I didn’t resent the lovers all around me, but it was impossible to ignore that chasm opening inside me. I felt as if I were standing over it, my toes moments from the edge. Would it break or strengthen me to fall? In Bharata, there was no temptation to fall. Now I felt that quiet panic of knowing something was within reach and not knowing whether to snatch it or let it go.
In uselessly circling Alaka’s grounds, I found myself staring at the vishakanyas’ tent. No patrons stood in line. No guards flanked the entrance. And not a single plume of smoke rose out of the grand peacock tent. A small branch snapped behind me, followed by gentle footsteps that I instantly recognized.
“Here to join our ranks?”
Aasha stepped out of the trees carrying a bundle of twigs full of flowering branches.
“Maybe in my next life,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“Experimenting,” she said. “I realized the forest outside our tent was also immune to our touch, so I’ve been exploring. Look!” She dropped the branches and plucked a blossom off one of the ends. She pressed the blossom to her cheek and sighed. “It feels … better than silk. I wish this wasn’t the last Tournament. I’ll never have this chance again. What are you doing?”
“Trying to find some clues to the next trial.”
She shot me a knowing gaze, and I knew she was sniffing out whatever desires I chose not to utter. I watched as she lifted a blossom from her cheek, eyeing it with narrowed eyes.
“Aasha, I would not—”
She stuffed the flower in her mouth. Her eyes widened. She spit it out, groaning. I couldn’t help but start laughing, which made her laugh, and in no time we were doubled over in laughing fits.
She sighed. “Some experiments are, I admit, better than others.”
“Why is no one lining up at the tent today?”
“Today is for true things,” said Aasha, stroking the petals. “Not imitations. It is not so bad to have a break from patrons, but it does mean that the Tournament of Wishes is almost over. After Jhulan Purnima, the only thing left to celebrate is the Parade of Fables and then … and then there is nothing in my future but poison.”
A pang of pity went through me. Aasha sighed.
“But it is worth it. I have done something I dreamed of.”
I almost wished Aasha could come back to the human world, just to experience what she was and was not missing. I couldn’t help but admire someone who wanted for nothing, but pursued knowledge out of curiosity and for the sheer love of learning. She was a lot like Nalini in that way, always moving and never quite satisfied. And just like Nalini, she was also trapped. The smile fell from my face.
“What did you say was after Jhulan Purnima?”
“The Parade of Fables,” said Aasha. “It is when the Lord of Treasures showcases all the stories that have grown in his halls.”
The story birds, I thought. Kubera loved his tales. He said it was because stories were the greatest treasure, but did he just want to collect them or was there something more?
“I wish to see it someday,” said Aasha quietly. “But vishakanyas are never allowed inside the palace.”
“Maybe one day you will?”
“Maybe,” she allowed.
By now, evening touched the sky. Aasha left to be with her sisters and I was no closer to finding any hint for the next trial. Around me, song and dance filled the courtyard. I swept my eyes over Alaka’s landscape. I kept expecting the Nameless to pour out of the shadows, but they had kept to themselves. With nowhere left to search in the courtyards, I headed for the magical orchards.
I’d never gone this deep into the orchards before. Everything was still. Quiet. The trees stood tall and solemn, with no wood for their bark, but ribbons of mirror all silver and tarnished. When I stepped back, the grove looked like the rib cage of some forgotten monster. Nothing left of its terror, but its winter bones and mirror teeth. No reflection shone in the mirror bark. Instead, the trees became something of a lens. They weren’t transparent, but I could see through them to something hazy in the distance: pieces of a pewter sky through a lattice of trees. Energy hummed around the mirror trees, and I wondered whether they functioned like the Serpent King’s portal pool. A bridge from one place to another.
Icy branches snapped behind me. Vikram. My whole body tensed and lightened at once. I … missed him. If this was the only day left, would I squander it on an austere and frigid existence? Or would I snatch it for what it was and figure out what it might become later?
“No beautiful woman should be alone on Jhulan Purnima,” said someone softly.
My heart dropped. Not Vikram. I came face-to-face with a beautiful yaksha. He was dark and broad-shouldered. Amber sap ran through his hair and his eyes were a shifting and hypnotizing color of green and black.
“Who are you?”
He laughed. “The Guardian of the Orchards, both abandoned and tended. The trees told me they heard you. They like you, you know. You remind them of another. Why don’t you let me escort you to the final rites of the evening? The festival is a celebration of so many things,” he said in a voice like dark silk. “Things we do in the dark with only the night as witness. Things that if the day only knew would make the sky blush crimson at the sight.”
“No. I was just leaving.”
The yaksha appeared at my side in an instant.
“Tell me, beauty, are you the human who divested the Serpent King of his venom?”
He caught me around the arm. My hands immediately went to my dagger.
“Get your hand off of me.”
“No reason to become hostile, beauty,” laughed the yaksha. “I think we could make a trade. I want that venom. You can have whatever you like from me. I can be very generous.”
He stroked my cheek. I spat in his face.
“No,” I said sweetly, in case the spit dripping down his cheek was too subtle.
“I don’t like being told no,” said the yaksha.
“I don’t like being touched without permission.”
I spun out of his grasp. Roots spilled out from the yaksha’s tunic, anchoring him to the ground. He laughed. The sound snapped my patience. I lunged, spinning the knives from the concealed belt at my hip, cutting at the roots tethering him in place. He snarled and fell back. Lust dampened his eyes and my whole body shuddered in disgust. I held my ground, not breaking eye contact.
Come closer. I dare you.
He dared.
I reached up to the branches sweeping overhead, pulled a handful back before letting go the moment he rushed toward me. He howled, clawing at his face. I moved forward, tackling him to the ground. I rolled him onto his back, kicking apart his knees and plunging my knife moments away from a place that would instantly kill his lust. For good.
“I didn’t miss,” I said. “Let me go, or risk tempting my aim.”
I turned to go when I heard him growl.
“My turn,” he hissed.