Tara bowed her head in greeting. “Blessings on the rajkumaris. I must speak to you before we go to the raja.”
She gestured to a corner where my uncle sat in a bed. He was surrounded by three healers, Thevan’s father, and Ektha’s husband, Nikith. My uncle’s left leg was heavily bandaged, and he kept trying to get out of bed, despite the healers’ protests. Nikith was trying to reason with him to no avail?—my uncle just waved him away. Thevan’s father, Jagath, stood with his left arm in a sling and his right arm extended to try to prevent the raja from standing, but apparently my uncle wouldn’t even listen to his trusted general.
“What happened?” I asked Tara. “How severe are his injuries?”
“He has a wound on his leg; I can’t speak to how it happened,” Tara replied. “We’ve bandaged it, and it should healifhe rests. The more he moves now, the worse his limp will be. Our raja may be the Tiger of Ullal, but right now he’s acting much more like a goat.”
Ektha seemed uncomfortable, but I appreciated Tara’s frankness. Though she was not always the gentlest with her words, her skills and knowledge were unmatched.
“If he won’t sit still, we should give him something to make him rest,” I said. “Order a plate of biryani and some golden milk. Add whatever you must to the milk so that he has no choice but to sleep. I will give it to him.”
“Abbakka!” Ektha protested.
“Do you know another way to make him still?” I asked.
Ektha’s silence answered my question as we made our way to Uncle Trimulya, who tried to stand up again when he saw us approach. Even though he never missed an opportunity to remind us that soon my sister would need to take the crown so he could rest his tired bones, my late mother’s brother was undeniably spry. And sharp. He practiced his swordsmanship daily, and his reflexes were as quick as his steps were light. The grays around his temples created an appearance of sage gravity, even if mischief usually sparkled in his black eyes.
Not today, though. Today he was shrouded in a solemnity that weighed down every part of his face.
Ektha and I went to touch our uncle’s feet, which were propped up on the bed, but he brushed us off.
“Now is not the time for formalities. We have much to do.” Uncle Trimulya pushed away the hands that tried to keep him sitting down. “Give me some room. If you want me to stop struggling, get out of my way. I am the raja, and I order you to move.”
He tried to swing his legs off the side of the bed, but I blocked him. My uncle glared at me and raised a finger, but Ektha spoke up before he could admonish me.
“Perhaps you can update us first,” Ektha said. “Then you can go do whatever else you need to do. You will feel better with more rest anyway.”
“I’ve been sitting for far too long,” Uncle Trimulya grumbled. “The Spirits have already taken seven of our soldiers, with another twenty injured. I need to act as the raja, not some bedridden old man.”
“You are the only person that has ever called yourself old.” I crossed my arms and refused to give him room to climb off the bed. “But you are injured, and you need rest. For now. Just stay still so you can heal, and then you’ll be able to take care of the people who need you instead of collapsing on top of them.”
My uncle looked at me in surprise. We were so similar that he could usually expect my support for even his brashest plans.
“Please,” I said, my expression softening. “Tell us what happened.”
“The Porcugi have returned,” my uncle snapped. He leaned back and rubbed his forehead. “The monsters we hoped would stay in our past have returned in our present, and they have painted their path in our blood.”
Ektha gasped. Even the healers took a step back from the bed, and a nearby monk began to chant his prayers. The thought of the massive snakelike sea monsters attacking again was enough to make even a hardened warrior like Thevan go pale. Their arrival, and disappearance, generations ago had turned them into more legend than history, but the injured soldiers around us made their reappearance very real?—and more terrifying than any of us wanted to admit.
My sister and I looked at her husband for more information. The smile lines that usually decorated his jolly face were erased. He took Ektha’s hand and squeezed it, sighing heavily before he spoke.
“We had a very successful trip to Banghervari and were riding home when Samanth noticed some star fruit in the forest and went to pick it,” Nikith said. His eyes were weary, and his gray hairs seemed even more stark in the light of the infirmary, underscoring the twelve years that separated him and Ektha. “Out of nowhere, we heard some crashing and then his scream.”
Thevan looked at his father, but Jagath would not meet his eye, so he scanned the other beds in the infirmary in search of his brother.
I gripped my fraying red-and-gold bracelet, pressing the bumpy medallion at its center tight against my wrist as my stomach dropped. “Samanth is a warrior through and through. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere without a fight.”
“Parushi was the closest,” Nikith said. “She dismounted and gave chase through the forest before we could even give the order, but even with Samanth grabbing at everything he could, whatever was dragging him away was too fast. She couldn’t catch him.”
I stared at Nikith. My training partner was the fastest runner in the guard. In all our years practicing together, I had never beaten Parushi in a sprint.
“There was a clear track, though,” Nikith continued. “We followed the path toward the coast, but two more guards were taken as we did. We gave chase all the way to the beach, and that’s when we saw them.”
He paused, as if even he couldn’t believe the words he was about to say. “The Porcugi.”
I shuddered. As a child, I was told the stories of sea demons with the heads and torsos of humans and the scales and tails of snakes. They had attacked our shores long ago, laying waste to our ports and ships until they’d been chased away. No matter how many elders told me the tales, though, the Porcugi always felt one step away from reality?—like a monster that came after little children that didn’t eat enough vegetables.
Thevan’s gaze kept sliding toward the corner where seven bodies lay covered in white sheets. He met my eyes for a moment, and fear flashed across his face before he pursed his lips tight and stubbornly scanned the infirmary again. I searched my uncle’s face, silently begging him for some hope?—some comfort?—but he kept his focus on Jagath. My fingers went cold as I saw the gentle curve in the back of my uncle’s favored general, the way his shoulders hunched down in the frown he refused to allow his mouth to mirror.
