“Fruits, vegetables—” I said.
“Sometimes a human if you have no choice,” added Vikram.
Aasha looked startled.
“I read that somewhere,” he said defensively.
“Don’t tell her that!” I hissed, turning to Aasha. “It’s not true.”
She flashed a smile, but it looked more like a wince. “And you may leave from your home at any time?”
Longing filled her voice.
“Not anytime. It just depends what your responsibilities are and who you are.”
Aasha nodded, but I could tell that answer had only created a thousand more questions. The longer we walked, the more the trees changed, tapering off into clumps of straggling saplings or growing sparse and skeletal. A pool of milky white water wound through the land like a slender ribbon. We followed it until we came to a still pond. Not even the trees kneeling around the water’s edges cast a reflection. Enchantment burned in the air, creating pockets in the sky that peered into different worlds altogether.
“This is the entrance to his kingdom?” asked Vikram.
He stepped forward, leaning over the pool, and immediately jumped back.
“What is it?”
“There’s writing in the water.”
“That is the invitation of the Serpent King,” said Aasha. “If you solve it, he will grant you an audience. Otherwise you must catch him when he chooses to surface.”
Aasha and I joined Vikram beside the water’s edge. Here, even the sky seemed different—gray and drained of color. Not a single cloud moved in the sky, and the light mist from earlier had thickened into smoky claws that scraped across the earth.
To one it is invisible
Yet be careful if you lose much
To some it is everything
A history to clutch
Though it is life, it cannot buy time Speak wrong, and I will take it as mine I groaned. “Another riddle?”
Vikram grinned and immediately tented his fingers together. Aasha looked fearful.
“I would not speak before this pool,” she whispered. “If the Serpent King is in a foul mood, he may take even your musings as an answer. And you have only to look around you to see the result.”
The mist folded back upon itself, revealing a boneyard on the opposite bank. I stepped back, my ears pricked for any sign of the water rippling or branches cracking around us. Nothing happened. I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought Vikram would be comforted too, but the boneyard had transfixed him. He refused to look anywhere else for a long while. Only when I tugged on his elbow did he step away from the water’s edge. Once we were a safe distance away from the pool, Vikram folded his arms, gaze fixed on the ground.
“There were bones there,” he said hoarsely. “People have died trying to get to the Serpent King.”
“Maybe it’s just a morbid decoration.”
He whirled around to face me. “This is not a joke, Gauri.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” he said tersely and gave his hair a quick tug.
Aasha eyed us knowingly, but if she could somehow read his thoughts, she did not speak his secrets. As we walked back to Alaka’s courtyard, the sun had begun to set. A crowd of raucous yakshas had gathered near the entrance of the groves. The moment they saw Aasha, a drowsy grin slid onto their faces.
“Come here, beauty,” one of them sang. “Let us touch you.”
Instead of threatening or maiming them, which is what I would have done in an instant, Aasha seemed to stumble. She shrank a little on herself. I glared at the yakshas, but I wasn’t going to risk fighting with a magical being unless I had no choice. Instead, I walked to Aasha’s other side. I was a flimsy barrier against magic, but it was better than nothing. Vikram stayed where he was.
“They won’t attack you?” I asked.
“They might. It has happened before,” she said quietly. “But for them to reap any pleasure from the desires I summon, I would have to want to touch them.”
“Then there’s no reason for them to attack you. Don’t be scared.”
I didn’t know why my first instinct was to protect her. She was a thousand times deadlier than I’d ever be. But her face when she saw the yakshas tugged at my heart. I’d seen that expression whenever the harem eunuchs announced Skanda’s visits. It was worse than fear. It was hopelessness. It warped a person’s face—flattening their eyes, crimping their lips into grimly determined lines. I recognized it. And I hated it.
“That’s not why I am scared,” said Aasha. “They don’t need to force me. They always know that I will want their desires just as badly as they want to be shown them.” Aasha reached up and delicately traced the blue star at her throat. “I don’t want to want their desires. But it is my sustenance. And they know it.”
I shuddered. “That doesn’t make it right.”
“It is the way things are.”
“It shouldn’t be,” said Vikram.
When we got to the banyan tree, a group of workers had already begun to assemble the vishakanyas’ tent. This time, the tent resembled a peacock. Gold talons dug into the earth, and a tail the size of a village swept out as a grand carpet and entrance, speckled with sapphire and emerald. Silver and gold threaded through the false feathers, and the design of the bird’s neck arched in a graceful welcome.
“Thank you for your help,” said Vikram.
Aasha nodded. “My words are my honor.”
She left afterward, disappearing down the hill and into some unseen quarters where the vishakanyas presumably took rest before entertaining the crowds of Alaka. I turned to Vikram. He had been quiet since he’d read the riddle of the Serpent King.
“Are you well?”
“Yes,” he said, but his voice was biting and none too friendly. “Those bones … I just can’t shake them from my head. I hadn’t realized … that is to say I had forgotten about death.”
“After all we’ve been through, you’re just now becoming concerned about dying?” I almost wanted to laugh.
He lifted his gaze to mine. “It just feels different now.”
Now it was my turn to fall silent. I stared around us. The setting sun had carved out the world into a landscape of gems. Hills red as garnets. Pools full of sapphire fire. And the people had also been transformed by the falling sun. Whatever light remained in the sky seemed to race eagerly to illuminate Vikram. If I hadn’t known him, I would have thought he was some Otherworldly being who had come to try and steal something from me. Like my voice. Or the memory of my first kiss.
Or something far more precious.
“The risk matches the reward,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
“Gauri,” he said softly. Too softly. As if my name were made of glass.
I stepped back and forced a smile. “Any more time with me, and you might truly lose your mind. Maybe we’ll come up with the answer to the riddle faster if we take some time to think on our own,” I said quickly. “I’ll meet you here by nightfall.”
Something in his gaze retreated.
“You’re not going back to the Serpent King’s pool, are you?”