The Chariot at Dusk

by Swati Teerdhala

  This time Kunal’s nod came slower. He wasn’t sure he liked the gleam in Esha’s eye.

  The moment Esha entered the dungeons she knew it was a mistake. The damp stench assaulted her, forcing forward memories she had spent years burying. Having Harun nearby had kept them at bay, but without him, they ran rampant in her mind, hungry and restless.

  The faint tinkling of metal against metal drifted through the long corridors, filling the air with a simmering menace.

  Esha steadied herself with a deep breath and pulled herself together. Showing her seams in front of the Pretender King would be reckless. And dangerous.

  Vardaan’s beard was longer, his hair mussed, and yet he managed still to remain regal. It was the thing that had always annoyed her about Harun. Looking good on long missions was never as easy for her, not without her kohl and hair comb.

  “Hello, Viper,” he said. He sat against the wall, his eyes closed. He opened them slowly. And smiled.

  She didn’t bother to ask how he had known it was her. By her second week in the citadel, she had known the different footfalls of every guard.

  “Vardaan.”

  “I’m not even afforded my title?”

  “King? That one is false. And Prince?” Esha stepped closer to the steel bars. “You abandoned that the moment you abandoned your country.”

  Vardaan shrugged, unconcerned. There was a coiled tension in his body, one that Esha noticed immediately. He might be captured now, but this man would never be captive.

  “Have you come to berate me some more, Viper?” he said. “Or have you finally discovered your mole?”

  “The one that you claim exists? I’m supposed to go on your word, am I? I know it would please you to see us tear ourselves apart.” She tried her best to look bored. “Hard to rely on that.”

  “The Blades have always been an annoyance to me. Never my opponent,” Vardaan said dismissively. But she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. The flare of his nostrils.

  “Of course. The brave king protecting us from the Yavar. That’s who you’d like to be known as, isn’t it? I wonder what the city would think if they knew you had made a deal with them years ago.”

  Vardaan lifted an eyebrow, finally deigning to look up at Esha. “Everyone wants to be the ideal, moral hero. Some of us resign ourselves to being the hero that is needed.”

  “And you think this is what Jansa needed?” she asked. Esha could hear the heat in her voice, feel the way it slithered up her throat.

  “Why are you here?” Vardaan asked.

  Esha stilled, fighting for her composure again before she spoke.

  Vardaan suddenly stood, his face breaking into a dark, knowing smile. “Did my gift arrive?”

  “If you mean your ramshackle group of murderers and criminals pretending to be an army, then yes,” she said.

  “People can surprise you, Viper.” He chuckled. “I’ve learned that very well over the past years. They took a garrison, did they not? I think that rather proves their worth.”

  Esha gritted her teeth. How did he know that?

  “It’s easier than you think to hear things,” Vardaan said, reading her mind. He began to pace—or prowl—his small cell. “Or perhaps it’s because you didn’t listen to my warning. You have someone in the palace who is not so loyal to you.”

  Esha scoffed, shrugging her shoulders. “That’s not such a bold statement to make, Pretender. We’ve a palace full of fake allies and former enemies. Anyone could be working at cross purposes,” she lied.

  The first thing she had done was to vet every remaining person in the palace. The nobles she had sent home early, except for the ones who called the palace court home.

  “If you say so,” Vardaan said.

  Esha kept her face still, only letting a hint of a smile show. “Though I thank you for your concern, Prince, I think we both know why I’m here.”

  “You’re wondering if my army is acting of their own accord. Yes, I did leave them with certain instructions.” He came to a stop near the slat that let in light to the cell, too small to be called a window. “But really, they’ve outdone themselves. I’m quite pleased. The pupils have become the teacher.”

  Something felt off, but Esha couldn’t put her finger on it beyond a feeling. This wasn’t the first time she had been goaded, not by a long shot, and Esha knew to listen for more. She noticed the hint of pleasure in his voice, as if he were getting away with murder.

  Vardaan was smug.

  “You’re lying to me,” she declared.

  “I haven’t lied to you yet, Esha. Look at how much I’ve helped you. I led you to the artifact.”

  “That’s only because you want the quarrel to be just between us. No Yavar.”

  Vardaan smiled. “Very true. I see why you’ve been such a formidable opponent. There’s quite a sharp mind behind those beautiful, cold eyes.”

  “Everything you’ve done has only served to help yourself,” Esha said, ignoring the barb. Let him think her unfeeling and frozen. It would serve her purposes.

  “And what about my warning?”

  “Of a mole? You seek to sow discord.” Esha laughed, low in her throat. “And even if it were true, why would you reveal that?”

  “Perhaps I want to give you an equal chance,” he said evenly.

  “At what?”

  He paused. “Now that you’ll have to figure out yourself.”

  Vardaan leaned back against the wall again, clearly done with their conversation.

  Esha bit her lip, frustration growing in her belly. “How? How are you running the army from this cell?”

  “Am I? Am I doing that? Or have I just planned better than you, Viper?”

  Esha had no answer for that.

  She snapped her fingers and the guards returned, their spears glinting in the dim light of the dungeons.

  “We’ll see,” Esha said.

  His laughter echoed down the hallway as she left.

  The streets of Gwali were overflowing with people—and fish. Different kinds of carp, tilapia, and catfish were heaped onto wooden pallets strewn across the market. Reha pinched her nose as they approached.

  Kunal took a deep breath, choosing to look at the overabundance of fish, and the subsequent smell, as a good sign. Sure, the unwieldy magic had led to surges in the water levels, nearly drowning ride paddies in Dharka and overflowing dams in Jansa, but now there was fish.

  He couldn’t remember the last time there had been fresh, plump fish sold in the markets in this quantity, enough that every single man, woman, and child could have a whole fish to themselves.

  “I know I should be happy about this,” Reha said. “But I can’t help but worry what’s to come next. I’m as excited as the next person that we have a source of fresh food again, but isn’t this . . . a lot?”

  Kunal wanted to deny it, but he understood her concern. The fishers were smiling but looked exhausted. They had ridden massive uncontrolled waves to achieve these results, which was both incredible and unsustainable. This was a land that had to be tamed again, that may never be tamed again without the bond. As it was now, life would be a daily struggle. Right now the magic gave, but what if its ebbs were worse than its flows?

  The gods gifted humanity the bond to give them a steady, balanced connection to the land. This was the opposite of balance.

  Kunal shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know how this will play out. I see nothing but uncertainty on the horizon. Without the bond, we’re at the mercy of the land and the magic. I don’t think our ancestors grasped that, nor the king.”

  “Former king.”

  Kunal colored. “Old habits, my queen.”

  Reha gagged at the title. “I am not ready for that word.”

  “You realize that we’re walking into the city square, don’t you? Maybe refrain from making retching noises about leading Jansa in front of your subjects? I think that would be best advised.”

  “You know I don’t mean it that way,” she said quickly.
“I love our people—my people. It’s just, no one likes clipped wings, right? Who wants to be caged the way a queen is? And nothing I’ve learned in my time at the palace has truly convinced me otherwise. Not yet. I’m here, but I don’t particularly like it.”

  Kunal shook his head at her.

  “What? I’m honest,” she said. “Isn’t that a virtue?”

  Kunal only sighed.

  They strolled through the edges of the market, to the corner where the podium and small stage rose from the ground. Reha had demanded that the soldiers guarding them trail behind them and they were doing so, though Kunal could hear every shuffle and step they took. Reha probably could too, but if it helped her feel normal and more at ease, so be it.

  “Reha, no one’s trying to clip your wings.”

  She shrugged and shielded her eyes from the sun as they came to a stop. Only a small smattering of people gathered around the stage, most still too occupied with the abundance of fish. Kunal noticed that she didn’t object to the use of her name anymore. She had donned it, taken ownership of it like she had most other things.

  “Time to dance,” she whispered. Laksh had arrived across the way.

  Kunal patted her hand. “It won’t be that bad.”

  “You could at least try to sound convincing.” She made a face and stepped to the side.

  Kunal adjusted his armor and unwrapped the uttariya that covered his head and torso. Instantly, whispers began to punctuate the air, murmurs about the Archer. Despite not being in the public spotlight anymore, the Archer had taken hold as a symbol to the people of Gwali—to Jansa.

  Laksh had informed them of this after their return, but Kunal had resisted doing anything with the knowledge. Even now, it was only because Esha was right: they needed support.

  Kunal had no idea what he could do, but he was willing to give it a shot. The crowd began to swell, the whispers growing. The only thing Kunal was grateful for was that it gave Reha more cover. His limbs froze, a nervous smile overtaking his face.

  A touch at his elbow almost made him jump out of his skin. Laksh.

  Laksh’s jagged scar brought Kunal back to the present and back into his body.

  “What’s wrong?” Laksh whispered. “You look like you did when your uncle discovered your secret stash of poetry.” Kunal only shook his head. “Well, try to act like the famous Archer, all right?” To the crowd he bellowed, “The Archer has returned!”

  Kunal nodded faintly, just as the crowd broke into an answering roar. Even Reha stepped back at the noise.

  Laksh hustled him to the front, Reha left to the protection of the guard behind them.

  Kunal shook his head in disbelief. “All of this? For the Archer?”

  “For you,” Laksh said. “I told you that you’ve grossly underestimated your popularity. You have a chance to do something good here, Kunal.”

  Kunal swallowed. He had been trying to do good for the past few moons. And he had failed. Why would now be any different? How could Laksh trust him to be this Archer? He barely knew who Kunal was anymore.

  Laksh must’ve caught the change in Kunal’s mood because his expression softened. He placed a hand on Kunal’s shoulder and squeezed.

  And then pushed him onto the stage.

  Kunal stumbled at first before quickly finding his footing. The sun shone directly into his eyes at this angle, making it difficult for him to make out the individual faces of everyone in front of him. It helped and yet . . .

  He cleared his throat and moved to the front of the small stage as the shouts of the crowd muted to a hushed, expectant quiet. The swirl of thoughts from before threatened to storm down on Kunal, holding his voice and body in a vise.

  But then he caught sight of a familiar face and long mustache.

  Raju—he could never forget his name.

  The merchant in Ujral who had been secretly teaching his daughters in the back of their tent and had made fresh lentil cakes for Kunal, even as a soldier. Another lifetime ago, before the Mela, before Esha, before . . . everything.

  Yet there he was. Raju’s basket was overflowing, and he held the hand of a small girl. He wasn’t sure if Raju recognized him until he stepped forward. The man beamed at him, radiating happiness as he whispered to the woman next to him that he had met the Archer once, that he had been an honorable, kind young man. One who reminded him of his son.

  It was what Kunal needed to snap out of it.

  He raised his hand and placed four fingers against his chest, the sign of welcome in Jansa. The crowd returned the gesture, a few even bowing.

  “My people,” Kunal started. “I know that the past few years have been tough, almost impossible, and that you have suffered greatly. We all have. I was born nearby, in the hills to the west of Gwali on a tea plantation. I came to the Red Fort as only a child, desperate to see good in everyone. And since then I have been on a journey, from soldier to man to—”

  “The Archer!” someone cried from the back.

  “To the Archer. A title I do not deserve. The Archer in the old tales was noble and virtuous, wise and strong. I am only human. And the one thing I’ve learned is that our strength in this country comes from the people. We are fighters and we will continue to fight until our city is safe. Until the entire land is safe.”

  A deafening roar crushed them from all sides.

  “We will continue to fight and strive for this land, the land that the Sun Maiden gifted to us. Our blessing. That is why we will need every one of you. Our city is under attack from a man who claimed to have its best interests at heart, who broke our sacred bond, our divine covenant, with the gods. Who threatened the future of our home. Now, we must defend it at all costs.”

  Kunal took a breath. A string of nervous energy pulled through him, threatening to overtake his voice, but there was a stronger cord nearby, one of calm and surety. He grabbed for that and turned to face his people, outstretching a hand.

  “Will you join me?”

  The wooden roof of the stable nearby shook with the answer.

  “Will you join us?”

  Kunal stepped back and let Reha walk forward. She was frozen behind him, her face pale and devoid of the typical smirk that rested on her lips.

  He squeezed her arm, like Laksh had done for him, hoping it would bring her back into herself.

  Finally, Reha moved. She shook out her hands and took a few tentative steps to the front of the small stage.

  “Your princess—and future queen,” Laksh announced to a wide-eyed, captivated crowd. Gasps peppered the air, alongside murmurs and wonder. The princess had returned. It was not a myth, a story, or a lie.

  “Your humble servant,” Reha said. “I have been a lot of things, but, most important, I am your humble servant. Princess only in name.”

  Her hand still trembled, but she hid it with her commanding voice. Reha was meant for the stage, even if she did not love it. The people watched her in awe, enraptured by her every word.

  Kunal smiled and stepped back.

  Chapter 24

  The sun set with a vicious brilliance from the windows of the Great Library that day, purple and pink slashing across the sky. Esha had been there since sunrise, buried under letters and reports. She had just managed to tunnel her way out, giving her only a half hour to get some fresh air before she had headed to the war room for their emergency council.

  Kunal was supposed to be returning soon from taking Reha into the city to speak to some citizens who might be eager to see the faces of the Archer and the future queen.

  Esha turned the corner from the residence wing of the palace back to the academic wing, where the Great Library lived. Farhan had sent her a note to meet him in an hour’s time, but she had decided to arrive earlier and take the time to peruse those scrolls again. She had that feeling again, that she was missing something right under their noses.

  If only she could figure out what. Esha sighed and pushed open the small door from the outer ring of the Great Library to the main hall
, sneaking in before anyone could spot her. She wanted privacy, time alone with her thoughts and worries.

  She immediately heard hushed voices in the main area. She crept forward and stayed to the shadows, listening. Kunal and Reha were in conversation near the stacks of scrolls of ancient poetry and mythology.

  “You promised me,” she said. “You said it would be no big deal and yet there were scores of people. Not the small crowd of fishers you promised.”

  “Reha, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how many people would arrive. But doesn’t that say something about the depth of feeling the people have for their would-be queen?”

  “It’s enough I’ve lost everything I knew before and now I have to pretend to be someone I’m not? And these cursed trainings.” Reha’s voice was low, worried, tired.

  “I thought you were enjoying your magic trainings with Harun,” Kunal said.

  There was a pause. “I am. My . . . brother has been perfectly lovely. I just have so many questions.”

  “Have you talked to Harun?”

  Reha hesitated, crossing her arms. “I don’t know how to. He’s been asking so many questions about my past life, but I’ve been avoiding them. I’ve just earned his trust, and while I hate everything else about this stupid palace, I don’t hate that. He won’t like the person I’ve been and I’m not sure I can be the person you all need. I’ve thought about it, you know, just flying away. I’m bad at these things, sticking around, being useful, following orders.”

  “You wouldn’t get very far.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.” Reha rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to be here. Neither of us do. You mentioned Farhan is making progress on finding the right location for the ritual? Why don’t we just go now and scout? I know I said I’d stay, but I hate being cooped up here.”

  “No, Reha,” Kunal said. “First, we don’t know the location yet, and second, we’d be walking into a potential ambush. We’d need backup. We don’t know if Yamini will be there or what she truly wants.”

  Esha could tell Kunal was trying to use logic, but it didn’t seem to be what Reha was looking for.

  “Come on, we were a good team,” Reha said, nudging him in the side. It was a familiar gesture, as if she had done it a number of times. He swatted her away and nudged her back.