“Thank you,” I say past the lump in my throat. Thank you for making me feel like a normal girl and not a poisoned one.
Deven’s eyes are soft. “You’re welcome.”
Mani tugs on my arm. “Look what Deven brought me,” he says, holding up the same pale fruit he ate at the bookshop. “Maraka fruit. Can I eat it now?”
I ruffle his hair. “Sure, monkey, go ahead.”
“Eat a few pieces,” Deven says. “You’re going to need your energy.” I raise my eyebrows in a question. “The flowers weren’t my only surprise. I came to kidnap you.”
“What?” Mani and I say together.
“The three of us are going on an adventure today,” Deven says.
“I don’t know—” I start, but Mani interrupts me.
“Please, Marinda. Please, please, please.”
I glance over at Deven and he presses his hands together under his chin, imitating Mani. “Please, Marinda,” he says in the same pleading tone.
I laugh. “You two are trouble,” I say.
“So?” Mani asks.
“Yes, all right. Let’s go have an adventure.” Both boys grin and then they slap their palms together in a celebratory high five. I roll my eyes. “Breakfast first,” I tell them.
“Of course,” Deven says.
I dress behind the curtain in our small bathroom—black pants, hiking boots, a silky lapis-colored top and wide silver bracelets. I pull my hair back in a ponytail and tie it with a scarf. This is probably unwise, going off with Deven like this. A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea.
But Deven makes me reckless.
And just for one day I want to know what it feels like to be the girl he thinks I am.
After I finish dressing, while the boys are laughing over a game of dice, I warm two loaves of flatbread, smear them with butter and sprinkle them with cinnamon. Then I pour each of us a tall glass of orange juice.
I make sure Deven gets the poisoned one.
We’re a few hours into our hike up a steep mountainside blanketed in lush green trees when Deven reaches for my hand. “Close your eyes,” he says. “I want this to be a surprise.” He laces his fingers through mine and presses his other hand against my waist. I close my eyes and let him guide me forward.
“No peeking,” he says. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. It’s exhilarating, the thought of him that close to me. But then panic seizes me. What if I can feel his breath only because it’s labored? What if the poison I gave him is starting to kill him? I strain my ears, but all I can hear is the trill of a songbird. I focus on the feel of his hand in mine, check to see if it feels hot or clammy. It doesn’t—it feels soft and strong. Some of the tension drains from my shoulders. He’s fine. At least for now.
The ground is still damp from the earlier rainfall, and my boots sink into the soil as I walk. Cool mountain air bites at my cheeks, but it feels pleasant after the heat of the valley and after the exertion of the long hike. Mani is humming happily beside me. His eighteen hours of sleep yesterday must have restored some of his energy. He hasn’t asked to stop for a break once. Suddenly Mani falls silent and I hear a sharp intake of breath.
“Wow,” he says softly.
“We’re here,” Deven tells me. He drops his palm from my waist, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.
I open my eyes, and my breath sticks in my throat. We’re at the base of an impossibly blue lake nestled against the side of a sheer cliff. The lake is surrounded by thick green forest. A brilliantly white waterfall tumbles from the rocks into the water below. It’s breathtaking.
“It’s not the tallest waterfall in Sundari,” Deven says, “but it’s the most beautiful.” This is the only waterfall I’ve ever seen, but I have no doubt that he’s right. I’m completely mesmerized.
“What’s it called?” Mani asks. His face is tipped upward and he’s wearing an expression of such joy that it tugs at my heart. It didn’t occur to me that the waterfall would have a name, but Deven is ready with an answer.
“It’s called the Maiden’s Curtain.”
“Why?” I ask.
He turns to me. His eyes are bright. “It’s from an old legend,” he says. “Would you like to hear the story?”
“Yes,” Mani and I answer in unison.