“Friends,” she said uncertainly. “Does this mean you’re going to stop irritating me on purpose?”
“Absolutely not,” he said.
As he walked toward the baths, he heard Gauri call out:
“Just so you know, that kiss meant nothing.”
He laughed. “You’re acting as though you’re my first kiss.”
He neglected to tell her that his first kiss was—technically—to the guard who had passionately spun him around after mistaking him for a courtesan when he was fifteen and trying to sneak into the harem.
Like most first kisses, it left him with the sour taste of regret.
“You’re not, Gauri,” he said, grinning. “But you were certainly memorable.”
18
THREE IS A VERY NICE NUMBER
GAURI
When Vikram left for the baths, I threw myself onto the bed. My muscles ached. I stared up at the ceiling, blinking once… twice… before sleep claimed me. I woke to Vikram inspecting himself in the mirror. His hair was still damp from the baths and slightly curled around his ears. He tugged on the sleeves of a dark blue jacket embroidered with delicate silver feathers. The cut on his jaw had left a pale scar, but it only drew attention to the lips that I had thoroughly kissed not too long ago. He glanced at me, his eyes glinting a little too knowingly. I was painfully aware of how disheveled I looked.
“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” said Vikram. “What was it that you told theyakshiniattendant?Weprefer not to have an audience?”
He turned slowly around the room, as if marveling at its emptiness.
“I can’t remember,” I said, standing.
That was a lie. Of course I remembered. The memory pounced on me the moment I fell asleep. Fire painted my bones when I kissed him. In the back of my head, I’d felt the kind of drowsy hunger that lit up my thoughts when I first ate demon fruit. For more and less. For something impossible.
“Do you kick?”
I followed his gaze to the bed.
“Oh yes,” I said. “And I sleep with silver talons attached to my heels.”
“Sounds painful.”
“I also bray like a donkey in my nightmares, drool oceans and have a tendency to sleep-punch.”
“I sleep like the dead,” said Vikram, nonchalantly. “I won’t be bothered at all. Besides, I prefer sharing my bed with slightly feral women.”
“I prefer not to share at all. The chaise is perfectly comfortable.”
“Then you sleep there. I’ll take the bed. I wouldn’t want to offend your maidenly senses.”
“We’ll discuss this later,” I said, sliding off the sheets. “I need to get ready.”
In the bath chamber, stained-glass lanterns floated through the steam, while stone crocodiles opened their jaws and sprayed hot jets of water into the empty bath from the corners of the room. I sank into the sapphire pool. For a moment, I let myself watch the shards of light dance on the water’s surface. But, as always, I got out before I became overly comfortable. Too much beauty and luxury proved dangerous. Plenty of Bharata’s advisers had let lust for a rare bolt of silk or gem-encrusted necklace blind them to Skanda’s grabs for power or corruption. Alaka’s beauty had teeth. I wouldn’t let any part of it ensnare me.
A few paces away from the baths stood an onyx wardrobe. I chose a dove graysalwar kameezwith little diamonds sewn into the hems. Cosmetics lined a small vanity to the right of the wardrobe. I rolled the small vials between my palms, warming up the oils. After murmuring a quick prayer for my harem mothers, I donned my armor, lining my eyes with kohl until they were dark as death and patting crushed rose petals on my lips until they were scarlet as blood. In a separate dresser, I found a small cache of knives. I took two and strapped them to my thighs. Just in case.
When I stepped outside, Vikram blinked a couple of times.
“You are surprisingly lovely.”
“You are unsurprisingly insulting.”
