“They might have.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, “Kishan?”
“Yes?”
“Do you…do you think my father will take me back into his home?”
“He will,” I assured her quickly as I added another piece of wood to the fire.
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s a good man. A wise man. Those who are sensible do not blame a person, especially one as young as you, for the failings of others.”
“But no man will take me as a wife now.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that wasn’t true, but I knew the time she lived in. I also knew that Anamika was not married in the future.
“Do you wish to be a wife?” I asked.
“Not if he does to me what that man did.”
“A man who loves you will not hurt you in such a way.” I sat back against a log, crossing my legs at the ankles. She sat back as well, imitating my pose. “My mentor once told me that a villain can hurt your mind and your body. He can take away the things that are most precious to you. But he cannot diminish who you are. Your heart, your soul belong to you, Anamika.
“You may give it to a worthy man to hold, but you decide who that privileged man may be, and if he abuses the gift, you simply take it back. No one—not a stranger, not your father, and assuredly not this man who hurt you—can force you to give away that special piece of yourself. Love is a gift. When, or if, you choose to marry, the man you select will fall at your feet and worship you like a goddess.”
She snorted at that and pressed her hand over her mouth to control the giggles. “They will not,” Ana laughed.
I smiled. “I assure you, I speak utter truth. When a man truly loves a woman, he will cherish her all of his days and he will sacrifice anything for her happiness.”
We stared at the fire and I picked up the truth stone, cradling it in my hands.
“It’s like that story you told us about the tiger,” she said. “He loved the girl so much he gave up everything to be with her. He even defied the gods to do so. That’s how he got his wings.”
“Yes,” I said, the corner of my mouth turned up in a teasing way. “Sometimes even a tiger can find love.”
“Can I…can I go with you if my father won’t take me back?”
“Oh, Ana,” I said softly and blew out a breath. “Yes. If it will comfort your mind, I promise to stay with you as long as you have need of me.”
“Thank you,” she said.
That night I tried to summon my version of Ana again and a breeze rose that blew my peacock feather away. I inhaled deeply and studied the sky. A storm was coming. Even without my tiger nose, I could smell the rain. Within the span of three hours, it hit. I’d wanted to let her sleep for as long as possible, but when stinging raindrops hit the fire, making it sizzle, and peppered the stones around us, bringing with them a sweet, damp smell, I woke her.
I didn’t know what lay ahead of us, but I remembered we’d passed an area with an outcropping of stone a few hours back. Placing her before me in the saddle, I told her to try to sleep as I made my way back to that shelter. The tracks we’d made before quickly disappeared in the rain. I shielded her from it as best I could, but the downpour was wind-whipped and as brutal as a hammer on an anvil.
Our clothing was quickly soaked and rain dripped down my neck and off the tip of my nose. It was cold too. The biting wind screamed shrilly as it sped past us. After the third hour on horseback, I knew we’d missed the outcropping I’d been searching for. I placed my hand on the truth stone and asked it for guidance or wisdom, and as if sensing our desperation, it showed me a path off to my left. I took it and we soon came upon a cave.
I ducked inside, hoping there wasn’t a tiger or any other predator hiding in the dark recesses, and found it empty. Heading back to Ana, I wrapped my arms around her shivering form. She was leaning over the horse in an effort to shield her face from the rain. “Come on,” I said, raising my voice over the noise of the wind. “We’ll sit out the storm in here.”
After she was safely inside, I removed the saddle and our packs and tied the horse to a nearby tree. There was barely enough room for two people, let alone a horse, and though he whinnied in protest, I knew he’d be safe enough outside. I squeezed the rainwater out of my clothes, removed my shirt, and hung it over a rock. There were only two pieces of dry wood inside the cave, so I started a tiny fire and we sat in front of it to dry off as best we could.
She shivered, and the heat coming off the little fire wasn’t enough to cook a marshmallow, let alone warm a cold little girl. Lightning struck outside and the horse whickered loudly. I heard the roar of water and my breath caught as I considered the previously parched ground. Is it possible we wandered into a flash-flood zone?
The storm was a wild one. As Ana slept, her thin arms wrapped around herself, I stared out at the roiling sky. I didn’t try to summon the goddess that night. The fire burned itself out quickly, and with no dry wood to feed it, I lifted Ana in my arms and sat down, my back pressed against the stone, with her cradled against me. She didn’t wake, which was probably for the best. I didn’t want to frighten her further after what she’d been through.
If I still had my ability to shift, the tiger could have easily kept her warm, but my human body shook with cold. Still, keeping her close was the best I could do. I fell into a fitful sleep and woke groggily to the song of a bird outside.
The pewter dawn was still cloud-covered and drizzly but at least the wind had died down. The rain fell in a thin, rhythmic monotony that might be bearable, if still uncomfortable, on horseback. It wasn’t until I turned my attention to the warmth on my chest that I realized something was wrong.
“Ana?” I shook her lightly but when she opened her eyes, they were unfocused. She quickly closed them again, groaned softly, and tried to speak but her voice slurred. I couldn’t make out what she was saying. Jostling her more forcefully and getting no response, I cradled her face in my hands and felt the fiery heat of fever.
Now desperate, I carefully set her down and rummaged through our bags for a flagon of water. I pressed it to her lips but the drops trickled down her throat and wet her still-damp shirt. “Ana,” I said again, this time more forcefully. “Ana, what’s wrong?”
It was a stupid question. What wasn’t wrong with her situation? She’d been forced from her home, starved, abused, and I’d been careless enough to get us caught in a freak rainstorm without shelter. What should have surprised me was how well she’d done so far. I’d carelessly lost my firefruit juice. Kadam had said to be careful with it, but did I listen? Of course not.
Then I remembered the truth stone. It had somehow healed me. Or at least I thought it had. I was fairly certain I didn’t actually go to the fire forest in my dream. I dug it out of the bag and placed Ana’s hand on top of it. “Will you heal her please?” I asked it. “She needs you.”
The phoenix egg remained dark though the little pulse inside fluttered. I waited for one minute and then another. Nothing was happening as far as I could tell. Rubbing my hand over the sleek surface of the stone, I said, “If you can’t heal her, then give me wisdom. Tell me what to do.”