The bird hopped up on her knee and whistled a low, gentle call she had never heard before. A feather from its tail fell off, and the bird picked it up in its beak and pushed it into her messy bun. The other adaiman picked up the haunting call, letting it echo into the night. The tail feather pulsed its glowing light in her jet-black hair as they all sat together, mourning the loss of the things that were. And all the things that could not be.
The little girl with big brown eyes did not realize how much time had passed until the sun began to creep over the horizon. A hint of its light made its way down through the trees, dimming the glow of the adaiman. Continuing their call, the adaiman launched themselves into the air, weaving their way beyond the branches and into the morning sky.
Abbakka reached for them, but they were gone before she could ask them to stay.
And she was alone. Again.
Forever.
With a sigh, she rose and made a halfhearted attempt to brush the debris from the forest floor off her salwar kameez. She stared up at Matanta’s mountain one more time before turning back toward the fort, her shoulders slumped but her steps resolute.
High above her, atop an overhanging rock, a pair of large golden eyes watched the little girl turn and return home. A deep, rumbling sigh of relief filled the air.
Chapter 14
Someone had pulled me out from under the hedge. They told me later I was screaming, but I wasn’t sure. I just found myself on the ground, staring at my red-stained hands, as they hastily covered Ektha with Parushi’s sash and carried her away. As they walked, one of her arms slipped out from under the cloth, and her bangles jangled together as her hand fell. A red rivulet tracked down from her arm to her wrist and then to her fingertip, where it dripped with each step. One of her thick gold bangles slipped to the ground. I ran and picked it up, instantly putting it on and gripping it with all my strength as they carried her to the fort.
The fort. I needed to tell my uncle. Somehow. My feet carried me to his door and left me standing in the corridor, still squeezing Ektha’s bangle as I begged the Spirits for the strength I would need in this moment. I looked down at my hands. Someone had washed them?—I didn’t know who, and I didn’t know when?—but they still felt stained.
Like anyone who saw me would know.
The doors loomed in front of me as I struggled to find the right words. Did they even exist? But maybe I wouldn’t have to say anything. Maybe my uncle would see my eyes, and I wouldn’t even have to speak. Maybe, with one glance, he would know that I’d failed. He’d know that I’d failed Ektha and him and all of Ullal. Maybe then I could lock myself away in the seclusion of my room so I could change into the white of mourning and scream at the Spirits as I wondered how I would have the courage to face the dawn.
But I couldn’t run away and hide. My uncle would need me.
He had lost...
I had lost...
There were no words. Ektha was more than words. She was everything, and now she was gone.
But my uncle needed to know. So, I stood up straight, steeled myself against my tears, and nodded at the guards standing by the doors. I measured my breaths by my steps as I walked into the room.
Uncle Trimulya, Thevan, and Nikith huddled over a table cluttered with maps, letters, and untouched cups of majjige. Tara was in the corner, watching my uncle like a hawk but apparently satisfied with his health. Thevan looked dazed, hardly present except in physical form. I wondered what he’d seen on the beach today. Thevan was a seasoned warrior and no stranger to battle, so something truly awful must have happened for such heavy shadows to lurk beneath his eyes. I began to reach toward him but froze as Nikith came to Thevan’s side with a scroll held out in front of him.
Nikith. Had he heard? Did he know about the death of his beloved? Even though the union between Nikith and Ektha had been made with Ullal in mind, love had blossomed in their arranged marriage. My brother-in-law looked up from the scroll and smiled hopefully when he noticed me in the doorway.
My throat burned as a sour taste filled my mouth.
He didn’t know.
“Ah, Abbakka!” my uncle said. “We were just talking...”
His voice faded as he saw my face. Nikith’s fingers clenched, crinkling the scroll and warping its inked lines.
“Ektha is dead.” I sounded like a tambura left to sit in the rain, flat and strained.
“I see.” My uncle dropped the paper he was holding. It floated down to the table, dragging its way through the air, as he asked, “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head.
“But you...” Nikith blinked rapidly, as if he expected a new reality each time he opened his eyes. “You were supposed to bring her here.”
“I tried.” The words scratched my throat, but I forced them out. “I was too late.”
My uncle exhaled shakily, and then his mouth became a thin line. His next words were firm. “Raja Lakshmappa will be arriving soon with his cohort and soldiers. You need to get ready to meet him.”
I stared at him. I had just announced the loss of my sister, and he still expected me to move on? Just like that? My only true friend?—Ullal’s greatest hope?—was gone. Because I’d failed her.
