“Aru never told me your name.” I stroked his silken white mane, so soft compared to Maraan’s. “What do you think of Sima? After the white fluff that they say covers the peaks in the north?”
He pranced proudly, and we started on our way. Soon we were heading down a narrow road out of town and weaving into the woods where trees reached for the sky on either side of us. The path smelled of wet earth, and our horses flicked up mud with their every step, covering us in splatters. We didn’t see any other travelers; most people had the sense to rest instead of continuing forward in the company of the chirping cicadas and the trilling caracals.
Darkness fell, covering us in an ebony blanket, and the towering trees became shadows that dissolved into the night. The coconut leaf torches worked quite well, lighting the space around us with a golden glow. Ahead of me, Parushi and Tara were huddled together in conversation. Parushi held a light aloft while Tara’s nimble fingers whipped together torches. Nallini rode behind me and worked on torches as well, and Thevan carried one as he rode in the back. The flickering light gave his face a warm glow, softening the hard lines of his features and making him look more like he had when we were younger. He’d always had mischief in his eyes then, and they used to light up whenever he laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard the sound.
I urged Sima to Thevan’s side and watched the light flicker across his face for a moment before clearing my throat. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you at the beach.”
He grunted and kept looking forward, refusing to meet my eyes. Even though we were in the middle of a forest of towering trees, all I could think of was the beach where we last stood together in Ullal. Where he’d asked me, not in so many words, to reconsider my marriage, and I had refused.
But he’d come to save me anyway.
I swallowed, trying to find the words to thank him, but only managed to get out, “You’re here.”
Thevan twisted toward me. Keeping his eyes on mine, he handed me his torch, which I took without question. Then he reached down to the hilt of one of his daggers and gently unwound something from it. He held it out, and it took me a moment to realize I should look at his hand instead of continuing to stare at his face. In his calloused palm, he held Samanth’s bracelet. Its threads were battered and torn, but it still held together.
“You called,” he said, the corners of his lips mimicking the small shrug of his shoulders.
I took the bracelet from him with trembling fingers. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Hopefully, he would think any color on my cheeks was because of the heat of the torch.
“Always.” He put his fist to his chest. Over his heart.
My cheeks burned even hotter as I stared into his eyes, which were wide open once again?—just as they had been on the beach so long ago. Thevan had truly meant what he said. If I ever needed him, he would come, no matter the risk?—or the hurt?—to himself. Thevan didn’t have Aru’s way with words, but his actions spoke volumes more. My breath caught in my chest, and I didn’t know what to say.
He mistook my silence. “Nallini could use more light,” he grunted.
Thevan fell back and scrutinized every shadow for its hidden motives. His walls had gone back up again, and his stonelike expression made it clear he was in no mood for more conversation. I knew my thoughts would only go in circles if I sat in silence, so I pulled closer to Nallini, who was still winding and binding coconut leaf torches.
“Why did you decide to come?” I asked by way of greeting. I held my torch out to my side, far enough away that the dry leaves Nallini twisted were not at risk but close enough for her to better see what she was doing.
“You have no fear of direct questions.” Her fingers never stopped working as she formed the torch in the blazing light of the fire I held aloft. “But at least you’re fair in what you ask. I came because I couldn’t continue to stand in the shadow of a man like Vishwajeet. I know him too well to think he can change.”
She paused. “What made you decide to leave?”
“The same.” I bobbed my head in agreement. “I can’t claim to know him well, but I knew him well enough to understand that much is true.”
“I have known him ever since I was a child, but I still wouldn’t say I know him well.” Her fingers still knotted and twisted the dry leaves as she met my eyes and spoke. “Did you know that my parents worked with Vishwajeet’s family?”
My blank expression answered her question.
“It’s true,” Nallini said. “Vishwajeet’s father was the right hand of the late raja, and my parents were amongst his closest counsel, along with Vishwajeet and his brother.”
“Vishwajeet has a brother?” I asked.
“Had.” Nallini put a final knot on the torch and tucked it away before gathering leaves for another. “The late raja favored Vishwajeet’s older brother and was training him to be the right hand of his son. Do you know much about Raja Lakshmappa’s father?”
“Just that he expanded Banghervari into the powerful nation it has become. We built up our army as he expanded his conquests.”And that he was murdered.
Nallini nodded. “The raja’s father had always wanted to expand the kingdom, and over time, he became obsessed. Banghervari couldn’t afford the costs anymore?—the people were suffering?—but he wouldn’t stop. When our battle-weary soldiers returned from the east, he was already planning an attack on the north. His advisers all agreed that he had to be stopped. He had a much more peaceful brother and...”
“Regicide,” I whispered. I moved my torch farther away?—I’d accidentally moved it too close to Nallini’s dry leaves as I leaned in, desperate to hear the other side of the history Aru had given me.
Nallini’s hands stilled. “Vishwajeet pretended to agree, but he had his own plans. The day of the attempted coup, my parents sent me outside, to the palace grounds. An adaiman led me to the temple. Vishwajeet saw me and followed with the young rajkumar Lakshmappa in tow. We huddled in the darkness, and I could hear Vishwajeet’s whispers. He convinced the rajkumar that he and the Spirits had saved him, and that Vishwajeet had nothing to do with the regicide. The rajkumar believed him. I can’t blame him; he was young, and he’d lost everyone he’d loved. He was convinced that Vishwajeet was the only one he could trust. After becoming raja, he made sure that everyone who Vishwajeet said had been part of the attempted regicide paid the price.”
“And Vishwajeet became the right hand of the new raja,” I said, putting it all together. Vishwajeet had betrayed his own family?—and Nallini’s. He’d sentenced them to death so he could secure his place as the only one the new raja would trust. A trust that lasted to this very day. And Aru had no idea.
“But why did he let you?—”
