“Oh, dear,” said the Sleeper. “And here I thought you would have turned out to be so much more clever.”
“I said,let them go.”
“Drop the lightning bolt, and I will.”
Aru lowered her hand, hating herself.
The Sleeper flexed his wrists, and Mini and Boo slumped to the ground, unconscious.
But alive.
“You just reminded me of something, child,” he said softly. “Mercy makes fools of us. I’ve had eleven years of torture to think about all the ways I was made a fool.”
The Sleeper was next to her in an instant. “Rather fancy toy for a child,” he hissed, snatching up Vajra.
Aru hoped it burned him. How could her mother have ever loved someone like this?
The young, hopeful Krithika had misjudged him. He couldn’t help but be a demon after all.
The Sleeper grabbed her arm and dragged her across the museum lobby. “You made me into what I am now,” he said. “You and your mother. All I wanted to do was end the tyranny of destiny. Can you understand that?” For the first time, his voice grew soft. “Do you realize how cruel it is to tell someone that their future is fixed? That they can do nothing but play out their life like a puppet? Do you see how even your gifts have enslaved you?”
Aru was only half listening. Panic had sharpened her thoughts. When her hand had knocked against her pajama pant leg, she had felt something in her pocket: a nub of tile from the Palace of Illusions.It can give you the part of me that matters most: protection.
“Your death will signal the end of not just a life, but anera,” said the Sleeper. His eyes were shining. “You and your siblings will no longer be damned to live life over and over again. I’m doing thisfor you, because your mother”—he sneered—“didn’t have thegutsto free you.”
“Sorry,” said Aru, yanking her arm from his grip. “I’m just not in the mood to die right now.”
Her fingers dug out the little piece of home, and she threw it on the floor. A fierce gust of wind blew the Sleeper back. For one blissful blink of her eye, Aru could catch her breath. She felt the tile of home thud back into her pocket. The piece of home was tiny and so only bought her a second’s worth of distraction. Still, it was enough.
The Sleeper had lost his grip on Vajra. Aru raised her hand, and the lightning bolt snapped into her palm. Now she held it out. She steeled herself. Shehadto do this.
The Sleeper lifted his arm, as if he was trying to block out the light. “Child, wait—” he said. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Aru was twelve years old. Even she knew that half the time she didn’t know what she was doing.
But this wasn’t one of those times.
“You’re cursed,” said the Sleeper. “I’m only trying to help.”
Cursed…
Before Aru could throw the lightning bolt, an image sprang before her:
In this vision, Aru was older. Taller. Across from her, on a night-soaked battlefield, stood four other girls…four othersisters, she realized. She wasn’t even sure how she knew that, but it was undeniable. All five Pandava girls, together. All of them wielding weapons. Even Mini.
Mini was older, too. Her face was a fierce mask of hate.
Hate that was directed against…her.
“Don’t you see?” said the Sleeper. “Fate never intended for you to be a hero.”
Who’s the Liar Now?
The image faded.
Aru couldn’t shake it from her thoughts. She had done something so bad that her own sisters had turned against her. Why were they on a battlefield? What had happened?
“You think your partial divinity is a blessing,” said the Sleeper. “It is a curse.”
