The tiger at midnight, p.28
The Tiger at Midnight, page 28
She ventured forward, taking care not to disturb any of the other blacksmiths at their kilns, garnering a few uninterested glances up.
“Esha, I’d like you to meet our new blacksmith,” Arpiya said. “He can be trusted.”
Esha pressed her palms together in the Dharkan greeting, bending slightly. He returned the gesture—and she took stock of him. Kind eyes, strong hands, a passing resemblance to Arpiya with his low cheekbones and square jaw.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Esha. I’ve heard a lot about you from this one here.” Esha didn’t miss the look the man threw Arpiya; it spoke of familiarity and affection. “First, I’ve something to show you.”
Esha put aside her curiosity about this man who was obviously Arpiya’s kin for a moment and followed him around the table, tossing a questioning look at Arpiya. Arpiya just smiled. The blazing warmth of the kiln had started to make her sweat, and she pulled at her sari to get some air. He noticed and chuckled.
“You get used to it after a while.”
The blacksmith indicated that they should come closer. Esha moved to his side and almost gasped at what was in his hands.
He held the most beautiful curved gold bracelet, one that was a perfect replica of the valaya she had been gifted by her parents when she was a child. Esha reached out, unable to hold back, to caress the smooth metal of it. He had even gotten the clasp right, a small snake engraved on the underside.
“It’s yours,” Arpiya said simply. Esha picked it up, cradling it gently. “A gift from Harun. He wanted to bring you here, but I made him let me. He stuck me with the recruits after all, so I figured he owed me.”
“It’s beautiful,” Esha breathed. She marveled at the valaya. She had never replaced it after she lost it on a mission. It hadn’t felt right, plus it had given her the ability to pass as whoever she needed to be for the rebels.
On the inside was an inscription written in Old Dharkan.
Never afraid.
Her father used to whisper those words to her at night, her own personal chant to keep away the monsters and terrors from her sleep. She was surprised Harun remembered.
“You deserve it.” Arpiya cleared her throat. “Even if things didn’t go the way we planned, you were willing to risk your life and freedom for our cause. It was Harun’s idea, but it’s from all of us.”
Esha looked up at Arpiya in gratitude, clasping the bracelet onto her wrist. Her heart surged with affection for her rebel family.
Something wasn’t clear, though.
Why were they here, underground? Who was this man who had created her gift?
“Do you remember how I mentioned my brother, Chakor, was coming to Mathur? Well, he’s taken on the role of our lead blacksmith as we build out the second base,” Arpiya said, her voice almost shy at first.
Esha smiled, understanding. She reached out and grasped his shoulder. “Welcome to our family, Chakor.” His tentative smile broke into a broad one that overtook his face.
“And this will be the entirety of the second rebel base?” Esha asked.
Arpiya nodded. “The front part will become a storefront or a home of some sort. We’re still working out the details, but I wanted to show you.”
“Good work,” Esha said as she dragged her fingers along the wooden worktable beside her.
She had missed so much over the past moons since she had left for this mission. Esha had fought hard for the better part of the past half year to have this base. Their current base in the palace was secure, but its presence constantly put Harun and the royal family in danger of discovery.
It would be much easier to keep an ear to the ground outside of spiraling marble walls. To be on top of news and maybe prevent what had happened to her, being taken unawares and framed. After weeks of uncertainty, Esha finally was on solid ground. Back on the offensive, no longer on the run.
Esha pulled at the pleats of her sari, lifting them up as she stepped over various finished maces and short swords cooling on the floor. She tugged the whip out of her waist sash and placed it on the table.
“Chakor, this is between us three—on pain of death. Someone made this replica of my whip and used it to frame me in the eyes of the Fort. I’ve spent moons away from home, being chased for a good part of the time. I want to know where this might have been made.”
His face remained enviably still even as he nodded, but the tension along his jaw gave his unease away. It made Esha like him more.
She watched him while he worked, examining the heft and shape of the replica, eyeing it under a large piece of refracted glass and feeling it in the grip of his hands.
Though her feet were on solid ground, Esha felt as if she were walking a tightrope, hoping to all the gods that he would say it wasn’t made in Dharka.
They already knew they had enemies outside, but wasn’t that better than those within? She couldn’t keep looking at and talking to everyone within the base as if they had something to hide. It was slowly breaking something inside her.
Chakor was melting down the hilt now, examining the liquid metal with scarred hands that looked at ease in the glow of the kiln. He turned to face them both.
“This wasn’t made in Dharka, if you were worrying. Definitely not in Mathur, and not by any rebel-associated blacksmiths. I know all of their signatures as well as the metals and alloys they use.”
The relief hit her like a shock wave. Arpiya put a hand on her shoulder, her friend sensing what this meant to Esha.
Chakor’s face didn’t look pleased, though, his mouth still a straight line.
“The alloys used in this replica, which are lighter than what we have here, are only traded to certain areas of Jansa. Those that are close to maritime trade routes with the far west,” he said.
His face loomed bright even in the darkness of the underground smithery as he moved closer.
“Whoever made this, made it in the Blood Fort.”
Chapter 58
Kunal strode quickly toward the training grounds, watching the sun pulling itself from the grasp of the horizon.
They trained early here, something he understood in his bones. The early morning sun streaking across a sanded ground had been a constant image in his life, and he was looking forward to rediscovering some of that in this foreign city.
Kunal hadn’t been able to forget about the kiss, and he had tried. It had been days since it had happened and other than a brief conversation, he had barely seen Esha. She had cornered him for a few minutes two days before, telling him quickly about the cover story she had given and why. Kunal was to pretend to be a soldier who had decided to turn away from the Fort, help the rebels.
It was easier than he would’ve thought.
He had made up a story about seeing the ravages of war on the towns and the destruction of the land for the team. Esha had nodded along in the back when he told them, clearly happy with his acting.
He hadn’t had the heart to admit—to her or himself—how much truth there was in the story. Everyone seemed to buy it, though, except for Harun, who just stared at him. As long as his secret wasn’t revealed, he’d deal with a number of stares from the prince.
He tried not to think about the other secret that had been revealed, of his uncle’s death. He had turned it over and over in his mind, wondering and questioning and hurting. But thoughts of his uncle still felt heavy, especially after what he had learned about Sundara. After Esha’s assertion that his uncle had been protecting him for years. He struggled to reconcile the two, his heart burdened with the new knowledge of his parentage.
In spite of all of that, he was excited for the training ahead of them this morning. Moving his body in familiar motions would bring clarity to the confusion in his mind.
And he’d see Esha again . . .
What was worse about the way they left the kiss was that he understood Esha—her desire to see her plan through, that she enjoyed her role as the Viper.
He had seen it with his own eyes, and how could he speak against something that seemed so much a part of her? At the same time, he had seen how it affected her, how it weighed on her. He wasn’t sure if she even realized that.
He pushed aside his thoughts, knowing that her kiss had saved him from saying what he knew was true—that he still identified with being a soldier of Jansa, in spite of his uncle. It was the part of him that he had to be careful about here, in the palace.
Part of him still wanted the simple life in the countryside. But he also wanted her fire and warmth.
Another part of him yearned to do what he’d sworn an oath to do. To protect Jansa and his people.
There were so many paths in front of him, and he had not a clue which one was the right one. If he was being honest, he hoped someone would beat the answer out of him today.
Kunal wasn’t sure what to expect, having just received a note telling him to come down for training with the squad. He had worn the loose cotton dhoti that had been left for him, slapping on his own leather forearm guards—which had mysteriously reappeared in his belongings.
Kunal had climbed up to the parapets at the top of the palace earlier that morning. Of course he had found the tallest point of the area, reveling in the feeling of weightlessness so high above the ground, the way the buildings below looked like ants.
He’d also spotted the training grounds. They had been hidden in the east gardens of the palace, in an area that looked to be overgrown to the point of neglect. From above he could see how it was just a deterrent—beyond the thicket and crumbling walls was an open area dedicated to training. The guards who appeared, yelling at him to come down from the parapet, indicated that the area was watched.
His body was still weak and it had taken him a half hour longer than normal to climb, but it had been worth it to feel so free. Even though he might not be in a prison cell, like Rakesh was, he was a prisoner in this palace, despite the beautiful room and lack of chains.
After the rightness he had felt while turning, almost everything felt confining now. There was still a bud of disbelief in his chest. How could he be a Samyad? A shape-shifter?
He thought back to the clues that now made sense, how being in the air had always given him a sense of peace that felt raw, natural. And those headaches he got while tracking, was it his body’s desire to turn? Or was it from his uncle’s conditioning to control his emotions, therefore delaying the turning? And how did one control one’s turning?
He had so many questions and had no idea who to ask, or where to go to get answers. It was a gnawing tension in his chest, all of this curiosity. His thirst to understand.
If he had a moment to himself, he could sneak to the library. But he longed for someone to talk to about his newfound family.
Kunal felt alone again, adrift in this huge palace. Playing the role of someone he wasn’t, in more ways than one.
At least he knew where to go without having to ask any of the guards. He hurried out toward the east garden, following them through hidden doors into a large, open space with sanded floors punctuated by short stone columns.
Targets lined up in rows along the edge of one side and figures with curved longbows took turns aiming and letting their arrows fly. At the far corner, a square was outlined in chalk on the floor, and two men danced across it with wooden practice maces swinging at their sides. Dharkan shield fighting was being practiced in the other corner, two girls dodging and ducking each other, armed with a round silver shield and thick curved swords. Around the perimeter, boys and girls were running drills.
Kunal looked through the chaos for Esha but instead caught sight of the burly boy—Bhandu—near the targets.
He weaved his way through the other rebels, who ignored him in turn. It was a mark of dedication, or solid training, that no one even batted an eyelash at his intrusion. Though he had been invited, he felt as if he had sneaked in—privy to the workings of the rebels’ inner circle.
It was both terrifying and exciting because he knew the deeper he got, the harder it would be to leave, or escape. He tried not to take note of the number of recruits, or the strength of their fighters—things he would’ve tucked away to report back to the Fort.
As he drew closer, he caught sight of Esha, who was adjusting the foot positioning of one of the twins from the jungle who had long hair that brushed his collarbone. His twin was to the left of him, imitating the change in footwork.
They both regarded Esha with a curious intensity, hanging on to her every word despite looking to be about her age.
Esha was dressed for training, in a cotton blouse, loose cotton dhoti, and thick-soled leather sandals. Leather forearm guards were laced up both arms and her hands were wrapped in linen. She hadn’t caught sight of him yet and he took the moment to observe the group.
A tall girl was on the other side of Esha, with dark brown skin and short hair. She was going through the motions of a block and jab combo with Bhandu. Kunal admired the move for its simplicity and brutality.
Bhandu blew out a breath with the ferocity of a boar, his eyes suddenly on Kunal.
“Oi, cat eyes. Come over here,” Bhandu said, calling loudly for him over the sounds of clashing swords, swinging maces, and grunts of pain.
Kunal sighed, shaking his head as he walked over.
“My name is Kunal, not cat eyes,” he said in response, taking up the spot next to Bhandu.
The girl’s eyes snapped to him, pausing her demonstration to give him a once-over. He felt himself flush as her gaze raked up and down his body. She seemed to approve, giving him a small nod.
Bhandu laughed, a sound like a roar. “Kunal, then. Despite being a ‘former’ soldier, you’ve got the makings of a person I might like. Let’s see if you pass the test. Arpiya, toss me your sword.”
The girl—Arpiya—shook her head. “No, challenge him and measure the length of your swords later, on your own time.” She smirked. “I have to go back to the new recruits anyway, so this is the only time I can show you this move, and if you’re not somewhat decent at it by the end of training, Esha will give us that look.”
Bhandu grimaced. “I hate that look.”
“It makes my insides churn and feel like jam,” Arpiya said, her hair bouncing as she shivered visibly.
Kunal looked between the both of them. “Esha’s on your team? I thought she worked alone,” he said carefully, thinking back to his earliest assessment of the Viper.
Bhandu looked at him sidelong. “You shouldn’t even know that, cat—Kunal. She’s not on our team.”
“She leads our team,” Arpiya cut in. Bhandu frowned at her interruption.
Kunal looked over at Esha, watching her line up her toes to the chalked line on the ground, notch her arrows, adjust her fingers, and let the arrow fly. It landed just outside the center of the target. An impressive shot from where she stood, and with a bow that looked to be too big for her.
When he had known her, she had spent more time in the libraries and with the visiting performing troupe than at the sparring courts. But she looked like a natural. Once again, it hit him how much ten years had changed the two of them.
“She never mentioned that,” Kunal said, his voice quiet.
Bhandu rolled his eyes. “And why would she? Give away her secrets to a soldier? Even if you are on our side now.”
Bhandu didn’t notice his hesitation, having already turned his attention toward the twins. He was shouting some obscenity at them.
Arpiya gave him a sly look, having caught him looking at Esha again. He kept his chin high, trying not to let on how his thoughts had begun to turn in another direction entirely. He had noticed the way Esha’s clothes contoured to her body, her hair blowing softly around her face as her brow creased in concentration.
It was an arresting image, and havoc on his mind and body after their kiss.
She wore her conviction like armor. Right now, Kunal wished he had his own set of armor. At that moment, Esha looked over and a smile lit her face as their eyes met. It disappeared just as quickly but Kunal took note of it, tucking it away in his mind.
Arpiya poked him, pointing toward where Esha, the twins, and now Bhandu stood. They walked over.
“Glad to see you up and doing well,” Esha said, her voice light.
Kunal cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m feeling much better.” He couldn’t help his voice softening. “I was told that was thanks to you.”
“And me,” Bhandu interjected. Esha rolled her eyes but laughed, a low chortle.
“We helped too,” one of the twins chimed in. He reached out a hand to Kunal. “Aahal. And this is Farhan.” He pointed to his twin brother. “Don’t worry if you get us mixed up, it’ll only devastate us slightly.”
Already, Kunal could see a difference. Aahal had a twinkle in his eye while Farhan looked more serious, considering Kunal with all the friendliness of a prowling panther.
Kunal bent his head toward them both, repeating their names. “I’ll try my best,” Kunal said.
“I certainly hope so,” Farhan replied, his voice no friendlier than his demeanor.
Esha clucked her tongue at him and his hard expression softened. Arpiya motioned at the other boys, drawing them away with a challenge for closest shot, winner buying wine for all.
It left him alone with Esha.
She moved to the side of the row of targets, indicating that he follow her with a hand gesture. Kunal felt awkward, unsteady, in this training ground that felt so familiar but also not his own. She clearly had a solid presence here, and it drove a small pin into his chest.
He had thought after seeing her performance that he understood her life, but seeing her here, in her element? It only reminded him of how little he really knew her.
Esha balanced a short blade in her hands before handing it, hilt forward, to him.
“What, I’m allowed a weapon?” Kunal said, before he could help himself. “I’m really getting the royal treatment compared to Rakesh.”
