The Library of Fates

by Aditi Khorana

  Mala raised an eyebrow and put a hand on her hip as she regarded me in the mirror. “But?”

  “But I don’t know who I am.”

  “Girl, who you are isn’t about who gave birth to you or who raised you. One finds out who he or she is over the course of a life.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Through your actions, through your choices.”

  “I’m afraid my choices are limited, Mala. It seems that I don’t have any good ones.”

  “But your life isn’t limited. Your spirit isn’t limited. Develop some swagger, girl. You’ll need it. You don’t know it yet, but the rest of us do. Your life is going to unfold in unpredictable ways. You’re far more powerful than you know.”

  “But what if you had to do something that could potentially be difficult for the people around you to understand . . . or recover from . . . ?”

  “Take the risk, girl.”

  “What do you mean?” I was taken aback, my body instinctively tensing at her words.

  “If you were a girl who always took risks, I’d tell you to slow down, be conservative, think twice before you leap. But from the time you were born, you were careful, thoughtful. You took others’ feelings into consideration. That’s why you never asked anyone about your mother. Or if you tried and saw that it made people uncomfortable, you stopped. You were so concerned about causing others pain that you squelched your own needs. Don’t ever do that again. Take the risk, and don’t look back.”

  “But, Mala—”

  “That’s all I can say, and that’s all the advice I’m going to give you. Your instincts are good. You have a good heart. Don’t hesitate. Don’t waste time. Don’t apologize. You’ll always think about others; it’s your nature. That runs in your blood, after all. Look at what your father’s done for this kingdom, and his parents before that. But you can’t help others if you don’t help yourself first. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I nodded, dumbfounded. Did Mala know what I was up to? She wouldn’t let on, and I told myself I was being paranoid. And yet . . .

  “Now go on. Your retinue will escort you to dinner. I’ll be here when it’s over so you can tell me about it and we can get you into your pajamas. All right?”

  I got up slowly, watched Mala as she closed tins of rouge and lip tincture, put brushes made of fox fur away. Then I grabbed her and hugged her tight. “Thank you, Mala,” I whispered.

  “Thank you for being my girl all these years,” she told me.

  ¤

  “It appears your staff has its hands full with the zoo breach.” Sikander leaned back, taking a sip of his wine. He wrapped his arm around the back of my chair as though he were a resident and not a guest of our palace.

  “It’s not a usual occurrence, but we’ve got it handled.” My father smiled a tense smile.

  Shree had told me that today’s negotiations had gone “well enough,” but they weren’t finished yet, and I could see that my father was still not entirely himself.

  “What do you mean by well enough?” I asked her.

  “The terms of your betrothal haven’t been settled yet. So don’t say anything,” she told me as we were descending the stairway for dinner. “Pretend you’re marrying him as planned.”

  My heart sank. Even though Arjun and I had made our own plan, I had carried within me a tiny wisp of hope that my father’s negotiations would work. That I wouldn’t have to run away after all. But now I knew I would have to take the matter into my own hands. Come dawn, Arjun and I would be gone.

  “But we’re not done yet,” she quickly added. “That’s the thing about negotiations. They take some time.” Shree’s voice conveyed a false optimism intended, I knew, for my benefit.

  ¤

  The atmosphere in the Courtyard Hall was heavy with an unrelenting strain that had descended upon us with Sikander’s arrival and churned thicker and thicker with each passing hour, turning mere anxiety into a solid mass of panic, like milk into butter.

  Groundspeople and guards had been out in the hot sun and humid air, corralling animals, all day. The zoo breach was immense. Hundreds of animals had been let out of their cages and wandered the grounds, scared and confused. It was an unusual occurrence indeed.

  But the confusion in my own mind felt far worse than the commotion at the palace; it threated to overwhelm me completely. I thought about what Mala had said to me about taking a risk, about putting myself first. Still, she couldn’t possibly have endorsed my running away from the palace with Arjun had she known about it.

  I looked across the dimly lit hall at Arjun, who smiled at me, his eyes shining at the sight of me.

  “The two of you.” Sikander turned to me, pointing his knife at Arjun. “I never see one of you without the other. I knew another couple like that once.” He glanced at my father.

  “We’re not—we’ve just . . . we’ve known each other our entire lives.” But I could tell that he sensed something more; it was impossible not to. Whatever had transpired between Arjun and me over the past few days was so powerful, I feared that everyone around us could smell it from a mile away.

  “Now, that’s a special kind of relationship, isn’t it? A lot of history there. A lot of . . . affection.”

  I blushed.

  “Careful.” Sikander raised a finger at Arjun. “You’d be surprised at how much trouble that kind of affection can bring.”

  For a moment, I considered whether Sikander was threatening Arjun, but I quickly put the thought out of my mind.

  I turned to him, trying to change the subject. “I’m very curious to learn more about Macedon. I’ve been studying the language since I was a child.”

  “Have you, now?”

  “My father tells me it’s a captivating place. He told me about the tall buildings, the arenas, the . . .”

  That was it. Everything else my father had told me made me think it was a soulless place of hierarchy and fear.

  “I’m quite captivated by you, actually. You’ll make an excellent queen,” he said, as he ran his finger along the length of my forearm. I wanted to cringe at his touch, to cry out, to scream, but instead, I simply smiled and bowed my head.

  “It would be my pleasure to serve you, Your Majesty.” The very words made me want to vomit.

  “And yet, your father believes otherwise.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It would appear that he doesn’t believe I would take good care of you,” he said, loudly, so everyone at the table heard.

  For a moment, there was a shattering silence. Until I remembered Arjun’s words and added quickly, “You know, one might consider that I am actually Macedonian by birth. I was born there, after all.” The room hushed, waiting for Sikander to react.

  Luckily, he laughed. “I hope we can return you to your place of birth,” he said, a smug smile across his lips, the gold teeth flashing in the candlelight.

  I knew it in my bones in that moment: There was no way I would go anywhere with Sikander.

  And yet, as I glanced around the Courtyard Hall, decorated gorgeously for tonight’s banquet, I also understood how difficult it would be for me to leave Shalingar Palace. The beauty of the room contrasted sharply with the tense atmosphere. High above us were slat rafters from which star-shaped lanterns, each holding a candle, swayed in the wind. The candles illuminated the olive trees Tippu had brought back from his trips to Judea, ivy from the east that crawled up palm trees and marble columns, and local blooms of hibiscus. Beyond the slat rafters, one could see nothing but a square of navy blue sky and the bright light of millions of stars.

  The dining table was decorated with large wooden platters that held cut mango, guava, and bright magenta orchids.

  My father was sitting across from me, watching me carefully over his golden thali. He looked concerned that I was sitting next to Sikander, but I knew
I could handle it. I just needed to get through this dinner, through the night.

  Finally, dessert was served. “You know, Chandradev, it’s been a pleasure learning about your kingdom.” Sikander threw a smile in my father’s direction before he picked up a golden spoon and plunged it into his bowl of rice pudding. “You’ve been an excellent host, and I know there’s quite a bit you’ve had to contend with in the time I’ve been here.” He shook his head vehemently. He was talking fast, his fingers drumming down on the table before him. “A breach at the zoo. Those skirmishes on the western border.”

  In that moment, it was as though all the air left the room.

  My father froze. “How did you—”

  “I know everything, Chandradev. I have eyes everywhere. On the western border, in Shalingar, in every territory that spans the region.” He took a sip of his chai, put down his cup, and smiled. “You’ve sent quite a few of your troops out there to quell the situation,” Sikander added.

  “And?” My father furrowed his brow. I could tell that he was trying to maintain his composure but that he was just as shaken as I was.

  “Chandradev.” Sikander spread out his palms as though offering my father a gift. “The activity on the border—it’s not a tribal skirmish. It’s my army. And my colonels are there, waiting for a signal from me.”

  My entire body went cold. I glanced from my father to Arjun. My heart raced in fear.

  “I considered offering you the job of satrap, Chandradev. I thought maybe you’d care more about your own interests. But I’ve realized that I simply can’t leave these sorts of decisions up to you.”

  My hands were trembling violently.

  “Amrita, leave now,” my father said to me. “Arjun, go with her.” His instincts were, even in this moment, to protect me.

  I couldn’t move, but Arjun got up, came around the table, and reached for my arm. I ignored him.

  I could stab him right now, if I wanted, I thought. I could grab Arjun’s sword from his belt and stab Sikander in the throat. But my hands refused to cooperate.

  Sikander stood up too and faced my father. “So I have some new terms that I’d like you to hear.” He turned to me, a lascivious smile across his face. “I’ve taken quite a liking to your daughter. She’s very spirited,” he said.

  Arjun’s hand tightened around my elbow. Or I could grab the knife on the table before him and stab him repeatedly.

  “We had an agreement, and now you want to break it.” Sikander shrugged.

  I shivered at the mention of this, and this time Arjun successfully pulled me away from the table, but I couldn’t move farther than that.

  “If you think I’m going to sell my daughter to you—”

  “No one’s talking about selling, Chandradev. You should know by now that I take what I want.” He snapped his fingers, and soldiers appeared from the front entrance to the hall, all dressed in their maroon uniforms, each of them brandishing a sword. All of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe.

  I began to piece it all together. Sikander wanted to keep our soldiers busy in the west. The east was what he was interested in. That was where the Sybillines were. And they were exposed, completely unprotected.

  Arjun drew the sword he always wore on his belt, but the soldiers stood on the other side of the Courtyard Hall and appeared to take no notice of us—it was my father they wanted. Within seconds, we were outnumbered. Where were our guards? And then I remembered: the zoo. A sinking feeling in my stomach.

  He had thought through every detail of this attack. He had never had any interest in negotiating anything with my father. And my father was so concerned about me, he didn’t even realize that we had been compromised.

  “We could be done with you in a day. Less. A few hours.”

  More soldiers poured in from the east wing, one after another. He was right. We were more than outnumbered. My legs trembled with fear as I noticed two of them, only about ten paces away, brandishing their swords at Arjun and me. One of them smirked in my direction. It took me a second to realize that it was Nico, the man who had been responsible for transporting Thala to Shalingar.

  “Don’t be scared, Princess. We’ll take good care of you,” he said. “Sikander wants you in one piece.” He laughed then. I looked at Arjun, his jaw tensed. He kept his eyes on Nico, his sword drawn before him.

  “You have to run, Amrita,” Arjun whispered. “I can fight them off. I’ll catch up.” He surreptitiously glanced in the direction of the corridor that led to the west wing. It was empty. We could run. Sikander’s soldiers hadn’t flooded our side of the palace yet. And I had always been a fast runner.

  But what about my father? I couldn’t just leave him. I looked at him now, regal and brave, standing in a sea of red coats and swords. A tiny sob escaped my lips as I thought about what Sikander was capable of.

  “Go now,” Arjun said. “Through your quarters,” he whispered in my ear. “Through the mango grove. Go to the Temple of Rain. Wait for me there.”

  “I’m not leaving my father, Arjun!” I whispered back.

  “You have options, Chandradev.” Sikander turned back to my father. “I want you to know that. I’m a reasonable man. I won’t tell my colonels to attack Shalingar unless you give me reason to. You know what I seek: the open trade of chamak—on my terms; control over your territory, including that of the Sybillines; and, of course, your daughter. I’ll take good care of her, I assure you. She’ll be happy in Macedon. As she said herself, one could claim that she is a Macedon by birth . . . and born to a Macedonian mother . . . perhaps an opportunity to reunite them.” He laughed.

  I thought about what Sikander was demanding and wanted to scream. For my father, though, I would marry Sikander. I would go with him to Macedon.

  “Run, Amrita, now,” Arjun whispered in my ear.

  I shook my head. What I wanted to do was run to Papa. I wanted to fight off all those soldiers. I wanted to kill Sikander. I had never felt such hatred for another human being.

  I thought of Thala’s words. He says he wants friendship. He says he wants alliance. Don’t believe what he says.

  “Do what you will to me,” my father responded. “But leave my child be.”

  I looked at my father’s eyes, and in an instant, I could read them, as I always had. Amrita, go now, they were saying.

  “I’m through with you telling me what I can and can’t have, Chandradev. And besides, I never asked.”

  And with that, Sikander nodded to one of the guards.

  It was a second. A blink. The flap of a bird’s wing, the moment it takes to say hello, or goodbye. So quick that it made me think of all the insignificant seconds that we throw away. And all the seconds that we don’t too. The seconds that we hold on to, that we return to. I thought about standing with my father on his balcony that morning before Sikander arrived, talking with him. I thought about how much I loved him. I considered the fact that all it takes is a second for life to completely change.

  And then I saw the sword flash before my father, watched him drop to the ground. There was something so absurd about it that at first, I couldn’t make sense of what had happened. But when I saw the blood pooling at the front of his shirt, the way his lips trembled, and the startled look in his eyes as he brought his hands to his chest, his palms stained crimson as he pulled them away, I knew that this wasn’t the kind of injury he would recover from.

  I wouldn’t recover from it either.

  “Papa! No!” I screamed when it all came together. I tried to run toward him, but Arjun grabbed me.

  My father’s eyes met mine for the last time that day, for the last time ever. His words came out choked. “Amrita, RUN!”

  Arjun pushed me in the direction of the west wing, and I ran, my feet slapping the marble floors, everything around me a blur. Behind me, I heard the clanging of swords, and as I turned the corner, I saw Arjun
slice through the uniform of one of the guards before he knocked a sword out of Nico’s hand, and then Arjun turned, running behind me, a band of soldiers on his tail.

  “The west wing, NOW!” he yelled. I ran toward my chamber, choking back sobs, tears streaming across my face. Something within me wanted to defy the reality of what had just occurred right before my eyes; I didn’t want to believe it.

  We could get help; we could call in the palace healer. A medicine man, the best medicine man in the world.

  But I knew that no healer would be called. And even if he was called, it would be too late. I had seen my father’s face as he fell, the color draining from it, his hands trembling. I had seen the blood, vast pools of it. I had seen him choking on his last breaths, a sight I would never be able to erase from my mind.

  The walls bleared in my peripheral vision. I cut across another corridor, running as fast as I could. I turned to make sure Arjun was behind me; he was, only paces away. The gap between us and the soldiers was widening. They didn’t know the west wing, at least not as well as we did. Arjun threw a large palm plant down across the passageway.

  “Keep going!” he gasped. I turned into the main hall. There were five different doorways. We had a shot at losing Sikander’s soldiers. I dodged back through the main courtyard. Tippu the gardener was watering a large banana tree.

  “Tippu! Hide!” I yelled to him.

  Arjun caught up. “Get off the grounds, Tippu. Leave the palace. Tell everyone. The palace is under siege,” Arjun said.

  It wasn’t till I heard those words that I truly knew it was real.

  Tippu nodded and then ran from the courtyard as Arjun grabbed my hand. We had a little bit of a lead on them, just barely. I turned to look at Tippu trying to make it out of the palace as fast as he could. I hoped he would be able to warn people in time.

  I was panting hard by the time we reached my quarters. Arjun slammed the large wooden doors shut behind us. He locked them, then shoved a bureau in front of them. The only other entrance to my chamber faced the back of the palace. Beyond that was the mango grove and then the Temple of Rain.