The Archer at Dawn

by Swati Teerdhala

  An adviser bustled over to the king and Harun, pulling them away, and Esha bowed in return, taking her leave.

  She wandered around the party for a few minutes, searching for Kunal with little luck. The night’s events were all jumbling together in a massive storm in her head. The only thing she could do was move forward. That’s what she always did when everything went wrong.

  They needed to break out the real Reha by the end of the Victor’s Ball. But the more time she spent wandering around the gardens the more she wondered—what would truly happen then? Would the country rally around their long-lost princess? Would they find that the reality stood up to the stories that had been told for the past decade?

  Or would Vardaan win? Or Dharmdev?

  Esha found a semi-hidden seat, covered by cascading tendrils of jasmine.

  King Mahir had known this whole time that they were searching for his daughter, and he had trusted them, trusted her.

  The guilt that lived hidden under her ribs, that she had chosen to save Reha on the Night of Tears instead of fleeing with her parents, it hurt less in the face of that realization. But still it didn’t let go of her. That she might’ve been able to save them.

  Her father, who never failed to have a bright smile for her. Her mother, who held her when the storms had been too dark and scary.

  Esha gritted her teeth and stood up, startling the maid standing a few paces away. She hated the idea of letting Vardaan, or any of them, win. They had lived years without judge or jury, escaping the hand of justice as they paraded around the country.

  Forgiveness. That’s what Kunal would council. It’s what he had chosen. And it should be an easy decision—the last thing she wanted to do was to jeopardize the mission again after the peace summit.

  But Esha had been remade, forged anew when her parents had died, when her bones had been broken and her heart shattered in the dungeons not far from the palace. And the Viper had been born.

  Esha walked up the stairs, past the brightly colored and adorned courtiers, her heart turning heavier and heavier with every step. She wondered if they could see that darkness in her, the way she felt it spreading beneath her breastbone since she had heard about the Falcon Squad.

  She had believed there was only one way to stop that darkness and to honor her parents.

  But she had seen the Pretender King in the flesh, his humanity and foibles. She had met a soldier, one she had begun to care for despite his armor.

  And she wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Chapter 23

  Esha jostled her way through the cheering crowd of the fighting ring. She was deep in the thieves’ den, prowling for information on what the Scales might be up to. The rest of the squad wasn’t as concerned, but Esha had a feeling since she had met with Zhyani that there was a bigger picture she might be missing.

  And once the king had mentioned that the bond could be theoretically broken, she realized she needed to gather more information, at least until the encoded letter from the scholars in Mathur could be deciphered. She’d just received the hawk, but Esha was by no means the best code cracker in the Blades. She’d enlisted the Red Squad, but due to the sensitive nature of its contents, she’d split the message up.

  The code breaking would take time. The one thing they didn’t have.

  So far she hadn’t picked up much from this crowd. There was another hall that was connected, the birthplace of many an alliance, or plot, among the Jansan nobles. Esha decided to give it a try when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She grabbed the wrist, about to yank the man over her shoulder, when she caught the edge of a wry smile.

  “How’d you know?” she asked, sighing, dropping his wrist.

  Harun gave her that look of his that both annoyed her and made her tingle. “You think I wouldn’t be able to recognize you in disguise?”

  Esha chuckled. “Of course you would.”

  They were near the edges of the crowd that encircled the metal cage in the center of the hall. Tufted seats were strewn about the outer ring, and a number of beautiful maids in rainbow-hued saris danced around the outer ring, refilling wineglasses like attentive bees.

  A few of them glanced toward Harun as they approached, blushing and throwing him shy smiles. If she wasn’t mistaken, a few of them looked as if they knew him.

  “So is this where you spend your free time now?” Esha asked, her lips pursing.

  “Jealous?” Harun asked, lifting an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling. Esha flushed, not just because she was indeed feeling the pricklings of jealousy. He had looked at those maids with more happiness in his face than he had shown her in a week. “And no, not here. In the adjacent hall. I suppose the maids split their work between the two.”

  “Ah, I was about to go there.”

  “Information?”

  She nodded. This was the longest one-on-one conversation they’d had in days.

  The crowd began to widen, pushing into the outer-tiered seating, angry about one of the recent fights. Harun caught Esha around the waist, preventing her from being toppled over by a particularly angry fisherman.

  She didn’t push him away immediately, instead inhaling the familiar scent of almond, indulging in the feel of his calloused fingertips against her skin. She remembered the first time they had spent the night together, how surprised she had been to feel the calluses, how he had told her about his years practicing swordsmanship and learning to play the veena.

  “You shouldn’t be here alone,” she said softly. “It’s not safe for you.”

  “I’m not alone. I brought Bhandu.”

  “Bhandu?” Why him and not her?

  His expression said it all. She cursed herself for bringing it up, having enjoyed the brief moment of normalcy between them.

  “Yes, him. And he’s going to be mad at me. I slipped him a while ago and stuck him with a noble. If my luck holds, he’ll have managed not to kill the man by the time I get back.”

  “So why are you here?”

  He sighed, letting go of her waist to sit down. She took the seat next to him, tugging her uttariya farther over her head. Harun didn’t look like a prince tonight, his arms bare and his clothing simple. Only the huge jeweled ring on his finger indicated his wealth—the right move in a place like this. It showed status and privilege to not have to wear your fortune on your neck.

  “I’ve been talking with the nobles,” he said. “Seeing how happy they are. Seeing how unhappy they are. If Father wants to move quickly, we can’t do it alone. I’ve had to speed up a number of conversations that were in play.”

  She nodded.

  “And you? This is an odd place for a Dharkan lady to show up,” he said, a slight warning in his tone.

  “Oh, really? You don’t think I secretly frequent fighting rings in my free time?”

  Harun laughed. “You’re wincing every time you turn your torso, which means your wound is acting up. You’re wearing your favorite wrist guards, and no one else knew you were coming. You were either following a lead or blowing off steam.”

  “Fine. I came here to get information on the Scales. I don’t trust them.” She hesitated, unsure if she should reveal more. She didn’t want to keep any more secrets from him.

  “Did you find anything?”

  “No, not about the Scales,” she said, inhaling sharply, preparing herself. She’d realized after the musical competition that with all the secrets and schemes being thrown about, they couldn’t afford another. For a decade they had never lied to each other. And she had been the one to break that. She owed the truth to Harun now. “But I did want to tell you something. I’m the reason Vardaan wanted to stall the signing of the treaty, why he increased security.”

  “Esha . . .”

  “I found the Falcon Squad, Harun. The squad that led the coup during the Night of Tears and killed my parents. I had found them, and I was going to find my parents’ murderer.”

  “Did you?”

  “No,” she said. “Not yet. I was being follo
wed. And the soldier Vardaan mentioned? I didn’t kill him. But I had gotten some information off him.”

  Esha realized Kunal had been right. It was reckless of her to go after the killer when security had become stronger and Vardaan was already on edge.

  “I tried again, and Senaps were called to the spot.”

  “I take it you still don’t know the killer’s identity.”

  “No. And I think someone doesn’t want me to know.”

  Harun didn’t say anything, simply staring at her with unreadable eyes. To her surprise, when a waitress passed them, he reached over and grabbed two glasses of wine off the closest tray. He handed her one of the glasses.

  “I think you need this,” he said.

  She nodded and downed the glass in one gulp. Harun chuckled.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “I could’ve helped.”

  “I didn’t want to burden you,” she said, going for the truth. “But now I have. My choice ruined everything.”

  “Esha, I don’t think it was just you. The peace treaty was always going to be a tool for Vardaan to exert his power. But I’m glad you were honest with me,” he said, playing with the edge of his glass. “At least now I can help.”

  “Really?”

  He laughed, a low, hearty sound. “I’m not going to officially advise you to kill Senaps on Jansan soil while we’re still here, if that’s what you’re asking. But I can be your prince better if I know what you’re doing. I could make sure that the guards are occupied or that you have extra backup. I get it, Esha. You’ve wanted to deliver justice to the man who killed your parents since I met you. If I could, I’d help you string up the cursed soldier myself.”

  Harun’s skin brushed against hers, and she felt a little thrill. He pulled closer, his body speaking a language she knew so well. He tilted her face up, a familiar gesture she had missed.

  “That means a lot to me,” she said softly.

  “Of course. I will always support you, Esha. Now, let’s get back to the Scales—”

  She sighed, agreement on the tip of her tongue. But the truth came out, the thing that was weighing the most on her heart.

  “Not yet. We can’t brush away our previous fight. Pretend it’s okay. I messed up.”

  “You did.”

  “And I’m sorry.”

  “I know.”

  “And I’m not letting you leave until you forgive me.”

  He sighed and traced his knuckle against her skin. “I forgave you already, Esha. If I’m honest with myself, that is. I wasn’t angry, I was . . .”

  “Hurt,” she said.

  He tilted his head. “Sad.”

  That was almost as bad.

  “But do you understand why I did it?”

  His nostrils flared. “Because of the soldier. His pretty eyes or something,” he mumbled.

  “Jealous?” she teased. “Not a good look on you, Prince. And no. Remember when we would talk about your sister? What her shape-shifting might have been like? We’d worry about how alone she’d feel if she were alive. How scared and lonely and terrified of being used.”

  She swallowed. “Kunal is my friend too, one of my first. Even before you.” Harun made an annoyed face. “And I couldn’t let that happen to him. I didn’t know how you’d react, so I waited. And by the time I knew, it was too late to tell you without betraying him.”

  “Then you should’ve betrayed him. You betrayed me instead,” Harun said hotly. Anger was good, anger she could deal with.

  “I didn’t want to betray anyone.” Esha couldn’t say she would’ve done things differently, but she knew at least that she’d have considered more options.

  “There’s a lot of things you might have known, if only you’d asked.”

  Esha’s shoulders dropped. “I know. And I’m sorry for implying you would’ve done something bad to him.”

  “If anyone does, I understand what it’s like to lose family, to be a royal. I might’ve been able to train or counsel him.”

  “You didn’t seem to like him very much,” she pointed out.

  “You dropped a soldier into our laps, Esha,” he said. “What did you expect? You offered no context, just ‘trust you’ and we did. But you didn’t trust us back.” Harun took a deep breath. “I said I’ve forgiven you. But it’ll take me awhile to forget.”

  “I don’t expect you to, Harun,” she said, taking his hand. “I might not be so kind myself if I were in your shoes.”

  “I’m not being kind. I’m being reasonable.”

  “Many people never touch reasonable in their reactions, let alone forgiveness,” she said. “Harun, your friendship and the Blades mean everything to me. I am no less committed to this mission or to our vision for the Southern Lands.”

  His gaze pinned her down, boring into her like the heat of the Sun Maiden’s fiery bow. Harun was searching for something, and finally seemed to find it.

  “All right.”

  Without realizing it, they had drawn closer, their knees, hands, and heads almost touching. Esha looked into the eyes of the boy she had watched turn into a man, the one who had held her when she had broken down and who had fought beside her through the years.

  If she moved a little bit closer, if she moved her hand, they’d be able to rekindle the clear spark between them. Heal their rift the way they always did.

  Gods, she missed Harun. She missed this ease between them.

  “We should get back to the palace before anyone notices,” Esha said, pulling back. “Especially you. You’re blowing the conch for the footrace tomorrow.”

  He nodded briskly, disappointment in his eyes.

  “I can’t wait,” he said, his voice dry as a bone.

  She swatted him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Kunal looked at the little scrap of paper in his hand, eyes flickering to his surroundings as he tried to determine if he was in the right place.

  How Laksh had managed to get the note onto his bed, in the citadel, was still puzzling him. On the note was a time and place with the word tonight, and nothing else.

  He shoved the note into his pocket as the conch shells blew ten. The note said the building with the sign of the bow and arrow. It wasn’t very helpful, as a lot of buildings had the sign of Naria’s favored weapons. This was Jansa, after all.

  Kunal scanned the nearby buildings. The inn was too lively. The restaurant didn’t look too crowded, but the guard outside took it out of consideration. That left the ramshackle shop, one that had seen better days.

  He strode into the side alleyway and knocked on the door there. A small rectangular piece of wood slid out, revealing a pair of eyes. Kunal hesitated, unsure what to say, when the eyes disappeared and the door clicked open.

  “You made it,” Laksh said, ushering him in. “I thought it would do us some good to get out, change up our normal meeting spot.”

  “You mean how you always find me during the competitions.” Kunal stepped into the dim room, keeping a hand on his knife. “Say, who is your man? An infantry soldier you bribed? Threatened?”

  Laksh grinned. “And you, I’m sure you’re getting tired of being cooped up at the citadel.”

  “While I hate to skip our normal pleasantries,” Kunal said, “why am I here?”

  Laksh gestured for him to follow him inside. They walked through a long, dark corridor punctuated by many rooms with different doors. It was, by all appearances, empty for the night.

  “I didn’t bring you here to hurt you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “It wasn’t.” Kunal was confident he could take Laksh on. “But good to know.”

  “I have something I want to show you. And another request,” Laksh said before pushing open the large double doors in front of them.

  Inside was a mass of people talking in hushed voices. Most were dressed in plain clothes, but flashes of jewels or guild insignias could be seen underneath their uttariyas, as could knives and swords. It was a mixed group, men
and women, old and young, but they all shared one thing in common—the pin of Naria’s scales on their uttariyas.

  “You brought me to a Scales meeting?” Kunal said, his voice icy. “You tricked me.”

  “I sent you a note and you came,” Laksh said. “Not much of a trick. It’s a common meeting, anyhow.”

  Laksh’s voice lost a bit of its airiness. “These meetings are open to anyone, Kunal. I didn’t lie to you. Dharmdev isn’t here and doesn’t know you’re here either. I’m letting you see who we truly are. We have the numbers and support from all the classes and guilds in the city. Our country is ready to rise up, without help from anyone else.”

  “And what, you think this will change my mind?”

  “No,” Laksh said. “I thought you deserved to meet some of the people, hear what they have to say. You have been working for us, after all. It’s only fair.”

  Kunal couldn’t help the scowl that crashed onto his face. But curiosity won out, and he stepped forward, Laksh close behind.

  Laksh was right. It was a group of about thirty, all Jansans, and something small in his heart warmed at the idea that these people, his people, were risking their lives and defying the royal decrees to meet. The tone in the room changed, mellowing into a muted silence. There was a faint, excited thrum in the crowd. A young woman caught his eye—she was staring at him as if she knew him. Sharp eyes in a round face, she looked vaguely familiar. Perhaps one of the fans from the tournament or a noble from court.

  It was a good reminder that as he watched others, they were watching him too. Kunal tugged his uttariya lower.

  “The Archer,” someone shouted.

  Too late.

  Kunal stepped around a man and hid behind Laksh. Laksh didn’t bother helping him as excited whispers went up all around.

  “I swear, it was him.”

  “You’ve had too many poppy seeds today.”

  “I think I saw him too. Is he a Scale? Dharmdev’s right-hand? How glorious!”

  Kunal whirled Laksh around, pulling him into the darkness of a corner.

  “Is that why you brought me here? To let others think I’m a Scale? To force me into this?”