The Chariot at Dusk

by Swati Teerdhala

  “Is that what they want? To invade?” Bhandu’s brow furrowed at the idea.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Harun . . . might know more, but his memories are hazy. I can’t help but feel that Yamini let him go on purpose.”

  “The Yavar caught up to us, so perhaps they let him go because they found Reha,” Bhandu said. “But then, why Reha?”

  “Exactly.” Esha rubbed her temples. “I wish I had more answers.”

  She had spent every waking moment buried in books about the ancient magic and rituals of the Southern Lands after getting word the renewal ritual for the janma bond hadn’t worked. It was frustrating work, despite having Farhan as a companion. But it was a good reminder—even as her entire world fell apart—that the sun still rose, fiery and gold.

  The sun and the moon waited for no mortal.

  Bhandu waved a hand in front of her face and she snapped to, realizing she had stopped in the middle of the hallway to the throne room.

  “Are you all right? Should I send for Arpiya?” His voice was worried, soft. Even Bhandu had changed in these past few weeks. He smiled less, and there were creases on his forehead that hadn’t been there before.

  Esha shook her head. “I’m fine. Take me to Alok.”

  “I could’ve sworn I left him here,” Bhandu said, perplexed. They both noticed the throne room door ajar at the same time. Bhandu’s eyes widened, and he tried to move in front of her. Esha looked at him as if he had grown a third head and waved him aside. When he didn’t move but just stood there sputtering at her, she sighed and walked around him, pushing him aside.

  “Honestly, Bhandu.”

  “Don’t—Esha—”

  Esha strode into the throne room. “Once I finish this off with Alok, I want you to take me to the girl. Just her. You can bring her to—”

  She turned around and spotted Alok, who was talking to a man in unfamiliar clothes and with what looked like thick silver bracelets on his wrists. She was about to wave to Alok when her entire body went numb.

  The soldier.

  He was here.

  Esha didn’t want to acknowledge his presence, give him the satisfaction of an ounce of her attention. But she did look up. And her heart and soul flew out of her to lay themselves at his feet without hesitation.

  Kunal was in a simple cotton uttariya and dhoti, the dark green of both making his amber eyes shine even in the dull light of the morning, cloudy and gray as it was. He was as handsome as ever, so much so that her heart squeezed in pain. She knew not to trust that soft mouth that curved in a smile at her. Not to fall in love again, even a little bit.

  Especially not with him.

  But still, the sight of him made some traitorous part of her bloom. Her pulse quickened at his broad shoulders, the memories of those hands on her skin. She could deal with that. That physical desire between them would probably never subside.

  This deeper feeling, however, it had to die.

  And so Esha marched over to him.

  “Esha,” was all he said. And it was all she needed to hear to know that a part of her would be lost to him forever, never to be recovered.

  Fury rose in her throat, raw and red. It sharpened to ice as it left her mouth.

  “If you were going to steal away our only bargaining chip, you might’ve at least succeeded in your mission,” she said.

  Esha glanced at Reha, who was next to him, looking chagrined. They had been cleaned up, but both bore the marks of having traveled. Scratches and bruises trailed Reha’s limbs, and she had lost weight. Her eyes were different too, a multicolored hue that left Esha feeling unsettled.

  Both were changed and yet the same. A specter hung over them. Failure? Or the knowledge of what it had cost to get there? Esha didn’t know if she cared.

  “We didn’t know,” Reha said.

  Kunal seemed to have lost his voice. He stared at Esha, a war raging across his face. He still hadn’t learned to control his emotions or perhaps she just knew him well. What she’d give to trade that information away now.

  She could say something kind, anything to ease the grief she saw in his eyes. To give him hope.

  Esha turned her back to Kunal and walked to the opposite corner of the room.

  “Save your story for someone who cares,” Esha said, turning to Bhandu. “Call the others. We have much to discuss.”

  There was little kindness left in Esha.

  Chapter 9

  Esha drew a finger over the dust on a side table in the war room. The last time she was here they had been negotiating for peace and she had sat in the farthest corner of the room. Now she pushed back the tall chair at the head and sat down. It was a massive rosewood table, constructed to make everyone else in the room feel small. Here was where queens had plotted wars, negotiated trade, protected their kingdom. And now here sat Esha.

  Neither Jansan nor a queen.

  The others soon arrived for the meeting, with Aahal trailing close behind Laksh. Mayank was noticeably absent, stuck in meetings with the army who refused Esha’s—or Reha’s—command. A problem for another day.

  Bhandu walked in last, his new charges following him into the room. She looked away and focused instead on the papers in front of her.

  She knew this was a haphazard group of allies. Almost immediately after noticing Laksh was in the room, Kunal tensed and backed away. The others, her team, they looked tired.

  They were all tired.

  That Esha understood in her bones. There was no precedent in their history for the ritual not working, not after the Blighted War—and the era before that they knew little about. Added to that was the unsettling news they had received in the decoded messages from the Mathur scholars.

  Esha turned her gaze to the girl on her left. So this was the real girl behind the mask. Reha’s shackles clinked together as she took a seat, the only sound in the uneasy silence that had spread over the room. There were echoes of Harun in her face, in the sharp upward sweep of her cheekbones, the dark eyebrows.

  This was their lost princess, their savior. This was Dharmdev, the thorn in their side for the past moon and earlier, the girl who had framed her. Who knew the name of her parents’ killer.

  Esha shut that door in her mind as quickly as she could. Her focus on revenge had nearly cost them everything. It might have been the reason she hadn’t caught on to Reha earlier.

  The others’ reaction to the presence of Reha was a spectrum: Aahal jumped to his feet and introduced himself, saying he was sorry that Harun would be her big brother, before Bhandu dragged him away by the collar. Laksh’s ever-smiling mouth turned tight, and Farhan barely seemed to notice, his nose stuck in the scroll from the Mathur scholars. He had been researching what might have gone wrong since Bhandu had sent his note about the failed ritual. Alok hovered over him, though he glanced up once at Reha. Kunal, though, wasn’t looking at Reha.

  He was looking at her.

  Esha’s gaze skimmed over him before turning toward the group. That familiar heat, tinged with a dark rage, lingered beneath her skin at the sight of him. It was better for both of them if he wasn’t in range of her whips.

  Laksh came over to her side of the throne while Farhan and Aahal lingered near the seats. Bhandu paced the floor, watching his two captives, who didn’t move a muscle.

  “I’m glad to see you both decided to join us,” Esha said.

  “We didn’t have much choice,” Reha said. Bhandu and Aahal exchanged looks.

  “True.”

  “We would’ve come back,” Kunal said. “Even if Bhandu hadn’t shown up.” Reha’s brow wrinkled, but she stayed silent.

  “Good to know,” Esha said. “What’s your report, soldier?”

  Kunal looked up at her, and there was a softness in his gaze that she had all but forgotten existed between them.

  “Your report,” she spat out angrily.

  Kunal hated the way Esha was looking at him, like she barely knew him. As if he were one of the many nameless chess
pieces working under her command. Part of him whispered that he deserved it, all of it. He had gone all the way to the mountain and failed.

  Kunal rubbed his brow, fighting his developing headache, and his shackles clanged heavily against each other.

  “Can we at least take these off?” he said.

  “No,” Esha said. She gave him a hard stare.

  “Given that we both were there to see the ritual fail, we have more knowledge than anyone here,” Reha said. “Let’s start this off on a good foot.” She looked down at her chains and then at Esha’s hard stare and winced. “A better foot.”

  Esha looked furious, but she didn’t protest. Kunal knew any hatred for him wouldn’t trump her skills as a strategist. “Fine. Bhandu, remove them. But if either of you shift and try to run off, I will gut you both. I don’t care if you’re royalty, a princess, or Dharmdev.” She leaned in closer. “You’re in my house now.”

  “I thought—” Kunal started.

  “Who do you think has been playing the role of Princess Reha here? Who has kept this charade running while you two were off on your vacation to the mountains?” she said, her teeth gritted.

  “It was hardly a vacation,” Reha said.

  Bhandu came and took their shackles off. Kunal rubbed his wrists, his skin chafed where the shackles had been.

  “The ritual didn’t work,” Kunal said finally.

  “Oh really?” Laksh asked idly. “I’d wondered why the river is still dry as a bone outside.”

  Kunal shot him a look. “Lovely to see you haven’t changed, Laksh.”

  “Why would I change when I’m perfect?”

  “Everything else has,” Kunal said.

  “Does the honorable soldier finally see that there might be more than one side to a story?” Laksh said in a singsong voice. His voice was cruel, but below it, only because Kunal knew the man, was a note of hurt. The thing was, Kunal supposed Laksh was right.

  They both put their country and duty first, but still, Kunal hadn’t almost killed his best friend. He hadn’t chosen pain.

  “Perhaps, but I still think the side of attempted murder is the wrong one.”

  “I never tried to murder you—”

  “No, you tried to murder Esha—”

  “What?” Bhandu exclaimed from the corner. He whipped to face Esha. “Why is he not in chains, Viperess? Why is he here?” He moved toward Laksh, but Esha held him back with a hand. She watched their whole interaction with a cool eye.

  “Let him be,” she said.

  “So, he can be forgiven after trying to capture and kill you?” Kunal said bitterly. He didn’t care that everyone else could see his resentment. He hadn’t realized it would be so keen until Esha had turned away from him.

  “We’re getting off topic,” Esha said. There was a clear tension in her jaw. Even with the rankling feeling in his chest, Kunal realized he wanted to talk to her. What had she been through here in the palace? Would she ever tell him? “Not only did the ritual not work, it broke something in the land as well, sending tremors throughout the countryside that almost destroyed the Rusala Dam. We need to focus on that.”

  “My aunt’s farm was destroyed,” Alok said quietly. Esha’s face softened, and she gave his hand a light squeeze. “Her entire livelihood gone, in an instant.”

  “Alok—” The rest of Kunal’s words choked in his throat. How could he ever begin to apologize for that? Alok would never blame him, but Kunal couldn’t help but feel responsible. His failure had hurt someone he loved.

  “Soldier, you’re right,” Esha said, though she looked pained saying the words. “Things have changed. The Scales, and Laksh, have been quite helpful the past few weeks as we tried to piece together a plan for the government. We’re working to ensure that the land—all the Southern Lands—doesn’t descend into chaos.”

  Reha leaned forward, clearly shocked. “The Scales are working with you? Zhyani?”

  “You’re passing judgment after you kept me in the dark?” Laksh said.

  “You didn’t—Did you tell—”

  “No, Princess Reha, I didn’t tell anyone about your identity.” Laksh looked almost insulted by the insinuation. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. “We had a plan. You were the one who backed out.”

  “Laksh offered a truce. An alliance,” Esha said, continuing on.

  “And the others? Malik? Ishaan?” Reha interrupted again. She looked at Laksh, question in her eyes. He stared back, his face impassive.

  “You can ask them yourself.”

  Reha didn’t look excited at that.

  “They’re trusted as allies now? After everything they’ve done?” Kunal said. He couldn’t help the strain and confusion in his voice. “And I had to beg to have our shackles removed?”

  “To answer your question, soldier”—Esha gave Reha a stern look—“Laksh and the Scales have proven themselves to be allies recently. Even Zhyani has proven useful, despite everything. Reha is a known liar. And you? You weren’t a simple ally. You were part of our team. And you left.”

  Finally, a note of emotion in Esha’s voice. Even if it was fury.

  “We didn’t know the Yavar had taken Harun,” he said, quieter than before.

  “I knew they were after me, and I refused to be taken captive, so I left,” Reha said. “And we tried to fix the ritual ourselves. Nothing we did was wrong.” Reha tilted her chin up in defiance, but Kunal saw the wobble that threatened at the edge of her lips.

  “If we had known . . . ,” Kunal started.

  “And if you had? You wouldn’t have left?” Esha demanded.

  Kunal and Reha exchanged a look.

  “That’s what I thought. Don’t expect me to favor your hero complex and credit you. Heroes die alone. We work as a team,” she said.

  “We weren’t trying to be heroes—” Reha said fiercely.

  “We were doing what was right,” Kunal said.

  “Good of you to decide what is right for all of us,” Esha said.

  “This isn’t helping,” Farhan said from the corner. His voice was quiet but carried through the throne room, echoing up into the cold marble corners of the ceiling. “What happened when you did the ritual?”

  The tension was thicker than fog. Esha’s hands were gripping the edges of her seat as if she was coiled to strike.

  “What’s done is done. Farhan is right. What happened with the ritual?” A look of weariness seemed to flit over Esha for a moment, but she hid it away quickly, only noticeable in the way her index finger kept tapping the wooden table.

  “Nothing,” Reha said, growing exasperated. “Cursed nothing. We did it exactly as King Mahir taught Kunal.”

  “How did you—?” Kunal asked.

  “Why do you think I asked you? I knew you were getting training from the king. Being a servant had its benefits.”

  Esha grumbled something under her breath, and Laksh put a hand over her twitching hand, whispering something low into her ear.

  Kunal’s blood rose, and his nostrils flared. He wanted to break that hand.

  “Laksh has been mooning over Arpiya.” Alok’s whisper jolted Kunal. “Esha and he are just friendly. Stress of betrayal and all. It’s Mayank you have to look after,” he said darkly.

  Kunal sputtered. “Mayank? Not Harun?”

  “Harun?” Alok looked shocked and then thoughtful.

  “Alok,” Farhan said patiently, a schoolmaster gently scolding a child. Alok straightened and mumbled an apology. “Kunal, what was supposed to happen in the ritual?”

  Kunal cleared his throat. “The river was supposed to accept the offering, and the spirits of the gods would be called down, ringing the bells and lighting the lamps that dotted the cave temple. The river accepted the offering, but nothing else happened. It was as if it simply gave out,” he said. “Like the gods demanded more to fulfill the ritual. What we gave wasn’t enough.”

  Farhan looked thoughtful while he tapped a finger against his chin. “M
y guess is that it’s like a decaying mechanism, one that has stopped working. After a decade of misuse, it makes sense,” he said. He looked at all of their confused faces and sighed. “Think of an iron farming machine. Without care and the proper materials, it will rust over and become useless. The only thing to do would be to bring in new parts.”

  Aahal piped up. “Are you suggesting we find a new temple?”

  Farhan shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “And your books haven’t told you anything better than ‘I’m not sure’?” Bhandu asked.

  “It’s slow going, all right? It’s not as if the ancient texts anticipated this sort of catastrophe,” Farhan snapped.

  “Well, then, perhaps books are useless,” Bhandu said.

  Farhan gasped and held a hand to his heart.

  “Boys,” Esha said in a commanding voice. They snapped to attention, both looking mutinous but vaguely guilty.

  “Actually, the ancient texts might have anticipated something like this,” Kunal said. Six heads whirled to face him. “King Mahir mentioned that the original ritual included artifacts that had been lost to time. He had been searching for them as a backup. He believed the ritual would work, that it was the best way forward. But clearly he was wrong.”

  “Artifacts? But the ritual only requires blood.” Farhan’s brow furrowed.

  “Not according to the history of the royals.”

  Kunal quickly filled them in on the story King Mahir had told him of how humans grew corrupt and careless, taking advantage of the land. How the gods withdrew their blessings after the Blighted War, until the two royal families banded together and made a new deal, removing the magic from all so that only a few became its stewards, passing the burden to the royals. That the original Ayana, the first ritual, had been done with ancient artifacts of the Sun Maiden and Moon Lord.

  “If we can find the original artifacts, we might have a chance,” Kunal said. “They might fix the rust, so to speak.”

  He’d been thinking about this since the journey down the mountain, after he realized that they had failed and that everything he had done was for naught. He had to find a way to change the future, make up for his mistakes.

  “You’re saying our only chance is with mythical artifacts that we don’t even know exist? Even King Mahir thought they weren’t the best option. He wouldn’t have taught you the ritual otherwise,” Laksh said. “Are you sure the trip down the mountain didn’t addle your brain, Kunal?”