“What did you do to her?” he snarled.
“Nothing. She got injured while . . . following a lead,” Kunal finished, pushing him away. Which was harder than he was happy to admit.
“He didn’t do anything, Bhandu. This was all me. I followed a bad lead, hurt my shoulder, and Kunal was around to bring me here,” she said, the set of her mouth grim.
“So fix her cursed shoulder, cat eyes,” Bhandu snapped at Kunal.
“I—” Kunal paused. “I’ve never done that before.” He had caused so much pain, and he was embarrassed to say he didn’t know how to fix any of it.
“I have,” Alok said, striding forward. “I spent time in the healing tents when we were on campaign. This will hurt.”
Esha nodded.
“Do you want something to bite on?” Alok asked gently.
Esha shook her head, but her eyes flickered to Kunal. He was going to walk over and offer his hand, but the presence of the others stopped him.
“I’m going to go on three. One, two—”
A sharp crack sounded in the room as Alok wrenched Esha’s shoulder back into place.
“You said three!” Esha said, rubbing her shoulder. Bhandu leaped forward to grab Alok, but Farhan stepped in front, allowing Alok to sidestep and clasp his hands together.
“Surprise helps with the pain. Sometimes the anticipation is worse than the act itself.”
Esha stood up and tested her shoulder.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she said in awe.
“Glad to hear it,” Alok said. But Kunal knew by the small smile on his face that he was more pleased than he let on.
Kunal leaned over to Alok. “You never told me about the healing tents.”
“You’ve been rather busy.”
He stopped his friend, pulling him to the side as Bhandu played mother hen with Esha, making her move her arm in different ways.
“I don’t want to be too busy for you,” Kunal said. “We’re going to talk about it, all of it. Over whatever drink you want.”
Alok’s eyes lit up, though he shrugged as if he couldn’t care less. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“Yes. After this, we’re doing it.”
“Bhandu, let go of me,” Esha demanded irritably. “Alok, I’m fine, right?”
“You’re fine.”
Esha turned to face Bhandu, triumph on her face.
“But I’d say you should go easy on it tonight. And rest it for the next few days.”
“You heard the soldier. What if your stomach wound had opened up again?” Bhandu asked accusingly.
“Don’t worry, mother, my stomach wound is fine. Hasn’t bothered me in a week.”
Alok made a curious noise, leaning forward. “I’d love to learn how they healed that. Did they use—”
“Touch her without Farhan around and I’ll break your fingers,” Bhandu said.
“I can break his fingers if I want, Bhandu,” Esha said lightly. Alok didn’t look nearly frightened enough; in fact, the idea seemed to excite him more.
“You’re so much more fun than Kunal,” Alok said.
Kunal made an exasperated noise. “Let’s go,” he said to Bhandu.
They left, Bhandu pulling a Senap helmet over his eyes, tossing one angry look back at Alok.
“Can this friend of yours be trusted?” Bhandu asked as they climbed their way down the narrow side staircase.
“I’d trust him with my life,” Kunal said.
If he didn’t trust Alok, he didn’t know who he could trust. Alok had every opportunity to betray him over the past week and he hadn’t.
That was good enough for Kunal right now.
Bhandu grunted, and they continued in silence, winding down the levels at a steady pace. Kunal had to nudge Bhandu a few times to slow down, as most Senap pairs were trained to walk in tandem.
“If he does anything—”
“Who?”
Bhandu made a face. “Don’t pretend you don’t know who.”
“I don’t know who,” Kunal said. He was enjoying the tomato red Bhandu was turning.
“You know I know you know who,” Bhandu said, his eyes narrowing.
Kunal shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t test my patience, cat eyes.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, keeping his face still.
“Alok!” Bhandu exclaimed. Kunal shushed him, holding a finger to his lips.
“What about him?”
“Cat eyes, if you so much as—”
“You could try to trust me,” Kunal said.
Bhandu stopped and held a hand out to Kunal. “Don’t go making this about you. And anyway, the fact that Harun and Esha have given this task to you says enough. We trust you.”
Kunal shifted, uncomfortable and unsure if he believed Bhandu’s words.
“Some of us even like you. I volunteered to come to the citadel with you, did you know?”
Kunal’s head shot up, and Bhandu stared him down before breaking his gaze away.
“Really?”
“Yes, cat eyes.” Bhandu rolled his eyes. They approached another intersection, and he leaned forward and blew a low whistle. Kunal sent him a questioning glance. “Helps draw out anyone without us having to show our face.”
Kunal pursed his lips. It actually was a good trick. Bhandu whistled again, this time aiming the sound toward the opposite end of the hall. They darted away as two soldiers rounded the corner.
“They won’t be gone for long,” Kunal said. “Protocol demands making a full round, which will take five minutes or less.”
They crept down the stairs and came to one of the lower levels, which was teeming with soldiers. Soldiers who had not been on the patrol schedules or accounted for in the captain’s log.
There were four of them guarding the entryway to the lower levels of the citadel. Kunal racked his brain, trying to remember what it looked like, but he had only been shown the entrance on his initial tour as a Senap. The captain had led him away, saying the lower levels were mostly unused.
Extra soldiers hidden, no mention in the captain’s log. This had to be it. Where they were keeping Reha.
“She’s here,” Bhandu whispered, echoing his thoughts.
They hurried down the last few stairs, looking over the entryway into a circular room of dark dungeons. In the corner stood more guards, and Kunal yanked Bhandu back.
“There,” Kunal said. “Those guards who didn’t leave their post to make the security rounds. That’s where she is.”
“We need confirmation,” Bhandu said, eyes darting below.
“Then let’s get it,” Kunal said, setting his jaw and drawing out his knives.
Esha looked at the sundial again. Five more minutes.
The citadel had a number of fail-safes and only a few entrances and exits. Kunal had worked hard to set up tonight so they’d be able to confirm Reha was there before the next Mela event, giving them enough time to set up the next part of the plan—breaking her out. And if they were able to get her out in time, Kunal wouldn’t have to be in the spotlight anymore, and Esha could keep him safe.
So many threads rested on this, and she had nearly destroyed it all. Esha pushed down the shame, trying to focus on the positive.
All they needed was one thing to confirm Reha was in the citadel and tonight would be worth it.
Farhan slipped back into the room sooner than Esha thought he would, with a small object tucked into the back of his waist sash. He removed his helmet and shook out his long hair, closing the distance from the door to the bed with two long strides.
“I found it,” Farhan said. Alok’s head snapped up, and he stopped talking about the various applications of wound dressings, which had been doing nothing to alleviate the restlessness she felt sitting around while Kunal was down below.
“What is it?” Alok asked, taking the spot next to Farhan.
“Jasmine oil,” he said.
Esha looked up at that. “Jasmine oil?” She
stood and clasped her hands together.
“Am I missing something?” Alok said. “I feel like I’m always missing something.”
“Jasmine oil was found in the Senaps’ supply room,” Farhan explained.
Alok still looked confused. “Okay, and . . . so?”
“Alok,” Esha said. “Is there any reason a Senap or champion might need jasmine oil?”
“No, but who—”
“Noble ladies,” Farhan finished. “It’s the latest hair trend in court. And what’s more, there were reams of silk and thread in the supply room. As if someone’s been getting custom clothing.”
“This is what we needed,” Esha breathed. Now, Kunal and Bhandu just needed to get back safely. Her injury had lost them precious time, and if anything happened to them because of her . . .
“Oh, I see. I can confirm that there’s no jasmine oil in the champions’ or Senap squads’ bathrooms.”
Esha gave Alok a questioning look.
“Being Kunal’s friend has some perks.”
“Then it has to be for someone special,” Esha said. She paused before adding, “Kunal’s well liked?”
Alok raised his eyebrow. “I know, he’s not particularly charming, but Kunal’s become rather close with some of those men.”
Kunal was close with those soldiers? She knew it meant nothing, and yet, a tiny kernel of doubt lodged in her heart.
“Good work on his part,” Farhan said. “It’ll make it easier for him to get us back in if they trust him. We still need schematics, a read on the number of soldiers defending the citadel, inside and out, and an exit strategy. Arpiya’s working on the latter, but the first two . . .”
“Complicated,” Alok said. “The way I like it.”
“You enjoy puzzles?” Farhan asked, his voice a tad too casual.
“I enjoy excitement,” Alok said. “You seem like someone who’d be fantastic at puzzles, though. All smart and . . . intelligent.”
Esha stifled a laugh.
“You know, I’ve recently become interested in healing,” Farhan said, leaning forward.
“Really?” Alok smiled. “I’d love to talk to you more about it. You know, after all of this.”
Farhan nodded, and Esha knew by the look in his eyes that he’d go straight to the library after this and read everything he could get his hands on about healing. It’s how he always was when he had a crush.
“I’ll set up a tea for you both,” Esha said. “Anyway, the jasmine oil is a solid lead, but until Kunal and Bhandu come back, we won’t know for sure. Perhaps it’s a gift for the Senap captain’s spouse, or his daughter—”
“The Senap captain’s not married,” Kunal said as he entered the room. Bhandu wasn’t far behind, and he immediately took off his helmet, grumbling about soldiers and their armor. “Lower level is swarmed with soldiers who aren’t on patrols or recorded anywhere else. A secret army.
“She has to be here. In the citadel.”
Chapter 21
Night fell on the palace gardens like a glittering veil, covering everything in an inky darkness.
The evening’s musical contest was being held outdoors, under a sheer, shimmering tent of silk. Wooden floors had been laid around the garden, providing a solid ground for the many scattered pillows and tufted seats. Light blankets of the finest cotton were thrown about, the vibrant colors of magenta and teal and saffron contrasting harmoniously, adding to the air of luxury that the manicured gardens provided.
Courtiers had already taken seats around the garden and the stage in the middle, their shiny hair ornaments and brightly colored clothing like little jewels within the tent. It was all rather arresting, and Esha let herself bask in the beauty of it. She knew that Kunal would light up at the sight of the tent and garden, that faraway look coming to his eyes as he transformed it into art in his mind.
She felt the same way about music. The strands of notes lofting through the air wove through her mind, creating a story. She could imagine the dance, the slow, methodical steps that would rush into a crescendo of footwork and then relax into long, graceful movements of her arms. She hummed along with the new song that had picked up, the drumbeat creating a new energy that lifted the room’s eyes.
Harun walked in, glorious in peacock green and a white silk uttariya of such fine quality it was almost transparent in the blinking light of the camphor lamps. He glanced around the garden as he walked into view, throwing one end of his uttariya over his shoulder. Their eyes met for a moment but didn’t linger—they’d have time to talk later.
This competition wasn’t a required part of the Mela, but rather a chance to bring non-champions into the celebration. Contestants had been chosen and invited from around the country, others from their guild or family connections. And as always, there was a small number of attendees who were there after winning the drawing, from all walks of life.
It was one of the old traditions that Vardaan hadn’t removed. He had the presence of mind to realize it wasn’t always big things that caused unrest, but the little things. This was one of the traditions that would’ve felt like a slap in the face if it had been removed.
Who needed their liberties as long as they had their celebrations?
A Dharkan champion finished his song, and a new tune started up, one from a Yavar clansman who played a wooden flute.
Harun took a seat on the dais across from Vardaan, on the other side of the stage. His movements were languid, in control. But Esha noticed his ramrod posture.
“Good to see you, nephew,” Vardaan said as the clansman finished his song. “Let’s take a break from the contest, shall we?”
The man next to Vardaan stuttered his objection, pointing at the schedule. Vardaan ignored him. “Let’s give our performers a rest. Why not a little performance from you, nephew? I’ve heard you are a proud cultivator of the arts at your court in Mathur. It’s your specialty, it’s said.”
“They’ve been saying too much,” Harun said. “I have only taken an interest in the talent of many of our wonderful artists, which even a simple man like myself can admire.”
“Simple man? You do yourself a disservice,” Vardaan said. “Are you not the man I’ve heard you are? Sing for us.”
Esha knew Harun’s music had been his salvation after his sister’s disappearance and his mother’s death. He rarely let anyone hear it, instead investing in the talents of others as a way to continue his mother’s love of music.
“I am my mother’s son, always,” Harun said, his voice quiet. “This song was her favorite. Perhaps you’ll recognize it, Uncle.”
The first note of Harun’s song was unsteady, his voice shaking for a second before taking flight. But then a hush came over the garden. Even Vardaan looked struck, speechless. It was a song about a lone memory of love that had sustained a man across nights of loneliness and pain. Harun’s eyes fluttered closed as his voice rose, strength in his low baritone.
Harun took the old song and made it his own, imbuing it with his loss. Esha felt wetness at the corner of her eyes and saw many others wipe their own. Harun’s voice rose into an improvisational section, soaring over the high notes and deepening into the low ones. When he finished and opened his eyes, the entire garden was silent.
Harun looked up, staring straight at his uncle, his jaw set.
Vardaan stared back as if he had seen a ghost, his face pale and his eyes wide. He recovered quickly, raising his hands and clapping. Soon the entire audience joined in, many rising to their feet. Harun bowed to the audience, his hands clasped in front of him.
Trumpets of fanfare rang out, and King Mahir strode into the garden and up to the dais where his son sat.
“My son is quite talented, is he not?” he said, grasping his son by the shoulders. He turned to face his brother. “Rather like his mother.”
A soft sigh went through the crowd—Queen Gauri Samyad had been loved by her fellow Jansans, even after she had left them for Dharka. The love story between Gauri and Mahir was stil
l a legend to this day.
But Vardaan looked almost pleased that Mahir had shown up.
“He is. Good to see you’re feeling better, brother,” Vardaan said. A razor-sharp smile glinted on his face. “We’re just getting started. You’re going to love the entertainment tonight.”
Kunal hadn’t known the prince had such artistry in him. He had just arrived at the garden and he hastily tucked his uttariya into his waist sash as he hurried through the gates.
He wandered through the crowds, ducking under stunning topiaries that made him want to try sculpting for the first time. There, Alok was deep in conversation with someone near one of the bushes. Kunal walked up.
“Alok,” Kunal said. “Are—”
“Kunal. Guess who just arrived,” Alok said, warning on his face.
Alok’s companion turned around, and Kunal did a double take. General Panak.
Why was he here? Was he still looking for the Viper?
He would have to be careful—Kunal couldn’t forget how the general had lulled him in last time before demanding a Battle of Honor.
“General,” Kunal said, saluting. “I didn’t know you were arriving.”
“It was a rather sudden decision,” General Panak said. “But the king requested my presence, and so I’m here. I’ve heard you’ve become one of the champions, Kunal.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How has it been so far?”
Kunal forced out a laugh. “Certainly not the same as the Fort.”
A servant appeared at the commander’s elbow, whispering in his ear. He excused himself, and Kunal watched him until he disappeared from sight.
“I don’t like it,” Alok said. Kunal nodded. “He confuses me. At least with General Hotha you knew to be scared.”
Kunal couldn’t help the way his shoulders tightened.
Alok sighed. “Sorry, Kunal. I forget you’re related to that man sometimes.”
“It’s all right,” Kunal said.
The contestants had started up again, and the sharp notes of a flute punctuated the air. Kunal gazed around the tents, pulling the colors and textures and shapes into his mind, forming them into a layered painting he itched to go back to his room and sketch.
“He would’ve hated this, you know,” Kunal said.
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