“It’s maya,” I said. “Illusion.”
“They say that is all the world is.”
“How pessimistic you are,” I teased.
“What do you think?”
I had not realized until I met the Dharma Raja that I had a favorite question. But now I did. And this was it.
“I think it’s utterly wrong to say that the world is nothing but illusion. They say that Night is just an illusion of a new tomorrow and a story not yet written. And, as you know, I am very real.”
I laced my fingers through his, smiling at the shy grin that slipped onto his face.
“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully. “But if there is anything I have learned at your side, it is how every sight is open to a thousand and one interpretations. So perhaps the world is a bit of illusion after all. We simply choose which mirage to see, and draw meaning and stories from that.”
This was another thing I had not expected about the Dharma Raja. He liked to think through problems. He was stubborn. But more than anything, he wanted to question things.
“Perhaps,” I allowed.
“That reminds me,” he said, withdrawing his fingers from mine. “I made you something.”
He reached into his robes and drew out a small glass orb. Lightsparked and whirred within it. He tossed it into the air and the small crystal orb unfurled, spreading tendrils of light over us until we stood in a room full of stars. He reached out, grasping the stars between thumb and forefinger, like they were nothing more than glass beads waiting to be plucked and refashioned. One by one, he stole the false stars out of their false sky until he fashioned a small headpiece in the shape of a glittering sparrow. He slid it into my hair, and the false sky peeled back to reveal the desert.
“I have given you the moon for your throne, an impossible garden, and now stars to wear in your hair. As I promised,” he said softly. His eyes cut to mine. “And I always keep my promises.”
I had not kissed him since that evening in the Night Bazaar, even though I wanted to. I couldn’t stand the thought that maybe each kiss would tease away something precious, something I wasn’t ready to give. Nritti’s words floated back to me:What does he want from you?I didn’t know. Worse, I was beginning to suspect that whatever it was, I would give it. That small truth left me exposed. Almost resentful.
He stood before me, his hand outstretched, stars nestled in his palm. And we both knew this was not just a gift. What he offered me was soft and glittering, inflexible, and it wasn’t just stars.
It was his heart.
He fixed his fathomless black gaze on me, the same gaze that brought kings to their knees and snipped a season in half. But what I saw was this: I saw that when he walked beside me, some alchemy transformed my voice and thoughts to gold. When we spoke, the world bent beneath our views and adjusted itself accordingly. When we imagined, infinity became something I could grasp. When he touched me, I felt charged with possibility, as if every dream tuckedinside me had been chiseled out by his hand. When he looked at me, it was like drawing breath for the first time.
Unease flickered across his features. Guilt squeezed my chest. If I stayed silent any longer, I would hurt him. And the thought of that chilled me. Perhaps he suspected that my silence meant that I was rejecting him. But that wasn’t the truth at all. When someone offers his heart, you could not give anything less in return. My silence came not from my reluctance to give away my heart, but from the shock of knowing that I already had.
Here is mine,I thought, closing the distance between us.
His unease melted into hope. Then awe. He gathered me to him, and kissed me. And between our bent heads, the starry sparrow fluttered silver wings and took off into the air.
Here is my fear and my wonder, my hopes and my doubts.
Here I am.
7
NIGHT
There were only two weeks left untilTeej.And still, we hadn’t quite found the words to lay meaning to what had happened. To what we wanted. Sometimes, when no one was there, I tried out the words in my head, feeling out their unfamiliar weight and texture:queen of Naraka. Consort. Beloved. Friend.Sometimes, I whispered them aloud and thrilled in the sparks of light that danced up my spine.
That night, he appeared as usual. He touched my hair lightly, as usual. But then, unusually, he looked behind my shoulder to the untamed silver orchard and the dream fruit weighing each bough. The whole grove was lit up with the scent of wind-fallen fruit, the bruised and over-sweet fragrance of wanting gone to waste.
“You no longer sell them.”
“I have decided to stop,” I said. “Permanently.”
I’d made the decision a while ago. The Night Bazaar would haveto find a new way to dream. I’d sent Uloopi all of the last batch. She would have been furious with me for not telling her, but hopefully the remaining fruits would appease her. I sent along a small note:To dream and dream, and dream some more. One day, I hope they pale before your reality.
Her reply:There better be more where this came from.
