How could things have gotten so wrong?
He stared at her peacefully sleeping face and wiped the tear tracks off, trying not to wake her. He wished he could give her the absolution, the trust she craved from him, but the events from the past had left their mark on him.
Realizing that the person he chose among all others—and was halfway to falling in love with—hated him deeply enough to kill him, had left him doubting his own judgment to the point he never quite trusted another person since.
His journey to find Ilavu was as much to numb the pain of losing a friend, as drowning in the depths of desolation he felt at her apparent betrayal.
But now, she had turned things on their head, leaving him reeling and confused.
He owed her more than his life. He owed her, and the people who suffered the most from Virat’s actions, a huge apology.
And when he had confirmation of what he strongly suspected to be the truth, he would set about making reparations for the damage he wrought by allowing Virat to be by his side all those years ago. Even if it took the rest of his life.
Chapter 42: The Enchanted Lake
The next day, the yaksha took them to the location shown in the lotus key. A serene pond set in a clearing. The center of the pond had a small island, occupied almost entirely by the sturdy trunk of a tree, leaving a narrow perimeter of land around it. Just enough for a person to stand comfortably.
The branches of the tree were heavy with purple fruit. The all-pervasive music was louder here.
“This is theKalpavriksha, the tree that grants wishes,” said the yaksha. “Your key piece would be within one of the fruits. You need to stand underneath the tree and pray, and if your prayer and the need behind it is sincere, you will be granted your wish.”
Veer made to step forward when the yaksha stopped him.
“Careful. Don’t you see what’s in the water?”
Veer glanced down and took a hasty step back with a muttered curse.
The waters of the pond were a translucent blue green, showing its depths. On the surface floated water lilies, with their large platelike leaves. But if one peered closely, the clear water showed submerged men and women, deep in slumber.
The underwater stalks of the water lilies went into their mouths. They were breathing through the stalks, their chestsgently rising and falling with the occasional stream of water bubbles floating to the surface.
On closer examination, he noticed other things about their sallow faces—the tusks protruding on either side of the mouths, the clawed fingers, the deep blue hue of their skin—that made him realize they were not quite human.
“You’ll disturb them if you step into the waters,” said the yaksha.
“Who are they?” asked Veer, dazed.
“Erstwhile kings of the Danava Empire. They are immortal. They don’t die. So, they sleep.”
“Then how do we get to the tree?” asked Chandra.
The yaksha whistled a quirky sound that wasn’t possible to replicate with a human mouth.
Instantly, two figures appeared on the island. They rose to the air and glided serenely over the waters to reach the bank. As they approached, Veer was able to see them more clearly.
They appeared to be half-human, half-bird creatures, with the torso and upper arms of a human and the lower half that of a bird, ending in sharp talons. Their long decorative tails made a rainbow of color as they glided across the lake.
As they came closer, Veer realized that one of the creatures was quite obviously a female. Downy feathers covered their chests, their noses were beak-like, and a delicate claw tipped their thumbs.
The yaksha introduced them as the kinnara couple and conversed with them in a strange tongue. They seemed to come to some sort of an agreement.
The male kinnara waved his hand. A gust of wind materialized a bridge connecting the two banks, providing a pathway to the tree. He stretched a claw-tipped hand toward it, gesturing for them to climb it.
Veer strode forward. The kinnara blocked him.
“It has to be her,” said the female kinnari in human tongue, motioning toward Chandra.
“Why?” asked Veer in a leery tone.
