Especially when he began to rotate. His body hung in the air with his head stretched up, all the way to the tips of his ears, and he spun slowly. Dagger-length claws uncurled from his paws, and I tried to scramble away, but the air wrapped around me, holding me tight and refusing to let me do anything but stare as Matanta turned above me. I tried to move my arm, my hand, even just my pinky, but I couldn’t. I was bound by an invisible force, and I had to accept my fate, whatever the Spirits decided it should be. After he completed one full rotation, Matanta lowered to the ground.
He pulled in his wings and tucked them on his sides as he lay down with closed eyes. His glow was far duller than normal, but at least he wasn’t floating anymore.
“Matanta,” I whispered. “I don’t know what to?—”
A flurry of wings interrupted me, and I was surrounded by a thick column of adaiman, swirling around me and chattering furiously.
“You’re back!” My heart felt lighter, and they comforted me with their low coos.
One by one, they glided to Matanta. Each of them dropped a feather onto his back, which disappeared into his fur. With every feather, Matanta’s color became more normal, and by the time the last feather was given, he stared at me with wide-open eyes. The adaiman settled on the ground around us, staying silent as they watched.
“It seems I will have to go hungry,” Matanta grumbled.
At the sound of his voice, a pair of adaiman chirped and launched out of the cave. Their green bodies quickly became flecks and then disappeared into the sky. Matanta and I watched them go, and then I turned back to the green lion.
I reached a hand toward him. “Sorry about that.”
He extended a paw so it was closer to my fingertips. “You are not.”
“Neither are you.” I scratched his paw affectionately. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Do not thank me. It was your question that was worthy,” he said. His nose twitched, making his whiskers shake. “You have changed, little one.”
“Life gave me no choice in the matter.” I tried not to sound bitter.
“You have had plenty of choices,” Matanta said. “And you chose well, except when you ignored my warning after you got married.”
“Your warning?” I withdrew my hand and sat back on my feet. “What do you mean? The Spirits wanted me to get married! They’re the ones that gave me the turmeric.”
The adaiman cheeped indignantly, cocking their heads toward the entrance and pointing with their beaks as they complained. Matanta said nothing, but he looked out of the cave, so I did the same. Soon, two birds appeared in the sky, each of them carrying something. In the dim green light, it was impossible for me to see what they brought until they laid it in front of me.
A turmeric root and an arrow.
“You have your answer,” Matanta rumbled.
I picked up the objects and stared. The turmeric was knobby and rough in my left hand, and the arrow’s smooth shaft glided in my right, but both felt warm to the touch.
Matanta waited patiently as I stared from the root to the weapon, but the adaiman were not so forbearing. They gathered around my hands, chirping eagerly as they looked up at me. I ignored them, keeping one hand on each knee until they started pecking my knuckles.
“Ow!” I pulled my hands together so they were side by side.
The adaiman puffed their feathers and cooed with satisfaction.
“A far better union,” Matanta rumbled.
My breath caught. The turmeric wasn’t supposed to remind me of how I met the raja?—it hadn’t been a sign for me to marry him. The turmeric was a tool to help fight the Porcugi. When Nallini had healed Parushi, the poison from the Porcugi had congealed into clumps after she applied her paste. Perhaps it would do the same thing if it was delivered inside the monsters. After destroying their scales with flame, we could poison the Porcugi with turmeric.
“If we put it on the arrow,” I finished aloud. I wasn’t sure when I’d started to speak.
Matanta looked at me. “You are the sun, little one. When you shine, others should burn.”
An adaiman flew in from the cave’s opening and chirped frantically in Matanta’s ear. He cocked his head toward it and listened without interruption, but his brows lifted as the little bird spoke. He nodded at the adaiman when it finished. “You must go. The Spirits have given you many gifts today. Make sure you use them well.”
“Thank you, Matanta,” I said as we walked to the mouth of the cave. “I will be back to visit soon. Perhaps with my daughter.”
“Best hope I’m not hungry,” he growled.
“I’ll try to remember that.” Moonlight flooded my face as I stepped outside and Matanta stayed behind. Before leaving, I bowed to Matanta, bending so deeply that the tips of my curls brushed the grassy mountainside.
