“You lied to me. About everything.”
I thought of Bharata littered with the refuse of war. I thought of Gauri. “My home … my people were destroyed. You knew, but refused to tell me. Do you deny it?”
My anger was an element. Heat slashed through the air between us, dragging claws of invisible flames. That nameless power growled at my heels, like a beast ready to rend flesh at my word.
I wanted to hurt Amar. I wanted my anger to bruise him, burn him, as if all that heat and fury could weld back my mangled heart. But at the sight of him … I hesitated. In the pale light, Amar’s hands trembled.
“The deaths were fixed. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”
Behind me, Nritti let out a deranged laugh. “Lies. Oh, so many lies you spin, oh Dharma Raja. Without you, there would be no fixed death. There would be no death at all.”
I shivered at the sound of her words.
He turned from me, hands raking through his hair, pacing across the marble. I shrank back. “Those memories were not to be disturbed until you were deathless! They were to protect you, Maya.”
“I’m protecting her now,” said Nritti.
I turned around. Nritti was no longer in the portal. She had stepped out, and behind her, there was nothing but a broken mirror. Memories exploded around her, and each time they did, I winced. Whatever secrets they held extinguished on the marble.
There was a knife in Nritti’s hand, a manic glint in her eyes. Gone was the soft honey color of her skin. Even her hair seemed to pale and dull, no longer the beautiful, glossy sheets of black that had once hung around her shoulders.
Nritti looked at me, a smile of camaraderie lighting her face. She placed the knife on the floor and kicked it across the tile, where it clattered against my foot.
“Take it, sister,” she crooned. Her voice sounded different. Still familiar, but there was no warmth to it, and I couldn’t remember why. “Plunge it into the tree. Reclaim yourself.”
“Leave us, Nritti,” said Amar. His voice thundered through the room. “I will not let your chaos hurt her or come between us ever again.”
“Or what?” taunted Nritti. She tilted her head to one side, like this was a game. “Will you chase me down like you’ve done my sister? Will you trap my memories in some dingy chamber and lord them over me?”
“That is a lie, and you know it,” he growled.
“You know I tell the truth, sister,” said Nritti, turning to me. “You cannot deny the memory of us in that tree. You cannot deny how familiar I am to you. Familiar as flesh. I would never hurt you. I only want to protect you. I’ve spent years searching for you—”
“Don’t listen to her,” hissed Amar. “You have to trust me, my love. There has only been you. I know who you are. You are my queen. You always have been.”
I couldn’t look at him, but I could feel his gaze on me. So pained and tender that I fought the need to run to him, to comfort him. But I couldn’t push out the image of the woman in the glass garden. I couldn’t forget Gauri’s necklace encrusted with blood. I couldn’t forget how he had hinted at some latent power within me, and yet I couldn’t move a single thread on the tapestry.
I couldn’t forget his lies.
“Go near that tree and I will lose you forever,” he said fiercely. “Your memories won’t keep. Your powers will be gone.” Amar staggered toward me, and this time, I couldn’t help but look at him. His eyes held mine in a firm, unyielding gaze. “Jaani, I put too much of myself and my own memories into the tree.”
Around us, the candles sputtered, their mirror shards brightening like miniscule comets before extinguishing into smoke and ash. Each time a light went out, Amar clutched at his rib cage, as if something was tearing at his heart. By now the flames had reached the middle of the trunk, writhing golden and serpentine, spitting out ash and memory.
“You must destroy the tree now!” roared Nritti. “He lied to you. I would never lie to you. Don’t let yourself be one of the many women who was fooled by him. Do not look at him, sister. Look at me. I am the one who came here to protect you.”
Each memory roared. I could hear the fire warping the voice of my past life, turning it into shrills and bellows. Voices burst from the trunk, echoing in the room. It was fire and chaos and sound. I backed against the tree trunk, the knife gleaming with sweat in my hands.
Amar’s eyes darted between me and the tree, but I refused to move. I tried to summon the tingling sensation of power, but it only buzzed weakly at my fingertips before abandoning me. The tree was beyond my control.
Amar shut his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was haggard, sweat shining on his neck. “Destroy that tree and I will be stripped of my memories. No one will remember who you are or what you mean to me,” he said, his voice rasping.
“He’s lying to you!” screeched Nritti. “You will not remember yourself if you do not destroy the tree while you have the chance. Whatever you do, do not look at him.”
The tree’s shadow lengthened, its limbs stretched forward in glaring whorls of branches. Everything loosened. Whole branches the size of full-grown men spluttered to the floor, splintering like glass. The room was spinning. All the smoke from the extinguishing memories wreathed my hair and filled my lungs. I tried to fight the dizziness, to focus on Amar’s and Nritti’s faces, but they seemed far away.
I couldn’t fade away. I couldn’t let myself be lulled to weakness out of false love. Tears streamed down my face, pooling on my neck. My lips were full of salt. No matter how I felt about Amar, one thing was true—
I didn’t trust him.
I plunged the knife into the tree, pushing all my force, my heartbreak, my broken dreams, into the tree’s thick bark. Shrieks tore through the room. I heard Nritti yelling, laughing, and it felt wrong. Her laugh … it was identical to that of the intruder in my room. Had it been her?
I need you to lead me …
Instinctively, my eyes clasped on Amar’s. He was shocked, his face pale. He grabbed me; his hands entangled in my hair even as my fingers were wrapped around the hilt that destroyed him.
“I love you, jaani. My soul could never forget you. It would retrace every step until it found you.” He looked at me, his dark eyes dulling, as if all the love that had once lit them to black mirrors was slowly disappearing. “Save me.”
The glow of the candles cast pools of light onto the ground, illuminating his profile. I knew, now, why Nritti begged me not to look at him. His gaze unlocked something in me. It was both visceral and ephemeral, like heavy light. The eyes of death revealed every recess of the soul and every locked-away memory of my past and present life converged into one gaze …
I was weightless, my vision unfocused and hazy until the memory of the woman in the glass garden engulfed me. Slowly, the woman turned and a wave of shock shot through me—I was staring at myself.
I remembered another life …
Once, my skin wasn’t covered in smooth snake scales like the naga women or striped in hide like the shape-shifting maidens. Once, my skin bled from one hue to the next, shifting to reflect the transition from evening to night. Before, I never left the riverbanks unless my skin was the cream and pink of a newborn sunset.
But something had changed … I had met someone. Someone who had seen me the way I was and had not sneered. He had seen me, reached for me when my skin was velvet black and star-speckled. I could still feel his stare—lush as obsidian, star-bright and pouring into the crevices of my dreams.