“I didn’t do it for you.”
“Arjun, I know how it looks. But we were like siblings—”
“Exactly,” he said cuttingly. “Wewerelike siblings. And then you changed. Skanda can set this record straight.”
“Skanda is a liar. The things he’s done and made me—”
“That’s what you said before to make me pledge you soldiers. I did it because I trusted your word until you kept proving you weren’t worth it. But did you ever once prove that he did everything you said?”
Weakness is a privilege.
I had never told him. I thought… I thought I was keeping myself safe. But sometimes weakness wore the face of strength, and sometimes strength wore the face of weakness.
“You may not believe me, but surely you’ve seen some of his deception ever since you became his second-in-command? Has nothing he’s done convinced you that he might not be innocent?”
Arjun faltered. Skanda may be an expert storyteller, but even he couldn’t keep up a ruse of innocence for too long. Pausing before the throne doors, Arjun fixed me with a dark look.
“Don’t try anything.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “I won’t.”
Inside the room, Skanda reclined against silk pillows. I scanned the room: no attendants. Not even a servant to answer his thousand insignificant needs. He looked as if he wanted this to be informal, but it felt calculated. On a glass tray stood goblets full of coldthandai.My mouth watered. I could smell the vetiver seeds and rose petals steeped in the milky drink.
“You used to drink this every time you came home from one skirmish or another,” said Skanda, his voice swelling with mock brotherly pride.
I sat in front of him, mindful of Kauveri’s dagger slung against my hip. I had placed it on the left side, hoping that Skanda would interpret it as a sign of peace and not a sign that my right hand refused to hold weapons. Arjun sank into the pillow next to Skanda, one hand protectively on his dagger.
“Now, now, Arjun, no need to be so aggressive. After all, the Princess Gauri has come back from a long and arduous trek. She was so weakened she could hardly stay awake.” Skanda flashed a thin and oily smile. He held out cups ofthandaito me and Arjun. I took mine gingerly, breathing in the spicy scent.
“May I see that dagger of yours, sister?”
“Later,” I said. “I tire.”
He smiled. “Of course. For now, let us drink to your health and your return.”
I lifted the drink to my lips, but didn’t sip the liquid until Skanda took a swig. I took a sip and bit back a grimace. Whoever made the drink had added far too much almond extract. Arjun downed his drink in one gulp.
“I am sorry that we had to have this meeting under such circumstances,” said Skanda, with another small shake of his head.
Thethundaitickled my throat. I coughed and drank some more. Warmth spread through my limbs. An itch burned right behind my calf.
“But you left me no choice.”
Beside me, Arjun began to cough. He reached for a glass of water, but his trembling fingers knocked the glass aside. Skanda reached for something in the folds of his sleeve, drawing out a knot of leaves, which he chewed immediately. Arjun stared at him, wide-eyed and furious, clawing at his throat.
“What have you done to him?”
I grabbed Arjun, thumping his back. He began to shake. His face paled.
“You can’t let him die, Skanda!” I screamed. “Give me the antidote!”
But Skanda didn’t say anything. He just stared from me to the cup.
“Why are you still speaking?” he whispered.
The doors to the throne room crashed open. A swirl of silks and jangling silver clamored for volume over Arjun’s violent coughing. Nalini whimpered. She reached for him, tilting his face to hers as she felt for the pulse at his neck. He convulsed. Sweat beaded his skin.
I lunged at Skanda, holding the dagger with my left hand to this throat. “I will let you live if you tell me how to save him.”
