Poison's Kiss

by Breeana Shields

  I sigh. “I’m an assassin.” I expect Japa to look shocked or angry, so I’m taken off guard by the sadness in his eyes.

  “For how long?”

  My throat feels like it’s closing up. “Since I was a little girl.”

  Japa sucks in a sharp breath. “But that can’t be,” he says. The expression on his face is shocked, but the hard angles have softened and he looks more like himself. It gives me courage to keep speaking.

  “It’s not a life I ever wanted,” I tell him. “I never really had a choice.”

  Japa’s eyes are wet. He rests a hand on my forearm. “Marinda, we always have a choice.”

  I shake my head because he doesn’t understand. “When I was five, the Raja gave me the option: become his assassin or leave Sundari forever. Where would I have gone at five? It wasn’t much of a choice.”

  “The Raja?” Deep lines have carved themselves into Japa’s forehead. “At five?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I had to be loyal to the kingdom or leave.”

  Japa presses his lips together and stares off into the distance. “You had orders to kill Deven?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “And so you meant to accomplish that by poisoning him?”

  “No,” I say. “Of course not.”

  Japa’s face is twisted in confusion. “Deven said you’d been slipping him doses of poison.”

  Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. “I was trying to make him immune,” I say softly.

  “Immune from what?”

  “From me. From others like me.”

  Japa raises his eyebrows in a question. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. I don’t want to say it out loud, but there’s no other way to make him understand.

  “My kiss is deadly,” I say. “I was supposed to kiss Deven, but I couldn’t do it. He was too good and too kind. But if I didn’t, I knew that my handler would send another girl, so I had to make him immune to protect him.”

  “A visha kanya?” Japa breathes.

  My pulse quickens. “You’ve heard of us?”

  “Only in legends,” he says. “It’s not possible. And the Raja would never…” He shakes his head. “It’s just not possible.”

  “I wish that were true.” We sit quietly for a moment, each absorbed in our own thoughts. And then I say, “Deven says Mani has vish bimari. Have you ever heard of that?”

  Japa nods. “It’s clear that he does—the trouble breathing, the lack of energy, the way his eyes are always dilated. That’s why I told you to come to me if you needed help. I thought someone was hurting the two of you. I never suspected…” He trails off, but I can guess the rest of the thought. He never suspected it was me hurting Mani.

  “It wasn’t me making him sick,” I say.

  “You didn’t give him poison?”

  “Of course not. I would never hurt Mani.” I lower my eyes to my hands. “I thought it was a problem with his lungs. But now—I think my handler has been slowly poisoning him over the last several years. Until Deven accused me of hurting him…I didn’t think it was possible.”

  Japa shifts in his chair and scrubs a hand over his face. “You understand that I’m finding it difficult to trust you?”

  “I do. I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m just asking you to help me help Mani. None of this is his fault.” My voice breaks. “I can’t lose him.”

  Japa stands up and begins pacing around the storeroom. “So what’s your plan?”

  I trace circles on the tabletop with my fingers. “There’s a village tucked away in a small valley high in the mountains—”

  “The Widows’ Village?” Japa interrupts.

  “Yes,” I say. “You know about it?”

  “The question is, how do you know about it?”

  “I…” Thinking about that day gives me a dull ache in my chest. I can almost feel the pressure of Deven’s palm against mine, the cool mountain breeze on my cheeks. “Deven showed me,” I say softly. “We went on a hike and he took me there as a surprise.”

  Japa’s eyes go wide. “He did?” His voice is full of astonishment. “He must have cared about you a great deal more than I realized.”

  I bite my lip. It doesn’t escape my notice that Japa used the past tense, and I try to push away the sting with a question.

  “Do you think the widows would take care of Mani? If I can get him there safely?”

  Japa nods. “It’s a good idea,” he says. “I think it’s likely they would.”

  Relief fills my chest at the thought of Mani tucked away safe in the mountains. But there are so many steps between here and there. “I need to get him well first,” I tell Japa. “Is there a cure? Do you know?”

  Japa drums his fingers on the back of the chair. “I’m not an expert on vish bimari, but from what I understand, it can only be cured with an antidote,” he says.

  “So, where do I get one?”

  He sighs. “Well, that’s the tricky part. You have to know the exact source of the poison. I don’t suppose you know where it came from?”

  Kadru. I stand up so fast that my chair falls over. “I have to go,” I tell Japa. “Keep Mani safe.” I start toward the door, but Japa catches my wrist and spins me around.

  “You can’t go now,” he says. “It’s pitch-black outside. It’s not safe.”

  “I have to. Mani needs me.”

  “Marinda, you promised him you’d stay. Get some rest. Wait until morning.”

  I chew on the corner of my lip. I want nothing more than to run all the way to Kadru’s tent and demand that she help me. But Japa is right. Mani would be devastated to wake up and find me gone. “Fine,” I tell him. “I’ll leave at first light.”

  Before I go to bed, I take a damp cloth and wipe down every inch of the bookcase in front of the safe room until it gleams like all the others. I close the door behind me and wedge a rolled-up rug into the space at the bottom of the door to block any breeze from escaping into the room above us.

  Mani doesn’t stir when I pull a second pallet beside him. As I crawl into my makeshift bed and close my eyes, a kernel of hope takes root in my chest—there’s a chance I can find a way to heal Mani, a chance we can finally escape. It occurs to me that this is the first time in as long as I can remember that I’m falling asleep in a bed Gopal doesn’t own. And even with the horrible day I’ve had, the thought makes me smile.

  I stand outside Kadru’s tent the next morning with my heart in my throat. All the way here I was full of fiery indignation, ready to make demands and insist on answers. But now the thought of facing the snakes has turned my resolve slushy. I wipe my palms against my sari and try to breathe through my nose. I love Mani more than I fear the snakes. I faced the snakes to get the toxin for Deven and I can do it again to find answers for the antidote.

  “Kadru,” I call out, and my voice betrays me by trembling. “Kadru?”

  She opens the flap and greets me with a wide smile. “I told you we’d be meeting again soon,” she says. I bristle at her self-satisfied tone, but I don’t say anything. Kadru is dressed in scarlet today. Her hair is plaited in hundreds of tiny braids that are twisted into a wreath on top of her head. Rubies hang from her earlobes and neck. Her fingernails, toenails and lips are all painted the same bright crimson.

  “Don’t just stand there, Marinda,” Kadru says. “Come in.” She pulls the flap wider—white snakes cover every surface, and I have to swallow my fear to move forward into the tent. I keep my eyes trained on my sandals. I try to breathe deeply, but pulling in more air only intensifies the musky reptilian smell that makes me want to gag.

  Kadru turns to face me. “Was there a reason for your visit, darling? Or did you just miss me?”

  My stomach twists and I’m not sure if it’s nausea or anger. I focus my whole attention on Kadru’s face, try to pretend we’re alone so that I can speak to her without distraction. “I need to ask you about an antidote.”

  “An antidote?” She laughs. “Oops. Did you give your b
oyfriend too much venom?”

  I shake my head. “No, he’s not my boyfriend and it’s not for him. It’s for my brother.”

  “Your brother?” Her confusion looks genuine. “Oh, you mean that little boy Gopal gave you for a pet?”

  I go hot all over. “Mani is not a pet.”

  “I never said pets were bad, Marinda. Look around—I adore my pets.” I refuse to look and she sniffs as if offended. “Either way, I can’t help you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t have an antidote.”

  She has to be lying. “How could you not? Look around.” I throw her own words back at her but she just holds my gaze, and when she speaks, her voice is gentle.

  “I tolerate the snakes the same way you do, my darling. I’m immune.”

  “You really don’t have an antidote?”

  She shakes her head sadly. “I really don’t. I can’t think of a single reason why I would ever need one.”

  “But…” I’m at a loss for words. If Kadru can’t help me with this, there is no one else who can. I press a hand to my forehead. There must be something.

  “What about the Raja?” I ask. “If you could tell me how to contact him—how to get through the guards at the palace—maybe he could help.”

  Kadru’s eyes widen. “Surely you don’t think you belong to that Raja.”

  My stomach goes cold and my pulse is beating out a warning. “What other Raja would there be?”

  Her mouth pulls down at the corners and she strokes one of the snakes absently. Her jeweled fingers send light bouncing around the walls of the tent.

  “What other Raja?” I repeat more forcefully. Kadru meets my eyes.

  “The Nagaraja,” she says softly. I take a step back.

  “Nagaraja? The Snake King? No, that can’t be right. Gopal always said…” I stop talking, trying to remember what Gopal said. Did he ever specifically say the Raja of Sundari? I can’t remember. Kadru is watching me carefully, studying my face in a way that sends gooseflesh racing up my arms. There’s something almost sad in her expression.

  “He really never told you?”

  “He never tells me anything except that we are working for the Raja.”

  She sighs and falls into her chair. Two large snakes follow her and coil themselves at her feet. Another snake drops onto her shoulders from a bamboo pole above. “We serve the Nagaraja, Marinda. He specifically chose you. Surely Gopal told you that much?”

  My fingernails bite into the tender flesh of my palms. “He told me the Raja chose me. The Nagaraja…the Raksaka…those are just stories.” My heartbeat is roaring in my ears. This can’t be happening. The only thing that has kept me from hating myself completely is knowing that I’m serving my kingdom, helping the Raja fight evil. If I’ve been killing for any other reason…I clap my hand over my mouth. I really am the monster that Deven thinks I am.

  “I’m sorry to upset you,” Kadru says kindly. “Gopal really should have told you by now. But now that you know, maybe it will make things easier.”

  “Easier? How would it make things easier? I will never kill for Gopal again. I won’t serve a snake.”

  Kadru’s eyes fly wide in alarm. The snakes at her feet turn their heads toward me and hiss in unison. Their eyes look like polished onyx. “Hush, Marinda,” she says. “You’re just upset. Of course you will serve the Nagaraja. Of course you will obey Gopal’s orders.” Her voice is soothing and sweet, but there’s a warning under the surface.

  “No,” I say, my voice as hard as flint. “I won’t. He can have one of the other vish kanya do his bidding.”

  She jerks her head back. “One of the other vish kanya?” Her face reddens and she flies to her feet, sending the snakes slithering away. “Gopal is a fool. Has he told you the truth about anything?” I just stare at her because how would I know that? Kadru begins pacing. “There are no other vish kanya, Marinda. The Nagaraja chooses only one.”

  “That’s a lie,” I tell her. This I’m sure about. We are arranged in pairs—both Gopal and Gita have been clear about that. Part visha kanya, part spy.

  Kadru raises her eyebrows. “Have you ever met another one?”

  My certainty falters. “Well, no. But only because it’s against tradecraft.”

  She releases a breath through pursed lips. “It has nothing to do with tradecraft. You’ve never met another visha kanya because you are the only one. You have been for years. Gopal lied to you.”

  “How do you know that?” I shoot back. “Maybe he lied to you.”

  She laughs. “I know because I was the last visha kanya.” The tent suddenly feels far too warm. My legs go spongy and I look for a place to sit down, but the snakes have claimed every surface. “I used to be you,” Kadru continues. “And when the Nagaraja grows tired of you or when you become too deadly to be useful, you will become me.”

  My throat starts to close. I can’t imagine a worse fate than being Kadru, stuck in a tent, surrounded by the snakes I detest. Holding children down while serpents feed on them and listening to their screams while their blood becomes toxic. Stealing years from girls who don’t have any other options. Kadru and I are nothing alike.

  She walks in a lazy circle around me, and the snakes follow her until I’m surrounded on all sides. I can barely breathe. “I don’t see how I could be too deadly to be useful,” I say through clenched teeth. I desperately want her to be lying.

  “Oh, you will be,” she says. “The poison is part of you now. And it will build and build until in a few hundred years you’ll be able to kill with nothing more than a touch.”

  “That’s not true,” I say. It can’t be.

  “Do you remember the first boy you killed? How long did it take him to die? Five hours? Six? Darling Marinda, my kiss would kill a man in seconds.” She throws her head back and laughs. “Hardly subtle enough for assassination, but I make a marvelous executioner.” She leans close and her next words are only a whisper against my ear. “And as the years go by, you will too.”

  I press my fingers against my eyelids. The horror of my future stretches out in front of me like an endless desert—living forever trapped in a prison of poison. Killing the Nagaraja’s enemies and demanding more life for myself as payment to help other girls become killers. I’d rather die tomorrow than live a thousand years like that. “No,” I say. “I won’t become you. It doesn’t matter if I’m the only visha kanya. I’m still done.”

  Kadru steps toward me and drags a scarlet nail down the side of my face. “No, my sweet. You will never be done. Gopal is a snake worshiper—a loyal member of the Naga. When the Nagaraja chose you as his princess, you became an object of worship for them. And they will never, ever let you go. They will hunt you, chase you, follow you to the ends of the earth. Like it or not, you belong to them.”

  All the air leaves my lungs. Princess. Rajakumari. It’s what Gopal has called me all my life—she’s telling me the truth. I think of the snake tattoos coiled around Gopal’s arms and I feel sick. I’ve been so stupid thinking I was nobly serving the kingdom.

  “Go back to Gopal,” Kadru says. “Apologize. Promise to be a good little killer. Rajakumari or not, the Naga aren’t afraid of meting out punishment.” She searches my face. “But you probably already know that.”

  “Who was I killing?” I ask. “All this time, who was I killing?”

  Kadru shrugs. “Many in Sundari don’t care for the Naga. You’ve been killing those who are actively trying to stop us.”

  “Why would they want to stop us?” I ask, and then cringe at the word us. I don’t want to be one of them. I won’t.

  “They don’t approve of some of our practices,” she says evasively.

  “Such as?”

  Her eyes slide away and she strokes the head of a snake hanging nearby. “The Nagaraja must be fed,” she says lightly. “Sundari would like for us to stop feeding him humans.”

  The walk back through the market feels like a dream. I’m vaguely aware of crowd
s—of bustling people pushing past me, brushing against my shoulders, pressing into my side, of children clinging to their parents or skipping away, of carts bumping along the cobblestones. But the images are like scattered pieces of broken glass, disconnected and confusing. Everything sounds muffled and I am numb inside.

  My head is heavy with all that Kadru told me, with all the lies that Gopal made me believe. I feel as if I’ve stepped into a nightmare—one filled with cults of snake worshipers and brothers who die and sisters who kill—and I’m longing to wake up. But worst of all, I’m returning empty-handed.

  I can’t save Mani, just like I couldn’t save Deven. They are both in danger because of me, and I haven’t been able to help either one of them. I hoped to return with an antidote so that Mani and I could escape together. But now I’ll need to get him to safety and keep searching until I find a way to heal him. But the thought of being without him fills me with an aching emptiness.

  I walk past vendors calling out enticements—waving bright scarves and bits of meat for sampling. An old man with gnarled fingers shakes a small bag of herbs in front of my face. “Remedies, remedies,” he calls. “Remedies for broken hearts and broken bones. Remedies for every ailment.” I stop for a moment and gape at his booth. Hundreds of bags line the shelves behind him, and dried herbs swing from the wooden rafters. He sees me watching him. “What’s your trouble, miss? I’ve got cures for everything.” Deep lines carve through his face, and his shoulders are curved with age. He grins at me, revealing two rows of yellowed teeth.

  “Do you have a cure for vish bimari?” I ask, not daring to hope. His smile evaporates and he takes a step back.

  “My condolences, miss.” He turns his back and doesn’t speak again until I start walking away. I hear his voice call out behind me, “Remedies, remedies.” I swallow a lump in my throat. Things are so bad for Mani that even charlatans don’t dare to promise relief.

  Suddenly the urge to be as far away from Bala City as possible overwhelms me. I need to get Mani to the Widows’ Village while he still has the energy to travel. If I think beyond that to what comes next, to how I’ll find an antidote—to if I’ll find one—I’ll be too paralyzed to move. Instead I focus on Mani’s future. Think about how he’ll live with a grandmotherly woman who will spoil him. About how he’ll fall asleep feeling safe and wake up with sunlight on his face.