“If you have not been granted permission from Lord Kubera, then you must seek permission from his consort, the Lady Kauveri.”
The girl smirked. “She said nothing when she heard that only one of us could leave, so I imagine her permission has not been granted.”
“Then you must give her something she wants.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What would a goddess want? More resplendence? The simple pleasures of a mortal existence, like wrinkles? Age spots?”
Aasha hesitated. Whenever the yakshas and yakshinis visited the tent, they brought bits of gossip with them. Some of which, she knew, should be ignored. But not helping the human girl could harm her sisters. She refused to let that happen. Besides … there was something she had heard. A rumor that kept the same shape no matter who told it. That in itself was a feat. So often, the beings of the Otherworld hated telling the truth, not because they preferred deceit, but because they preferred the taste of a decadent rumor on their tongue to the dull and brittle flavor of a truth.
“Not an object,” said Aasha carefully. “It is said there is something she wants from someone. And he is in Alaka.”
“Who?”
“The Serpent King.”
21
THE GLASS GARDEN
GAURI
I was out of breath by the time I finally made it back to our chambers. Dragging Vikram along hadn’t even been the most difficult part of getting him to the room. It was wading through a sea of intrigued Otherworldly beings. A couple of yakshinis tried to buy him from me. Some of the offers included a voice that would lull a thunderstorm to sleep and the skin-dress of a crocodile. They refused to believe me when I said he wasn’t worth it. At one point, a rakshasa clapped me on the back, shouting, “Excellent find, human girl! Start around the spine. Always the best cut of meat.” I had no idea what to say, so I said thank you. It only occurred to me after I was tugging Vikram halfway up the stairs that perhaps I should have said, “I don’t eat people.”
It had been a long day.
My thoughts tripped over one another. I’d made plans for Aasha to meet us tomorrow at high noon, but that left far too many unknowns. She could be giving us the wrong information about the Serpent King or selling us to some unnamed enemy. And even if we had a lead for discovering an exit out of Alaka, it only mattered if we survived and won the Tournament of Wishes. I shuddered. One day in Alaka, and magic had forced me outside myself. I was walking into battle without a helmet. Nothing to protect us except the flimsy trust I’d placed in a stranger and that most terrible of poisons: hope. Even now, I could feel hope seeping and settling under my skin. Growing. What shape would it take? Wings? Like something set free. Or mushrooms? Like something birthed in decay.
The half-key thrummed and burned in my pocket. Throwing open the doors, I dropped Vikram to the floor and stowed the key on a table near the bed. Outside, dawn had begun to braid the sky with gold, trussing up what was left of night. Bone-deep exhaustion weighed my body. I threw down a pillow and blanket for Vikram, clambered into bed and fell asleep within moments.
*
The problem with having a room full of songbirds was that the room was full of songbirds. I’d barely gotten any sleep before twittering and rustling feathers roused me into waking. I propped myself up on one elbow and stared at the room. The walls shivered, light dancing over the iridescent green feathers. Vikram was lounging in one of the chairs—already dressed and impeccably groomed—and tossing the ruby key in the air like a ball. He caught my eye and grinned.
“They say morning light reveals a woman’s true nature. My condolences to your future consort.”
“It’s too early in the morning for bloodshed,” I groaned, gathering an armful of pillows and burying my face in them. “Also … good thinking about the transformation.”
Vikram’s eyes widened. “What’s this? Praise from Her Beastliness in the morning? Are you under a curse that makes you friendly before noon? If so, how do we make it permanent?”
I threw a pillow at his face. He tilted his head, dodging it with the barest amount of energy required.
“In all honesty, we got that first key together,” he said. “We both thought of the riddle. Although I did have the brilliant transformation idea.”
I threw another pillow at him. “I fought a horde of poisonous women to make sure we could keep the key.”
“I wasn’t conscious for that part.”
“How convenient.”
“I try.”
“We did have some good fortune though,” I said, telling him about the bargain with Aasha and our plans to meet with her later. Unlike me, he didn’t even seem wary about meeting with the vishakanya, and when I confronted him about it, he shrugged.
“The world moves to the tune of logic, even if it wears the face of chaos. Maybe it was supposed to happen this way,” he said, tossing the ruby between his hands. “At the very least, Aasha is part of the Otherworld and probably knows a great deal more about its power structure than we do. Meeting with her just might point us in the right direction and, wait, why are you scratching at your skin?”
“Your optimism is making me itchy,” I grumbled, heading for the baths. “You’re welcome, by the way, for dragging you back here. I had a couple offers to sell you and almost considered it.”
“Intriguing. For how much?”
“A bag of gold, the ability to make thunderstorms go to sleep. Something else. Five goats?”
“Just five goats? I’m worth at least ten. Plus a cow.”
I rolled my eyes and headed to the bath chamber. After I bathed, I threw my hair into a hasty braid and entered the room to find Vikram pacing and studying a length of parchment.
“What’s that?”
“The Lord of Treasures sent us a letter. He offers his congratulations on solving the first trial and says that the second trial will take place at the full moon right after the celebration of Jhulan Purnima.”
A familiar twinge of panic plucked at my heart. Jhulan Purnima was a festival that celebrated the soul bond of the sacred lovers, Krishna and Radha. Radha was more than just the deity Krishna’s consort. She was the manifestation of his life energy. His very soul. Before Skanda had spread the rumor that I had taken a vow of chastity, the Council of Bharata used the festival to try and force me to accept a proposal of marriage from one prince or king or another. They claimed a proposal accepted on the day of Jhulan Purnima meant a lifetime of love.
I rejected every offer.
If I became queen, a strong alliance of marriage would be a key political move. I wouldn’t base that decision on something as fickle and slippery as love.
“Jhulan Purnima would be the perfect time to ambush someone. Everyone would be drowsy or intoxicated—”
“Gauri,” said Vikram, half indulgent and half stern. “It’s a sacred holiday. Besides, the world is not always trying to attack you.”
“I just want to be prepared. If you prepare for the world attacking you, then at least half the time it doesn’t win.”
“Spoken like a true queen.”
“What? How so?”