“I meant, my lord, have we each earned a wish?”
He waved his hand. “Oh! Wishes. Yes, yes. Pesky things. You may each have one,” he said. “Although I’d not smile so quickly, Fox Prince. Have you thought about the wish? How you’d demand it, utter it, taste it? Because wishes have a tendency to take on lives of their own. Sometimes they’ll do what you want. And sometimes they won’t. Once, a hardworking artist known for his attention to detail and eye for color begged me for prosperity. I granted his wish because I am nothing if not kindness incarnate. And then I robbed his sight because I am nothing if not malevolence incarnate. The artist hanged himself. But he got what he wished for, did he not?”
“And you would do the same to us,” said Gauri, accusingly.
“Maybe? I never quite know what I’ll do until it’s done!” said Kubera. “We shall see you tonight for the Parade of Fables.”
He nodded his head, and turned on his heel.
Gauri called out to him. “What about the other contestants?”
Kubera stopped walking. He did not turn to face them as he said, “Oh, they woke up beneath trees or facedown in streams or perhaps not at all if they did not seem like appropriate vessels for stories. If you can’t tell a good tale, you’re of no use to me.”
The shadows leapt up like a great bubble, covering them. Black swam in front of Vikram’s eyes. In the next moment, they were both standing in their chamber. He looked at Gauri closely. There were circles beneath her eyes. The intricate salwar kameez was ripped and bloodstained. Her face looked pinched. Haunted. Without speaking, she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. His body reacted faster than his mind did. His hands gripped her waist. And they spent a few moments wound tightly together. But this kiss didn’t feel like the one yesterday, where they had stepped into one another’s arms with hesitation and nervous energy, enchantment softening the air and coaxing out unspoken dreams. This kiss felt tarnished. As if they were just trying to steal back something that was taken from them. It felt wrong. And for a moment, Vikram felt like the diners at the table of fear. Nothing more than a body reaching out for any feeling to shake off the cold.
PART THREE
A TALE WORTH TELLING
35
A CROUCHING STORM
GAURI
Last year, Skanda and his war council had planned to lure and destroy an elite group of an enemy kingdom’s army. I was the one who suggested that we plant Bharata’s soldiers on either side of a river that ran through one of our mountain villages. Our scouts had seen the army camping just on the other side of the range. My plan was simple—take out their supplies, force them to cross the mountain for running water. Surround. Kill. Skanda liked the idea. A week before Bharata enacted my plan, I asked him when Bharata’s messengers would return from informing the village to evacuate.
“I didn’t tell the village to evacuate,” he said, pouring himself a goblet of pale wine.
“But … they’ll die.”
“Don’t you think it would be strange to the enemy if they ransacked an empty village? They’d wonder what had happened.”
“Illnesses can claim whole villages at a time, brother. You could use that as an excuse,” I said, trying to keep my voice from breaking. “Those are”—I bit back the word “my”—“your people. Your subjects. Your kingdom. Would you have them die?”
“If it means keeping the rest of my kingdom, then yes.”
I couldn’t allow that to happen. That night, I came up with a plan. All night, Nalini and I worked on a dose and capsule of poison. From a former visit to that village, I knew they made regular pilgrimages to a healing shrine beside a mountain geyser. I had visited it myself, wandering through the serene mists and taking rest in one of the numerous huts that surrounded the healing area. It was a large place. Large enough, perhaps, to shelter an entire village. I just had to get them there.
Harm to help, I murmured to myself, even as my fingers shook from arranging the poison capsules that would easily dissolve in liquid. Even as I knew that the village was in the midst of celebrating their harvest festival. All would drink from the ceremonial vat of malted honey barley. Children would take their first sips—life to life, from earth to blood—and lovers would shyly share their first cup, and husbands and wives would swallow deeply and savor the warmth of safety.
And I would have it poisoned.
Forced by the lack of supplies, the soldiers from the enemy kingdom arrived to a nearly empty village. Nearly empty. Some were too old to make it to the healing grounds. Some were with child. Some were children. Bharata’s soldiers did as I had planned. They surrounded. They killed. Maybe a thousand lives were saved, but it was those few that haunted me. I felt every loss of life like a ghost curled inside my body, until I was so full of phantoms that they crowded my mouth and left no room for words. That whole week, I vomited every meal.
Harm to help. Harm to help. Harm to help.
Those ghosts would forever carry new fears … had I done enough, had I been enough. Fear meant not knowing where you started and ended because control was nothing but illusion. Alaka’s feast of fears might not have devoured me, but it had sipped away my emotions.
Hollowed me.
When I drew Vikram to me, all I felt was cold. A cold that frosted over the very memory of warmth. He broke the kiss first. I stumbled away from him, disoriented.
“I don’t want to be anyone’s distraction,” he said. He reached out to trace my cheek. “Not even yours.”
“It was just a victory kiss,” I said. My tongue felt dry. I stepped closer to him. “I can do better.”
Vikram just looked at me, his gaze resting on my lips. And then he shook his head with a rueful smile.
“I have no doubt.”
Vikram took my hand, guiding me to the baths and handing me fresh clothes that weren’t crusted in blood. He ran a warm bath, turned around while I sank numbly into the water. He hummed a silly broken tune, scattering my thoughts. After I changed, he led me to the bed. I frowned, confused. But he didn’t do anything except lean against the pillows, pull me to his chest and wrap his arms around me.
“Want to know a secret?” he asked.
I shuddered. Alaka had dredged up enough secrets.
“If it’s a secret you want to give away, it doesn’t sound that compelling.”
“All right, if that’s—”
“Tell me.”
He laughed. “I sang to you when you were poisoned.”
“No wonder I stayed unconscious for so long.”
He flicked my ear. I swatted his hand.