“Except for the failure part.”
“How were we to know it wouldn’t work?”
Kunal made a strangled noise. “I don’t know. Any sort of caution or planning? Maybe we could’ve figured it out, Reha, if you had agreed to wait.”
“Waiting is boring,” she said petulantly. Her tone sobered. “You knew the conditions. I thought the Yavar were there for me. I didn’t know it’d be Harun they’d want in my place. I thought if we left they’d come after us.”
“Maybe it would have occurred to you if you had given me a moment to discuss it. Instead you threatened me with the safety of our country. And I betrayed everything for it.” Kunal’s voice had the blaze of fury and Reha stepped away a pace.
Her voice quieted. “I’m sorry. I just thought—”
“You were scared.” He said it matter of factly. “You were about to run.”
“I almost did.” Reha didn’t elaborate, but Esha could hear the layers of pain that surrounded that statement and for the first time, Esha understood.
How would she have responded if her entire life had been torn from her? Her identity, her past, her future? She certainly wouldn’t have tried to save anyone, let alone try to fix a problem that wasn’t inherently hers.
And Kunal . . .
It was the first time she heard not just regret but anger. Did he regret that he was forced to choose? The room where Kunal and Reha had stood was quiet now and Esha realized Reha must have left.
For the first time, Esha saw what Kunal had seen.
A scared young girl, full of power, the key to their salvation. Two choices, neither good, one full of potential.
Kunal would’ve never said no to someone in need, or a land in need. Hadn’t he left his post the first day they’d met? For a girl he’d never see again. Something in her heart opened up, just slightly. A door to before and a passage to after, if she was willing to take it.
Kunal was still standing there when she turned the corner, his head hung low. He rubbed a spot on his shoulder as he stared out the tall window, lost in thought.
Esha approached him before she could overthink it.
“There really was no good option for you, was there?” Esha said quietly. Kunal’s body tightened as he turned to look at her, his pale amber eyes heavy in their gaze.
It was the first time she had realized it. There was a line that she’d never cross, but Kunal wasn’t her.
He held his honor and duty in him like metal fused to his bones. They gave him strength, and it spoke to his commitment that he was willing to sacrifice everything to save them all. He was honorable to a fault. But isn’t that what she had loved in him? He pushed her to be better.
“I would say no, there wasn’t, but I’ve been rethinking and replaying what happened that night over and over,” Kunal said finally. “Maybe there was and I was too stubborn to see it. But in that moment, I thought I was being offered the best chance of saving the land, ending all of this. Without more bloodshed, without more strife.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “I’d keep you safe and wipe the blood clean from my hands.”
He hung his head, the white scar that cut into his full mouth curving with his frown. This wasn’t the soldier she had met, the warrior she knew.
This was a man haunted.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Esha said. She heard her voice rising. “You tried to play the hero, but no one asked you to. You’re not the only one with blood on your hands.” Kunal flinched, but Esha pushed on. “No one asked you to be the hero because the burden shouldn’t be on any one person to save us all. Did you consider disarming Reha and holding her till we came? Or convincing her to stay?”
“I did,” he said. “But she could shift and she threatened to leave.”
“I suppose.”
“And I didn’t know Yamini had turned, or that Harun’s life was in danger,” he said, a little bit louder, a bit more assured. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have done it.”
Esha smiled, a sad one. “That’s not true, Kunal. I think you would’ve. And if I’m being truthful, perhaps that would’ve been the right decision. You would’ve come back just to play right into Yamini’s hands. As your leader, I came to understand why you had decided to go off alone.”
She dropped her hands, dropping her gaze as well. “But as your friend—as more than your friend . . . You left. Without a word. Without a goodbye or an explanation. We could’ve always found the girl again. But losing you?” Esha turned to move. “That killed me.”
A low shuddering noise came from Kunal.
“And I will accept that,” Kunal said. “But you kept things from me. I didn’t know if I agreed with you, so I made the call that I thought was best. I did what I had never done before. I acted. I protected. And I was wrong and I’ve lived with that every moment since. But I at least tried. When I spoke to you about my concerns, you brushed them off. Running off to be a hero wasn’t the right answer, but . . .
“Our trust was fraying long before I left,” Kunal finished softly.
The next moment hung in the air, paused and expectant. The lights in the library had dimmed, casting shadows around Kunal, highlighting the small white scars that dotted his skin.
Once a soldier, always a soldier. But did she believe that anymore?
“So where does that leave us?” Esha said.
“Where do you want that to leave us?” Kunal asked.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Friends? Lemon boy and demon girl are too important to give up on. There’s too much history to abandon.”
Kunal nodded slowly. “Friends, then,” he agreed.
She smiled at him, the first in a long time. Esha told herself it felt right, that being friends was the best they could’ve hoped for between a soldier and a rebel.
She had forgotten how good she was at lying to herself.
Chapter 25
It was by the early-morning light that Esha caught Zhyani and a cadre of Scales leaving, their horses packed and at the ready. Esha had taken to these walks since they had returned to the palace two nights ago. Her dreams had been plagued by worry and dread since she had received the note about Bhandu’s excursion and these walks had been her only solace.
Esha emerged from the shadows to come up behind Zhyani.
“Going somewhere?”
Zhyani turned to look at Esha, tilting her head. “Bit early for you, isn’t it, Viper?” She hid it quickly, but it seemed Esha had taken Zhyani by surprise. She had been planning to sneak away.
“Not at all. I thrive in the morning,” Esha said.
Zhyani made a noise. “I thought you were a creature of the night.”
“I’m comfortable in many situations,” Esha said, smiling. “Why are you leaving?” Her tone became more serious. “Reha won’t be pleased.”
She hoped Zhyani understood what she wasn’t saying.
Reha would be heartbroken. The girl already thought she had lost her entire life to this newfound identity of hers and now that she had decided to stay, to do the right thing, she would need more support than ever.
“I—I can’t stay right now.” Zhyani looked away with a sigh. “I’ll be back soon. But we’re going to go out. Get more information on Vardaan’s army. We’ll send regular reports.”
“And when will you be back?”
“Soon,” was all Zhyani said.
“Is it because she’s the princess? She ruined your plans? She’s your friend. She needs you,” Esha said, her voice turning to ice. “Or do the Scales have no loyalty?”
Zhyani stepped closer, anger written across her face. “How dare you? Reha is more than a friend. She’s—” She stepped away, her fingers clenching over the horse’s reins in her hands. She quickly found her composure again. There was a new rawness in her voice when she spoke. “Be careful with her. Reha. She’s too good at goodbyes. And don’t miss me too much. I’ll be back soon.”
“Seems a bit on the nose, doesn’t it?” Esha said, a hi
nt of spite lacing her words.
Zhyani didn’t respond. Esha didn’t expect her to.
She glanced at Esha before raising a single gloved hand in signal to the other Scales. They mounted their horses in unison, a few of the Scales looking back at Zhyani with what Esha thought might be unease. So it wasn’t a unanimous decision.
Esha stepped back so as to not get trampled, though a part of her wanted to charge after them and drag them back into the palace. She wrapped her arms around herself in the light chill of the morning, letting the low chirps of the morning birds echo in her ears.
She’s too good at goodbyes.
What had she meant by that?
In the maelstrom that was her brain, Esha could only hear the whispers she had ignored since she had dragged Vardaan back. Whispers about a mole in their midst. Why else had Reha stayed back when she had been so adamant about leaving before?
Esha straightened her spine. Reha had shown little to earn her distrust, and she wouldn’t doubt her now.
But the seed remained, nestled into her heart. Reha, or Aditi, had fooled her once.
Zhyani nodded at Esha before taking off with the Scales, down the ramp of the Pink Palace and back to the city that had made them.
The minute he was down in the damp, dark mustiness of the dungeons, Kunal regretted the impulse that had brought him here. No, not an impulse. A summons.
The king, his once sworn leader, had written to him, demanding an audience. Though in not so many words.
Kunal shivered. There was a slight chill in the dungeons, tucked away from sunlight and made for torture. The latter was evident in the care and shape of the cells. Thick metal bars, small slats for light, keeping prisoners in constant suspension between day and night. All the hallmarks of a military prison.
He approached Vardaan’s cell, stopping a few paces away. It still struck him to see the king, to see Vardaan, here.
Esha wouldn’t like to hear it, but he had a command to him that rivaled the Viper’s. It became clear to Kunal how so much of the damage to his country had happened. Charisma was a weapon sharper than any blade when wielded right, and it was on display in front of him.
Vardaan was thinner than when Kunal had seen him last, his face hollow but not gaunt. There was still an energy that suffused his body, like he wasn’t quite done with the world yet.
That’s what worried Kunal.
Esha had filled him in on how Vardaan had helped in finding the conch and the other moves he had made, even while behind bars. She seemed to have shifted her attention back to other pressing needs, particularly with the army, but Kunal wasn’t sure it was the prudent move.
Kunal wasn’t sure it would ever be smart to forget what the man in front of him could do.
“The Archer, isn’t it?” a deep, rumbling voice asked. Vardaan assessed him with a cool gaze. Kunal had to resist the urge to straighten and check his weapon placement. This wasn’t an army inspection. This wasn’t his king anymore.
“That is what they call me.”
Vardaan chuckled and got to his feet, his shackles and chains clanking against each other in a discordant song. The resemblance to Harun was striking at first, until Vardaan came closer. There was a cruel set to his mouth, a tightness.
“It took me a while to figure out that the Archer, the legend reborn, was actually my best friend’s nephew. I had meant to look for you after his death, but when I sent a note I was told you were out finding retribution for your uncle’s murder,” Vardaan said. “Avenging his honor.”
The words sent a shiver down Kunal’s back, a memory from the past.
He could still taste the way that desire had felt, like smoke and ash and steel. A memory of his uncle flashed across his mind, the first time he had led Kunal through the tall arches of the Red Fortress.
He had never thought he’d be here, even a year ago.
“Honor is beginning to take on a new meaning for me . . . sir,” Kunal said.
He still couldn’t find it in him to let go of those old habits. The anger that Esha held in her heart for Vardaan was something Kunal understood but didn’t share. That hatred.
But when he thought of the ravaged, barren land that Jansa had become, that he had discovered on his travels, Kunal thought that, maybe, he could feel a flicker of hatred in his own heart.
“You must be wondering why I asked you here. Let’s not mince words. I know you are working with the Blades. I know you deserted your position.” Kunal winced, but Vardaan continued. “But many things have changed and I’m becoming an old man.”
Vardaan came closer to the bars of steel that separated him and the outside world. He looked tentative, nervous. “I simply wanted to see the man you’ve become,” Vardaan said finally, his voice lowered and tremulous. “It’s been over a decade now since Setu found you, hasn’t it?”
Kunal wondered if it was real emotion that choked his words or if he was a better actor than even the Viper. Doubting others was not in Kunal’s nature, but he had grown to see it as wisdom now. Protection.
“Setu would have wanted to see you too,” Vardaan said.
A bitterness rose in Kunal’s throat and he reacted before he could stop himself. “I doubt that. What would my uncle say if he saw me now?”
“Setu was always contrary. I never knew what he was going to say or do,” Vardaan said, chuckling. Vardaan glanced up at him, kindness in his eyes, as if he was sharing in remembrance with him. Kunal hadn’t known that part of his uncle, but he did remember the few times he had taken his side or shown him kindness after failure.
“Your father, on the other hand. He is entirely different.”
Vardaan’s eyes shifted, regaining their sharp edge. Kunal almost stepped back at the transformation.
And at the clarity in Vardaan’s words.
Not was.
He is entirely different.
Was this why Vardaan had brought him down here?
Kunal was in his face, his hand wrapping around Vardaan’s throat through the bars.
“My father? What do you know? Do you have him?”
Vardaan dared to laugh. “Have him? Gods no. I would never force myself to spend time with that man. I always wondered what sort of woman would tolerate him. His utter tedium. I suppose our dear Viper has that answer. I never took her as a woman who would go for a soldier.”
A few of the guards near the end of the hall shifted, unsure whether to come closer and unsure who to help.
“A prince is more her style, don’t you think?” Vardaan grinned. “I saw her with my nephew, you know. As long as he’s around, you’ll never have a chance.”
Vardaan’s words were the slap in the face Kunal needed.
He had once had those thoughts, it was true, but Kunal was beginning to understand who he was now. What he offered. Who he wanted to be.
And he wouldn’t let Vardaan rile him.
It was clear to Kunal now that the summons was about getting information on Esha. Vardaan thought by goading him, throwing him off balance, that he might betray her.
He let go of the man and stepped back, putting as much distance between them as he could. Harun had mentioned that he should limit his visit, keep metal between them to ensure that Vardaan wouldn’t recognize his blood song.
At least Vardaan didn’t know about his mother, even if he knew about Esha.
“It would be a mistake to believe anything you say,” Kunal started. “That I should’ve realized. But the biggest mistake I made was ever believing you were a man to follow. A king of any kind. You, Vardaan, are nothing and will be nothing but a bad memory.”
Kunal would make sure of it.
He hurried out of the dungeons, leaving behind Vardaan and his previous life.
Esha waited for Harun in the small corner of the palace gardens, resisting the urge to check the sundial once again. He was usually never late. They had a standing meeting to go over battle strategies in the war room, but this morning she had woken up to a note from hi
m asking to meet here, at this time.
So where was he?
Footsteps sounded behind her and Esha turned around, ready to berate Harun. First he changed the time of their meeting and then he was late.
The words dried up in her mouth when she saw Harun.
He wore a russet-red dhoti, a cream uttariya thrown over one shoulder. He had taken to wearing leather armor guards since he had returned and the ones he was wearing held more than a few nicks. Her prince was getting his training in.
He looked . . . different. There was a resoluteness on his face that she hadn’t seen in moons. He looked that way only when he had made a decision and he was unhappy with it.
“Harun, why—”
Without warning, Harun wrapped Esha in his arms and kissed her. And when she returned the kiss, he deepened it into a searing, soul-searching kiss that left her breathless. He pulled away a moment later, clearly shaken.
“Harun.”
He stopped her. “I wanted one last kiss. One last time.”
“Last—Harun, what are you talking about?”
He stepped away from her, drawing his hands together in front of him. He took a ragged breath, his dark eyes searching for something in her own. “I saw you with him earlier. Kunal.”
“Harun, it didn’t mean—”
“Whatever is between you isn’t finished.” He chuckled, but the laugh was as dry as sand. “It’s clear as daylight to anyone else but you two.”
“There is nothing left there,” she said.
“I wish that were the truth,” Harun said quietly. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair. “A part of me will always wish that I had never sent you on that mission in the first place. But then we wouldn’t be here, closer with every step to saving the land.”
He stepped closer and cupped her face, his thumb drawing small circles at the edge of her jaw. “I want all of you, Esha. I always have. I was just too stupid to realize it before. But I can’t turn back time and I think . . .”
Harun sighed, his shoulders drooping. “I don’t want to be second.”
The Chariot at Dusk Page 20
