“It’s like… like waking up and remembering a good dream. Like eating poetry.”
Aasha closed her eyes. “That sounds good.”
“It is.”
“What about flowers?”
“Kinda like wet silk?”
She made a face.
“It’s better than it sounds, I promise.”
Aasha laughed. She asked me about dances and grass, bee stings and thorns.
She even asked about kissing and was disappointed when I explained that I didn’t have nearly as much experience as she thought.
“Why not?” she demanded.
I choked. “What? That’s… private.”
“If there was a beautiful woman or a handsome man who wanted to kiss me, I would not hesitate. Especially if I wanted to kiss them too.”
She gave me a very pointed gaze. I looked elsewhere. My gaze fell to the stream beneath us. Aasha had one leg submerged in the running stream, and the other drawn up to her chest. My eyes narrowed. Her position looked casual, but I’d sprained my ankle once in a fight and had to limp off to a pond just to bring down the swelling. Aasha wasn’t relaxing. She was trying to heal.
“How did you get hurt?”
She looked to the water. “You may be glad of my assistance, but others are not. They say I should not have helped. Many will seethe in silence. Others will not be as silent.”
“That’s not an answer, Aasha.”
“It is better than an answer,” she said. “It is a warning.”
I wasn’t going to push her, but her words made me skittish. As far as I knew, no one could go into our rooms and steal what we’d won. But that didn’t mean no one would try. And if someone had attacked Aasha, what was to stop them from coming after me or Vikram?
“I must go. My sisters will be anxious. I have been gone too long.”
I stood up. “Thank you for your help, Aasha.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Gauri, for your time and tales.”
I trudged back toward the courtyard. In two days, our trials would begin. I was beginning to understand the Tournament of Wishes. Each step we took and every choice we made fashioned the tale that Kubera would keep from us. Whether we would survive to tell it ourselves was not his concern. He wanted to see what we thought, how our very will and ambition shaped the future. I was thoroughly mortal. My touch wasn’t toxic. No magical abilities had ever revealed themselves to me no matter how much I wished for them. But I had a vast source of will. And will was an enchantment that no being could touch because I alone could wield it. That was power.
As I walked past the banyan tree, figures stepped out of the shadows. The Nameless.
The first one hissed. “You stole the Serpent King’s venom.…”
The second one snarled. “That was not yours to take. We made the trade first. We bought his venom and enchantment with the cost of our own names. That venom was meant for us, as it has been for every Tournament.”
I crossed my arms. “He has more. Go get your own.”
The third looked off to the side. “He only gives one vial every hundred years. Those are his rules. This is the last Tournament. We need it.”
The second spoke. “It is not the way of fairness—”
I laughed. “Fairness? Not even the gods promise fairness. This is a competition. We figured out the riddle. We fought. The end.”
“Careful, girl,” said the second. “You have no knowledge of the game you play. Everyone here has a story to tell. But some of us have more at stake. Some of us have magic in need of replenishing. And some of us will do whatever it takes to ensure that our wishes come to pass.”
