Aasha grinned. She did feel more sure of herself. All this time she had wanted to be human, but she had been wanting the wrongthing. What she had truly wanted was to be herself. To cherish her human curiosity, hervishakanyaknowledge, and all the bits in between that she owed to no one. The way she saw the world. She had learned that in Zahril’s tower. Or rather, unlearned her own fear.
“I suppose you’re right,” allowed Aasha.
But she would say no more about it.
When she had found a spare moment, she even tested herself. She stood in the middle of the courtyard, spinning wildly with her eyes closed until she tripped. She had expected and not expected it. Her heartbeat raced wildly; she stumbled. But even in her panic… even in her surprise… she did not lose control of herself. Because she knew herself.
“So,” said Gauri. “Tell me everything. We weren’t even surprised when Zahril announced that you were her choice.”
Aasha smiled, but as she searched Gauri’s face, she saw that her friend was not telling her the truth. Relief shone in her gaze. They may not have doubted that Aasha could do this, but it had been a victory for all of them.
“What is she like?” asked Gauri. “By tomorrow, everyone attending tonight’s festivities, except you, of course, will have to take the potion that removes her face and voice from all of our memories.”
Aasha raised her eyebrow. No wonder Zahril had not hidden her face from her the first time they met. She could have always taken it away in the end.
“What is she like?” asked Gauri. “What did you have to do?”
Gauri may have been renowned for her fierceness… but there was one weakness that always made her eyes round as a child’s. Stories. Vikram had once lured her away from the training camp withthe promise of a book of fairy tales that not a single advisor of Bharata had ever seen. She was furious when she found out it was a ruse, and less furious when she discovered that it was only so that Vikram could set up a surprise for her in the training arena.
Aasha let out a deep exhale. “Well…”
***
At the end of the story, Gauri might have looked like she was eight years old. Her legs were pulled to her chest, chin resting on her knees. A ridiculous grin spreading across her face.
“You’re in love?” she nearly squeaked.
“Notlove,” said Aasha.
“I believe you were the one who first told me, ‘I don’t have to read desires to know what you’re thinking’ and I have news for you—”
“I like her,” grumbled Aasha, as she toweled off her hair. And then more shyly: “You’re not upset?”
Gauri just lifted an eyebrow. “What’s there to be upset about?”
Aasha smiled. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
But then Gauri frowned. She drew her lip between her teeth, hesitating. “Does she… know?”
At this, Aasha turned.
“No.”
They were silent. Gauri knew Zahril’s story… how avishakanyahad stolen away Sazma.
“Are you going to tell her?” asked Gauri. “Now that you have the position, you should.”
Now it was Aasha who hesitated.
“I couldn’t at first because of the order… but now… now I wish I still had a reason.”
“You’re scared she’ll hate you,” said Gauri. “Scared she’ll only be able to look at you and see the reason she lost Sazma?”
Aasha could only nod.
Gauri sighed. “It takes time for people to unlearn hate. I know that better than most.” At this, she smiled, and Aasha knew that she was thinking of Vikram. “If she’s not willing to give you a chance, then she’s not worthy of your affection in the first place. Maybe she’ll be angry. Maybe not. But everyone needs time.”
Aasha sucked in a breath, hoping it might fortify her. The thing was, Zahril had had plenty of time. She’d been nursing this hate since the day Sazma had died a century ago. Maybe time couldn’t erase all hate or soften any memory. Maybe sometimes time was fertile ground for certain hates, and in all that time, it had sprouted a tangle of thorns and knives so deep and sharp that Aasha would only cut herself if she tried to push past them.
