“She never eats,” Mani supplies.
Deven glances sidelong at me and I can tell he’s suppressing a smile. “Is that right?” he asks Mani, who nods solemnly. “Well, I’ll have to see what I can do to change that.” Despite myself, my face melts into a smile. No one—except for Japa—has ever been so kind to us or treated us with so much respect. Mani is flush with pride. I look up to see Deven watching me with a curious expression.
“What?” I ask.
“I’ve never seen you smile before.”
“That’s not true,” I say. Could that be true? Do I smile so infrequently?
He shakes his head. “Never. Not like that. Not a real smile.”
“Oh, so you’ve seen some of my fake smiles?”
He shrugs. “A few. Mostly when you’ve been trying to get rid of me.” Am I so transparent? Or have I just underestimated how much Deven notices? The thought both thrills and terrifies me.
“Maybe we can work on increasing the smiling along with the food?” he says. I can’t help it; I smile again, and he smiles back and we just stare at each other for a moment. Then he turns to Mani and pats him on the back. “See you soon,” he says. Before I know what’s happening, he folds me in an embrace and kisses my cheek. It’s not just a quick graze either; his lips linger there, soft and warm. Panic races across my skin. I didn’t have time to turn, to position him safely. He pulls away and my fingers find the place where his lips rested. The spot is still warm and I can feel the contours of my cheekbone underneath my fingertips, so it’s far enough from my lips. I sigh in relief and then clap my hand over my mouth. That sigh could so easily be misinterpreted. The way Deven is grinning, I see it probably has been.
“Goodbye, Deven,” I say, carefully avoiding looking directly at his face.
“Bye, Marinda.”
I take Mani’s hand and we walk away. I resist the urge to look back as long as I can, and when I finally do, Deven has disappeared.
When Mani and I get back to the flat, Iyla opens the door. My stomach plummets. What is she doing here? She must know that I’ve been with Deven. She must have followed me or…and then I focus on her face. A fresh bruise blooms across her jaw—bright red bleeding into purple.
I gasp. “Iyla, what happened?” She meets my eyes and shakes her head, just a fraction. I understand her immediately. It’s a signal as old as our pairing—he’s here, it’s not safe to talk. I look beyond her and, sure enough, Gopal is leaning back on one of the chairs, his hands clasped behind his head. I squeeze Iyla’s fingers as I brush past her and step into the flat.
“Marinda,” Gopal says, his voice dripping with sweetness. “So nice to finally see you.” My mind is racing. What does he know? What did he do to Iyla? How can I avoid making it worse for her? For me? Mani is hiding behind my legs, a fistful of my skirt in his hands.
“I didn’t know to expect you,” I say. I try to keep my voice casual, airy, and I’m praying to the ancestors he can’t read me as well as Deven can.
“Of course you weren’t, rajakumari,” Gopal says, letting the chair drop onto all four legs. “I just came to tell you that we sorted out our little misunderstanding.”
“Oh?” I’m not sure exactly where he’s going, and this is the most neutral response I can think of.
“Yes,” he says, standing. “It turns out Iyla here was sloppy. Didn’t tell me that our target regularly spends time in the bookshop.” Iyla’s expression is stony. “That could have made our timing rather…imprecise.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. My heart is hammering. I’m not sure if Gopal really believes that Deven didn’t show or if he’s laying a trap for me. Either way, I have no idea what’s next. Gopal starts pacing around the flat—he can cover the whole distance in just a few steps, and it’s making me jumpy.
“Our young man showed up with the book—still very much alive—and when I discovered this, I was…” He pauses and searches my face. “Well, I was heartbroken, Marinda. I thought you had betrayed me.” My mouth has gone completely dry. I have betrayed him and I’m trying desperately to keep any hint of it from showing up in my expression. I can feel the vial in my pocket, resting against my thigh like an accusation, and I have to resist the urge to touch it. The last thing I need is Gopal demanding I turn out my pockets. Gopal clasps his hands in front of his body and rocks back on his heels. “Then I talked to Iyla, and after some…questioning…she admitted that the boy visits the bookshop often. That he could have obtained the book outside the window I gave you.”
Oh, no. What have I done? I’ve made Iyla look like a liar and now he’s punished her. “I’m sure she didn’t intend—”