The Indians retreated slowly, malice flaming in their eyes. One man seemed to look in their direction, and Daphne stiffened, but he only gave a grim smile before he lost himself in the crowd.
The soldier let the skinny man up, and he scrambled away as fast as he could. The soldier aimed his rifle as if to shoot him in the back, thought better of it, and shouldered it again.
Partha had dragged Daphne into the shadows, away from the commotion. When he gently tugged her arm, she realized she was shaking. “We must go back to the billet,” he whispered. “Please. It’s not safe.”
A riot had almost broken out. Either the Indians would have been shot, or they would have torn the British soldiers limb from limb.
And she would have been helpless to stop it.
“Miss Richards, please.”
The fingers on her arm trembled. She looked into Partha’s eyes. They were wide, frightened, but shone with the same fervor of the crowd, a current of hatred under subservience.
At least they had something in common, then.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He swallowed and swung his head from side to side. “Do not worry yourself. But we must go. Now.”
The clock tower. Was it all right? Had this been a distraction to attack it? As they walked back in the direction they’d come, she focused on the energy of Lucknow’s time and found it unchanged. Narayan Tower was still functioning.
“Please do not tell the lieutenant,” Partha said.
“I won’t. You have my word.” But even if she never spoke of this to another soul, it would still play through her mind in grim horror, searing a brand that she would carry forever.
The next day, Daphne all but ran to the clock tower and found Narayan waiting for her. She tried to speak to him again, but had no more luck. The most she could make out was that he had seen more visions.
She needed a translator.
Back in her room, she sat stewing in her own irritable thoughts, hating her circumstances, until a rap at the window made her jump. Akash waved at her from the other side of the glass.
Her room was on the second floor.
Her heart leapt as she flung open the window. “What are you doing? How—?”
“Don’t worry, there’s an overhang here. See?”
Daphne leaned out and saw that he was, in fact, standing on a slanted ledge. “You’re going to fall and break your neck. How did you even get up here?”
“Meena and I used to run across rooftops when we were little. We stole kites.” Daphne raised an eyebrow, and he grinned. “I don’t think the sepoy at your door likes me,” he went on. “He wouldn’t let me in.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I would have welcomed the company.” But then the events of last night returned to her, biting and surreal. No doubt they bit at Partha, too.
“Since the lieutenant won’t let you out without an escort, I will gladly be your escort if you would like a tour of Lucknow,” Akash said.
“Thank you, but maybe some other time.”
His smile dimmed. “Are you feeling well, Miss Richards?”
“Honestly, I just want some tea.”
“I can bring you tea.”
“How?”
“I will think of a way.”
“Don’t you dare climb up here with a teacup on your head.”
“I climbed down, actually. And I could hold the saucer between my teeth, if you prefer.” He flashed those teeth in another brilliant smile.
She scoffed. “Good luck with that. I can’t wait to see your shirt soaked with tea.”
“Then I will return quickly.”
“Wait wait wait!” He had actually started climbing back up to the roof, as if he had every intention of delivering piping hot tea to her window. “Are you mad?”
“Meena usually says so.”
“Well, Meena must be right. You’re not bringing me tea.”
“All right.” He put his hands on the windowsill. “Then come out here with me, and we’ll get it from a chai wallah down the street.”
Daphne considered her options: stay trapped in her room, eaten away by fear and loneliness, or go outside and risk seeing another episode like last night’s. She might be able to find a Hindi dictionary, though. And there was the promise of tea.
Carefully, she climbed out the window and onto the roof, balancing beside Akash. He grinned at her, as excited as a little boy. A spark of that excitement caught flame inside her. She wanted to run, but not from Akash; from this building, from herself, from everything she had ever known.
“Teach me how to climb,” she heard herself say.
“Haan, Miss Richards.”
The chai was sweet and hot, and Daphne closed her eyes in bliss after the first sip. The chai wallah’s cart was busy, so to avoid being jostled by impatient customers, Daphne followed Akash as he weaved through the crowd. Although it was warmer, Daphne was glad she had changed into her long-sleeved bodice, even if she still attracted stares. Mostly, it was her fair hair and skin that drew curious eyes. She wondered what it would be like to blend into the crowd, to immerse herself without fear of standing out.
“Do you like the chai?” Akash asked. She hummed her approval. “Are you at all hungry?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Then what would you like to do?”
“I’d just like to walk.”
Akash didn’t exactly lead her. He didn’t know the city well, though he said he had been there a few times for deliveries. But he walked at her side, sometimes choosing which way to turn, sometimes letting her steer their course. Daphne was amazed to realize that aimless wandering with tea in her hand was exactly what she had needed.
They saw a sign for the botanical gardens ahead. They exchanged a look.
“Would you like to go?” he asked.
“I would.”
Daphne had been to the gardens in London and found them beautiful, if boring. It had been more fun when she had gone with her mother and father. They would spread a blanket on the grass of Regent’s Park and feast on a picnic, watching bumblebees hover over bright blooming flowers as swans drifted easily over the water. She had dared her father to race her, crowing in victory every time she won, though she knew now that he had let her win, dramatically staging despair at losing only to make her grin.
The gardens of Lucknow were laid out neatly, interspersed with bright emerald patches of grass and dark, leafy trees. Sometimes the paths curved, following a hedge or a large planter filled with multicolored flowers. Tiers of plants were arranged like a stage, showcasing the Indian breeds of flora and fauna. Indian and European visitors alike chatted around them, some heading home as evening approached, others taking their time lounging on benches or on the grass.
“It really is a beautiful country,” Daphne murmured, “though often a sad one.”
“There are many unpleasant parts of India. If you can still see the beauty, then I am happy.”
“I do see it.” She brushed a flower with her fingertips. It felt good to breathe warm air and have her body sing with exercise. She wanted to sweat out the impurities of her body and mind. To be clean, inside and out.