I stared at her, dumbfounded. But the Nameless had stolen the vial of the Serpent King’s poison.
“You think I wanted the poison because I yearned for control over my sister’s husband?”
I nodded.
“No,” she said. “After you exchange so many harsh words with the person that you love, sometimes it is impossible for them to trust you once more. The Serpent King’s poison was supposed to be a gift of trust and faith. But you and I were both beaten to it. Only a deity could harness the ability to control him. I never sought to do that. I only sought to show her that I wouldn’t. Sometimes the greatest power comes not from that which we do, but that which we do not. And I had my wish. You did me a great service, Gauri of Bharata.”
I looked behind Kauveri to the small podium where the Kapila River and the Serpent King stood with their arms wrapped around one another, beaming in the direction of Kauveri.
“What does that mean for the Nameless?”
“They will continue to have the Blessing ofvishakanyasfor another hundred years. The Nameless thought they were fighting for the permanence of something. But nothing lasts forever. Eventually, the poison will fade.”
“Your wish is yours,” said Kubera.
Even though I knew we were still in Alaka, I couldn’t sense the magic in the air. There was no curious weightlessness to the world, as if it were waiting to draw back its curtains and show me the wonder beneath the rot. The world stank only of death. Iron and salt and once-bright roses. Water strung through fish bones. I thought that the moment I’d won, my breath would catch and stars would pave my path. Instead, all I could think of was my own bone-weary exhaustion and the fact that I didn’t know myself anymore.
“Be careful with your wish,” said Kauveri. “Even a good wish may have its repercussions. A wish for rain to slake the parched throats of a field may turn to a flood that will steal away an entire village. A wish made from a wicked heart to maim another person may end up saving a thousand lives. I do not make those decisions.”
After all this time, I realized that I didn’t even know what I would wish for anymore. It had changed. I wanted my throne and I wanted Nalini’s safety, but at what cost? My desires had trapped me. My fears had tried to devour me. If I acted on them, knowing how easily everything could turn against me, would I end up doing more harm than good?
“You don’t have to make your wish now,” said Kubera. “But when you return, remember to tell a good tale. Make up details! I do love that. Perhaps you can tell the world I was a giant! Or that I rode on the back of several eagles. Actually, no. I never liked heights.”
“Was it all just a story for you to collect?”
Kubera tilted his head to one side. “It is impossible to collect a story. After all, the intersections of a tale and its consequences are far larger than you might ever imagine. May I tell you a tale?”
I nodded, and he spread his hands as the imagery on the floor shifted.
“Some tales that never end start with something as simple as an act of impulse and end with something as evil as an act of love.”
41
A SELECTION OF BIRDS
A BIRD WITH BLUE FEATHERS
A courtesan dances before a group of kings.
Her heart is young, so full of light that no thorns have grown to puncture her innocence.
A king who had never heard “no” took notice. The courtesan fights. Loses.
Not because she was not brave.
But because bravery cannot buy breath when furious fingers wrap ribbons around a throat.
A BIRD WITH BONE FEATHERS
Grief wields a dangerous magic.
Three sisters sink into the shadows.
Their hands tremble over a broken courtesan’s body on the floor.
Now she is dead.
But she was other things before: beloved, beautiful, sister.
