Yesterday
In Naraka, the mirrors gloated. Behind their silver faces, cities spied on me just as I spied on them. I wondered what they thought of this pacing mess of a king. From the corner of my eye, I could have sworn that I saw a tree quivering with laughter. Even the palace, which was usually restrained in its mischief, taunted me, and voices from a hundred directions whistled smugly: Is the Dharma Raja nervous?
I ignored them and tipped backward just as an onyx throne spiraled from the ground to catch me. Leaning back, I squinted up at the glittering mirrors. In the smudgy darkness of the palace, they looked like shards of stars.
The sight of the Teej podium had unsettled me. I could not forget the scent clinging to those lotus blooms, the way a specific desire had been fitted to every gap within me. Every time I closed my eyes, I thought I caught the perfume of the companion in my dreams. A girl who smelled like night-blooming flowers and silver on roses. I needed to meet her. And yet, a part of me couldn’t stomach the thought. A word echoed in my thoughts: cursed, cursed, cursed.
I had to be careful not to love her.
“Hungry?” called Gupta.
He was whistling as he walked toward me, carrying a silver platter full of the strangest fruit I’d ever seen. It was night-black; each inky slice looked flecked with stars. A curious smell filled the air, like a dream that had ended at the best part.
“Where did you find this?” I asked. I didn’t want to take a bite. I already felt unfulfilled as it is.
“You should really read my reports.”
“Not in this life.”
He rolled his eyes. “They’re dream fruit. Created by Night herself.”
“What’s her name again?”
I’d never seen her in the courts of the heavens, but that was because she spent so much of her existence in the human world. I had heard her name before on the lips of the dead and dying. They thought she heralded me. Ridiculous. No one could summon me.
“Oh, many … Kalindi, Yamini, Syamala … surely you’ve heard of her?”
“In passing.”
“Met her?”
“No.”
This, for whatever reason, seemed to be the correct answer to Gupta. He drummed his ink-stained fingers against his arm.
“Rather intriguing guardian. When the day is gone and the night descends to take her place, many people in all the realms consider it a time that belongs to the demons and the dead. And you, naturally. Some perceive her as something of an ill omen.”
I smiled to myself. I knew that feeling of never walking somewhere without a thread of fear unspooling in every living being. Where the shadow of you fell like a veil over every conversation and every interaction. I enjoyed it entirely. No reason to waste a single word on etiquette. It was considered merciful not to speak and thoughtful to avoid, essentially, everyone.
“I imagine she must revel in it,” I said.
“Quite the contrary,” Gupta said. He tossed a slice of fruit in the air to catch it with his teeth. It bounced off his mouth and fell to the ground. “Nooo … that was the last piece.”
“So get more.”
He flailed an arm at the fallen slice. If it were me, I would’ve immediately swiped it off the ground. Actually, if it were me, it would have never fallen in the first place. But Gupta had a deep fear of dirt.
“Can’t,” he grumbled. “She grows them and extracts quite the strange price for one. I had to steal this one.”
“What does she demand in return?”
“She asks them to tell her stories about their day. She asks them to tell her things that no one else knows about them. And if they’re recurring customers, she asks about the dream they purchased.”
A strange feeling prickled in my chest. “Do they remember the dreams she gives them?”
Gupta looked surprised. “No. I don’t think so. But why does that matter?”
“Perhaps she wants to give them dreams they remember.”
“But then it’s not really a dream,” said Gupta.
“Exactly. Then it becomes something else. Something that guides you.”
“I think she just wants to follow up on the quality of her merchandise,” said Gupta dismissively.
“No,” I said softly. “She wants recognition.”
I stared at the fallen piece of fruit on the floor. Even from where I stood, I could sense the cold of it. How it glistened and lulled. Simple, but beautiful magic. No one ever did anything new in the Otherworld. Too often, it was a place of staid contentment. But this gem of a fruit looked like restlessness. Curiosity flared through me.
“She’s quite beautiful too,” said Gupta. “Albeit, not in the traditional sense.”
I shrugged. Beauty meant little to me. Silken hair, clear skin, arresting eyes? I could manufacture all those things and more in the reincarnation pool. Traits like cleverness and creativity? Those could not be made. The longer I sat there, thinking of this guardian I had never met, I realized something strange. I wanted to meet her.
“Is she…” I stopped and tried again. “That is to say, would she even—”
“No consort, but not for lack of interest from others. She went to Teej once, from what I gather. Although the acacia trees near where she dances say that she has no desire to attend Teej ever again. It was quite the point of contention between her and her friend.”
I eyed Gupta a little more sharply. “You had that answer on hand.”
He snorted. “I have most answers on hand. I am the scribe, after all.”
I grinned. Problem solved.
“I have decided. She should be my queen.”
Gupta stared at me and then laughed. “Her?”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“There’s nothing wrong with her. In what world do you imagine she would have you?”
I frowned. “What’s wrong with me?”
Gupta considered this. “Nothing so repulsive.”
“Thank you for that winning endorsement.”
“You are a little arrogant. And sometimes moody and broody, which are such uninspired traits for the Lord of the Dead. And you are obsessed with tinkering with things. Plus, you’re quite blunt. You probably have no idea how to speak to a woman.”
“Of course I know how to speak to a woman.”
Gupta raised his eyebrows. “Do you wish to meet her?”
“Not wish,” I said, heaving to my feet. The onyx chair swiveled and disappeared. “Will meet her.”
“And say what?”
“That I think she would make an excellent consort. I want a companion. She wants recognition. It’s a victory for us both and sound reasoning too.”
I started walking toward the door when Gupta jogged up to me. “That will be your opening statement? You need to make a good impression. Bees are drawn to flowers, not rocks, for a reason. And that is a ridiculous number of assumptions about someone you don’t even know.”
I stopped short. He was, as much as I hated it, correct.
“I pray that these next words never cross my lips again.”
Gupta cupped his hand to his ear and grinned like a fool. “Do go on.”
“… teach me.”
*