“I can see myself out.” I’ve never felt luckier. Happy relief flies from my worry-bound shoulders. Naupure frowns and I know what’s coming. A nervous chill slides down my spine and suddenly I’m cold and sweaty at the same time.
“I was hoping you and Jatin could meet again today.”
“Um, I should be going.” I fiddle with my belt, checking that Hubris is attached securely. Riya prepared me for this and yet I’m an ice sculpture pooling onto the floor.
“You don’t come here that often, so I was thinking it would be convenient for both of you. If the wind is against you it’s more than an hour of hard flying.”
Jatin hasn’t told his father about our first meeting, of course. Why would he when he had no idea who I was at the time? I meant to use that to my advantage, but what was I really going to do with it? I know this, though: I don’t want it taken away, with me left awkward and foolish for not announcing who I was at once.
“Maybe your parents would prefer a more formal introduction.” Naupure gazes at the map of Wickery. I know for a fact that his wife’s portrait used to hang there. Every time he stares at it, I have the feeling he looks past the squiggly lines of Wickery’s borders and at her face. He once said I reminded him of her, of Savi.
Maybe this whole thing is uncomfortable for him as well. When I was a child it must have been more entertaining and interesting to meet and assess me. Now the process is a whole lot of work for all of us. But I guess marriage always is.
“Perhaps,” I say at last. My parents only want me to make a good impression. Want there to be some chance, before I ruin it. But what do I want? I want there to be a way for Jatin to meet the real me first before seeing me dolled up like the Festival of Color. Maybe underneath everything, that is why I didn’t reveal myself in the East Village.
Maharaja Naupure checks his timepiece again.
I motion to the door. “You should get to Raja Warwick.”
“Another time, then.”
“Of course. I’m here every month. And in two weeks I’m bringing firelight.” I gulp. Two weeks, then, that’s how long I have to think about everything. I bow and salute.
Hughes stands at attention as I open the door. I give him a guilty smile and he makes no visible motion, but I see disapproval written on his face. A fair trade I’d say.
“Goodbye, Adraa. Be safe.” Maharaja Naupure clutches my shoulder and then turns for the throne room.
I don’t breathe easy until I pass Jatin’s door. I can’t help but feel it’s going to burst open like he and his father have laid a trap for me. But nothing happens; it remains sealed and ghostly quiet just like it has been for nine years. I take the stairs breezily, even with a little hop in my step. I have more time. I was going to figure out what was happening to my firelight and then I was going to take down the Vencrin. There is hope, a plan, and a path that will lead Belwar to success. And if Moolek is behind the firelight shortage, then my first political move lies before me.
I round the second staircase. A man is making his way up. My eyes meet his and we both stop on the same footfall. No!
Once, when I was little, a fly landed on one of my burning training candlesticks and got stuck in the hot wax. I blew out the candle to see if that would help him, but it was too late. He buzzed in panic and yet his death was so quiet. It would have been unnoticeable if I hadn’t witnessed the whole thing. I never quite understood the sheer terror he must have gone through. But now I understand, because the eternal gooey silence that the two of us have stepped in creates a deathlike panic within me, one no one will ever notice and I can’t escape.
After an hour of training on the practice fields, I can’t take looking casual and acting surprised if my future wife might suddenly emerge with my father. I motion to Kalyan, who is working on his purple magic. A grayish wall surrounds him as he stands quietly casting a spell on repeat so the surrounding bubble builds on itself.I’m going in,I mouth through his shield.
A few layers of the bubble burst and he glances up, surprised. “Want me to come?”
“No, this is good work. Keep at it to see if you can run and sustain it.”
He nods and I track across the dirt. I thought Father and Adraa would come out thirty minutes ago and it wouldn’t be that awkward. Now? I’m sweating. A lot. I don’t think it can be explained away by training anymore. Actually, it probably looks like I have a condition. I wipe my brow.
What’s the worst that can happen?I ask myself for the thousandth time.She hates you, you hate her, and you marry someone else.The peasant girl flits into my mind. Yes, someone exactly like that, who saves people’s lives without hesitation. I choke the thought down as I step through a side door and into the palace. What’s wrong with me?
I thump up the main staircase. About five stairs from the landing a flutter of pink twists around the corner and I freeze. It’s her, the peasant girl from the market. How in Wickery…
She’s in a lehenga, one with an orange skirt that brushes the floor and a pink sash that wraps around her waist and over one shoulder. No dirt in sight. In fact, I’m the bedraggled one. My mouth goes dumb.
She finally breathes and removes her hand from her chest. Then she laughs with what looks like relief. “Blood, I thought you were someone else.”
How…What? I stumble into question, but then realize I haven’t yet vocalized the words. Probably because so many questions are running through my head. Who is she? Why is she here, alone? How did she get word to Adraa so fast? She can’t be a peasant. There is no way in Wickery she is an average commoner, not wearing that outfit.
“I was just leaving.” She indicates the stairs I’m blocking. The ones I will keep blocking forever if that’s what it takes to be able to properly talk to her.Say something before she disappears,I urge myself.
“I’ll walk you out,” I’m finally able to articulate. It’s a small but important accomplishment.
The girl has another excuse at the ready. “I’ve got it. I have someone waiting for—”
“I’ll be happy to. Please,” I add when she doesn’t look too thrilled at the prospect. I breathe, trying to remove the awkwardness of our last encounter. I can still feel her in my arms, the heat of her body. Blood, I may be blushing.
