“One month,” said the Emperor, his eyes glassy with tears. “I cannot buy you more time than that. But tell the Princess. The council needs to know you spoke with her.”
Vikram grimaced. “On the eve before I leave, you want me to condemn a girl to death?”
“You wish to be a king, do you not?”
Vikram left his father’s menagerie. The guards led him down a hall painted a bright and vivid red. He twisted his hands. The last thing he wanted before he left was some inconsolable princess begging for her life. He’d never met her. What would he say? “A pleasure to meet you. Also, my kingdom is going to execute you at dawn. Goodbye.”
He bit back a groan, swung open the door and plopped into the first chair. The Princess Gauri stood near the windows, her body blocking out the light. She was tall. Nearly as tall as a man. But it was her eyes that stopped him. They were as black as winter nights. Black as sleep. For a second, they transfixed him.
Before he could speak, she ran toward him. Her mouth was smeared blood-like. And if she looked like a dream, it was only to distract his mind from realizing that she was a nightmare.
Something glittered dangerously in her hands. Vikram rolled out of the chair. Behind him, he heard a series of curses and then a snapping sound. The Jewel of Bharata had broken the chair leg and was now holding it over her head. He looked up, ready to reason with this mad princess, and his breath caught. Glittering motes clung to the air around her. She glowed.
Find the one who glows, with blood on the lips and fangs in the heart.
And then she spoke:
“Come near me, and I will kill you so swiftly you will have no time to cry for help.”
4
THE FOX PRINCE
GAURI
My plan with the pearl dust hadn’t worked. Never mind. I had something sharp in my hands, and that’s all that mattered. I cast a quick glance over the Prince. No weapons belt. Only a person who’d never supped at the table of fear would refuse to carry a knife. Coddled, pampered prince. He’d probably never fought for anything in his life. I cast a quick glance at the door. No sounds. No one was coming for him. If I needed to, I could end him right now and still slip out of the halls before the drunk guard woke up from the end of his shift. But the Prince might still have something useful on his person, maybe an heirloom of a brooch or decorative scabbard that I could sell in a market for at least a dozen mercenaries.
Candlelight shone behind him, sending his features into an inscrutable blur. He was a gathering of lean limbs. Young, beardless, broad-shouldered and slender. He didn’t even bother rising to his feet after he’d rolled out of his chair. Instead he sat up, leaned forward and steepled his fingers. His fingers were long and slim, tapered and clean. He had the hands of a scholar. Not a soldier.
“This is quite possibly the most exciting meeting I’ve ever had. Do continue.”
My shoulders dropped. “What?”
“You have demands, I imagine. Let’s hear them. I entered the room resigned, and now I stand intrigued.”
“You’re sitting.”
Brilliant observation, Gauri.
He glanced down. “Too true. My intrigue is entirely supine. But I’d hate to make a liar of you. May I stand?”
I lowered the broken chair leg to his throat. “Go ahead. But if you try to scream, I promise it won’t even leave your throat.”
He stood. To his credit, he didn’t blink or tremble. Maybe he was brave. Or criminally stupid. He angled his body to the light and I studied his features. He couldn’t be much older than me. Dark hair fell over his brow. Golden brown eyes latched on to mine. He was handsome in a way that made me want to kick him on principle. And then he tilted his head. Fox-like. There was something of the trickster in his expression—wry mouth, pensive eyes.
“Thank you, Princess.” He bowed gingerly, mindful of the chair leg. “Obviously you want something or you would have killed me on the spot. Or perhaps you couldn’t. I heard rumors that you’re a rather accomplished soldier, but between you and me, we both know that the reputations of royals are largely falsehoods.”
Annoyance prickled across my skin. My life was filled with princes like him. Sometimes I’d even dispatched their marriage proposals with a single glare. I forgot how long it had been since I’d had a formal meeting. When they kept me prisoner, all I could do was shout my demands—water, clean linens, more food—and now I’d practically forgotten this dance of veiled threats and gilded words.
“I want to get out of Ujijain,” I blurted.
Subtle.
He should have balked and flatly refused. Instead, he lifted one eyebrow as if to say:Is that all?
“How uninspired. You were supposed to be the heir to the throne of Bharata,” he mused, “and now you have nothing. Yet all you ask from me is safe passage? Don’t you want more?”
Of course I wanted more. I wanted my throne and my people’s safety. I wanted freedom from Skanda.
