“I thought she was displeased because she has a crush on you,” said a bemused Chandra.
Veer was aware of Matangi’s feelings. She was about as transparent as air, but he had observed a shift. Matangi may have had a crush on him, but she admired Chandra greatly. Her expression when Chandra had demonstrated the use of her arrows earlier probably mirrored his own, had he been foolish enough to blast them to the entire world.
He glanced at Chandra and found it hard to believe, after all the recent events, that only a few hours ago he had been kissing her. He wondered if that kiss had played on her mind, too, as it had on his.
“When’re we leaving?” she asked when they stopped at a distance into the grove and stood facing each other, with Chandra leaning against the trunk of a coconut tree that had decided it would grow at an angle rather than straight up from the ground.
“As soon as the soldiers from Kalpeet arrive here.” Veer stood close to her. Seeing the arrow was back in her quiver, he stretched out an arm to trace the fletching, but his finger brushed her earlobe. She sucked in a quick breath and Veer gave a soft curse.
“Do you have many arrows like this one, Princess?” he asked, a desperate question to distract himself.
She seemed eager to seize this excuse and launched into an explanation. “This is asata banu, one hundred arrows. But it starts out as theshunya banu, the zero arrow—the one that is never fired. Like you saw, the mantra binds the arrows into one and can also split them. I find it very useful since it means I cancarry a hundred arrows with space to spare. Here, hold this for a moment,” she said, placing the arrow into his palm.
Veer’s eyebrows climbed his forehead.
“Heavy, right?” she said. “Its weight is equivalent to the hundred arrows that’ve gone into its making. If I had to carry more than two of these, it would hurt my shoulders.”
“I don’t like that you had to use these arrows, Princess,” he said almost reflectively.
“Why is that?” she asked, baffled.
“I don’t like that you have to bear the pain of a wrong decision afterward.”
Her brow smoothed out “Oh! Well, bearing the pain is part of the learning process,” she said, dismissing his concern.
“Will you experience pain after today’s events as well?” he asked.
Chandra’s candid eyes turned shadowed. She gave a hesitant nod. “It isn’t about the pain exactly. It’s more the guilt that I’m wary about. I experience things the other person had felt in their final moments and that’s always…always full of regrets.”
“Is this how you’d always been trained in Amaravathi?” he asked.
She had a faraway look in her eyes, as if her mind had wandered to the past. “The training was hard, not just physically but mentally too. I had to break through my fears, and it wasn’t easy to do that, for it meant facing them over and over again. I still have those fears, but I can now function when faced with such dangers instead of freezing up. I don’t regret that I was advised to train. It certainly has been helpful in this journey.”
“Who suggested your training in the first place?” he asked in a grim voice, already suspecting the answer.
“Guruji.”
Guruji again. He didn’t know whether to be grateful that Amaravathi’s prime minister had taken such an interest in his wife’s training or suspicious that he felt the need to. From all accounts, it sounded hard, both the training and the use of it. Having sat through her suffering, he wondered how anyone who cared for her could’ve allowed it.
However, Guruji was well regarded in Amaravathi. Veer himself had seen the respect he commanded from King Chandraketu. Even Shota spoke about him with reverence. But the wily prime minister was loyal to the throne of Amaravathi above everything. Which made his actions, even minor ones, questionable.
Chandra gently took the arrow from him and returned it to her quiver. She gave him an arch look. “Are you going to forbid me from using my weapons too?”
“Forbidding you from doing something seems to have the opposite effect,” said Veer sardonically.
“If you’re talking about your high-handed command to stay in the temple, I’ll have you know—” she began hotly.
“No,” said Veer, his temper cooling under more practical concerns. “For once, I’m thankful for your training. It has helped you stay alive. I would’ve preferred seeing you safe with the rest of the women and children in the temple sanctum, but I realize doing nothing when people are in danger is beyond you. I only ask that you be careful the next time.”
She gaped at him in stunned silence. He gave a small smile when he realized he had finally found a way to leave her speechless.
“That was a compliment, Chandra,” he prodded.
“Thank you,” she said, nonplussed. But her slow, warm grin tugged at his heart. Was that all it took to make her happy? And was that all it took for him to feel happy? Seeing her smile? He shook his head slightly. He was in a strange mood tonight.
“You’re welcome,” he replied simply.
“No. Thank you,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. He felt the imprint of her fingers like a brand. “For staying back to help this city against the intruders. For your request to open the temple to everyone—I’d heard Aradatta mention it to Agrani,” she said, intuiting his question. Her eyes shone with gratitude. “I realize you could’ve just as easily walked away from all that.”
