As one, they reached for the blue ribbons at their throats. Murmuring to themselves, the Nameless melded into the shadows. Silence draped over the courtyard. I felt as if the world had sewn up her secrets, gathering every bit of magic and hiding it elsewhere for tonight. No patrons formed lines outside thevishakanyas’ tent. No Otherworldly beings partook in any revels or sampled the strange foods of the feast tables. I was alone.
When I got back to the room, I shook the snow out of my hair and stamped my feet. Vikram was slumped against the cushions, a book propped on his knee, a bandage wrapped around one arm and his shirt… not on him. An amber glow from several nearby lanterns threw his lean muscles into relief. From the training exercises and ends of battles, I’d seen plenty of men’s bodies. There were some who made me wish I’d looked a little longer. And there were others whom my memory was still trying to purge. The Fox Prince didn’t look anything like them. His skin was dark gold, unbroken and unscarred. His silky black hair looked wild. He didn’t hold himself like a soldier, alert and tense. He was all languid elegance and knowing grins. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and looked at me, thoroughly amused.
“Well?”
I wrenched my gaze from him and stared at the vial instead. “On my way back, those Nameless women found me. They’re furious because they want the venom.”
“So do half theyakshasandyakshinis,” he said, putting aside the book. “It’s a competition. What did they expect?”
“That’s what I said.”
“What do they want with the venom anyway?” he mused, rubbing his jaw.
He reached once more for his book. Instead of his shirt.
“Did you run out of clothes?”
“No?” He looked down, as if just noticing that he was partially exposed. “I had to bandage some of the cuts I got after running back here.”
“But you have your bandages on now.”
“Astute as ever, Princess. Am I offending your maidenly senses again? Can I not luxuriate in a single evening without the threat of bodily injury?”
“Could you do it with more clothes?”
“Why does it matter to you?”
I threw up my hands. “What if I manifestvishakanyaabilities and accidentally touch you and then you die or something?”
He leaned against the cushions. “Try it.”
“Why would you openly invite death? You should bescaredthat I’d touch you.”
“Quite the opposite.” His eyes flashed. We stared at each other. Neither of us broke eye contact.
One…
Two…
Vikram burst out laughing. “Nothing? Still? One day I’ll make you blush.”
“Keep trying.”
I rolled my eyes, ignoring that second of disorienting weightlessness, and walked over to the window overlooking the courtyard. A light frost coated the grounds of Alaka, and I saw where my footprints had formed divots in the earth. Tomorrow, the enchanted snow would steal away any evidence that I had ever walked there. What awaited me on the other side of Alaka was no different. Time would greedily lick up any step or imprint I tried to press into the world.
But for the first time, I wanted to believe in the things that outlasted us: the stories that came to life in a child’s head, the fear of the dark, the hunger to live. Those were the footsteps that not even Time could discover and erase, because they lived far out of reach, in the song of blood coursing through veins and in the quiet threads that made up dreams. I wanted to hold the hope of those tales within me and follow it like a lure all the way back to myself.
29
TO SHARE YOUR SHADOW
GAURI
The morning of Jhulan Purnima dawned pink and cold. The air felt different from the way it did the day we left for the Serpent King’s pool. Not crackling with magic, but taut as a drawn bowstring. As if the world hung in a balancing act, equally tugged by fire and ice, fervor and calm.
Vikram paced around restlessly. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, watching him. Before I could say anything, he walked forward and placed a piece of parchment in my hand.
“He wants to see us.”
