her, but something bigger was on her mind now.
Tana’s information on Vardaan, that he hadn’t publicized the news of the general’s murder, that he was happy, worried her. She hoped the report she had stolen back from the general would add context. There was something in there that the Fort had wanted to protect—perhaps it was news of an alliance.
That could mean the end of peace.
The only way to know was to translate that report. She’d go to Amali next and connect with Tana’s scholar contact. At least it was something.
She rubbed her eyes, letting the hot water drip down her face and onto her aching shoulders. She massaged them, taking care to work around the long scar that trailed her right shoulder, remnant of a reckless childhood. It had been worth it to draw the steaming bath, despite the effort and time it had taken. A week of grime eased off her body as she scrubbed herself raw and soaked. She let herself rest there, closing her eyes to enjoy the feeling of soothing water against her muscles.
For a few heartbeats, she let go of the constant tension that prickled under her skin, trying to enjoy the present. And the future? Experience told her that things always got worse before they improved—if they didn’t simply stay that way.
The silence and hot water lulled her into peace and she sighed, content. It had been a risk, stealing into this abandoned home, but she couldn’t resist a bath, hot food, and a real bed. No one would know she had arrived, and no one would know she had left.
A shadow passed over the window curtains and Esha sat up so quickly in the bath that half a bucket’s worth of water spilled and splashed onto the smooth stone floor, soaking into the tasseled edge of the sumptuous brocade carpet. All the peace that had begun to accumulate under her breastbone vanished.
Her eyes flickered to her knives on the table next to her, within grasp. She set her jaw and took a calming breath. No one knew she was here.
But she was unable to reclaim the calm she had felt moments before, and decided to get ready.
Esha emerged from the water, patting herself dry with a long length of woven cotton. The room was clearly loved and lived in—scrolls and letters, jewelry and trinkets were strewn about. A silver mirror was propped up in the corner, with dust fingerprints over it, as if someone constantly peered at themselves with that mirror.
This was a home.
She might’ve grown up in a house like this if the coup had never happened. Esha wandered around, taking stock of the contents of the room as she dried her hair. An ivory comb sat on top of the wardrobe and Esha picked it up, letting memories wash over her.
She’d once had a comb like this. The thought made a part of her heart ache—the part she hid under rage and revenge.
Esha took a deep breath, willing away those old thoughts and wishes, combing her wet hair. Through the hanging folds of multicolored silk that hung from the lushly curved window, Esha could see that the sun was beginning to descend.
Day faded in broad purple streaks across the sky and Esha could see the rolling curve of the Ghanta Mountains to the east and the green jungles that thicketed the valleys below the mountains. In the far distance, the snowcapped peaks of the Aifora Range glittered.
Everywhere were signs of the end of the day—women in the distance hauling out their washed clothes from the river, men pulling down woven straw covers to protect their wares. It never failed to warm her heart to see that the real soul of Jansa, the people, hadn’t changed.
The two countries were so similar, Esha thought. Either here or there, the men and women rose every day with the same burdens weighing on their shoulders, the same responsibilities and sorrows and joys. She would never understand how Vardaan had convinced people to see the differences between them, rather than the similarities.
Away from the capital and the Blood Fort, the old ways were remembered and the people still spoke of the lost princess with hope. Another memory came to her, unbidden.
Esha had been with the princess on the night of the coup. Her family had been the princess’s royal companions on her trip to her aunt’s house. On the Night of Tears, she had been in the Great Library with Reha. Esha had been the one to grab the princess and race to her family’s room, where she sent her and her nurse through the passage that led to the city’s tunnels.
When the soldiers found Esha and her parents later, they showed no mercy in trying to capture her, one of the Senaps having seen Esha earlier from the library window.
Her father had been the first to go, trying to save his beloved daughter. Her screams had been so loud, her grief so keen, that one of the soldiers had made the sign to ward off the Lord of Darkness. She remembered little after that, or tried not to.
Esha inhaled deeply, letting the humid air from the bath fill her lungs, warm away those cold, bleak memories. What good did it do her to indulge in the past? Esha put down the ivory comb and stepped away, trying to bury the memories the room seemed determined to drag out of her.
In the distance, she could hear the song of the cleaning women.
It was called the Lament of Naria—a song passed from mother to child in every home in Jansa. It was a song she had learned when she had lived at the summer palace as a child.
Esha hummed quietly as she helped herself to the clothes in the wardrobe, letting the sumptuous silks distract her mind from death and grief.
It wasn’t until her stomach let out an ungainly growl that Esha remembered to eat.
She had taken note of the food that had been stored on the lower levels of the house when she had brought in Tana—some salted fish and dried fruit. It would be enough for now.
Esha opened the door of the bedroom she had claimed as her own and looked both ways out of habit. Arpiya always said she was a bit too suspicious. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard the noise, soft yet noticeable. Like a shuffling of feet.
Esha grabbed her knife and flattened herself against the wall.
Had the occupants returned early? There was no squeak of wheels outside, no chatter of children. And the servants would have arrived first to prepare the kitchens.
She inched up the stairs, taking care to step as light as a leopard.
It had to be Laksh, the soldier from before. Perhaps he had returned, hoping to catch her attention. A besotted boy would do such a thing.
Or worse, he had seen the whip mark on Tana’s neck.
Another noise, a slow yawn of wood, but this time from above. Esha froze, paralyzed as she realized she was no longer sure what direction the noise was coming from.
Take the chance and go down? There were more entryways there, but that also meant more ways to escape. She could come back for her hidden pack.
Or go back up, try to leave by the rooftop?
Whoever it was, their tread was light, as if they had practiced sneaking about. Esha held her breath and made a choice, tiptoeing back up to her room. She had her weapons there.
The hall was empty as she turned the corner.
But she had misjudged.
Footsteps bounded behind her. The soldier grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm around her back in a swift motion, his other arm coming around her neck. His breath was hot against her skin and it shot shivers down her spine.
His hands tightened around her own, and she pushed down the immediate frantic energy that coursed through her body, searching for the calmness in her core that had gotten her through a number of tight spots.
There were people outside, the women, the fruit seller. Her eyes darted to the fluttering curtains of the window inside the room and he clamped his hand around her mouth, his fingers sears of fire against her parted lips.
“I wouldn’t scream if I were you. I don’t think they’ll look too kindly on a girl who broke into a home that wasn’t her own.” Kunal leaned in closer, his words soft. “I won’t hurt you.”
He shuffled her forward into the bedroom and eased the door shut with a soft thud, pulling her into the center of the room. She struggled and fought wildly, but his grip was tight.
Calm. She needed to remain calm.
Esha kicked her right hip back and shifted her arm out of his grip enough to aim an elbow jab at his side. It barely glanced off his skin, causing her more pain than him, and she realized he was wearing his armor under his clothing.
Clever. He chuckled but his grip on her softened and she whirled out, cursing at the pain radiating from her elbow.
“Now, do you want to tell me why you’re here? Why you left in the woods? I said I would help you get to a ship, see you off safely. Yet you left me in a tree, with no idea where you’d gone.” His tone was unsettling, like steel that covered its true form in silk.
She wouldn’t have thought the soldier had menace in him—but she had talked her way out of his grasp before. She just had to distract him enough to run.
Her eyes flashed to the window to the right, but she had latched it shut. He regarded her, his light eyes unnerving in the dim light, and she couldn’t help but glance over his body, assessing his weaknesses. Strong shoulders, lithe but muscled. It was clear he was strong, but she could tell from the way he moved that he would also be fast.
She’d just have to be faster.
“I was scared. How was I to know that you would see me safely back? You were kind, but how could I trust you?” she said, allowing her words to remain soft as she chewed on her lip.
He looked at her askance and she widened her eyes at him, letting her lips part.
The soldier laughed grimly. The quiet humor she had found behind his eyes in the forest was gone.
