Aiden’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “How would you know that?”
Menaka’s face turned cold and expressionless. “Answer me. Do not tell me you have come here on some whim—”
“Notwhim,” said Brynne, stepping up and putting her hand on Aiden’s shoulder.“War.”
Still Menaka kept her eyes averted. “There is always a war.”
“Not like this one,” said Aiden.
“This time, the fate of the gods hangs in the balance,” said Brynne. “If the Sleeper gets the nectar of immortality, he will take all its power for himself.” She slapped her palm with Gogo, emphasizing every word. “He’ll destroy the world. We’re fighting on the side of the gods. Youhaveto help us.”
Aiden winced, and Aru immediately realized that was a bad choice of words.
“Have to?”repeated Menaka in a poisonous voice. Her hair slowly billowed around her shoulders as she gradually rose off her throne, still in a seated position. “I do nothaveto do anything. We apsaras no longer do the gods’ bidding. We fought for our own choices, and no one can take them from us.”
Brynne scowled. “But we—”
“I am not addressing you, mortal child,” said Menaka, turning her chin. “You are no one to me.”
Brynne looked infuriated.“I am a—”
Don’t!warned Aru.We’re supposed be undercover!
But it didn’t matter.
“Trust me, I already know, and I do not care,” said Menaka, waving her hand. “A reincarnated Pandava, yes? Those flimsy camouflage petals won’t work on me. Judging by the look of you, it appears Bhima’s temper was inseparable from his soul. Congratulations.”
Brynne glared directly at Aru, wanting her to share in the outrage, but Aru’s thoughts were being pulled in another direction. Menaka’s name had stirred something in her memories. Aru kept thinking about those golden doors and their engravings of apsaras performing for the gods and occasionally descending to earth to “distract” mortal sages.
Brynne looked as if she was going to say something else when Aiden put out his hand and stepped in front of her.
You know this is not our fight, said Aru.
Brynne responded with a mental growl.
“Just give us the blessing and we’ll go,” said Aiden. “We’ll never have to see each other again.”
Menaka didn’t look at him when she spoke. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the wall tapestry, which had once more moved farther away. “I could do that with ease, but it is not going to happen.”
“Why not?” demanded Aiden. “It’s theleastyou can do. You haven’t given me or my mom anything else.”
“Your mother did not tell you how it works, did she?”
“How what works?” asked Aiden.
Menaka laughed. “In order for an apsara to grant you a blessing, you must approach with at least a drop of love and understanding in your heart. You must harbor no ill will, or the blessing will go awry. Look at you. You cannot manage that.”
“Look atme?You haven’t looked at meonce,” said Aiden heatedly. “Is it because I’m only half apsara? Is that it?”
Slowly, Menaka turned her eyes in his direction. Aru saw that they shone with tears. “Is that what you have thought this whole time?”
“What other reason could there be?” demanded Aiden. “You wouldn’t see my mom even when she needed you.”
“It was not possible,” said Menaka, growing agitated. “Malini understood what she was doing when she left our realm to marry the mortal and give up her celestial essence. It was her choice.”
“Choice?” said Aiden. For the first time, his skin started to glow. “That wasn’t a choice! That was anultimatum!”
His feet rose off the ground and his glow turned brighter, sharper. Aru winced and turned her head to avoid looking at Aiden directly. In front of them, Menaka levitated even higher off her throne. Her apsara glow bathed the room in light. The tapestry on the wall rippled and changed. In the new image, Aru saw an apsara who looked like Menaka fleeing from a sage who had flung out his hand. Menaka was carrying a baby in her arms.
