“We’ll discuss this later,” I said, sliding off the sheets. “I need to get ready.”
In the bath chamber, stained-glass lanterns floated through the steam, while stone crocodiles opened their jaws and sprayed hot jets of water into the empty bath from the corners of the room. I sank into the sapphire pool. For a moment, I let myself watch the shards of light dance on the water’s surface. But, as always, I got out before I became overly comfortable. Too much beauty and luxury proved dangerous. Plenty of Bharata’s advisers had let lust for a rare bolt of silk or gem-encrusted necklace blind them to Skanda’s grabs for power or corruption. Alaka’s beauty had teeth. I wouldn’t let any part of it ensnare me.
A few paces away from the baths stood an onyx wardrobe. I chose a dove gray salwar kameez with little diamonds sewn into the hems. Cosmetics lined a small vanity to the right of the wardrobe. I rolled the small vials between my palms, warming up the oils. After murmuring a quick prayer for my harem mothers, I donned my armor, lining my eyes with kohl until they were dark as death and patting crushed rose petals on my lips until they were scarlet as blood. In a separate dresser, I found a small cache of knives. I took two and strapped them to my thighs. Just in case.
When I stepped outside, Vikram blinked a couple of times.
“You are surprisingly lovely.”
“You are unsurprisingly insulting.”
He smiled. And just as he did, the floor burst into cold flames. I tensed, nearly leaping onto the nearest table. Vikram, however, watched the flames with interest.
“Lord Kubera is ready for us,” he said.
As we left the room, I bit down on my cheeks. I’d been so concentrated on getting to Alaka that I only now realized how little I knew of what to expect. In battle, strategy and body counts paved the way to victory. Magic turned the game inscrutable, so that you didn’t know if the darkness ahead of you belonged to the night sky or the lightless black at the bottom of a monster’s throat.
Outside our room, the palace had changed. The hallway was thick with the press of bodies and musky perfume unraveling in the air. Small fiery insects appeared before us, beckoning for us to follow.
“Are you our guides?” asked Vikram.
The glowing insects bobbed like a nodding head.
“Well, shine on, little stars.”
The insects whirred, glowing a little brighter, like a blush. We walked after them and I dropped my voice to a whisper: “Are you trying to charm the insects?”
“Spoken like a true princess,” he said, shaking his head. “Never paying attention to the little people.”
“They’re insects.”
“Magical insects.”
Out of habit, I scanned the hall, looking for anything suspect. In front of us, a mirror caught the light. I expected to see our reflections. But I didn’t see myself. Or Vikram. I frowned. An unfamiliar being with horned wings and a gold mask frowned back.
Oh Gods.
The mirror had twisted our reflections. Vikram followed my gaze and laughed: “Clever,” he said.
“Clever?”
“I can admire the method and the result.”
Vikram preened his new reflection. “How appropriate, they tinged yours red with blood.”
“You should be saying how deceitful because now we can’t tell who might be an enemy.”
“That’s the point though, isn’t it?” returned Vikram. “We’re all enemies in plain sight. Our enemies stare at us from the mirror. That was the announcement the attendant made in the beginning, remember? The quest for power and treasure is a solitary one. Who else is the true enemy in such a quest but ourselves?”
“True war isn’t philosophical.”
“All war is philosophical. That’s why we call it war. Strip it of its paint and it’s nothing more than murder.”
“Aren’t puppets supposed to have heads made of wood?”
“I’m not very good at being a puppet,” said Vikram. “Hence, my desire to fling myself at a supernatural tournament and hurtle toward certain death.”
“Sound logic.”
“I wouldn’t mind a crown made of wood though. I might throw it at people for entertainment.”
I shook my head. “Why are you like this…”
He swept a mocking bow and together we walked down a vestibule lined with glass birds. The moment our feet hit the floor, the birds took flight. Darkness choked the end of the hall. We walked slowly, our only guides the fire-dipped insects. Vikram moved closer.
“In need of protection?”
“I prefer to stay beside the monster I know,” he said.
At the end of the hall, dark gray rock reared up to meet us.
“I thought this was supposed to be a feast,” I muttered. “Does he expect us to eat away the shadows?”
“Oh no, dearest. We are far too glutted on such things,” said a silky voice.
The small hairs on my neck rose. Someone in the darkness clapped their hands. Light dripped like blood down the walls, thick and slow. I squinted. This was the kind of light that made you crave the dark. It was lurid and almost bruising, as bright as a sun but empty of warmth.
When the light dimmed, I could finally see what was in front of us: an empty table. At the end of it sat the Lord of Treasures and his consort, the Lady Kauveri. Kubera was the size of a child, with a generous belly, heavy lidded eyes. His smile was graceful. Radiant. But it was the kind of smile that belonged to power. Not joy. You could only smile like that if you possessed the kind of invincibility that let you sharpen your teeth on the world. Warning flared through me. Around his neck curled a golden mongoose. The creature yawned and an opal dropped from its mouth. Beside me, Vikram inhaled sharply. I shot him a look, but his gaze was fixed on the mongoose.
The Lady Kauveri smiled at us. She wore a sari of rushing water, and in her elaborate braids, small streams and pebbles, tortoises and crocodiles no larger than a thumbnail clambered through her hair. No immortal being betrayed any flaw, but there was something restless about her, a kind of anxious energy that belonged to someone expecting tragedy.
“Welcome, contestants,” said Kauveri, sweeping her arm before the feast. “Please. Eat.”
When we sat, a lavish feast appeared on the table. I eyed it suspiciously. There were fragrant biryani with saffron rice, hard-boiled eggs white as moonstones in a thick curry, apple and mint chutneys in glass bowls, globes of gulab jamun drenched in cardamom syrup and bright orange jalebis coiled like gold bangles.
All the while Kubera eyed us, his gaze growing wider. He watched intently as we reached for naan, broke it and dipped it into a bowl of curry. I couldn’t afford to give offense. The moment I placed the food in my mouth, Kubera leapt from his throne.
“Finally! Our food has passed your lips! Now that guest and host hospitality has been satisfied, I may finally speak. You had us both so curious. At the edge of our thrones! As I knew you both would—”