Around us, sheaves of dirt slid in fat waves … swallowing the gossamer tent where we had eaten, lapping up the false groves that had been our heart’s desires. I watched the ground drag down the only place I could call home.
Step by step, we crossed the dais. Slowly, slowly, it screeched its halt. At once, the eight doors glowed, each door opening barely more than an inch. Behind each one: light unending. Vikram halted in front of the door marked by Kubera’s statue.
“Well? Will you follow me from one world to the next or not?”
Determination blazed in his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that he was right. His belief felt like heat that crinkles and greases the air. The force of it pressed and needled the world, as if it could summon kingdoms out of sheer force. His conviction set me alight.
I grasped his hand.
Vikram touched the statue of Kubera. Every door slammed shut but the one to true north. Stone gears smacked together like pressed lips. Huge waves of earth rolled to us, pushing us through the door. Golden light washed over my eyes, and dry heat crackled against my skin.
The door slammed shut, dissolving into nothing.
I slammed against Vikram, knocking him to the ground. It took a few blinks before I could see in front of me. We were sprawled on top of a lush green hill. A path of thorns and moonstones wound through small valleys and between sparkling lakes before ending at a red gate that encircled the golden kingdom. The kingdom sat in the cupped hollow of a violet mountain range. The palace loomed so large that its great golden spires looked as if they had unraveled from the sky. A thousand turrets bearing pennants of gem-encrusted silk fluttered into the day. I could make out the silhouette of handsome lawns teeming with glittering fountains, fragrant fruit orchards, feast tables piled high with sweets and savories and a large crowd of people who wandered aimlessly through the grounds.
“We’re here. We made it to Alaka.”
Vikram took in the view, his eyes widening.
“It’s beautiful.” He turned to me, mischief glinting in his eyes. “How do they celebrate good fortune in Bharata? In Ujijain, we kiss.”
I let go of his hand. “Look elsewhere.”
“Are you sure? You spend an awful amount of time looking at my lips.”
“That’s only because I’m horrified at the sheer idiocy of the words leaping out of them.”
“Such tales,” he tutted. “If you’re curious, I’m willing to indulge you.”
“Go kiss a rock.”
“I will,” he said with a gallant bow. “Rocks are kinder and softer than you anyway.”
He turned around, walked over to an outcropping of rocks and promptly kissed a boulder.
“There,” he said brightly. “That one even looks like a woman.”
I peered at the rock he’d kissed. He was right. A lonely lemon tree grew beside the handful of rocks, but the boulder he’d kissed was as tall as a woman, with worn carvings that might even resemble the outline of hair and lips, breasts and a whittled waist.
“You’re certain that rakshasi fruit is out of your system?” asked Vikram.
“Yes?”
“Good.” He took a deep breath. “Because, once more, I told you so.”
“You do realize that I don’t need the enhancements of demon fruit to knock you to the ground?”
“I do. But I concede that some bodily harm from you is inevitable. I’m just trying to minimize the damage.”
“How very wise,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Vikram grinned. “You saved my life, now I have saved yours.”
“We’re no longer in each other’s debt then,” I said, walking past him.
“No reward, fair maiden?” he asked, jogging to keep up with me. It was at least an hour’s walk to the front doors of Alaka. “If you remember, I very generously offered you my hand in marriage.”
“And I rejected it. Consider that your reward.”
Vikram stopped, turning to the spot where the door had opened in the air and dropped us into Alaka.
“Silly as it sounds, I’m almost concerned for the vetala.”
I understood that. Even I almost liked the vetala. But he’d made his choice. We’d offered help. The creature rejected it. I didn’t waste time mourning.
“I wish he had come with us.”
I swatted Vikram.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“We’re in Alaka now. I wouldn’t start off any sentence with ‘I wish.’ Save it for when you win.”
Vikram pulled the ruby from his pocket, tossing it into the air so that the gem caught the light.
I looked ahead of us to the outline of the palace, appraising it as I would any enemy on the battlefield. Maya’s stories ran through my head. This was a place where dreams and nightmares borrowed each other’s faces. Somewhere, folded among all that dark gold and all those bright jewels, was my wish. A new reign in Bharata. Nalini’s safety. Skanda’s legacy scrubbed out of history. I saw a promise of freedom so close I could snatch it out of the sky. But I also saw Maya swallowed whole by the dark of the forest. I saw every night I had spent wondering where she was, what had happened. What waited for us wasn’t just a tournament, but a new future. And I would fight for it with my eyes wide open.
I looked at Vikram and caught the same hungry gleam in his eyes.
“Race you to the end?” I said.
He grinned. “What does the winner get?”
“A chance to risk life and death at an impossible game.”
His smile fell away. “That’s a solemn victory.”
I shrugged. “Most victories are.”
“What about the loser?”
“The loser gets no chance at all.”
Vikram eyed the palace. “Then we better start running.”
PART TWO
A GAME
15
THE TASTE OF BREAD
AASHA
The blue star at her throat burned.
“What’s wrong?” asked one of her sisters.
“Nothing,” said Aasha, covering the star with her hand.
“You’re hungry,” said another. “You need your strength, my dear. If you don’t drink down some desire…”
Aasha sighed, shutting out her sister’s words. She knew already what would happen. She’d heard the threat her whole life. Without devouring desires, no vishakanya would be able to fend off the poison in her veins. She’d die. She should eat. She would eat. But in the meantime, she dreamed of what it would be like to eat something other than desire.
When they had set up their tent yesterday, she could smell the feast from the palace of Alaka. All roasted vegetables and golden bread, crackled rice and glistening sweets. But vishakanyas could not digest such things. Aasha had nearly tripped on her silks because she couldn’t tear her eyes from the wispy spirals of the cooking fires. Her mouth watered. She knew the words “spice,” “sugar,” “salt” and “sour.” But they were little more than phantom words. She had no experience to bring them to life.
“We are the entertainment after all,” continued her sister, “so—”
“Is that all we are? Just entertainment?” asked Aasha.
“Technically anyone in Alaka during the Tournament of Wishes is a contestant, but it’s not like the human players who get rules and trials.”
“So we could win a wish?”