“No. I just … I need a moment,” I said tightly.
I moved away from him and he caught my wrist.
“I’ll wait for you here,” he said softly. He looked at me intently. It was too dark to see the lines of gold threaded through his eyes, but I felt that I could see them anyway.
“I’ll wait as long as I have to.”
I leaned forward and kissed him. “I won’t make you wait long.”
“Have I inspired your rare and elusive mercy?”
“Something like that.”
I ran into the baths, leaving him in the shadows. Bracing my hands on the basin, I stared at my reflection and sank my teeth into my cheeks as if looking a little more ferocious could somehow decide this strange battle warring inside me. I never dared to hope for someone who challenged and respected me, knew me at my worst and still coaxed out my best. And yet I had found that in the unlikeliest of places and most inconvenient of people. Wasn’t that enough to fight for? Could I live with knowing that I’d left him standing in the shadows … waiting for me?
I couldn’t. And that was all the answer I needed.
I splashed water onto my face, and smoothed down my hair. My heart thudded in my chest. I felt impatient and wary. Why hadn’t I listened more closely to the harem wives’ conversation? I’d always voluntarily lost my hearing, preferring to hide behind my hair. Blood and gore? I wouldn’t blink. But intimacy? Baring yourself to someone else? Nothing horrified me more.
Outside, the night had begun to retreat. The stars were little more than muted jewels in the sky. I let a cautious wave of happiness run through me. And then I stepped outside.
But Vikram wasn’t standing by the door where I had run off. And the bed wasn’t disturbed. I frowned, looking toward the cushions and small seating area … but he wasn’t there either. Cold licked up my spine as I moved closer to the door. Something wet and dark glistened on the floor. There, scrawled in a shaking hand, was a message in blood: I could make a meal of this desire.
Couldn’t you?
The second trial had begun.
32
A BELLYFUL OF SNOW
VIKRAM
The world ended not with a break, but in a blink.
One moment, her body had been a column of fire against his. The next, she had disappeared into the baths. He’d slumped against the door, breathless. His gaze, not knowing where to travel, had ventured to the sky beyond the window, where wispy clouds carried the scarlet stain of dawn. The sight had jolted him. That blink of awareness—it’s a new day—flashed in his head. One blink later, and an empty, snowing hall filled his sight. His knees hit frozen dirt. Goose bumps pebbled his skin. He blinked. Breath knotted in his chest, leaving him gasping as his mind feverishly gathered scraps of observation—a kiss at the hollow of his throat, a shard of sky peeled back to reveal a new day. Snow in his eyes. A cold fire burning down to a new truth:
The second trial had started.
Cruel and swift.
His heart felt as if it was left dangling. He paused, pushing his fury out of the way. If he wanted to return to Gauri—and he wanted—he needed to focus. Vikram forced himself to a stand, racking his brains for Kubera’s warning.
It is a fight through fear …
… it is like having no tongue to taste victory and filling your stomach with snow …
Above him, a net of cobwebs formed the sky. Silken threads laced together, spangled with frozen rain like diamonds. It would have been beautiful, but he could feel the cold down to the root of his teeth. The light from those suspended droplets was as harsh as a knifepoint, and the air tasted rusty and dry. Like blood and dust.
He took one step forward. Ice cracked beneath his feet. He shivered. Gauri had taken off his jacket, a thought that would have warmed him if not for the frost climbing over his shoulder. No sandals covered his feet. The frost burned. He took another step. A sound, like a slide of rocks, lit up the world. He looked up to see something encased in glass spinning before him. It was large, as tall and wide as him, and it was shaped like a chrysalis. Vikram cursed. He had no weapons. How could he win against fear if he couldn’t fight it?
The chrysalis spun around to face him. It cracked down the middle, splitting with a clammy unclasping sound. There, standing in all his splendor, was his father, the Emperor Pururavas. Puru smiled, his face crinkling with warmth. Vikram stepped back, away from the illusion of his father.
“Son, you’ve done so well,” said his father. “Merely speak and let me know that you want the throne and it is yours.”
His father held out his hands and a miniature Council of Ujijain nestled in his palms, staring up at Vikram expectantly.
Vikram opened his mouth, but not a single sound rose out of his throat. He was mute. He clawed at his skin, trying to scream. Trying to speak. Nothing but air whistled from his teeth.
“What’s this?” asked his father, tilting his head. “Your tongue is your greatest weapon, Fox Prince. It is the thing you’ve shaped your life with. Will you not speak and claim your throne?”
Vikram looked up, shocked. His greatest fear taking shape in front of him—
He had no voice. No power.
Puru’s face disappeared, replaced with the pet leopard’s head. Blood flecked her muzzle. Flat animal eyes stared down at Vikram, full of taunting.
“Well,” said the leopard with his father’s voice. “You were always a weak thing. Now you can’t speak. In that case—”
It lunged, tearing free of the glass confines.
Vikram ran.
Another fear sprang from the sky. Gauri. He skidded to a halt, heart wild with hope. But then he saw the ghostly shimmer of her skin. Another illusion. Vikram should have known. After his years spent manipulating the council, no two fears bore the same face. This was a fight they’d endure separately.
“It was so easy to fool you,” she laughed. “I wanted a wish and now I have your heart and your empire. I wonder what it will be like to break both. Or maybe I’ll show you some of that elusive mercy after all and cut you down where you stand. Speak, dear prince. Go ahead. Or I’ll show you my famous mercy.”
He tried. Over and over, he tried. But the words escaped him.
Gauri raised a sword high above her head. Vikram slipped where he stood, just barely avoiding the killing blade of his phantasm fear. He clambered to another stand, feeling the press of bodies all around him. His mother hung in the air, spinning and sightless. A collar of frost circled her broken neck.
“I died for you,” she said. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”
He ducked, narrowly avoiding her swinging body. He took one step forward and her body dropped out of the air, this time shattering on the icy ground.
The body turned over, torn blue lips murmuring, “I died for you. And look at what you’ve become—”